#this is another inside joke i had to catch up on and didn’t understand the reference when they made gwt sing 绿光 on the show…

[elsblunt]

because i believe in tribbing supremacy what if ellie asked you 2.. bounce on her clit?? cause like. ellie asking me to bounce on her strap? hot. but grinding rough enough and correctly enough to make it seem like ur bouncing on her clit?? nggh... would get so pussydrunk and sloppy with her words, eyes rolling back to read the entire savage starlight series stamped in the back of her head.

oh my god ur literally too good???? im not the best at visualizing so shoot me if i write this wrong.

ellie’s back fell against the mattress, auburn hair sprawling out over the pillow. she had been needy all day. hands everywhere, the inside of ur thigh, ur hip, the small of ur back. her lips also everywhere, ur neck, cheeks, lips, shoulders, head. u could tell she wanted it, and she wanted it bad.

”touchin’ me in front of all those people…? god, ellie… so fucking needy.” u dip ur head down and suck on her neck, a gasp emerging from her throat. biting and licking the soft skin, moving ur mouth lower on her body, teeth catching her tits.

that was her sensitive spot, those soft perky tits. ur teeth latched on to the nipple, swirling ur tongue around the pink skin, hand kneading the other breast. ellie biting back a moan of pleasure. “oh, fuck..” u left a mark on her tit before moving to the next one, making sure to leave another small mark, just to remind her in the morning.

u lifted back up ur face, peeling off her boxers with ur manicured nails, the ones she paid for of course. a string of arousal stuck to the fabric, a proud smile growing on ur lips. then u slipped off the tiny black laced thong from ur legs, the amount of fabric was small, close to being a thread.

ellie’s breath hitches when u put ur hands behind ur back, fiddling with the clasp of ur bra before it releases, a tiny sigh falling from ur lips when u throw the bra somewhere in the room. her hands instantly fly up to ur tits, kneading and sucking on them when she sits up, softly moaning. “s-sooooo fuckin’ hot..” she slurs with her words before falling back onto the mattress, fingertips grazing ur waist.

then u shift slightly, feeling ur pussy graze against her clit. sure, she loved when u bounced on her strap and the harness grazed against her, or when u guys rubbed clits yk, but this felt so good. and u looked so fucking good.

“b-bounce on it….?”

u furrowed ur brows at ur girlfriend, not truly understanding what she wanted. she sounded unsure herself. “what’s that, ellie?” a questioning smile formed on ur lips as u tilted ur head.

“ple-please, baby— nghh… bounce on m-my clit, please…” ellie pouted, feeling slightly embarrassed by her question. u grinned, rolling ur hips on her skin softly. “like that?”

ellie’s green eyes were dark and full of lust, back arching ever so slightly and small groans bubbling from her throat when u grind and bounce ur wetness on her clit. “ohmy— fuck yes, ju-jus like that.”

u chuckled and continued to grind down on her, the girls back arching and eyes rolling to the back of her head, broken moans and whimpers slipping from her lips. “sh-shit bab…… sooo fuhckin’ goo…d!” u started to feel the sensation from this too, now bouncing slightly on her clit while roughly rubbing urself onto her.

it pulled on her clit perfectly, she was babbling some random words u couldn’t even make out. she pictured u jumping on her dick, tits bouncing with ur head thrown back while u moaned.

”fuhhhhck! god da-damn, shiiiii….” ellie was embarrassed on how close she was, knot building up in her stomach just from this little action. she guided ur movements by grabbing ur hips and making u grind deeply on her, bouncing u aggressively on her clit. “fuck, ellie!” u whimpered from the unexpected guidance.

she bit down on her lip, eyes rolling to the back of her head, she could probably see all those fucking dad jokes back there. ellie’s body trembled slightly as her back arched. “shitshitshit! didn—didn’t expect it to feel this fuhckin’ goo-good…! oh my goddddd.. keep goin’ pleasepleaseplease..” u never planned on stopping. ellie’s whimpers and pornographic like moans making u even more eager.

u realized the familiar twitching and trembling in her body. “gon’ cum, els?” u moan breathlessly, continuing to bounce and grind on her pussy when one of her hands leave ur hips and grip onto the sheets beneath her. “yesyesyes! gonna—gh!”

“cmon, cum with me baby, fuck!” u yell out, head falling back. “i’m-shiiiittttt…. cu— fuhckin’ —cummin’! sogoodohmygo-!”

ur girlfriends green eyes roll back to her head, back arching off the bed as her lower stomach and clit twitches with pleasure as she babbles and lets out broken cries. did it even feel that good? or was she just so drunk on ur pussy that it made the sensation 20x better. u came just at the same time, ur own cum dripping down onto her folds.

“my god ellie…” u breathlessly speak, watching her come down from her orgasm, back falling against the sheets, hand covering her face as she breathes heavily.

“i have the best ideas, huh?”

this was rushed and u can tell but i tried!!💋💋

[alexiroflife]

"mutual understanding"

part 1.

modern | business au, business heir!gojo, hints of fluff, banter, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you, the daughter of a wealthy law firm ceo, are forced into a binding arrangement with your father's competitor's son for the sake of his company

to sum it up: you've always hated satoru, and now you're expected to marry him for your father... how the hell were the two of you meant to get along?

WC: 19,667

Warning(s): none

-> i'm alive guys! so sorry about the delay, i've been super busy but i come home from vacay in a week and should be back to a normal uploading schedule soon! i hope you enjoy, i got carried away with this one :) [also requests are still paused as i catch up on those submitted before i traveled!]

You found this entire ordeal to be absolutely ridiculous.

You sat in the corner of the room on one of your father’s lavish couches, arms crossed frustratedly as though you were a toddler having been shunned to time out. In many ways, however, it almost felt like you had. Your father had grown tired of your bickering and disdain over this stupid arrangement, and had sent you to quietly sit at the other side of the room and to not serve as any more of a ‘distraction’ he claimed you had already become.

I mean, how unfair was this bullshit?

Not only was your father orchestrating your entire future before your eyes without allowing you a say, but he was doing so in collaboration with his previously opposing company; his former competition. You glared angrily ahead into the back of the elder, snowy white haired man’s head as he presented a contract that your father bent over the desk to put pen to, then gritted your teeth as the said men tossed their heads back in scheming, haughty laughter in response to some throwaway joke that was made, making amends at your expense. 

Your father had always taught you the importance of business expenses and exchanges for the sake of successfully pushing forward, but was this all really necessary? You were twenty five years old, having just completed law school, and this was where your father wanted you to be, cramped inside his eloquently stuffy office with the head of the Gojo Firm, feet away from his heir who your father is forcing your hand to in marriage. 

You clicked your teeth at the sentiment, having listened to his seemingly endless rants about the Gojo Firm and their business practices that he oh so frowned upon, yet were the same practices that brought the two companies neck and neck with each other, and at times, the Gojo Firm ahead of your father’s.

“Those Gojos,” your father would hiss through gritted teeth, pacing his office. “Such arrogance. They don’t even bother to polish themselves the way we do, and yet, they’re constantly climbing the ranks! That head of theirs will be the very death of me, and don’t even get me started on his Satan spawn of a son they call an heir-”

Yeah, the same Satan spawn that your father was suddenly springing onto you for the hope of a lifelong commitment. He was such a hypocrite, feigning a bright, gasy grin as he shook hands firmly with his enemy, clasping his other firm hand over their conjoined ones to solidify the commitment. 

He had not even bothered to ask you what you felt about the entire ordeal. He begged you not to complain or misbehave, but you felt he should have known his daughter better than to be one to sit back and complacently accept the forceful conjoining of her life with another snobby little nepotism baby for the sake of the company. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand why your father was making you go through with this. You knew perfectly well that choosing to make amends and to bind the notorious families together by means of marriage would work wonders for all of you in the end, and you wouldn’t have had to work another day in your life, but it simply wasn’t what you wanted. You had your own goals, your own aspirations, and marriage in your mid twenties had never, ever been a part of those plans. 

Additionally, you’re unsure if your father’s opinions bleeding into yours were to blame, but you simply could not stand the man you were expected to be marrying. 

You snuck a harsh glare over into your right direction, peering angrily at the Gojo Firm heir, who leaned back into the adjacent sofa with his long legs spread out so widely before him as he sank into the cushions. A look of resenting apathy splayed over his expression, eyes staring emptily forward as he tuned out whatever his father was yammering on about. 

You scowled at the very sight of him. 

If you were to be deciding upon yourself to engage your life to another human being’s before your life had truly even begun, Satoru Gojo would not have been your first pick. In fact, he would not have even made it as a contestant within the race to capture your heart. You doubted that Satoru was any more interested in you than you were in him, but you didn’t care. You felt you had reason to dislike him, when he merely appeared to be pouting about getting tied down. 

You had the misfortune of crossing paths with the twenty six year old a few times before, and each time you saw him, he made it a point to remind you of his father’s advantage over your own. He’d stop in his tracks upon seeing you on the street, at a shopping district or climbing out of your father’s limo to enter a restaurant, and the same, sickening smirk would curl its way onto his porcelain features, crystal eyes slimming in judgment and pride as he peered over you, pressing you for a reaction as though he enjoyed to watch you doubt yourself at his manipulation.

He was exceedingly pompous, he was childish, and he had no manners. He did as he pleased, and while the two of you were in the same boat in regard to your privilege and your parents’ success weighing down on your own lives, he behaved that much more uncouth than you did. You at least had the decency to practice what you liked to call normal human decency, despite your ranking as the 1%, but Satoru Gojo behaved just the opposite. He paraded around gallantly, flaunting his riches, blabbering on about his future reception of his father’s company, which was and remained the “best law firm in Japan, if not the entire world,” according to his own beliefs. 

You had often curled your nose in disgust at Satoru's behavior. How someone could have been so blatantly self involved, you didn’t understand. You believed he was the very reason as to why the world frowned upon the richer, isolated sanction of the world, though you could have probably chalked that idea up to naivety since you yourself remained on the inside looking out, struggling to understand the issues society had with you all. 

Nevertheless, you believed yourself to be better than the Gojos tenfold, and far better than Satoru Gojo could have ever been, but now, you had to harbor that hatred elsewhere, channel it into something other than your… dreaded fiance. 

Satoru took notice of your gaze on him and turned his head to catch your eye boredly. He curled an irritated brow at you, and you rolled your eyes, turning away staring angrily forward once more. You could feel those pools of ocean blue seering into you after you looked away, likely challenging you to see how long you could ignore him. You clenched your jaw, tightened your crossed arms and pushed yourself further back into the seat of your chair.

After what had felt like forever, your parents turned to you with the freshly signed contract within their grasp.

“Kids,” Gojo announced. “I do believe (L/n) and I have come to an agreement. Have you come to an understanding?”

You refused to answer, shaking your head subtly in opposition as you turned away. Silence filled the air as Satoru looked to you, then back to his father with a disinterested face.

“Dad, can’t we just reconsider?” he sighed. “Clearly the girl can’t handle a business collaboration.”

You perked your head up, whipping it into his direction. “Um, excuse me? The business collaboration isn’t the problem, it’s who I'm doing it with and how.”

“(Y/n),” your father warned, throwing you a testing look. You tossed your hands up and leaned forward, curling your lips downward.

“What? I can’t speak my mind anymore?”

“Maybe you just need to speak a little less in general, how about that?” Satoru posed, tilting his head over his shoulder to raise his eyebrows at you challengingly. “I’m sure you’re much prettier that way. Sitting in silence, yeah?”

Your gaze upon him hardened as your already bubbling irritation grew the longer those eyes of his zoned in on you and the brattier his attitude became. As unhappy as you deemed him to be with your parents’ transaction, he was still working hard to make it seem as though you were the only individual making this process of your engagement difficult.

“I’m not the one who has an issue with sitting in silence, blabbermouth,” you shot back.

“Sure you don’t, honey. As if I didn’t just watch your daddy tell you off for complaining.”

“You know what-”

“Enough,” your father’s voice ordered, a resounding boom throughout the space. You rolled your eyes, tossing your head away as Satoru looked up, his amused smile lingering though his eyes whispered a hint of vexation from your father’s interruption. “Whether the two of you like it or not, our family’s our conjoining through your commitment to each other.”

The very sound of the notion made you physically ill. “But dad, can’t we just-”

“(Y/n),” he stopped you. “As I have said numerous times, the decision is final. The papers have been signed.”

You clicked your teeth. “I heard you the first fifty times.”

“Then I do not know what more you wish to dispute about.”

You didn’t miss the swift manner in which Satoru breathed out a puff of amusement beside you, swiping his fingers over his mouth and clearing his throat to pretend as though he had not produced the noise.

His father, however, caught wind of the little action as well and turned his head stiffly to him, a cold admonition wavering over his worn expression. Satoru’s smile faded, his hand remaining over his mouth as he looked off to the side with hardened brows. 

“Clearly the issue of the two of you butting heads remains,” your father continued. “Therefore, I suggest that you find a way to get along, and to do so promptly.”

“Does marriage have to mean that we like each other?” Satoru questioned, raising a brow and lifting his hand from his mouth, elbow propped on the arm of his seat.

You scoffed. “Clearly not in this case,” you mumbled.

“Look, we are not naive enough to believe that the two of you would begin to have feelings for one another,” the Gojo head said, leading you and Satoru to grumble in agreement with the sentiment. “But the very least that you can do, for the decency of our families, is to try to be cordial with one another.”

“Yes. Go out for drinks. Take a drive. Treat one another to dinner,” your father suggested. “Do something to build the slightest bit of rapport with one another. To the public, you must at least appear that you tolerate each other.”

Tolerate? Please, what a joke! Your father could barely even tolerate the man beside him, and yet you were being forced to shake hands with the heir that your family had always despised. 

“You expect me to go out to dinner… with him?” you frowned in displeasure.

“Dinner should be the least of your worries now, sweetheart. We’re getting married,” Satoru reminded you.

“How could I possibly forget,” you exhaled wearily. “How long exactly do we even have until the wedding? If you expect us to be ‘cordial,’ I hate to tell you, but even thinking about doing that with him would take years. If I’m being generous.”

“Awww, do you really think I’m that bad?”

“Yes.”

Satoru’s father made a poor attempt to hide his disapproval of your behavior before your father interceded once more. “You have two weeks.”

You and Satoru bolted upward. “Two weeks?!”

“We have been discussing this cooperation for quite some time now,” Gojo said. “There’s no need to delay any further. The quicker you are married, the quicker we all benefit.”

“But-” you stammered in disbelief. “You’ve been discussing everything without us! What about the preparations? How the hell are we gonna get those done in two weeks?”

“The preparations have already been put in motion.”

“Are you serious? Wh- and my dress? The decorations? The-”

“The Gojo estate will be taking care of it all. You will not need to worry about such things,” Satoru’s father responded. “Though, there is a schedule for those aforementioned tasks that you should be aware of.”

Your chest tightened with discomfort. You couldn’t comprehend the fact that your wedding was being planned for you, an event that was meant to bring joy and the excitement of starting a new life with someone you loved, by your will, by your own heart’s desire. Instead, your father’s rival was orchestrating the things you had dreamed of organizing in your childlike girlhood. 

What was once a notion of devotion and happiness had been soured by the will of your obligation to your father’s legacy. You had always been defined by your own father’s successes, which had made it significantly harder for you to venture out on your own and create a narrative that was undefined by your family, and the moment you had believed yourself to be inching toward independence, this had been sprung onto you. 

It was all so unfair. 

You could never love Satoru Gojo. He was the epitome of all self involvement and false amiability. His goal had always been to tear you down, despite hardly knowing you personally, and you highly doubted that he would suddenly change his ways once he had become married to you. In fact, you believed he would only grow worse. You determined that he would make your life hell, holding this arrangement against you until the very end and making sure to sleep with as many women as he possibly could behind the scenes of your poorly constructed bond. 

You envisioned your marriage with Satoru to be distant interactions, frequent occurrences of mutual adultery, and a cush prison in which you were contained. 

You almost wanted to cry. You felt so trapped, and to know that you are unloved by your partner within a lifelong commitment was going to tear you apart and break you down piece by piece. You knew you didn’t love Satoru either, but the difference was that his tendency to berate you impacted your sense of self more than yours could have ever impacted his. 

You had two weeks to mentally prepare yourself for the rest of your life. Two weeks to undergo fittings, cake tastings, and color samplings that wouldn’t even be picked by your taste, but the taste of the wealthy Gojo estate. You had no control within this marriage. None at all, and it was going to destroy you.

When the room took notice of your silence and the twisted frown upon your face as well as your downcasted gaze, your father elected to shift. “We will give the two of you some time alone to process,” he said, and though his physical expression did not show it, you could tell that he was softening ever so slightly for the sake of your now silent displeasure. It was one thing for you to parade around, chanting about your distaste in something, but the moment you deflated and the words failed to fall from your mouth, your father at least had the sense to attempt to de-escalate, though his idea of de-escalating by leaving you alone with Satoru was a very poor choice all around. 

Satoru snickered rather sourly to himself, shaking his head and leaning it back. His long leg jumped restlessly as he looked agitatedly at the ceiling. 

“Satoru,” his father spoke. The heir didn’t bother meeting his eyes at the address. “Do not disappoint me with your foolishness.”

The silence in the room seemed to strengthen. Satoru clenched his jaw, remaining quiet the longer his father’s presence loomed over him. You had always known the Gojo head to be a rather strict man, so this interaction came as no surprise to you, but what had caught your attention was the fact that Satoru had been clearly bothered by the comment, when you had previously believed him to be unbothered by any and all. 

“We will be downstairs discussing the arrangements further,” your father added. “Make an effort, you two. Please.”

Your father casted you one more knowing look before the two left the room, the door closing gently behind them.

You ran your hands over your face and released a frustrated grunt. “This is such bullshit!”

“You’re telling me,” Satoru mumbled from across the room, his mannerisms still slightly sour. “Marrying you was definitely not in the cards for me.”

You leaned over in your seat to glower at him. “As if it were in mine, either,” you seethed. “Especially not with the god damn Gojo firm’s heir.”

“Please,” Satoru exhaled. “Quit acting as though marrying me isn’t a privilege for you. We’re the wealthiest law firm in Japan.”

“Excuse you, but my father and I never needed you to do us any favors. We’re just as successful.”

“If that were true, then we wouldn’t be here, now would we?” 

He rolled his head over his shoulder to meet your gaze lazily. The moment he caught the anger in your eyes, his bitterness melted into subtle satisfaction, blue eyes lidding over. 

“What the hell is your issue, huh?” you frowned. “Our fathers literally just told us to try to be cordial, and all you can do is shit on me and the very family you're marrying into.”

“You’re acting as though you weren’t just trash mouthing me two seconds ago,” he argued. “I’m not the only one here who has an issue with how things are going. We both have issues with one another, sweetheart, it’s not just on my end. You just tend to let things get to you more easily.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I don't like you so much because of the way you first started talking about me and my father? All you’ve ever done is gloat like you’re the only damn person on this planet to exist. It’s insufferable.”

“And you have a problem with pretending like you aren’t on the same exact plane as I am.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You literally always make fun of me because you think we’re not on the same level.”

“I’m talking about when it comes to who we are. What we do. How society views us. Whether I’m better or not, we’re both still rich assholes. I’m not any more of a dick than you are.”

“That’s not true. I don’t act the same way you do.”

“Maybe not, but you’re still just as arrogant as I am. You just portray your arrogance in different ways.”

“Quit trying to drag me down to your level.”

“There’s no ‘dragging down’ when I’m the one ahead of you,” he smirked. “And like I said, you’re already just as bad as me.”

You scoffed, unsure of how to even respond to his claims. He toyed with you as he stared, lifting his brows and twirling the corner of those glossy lips upward. “I can’t stand you,” you spat.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And don’t call me that.”

“Alright, honey.”

You fumed. He got off on this back and forth between you two, feeding into it and swiftly constructing a response that could counter yours before you could even think. “This is not happening,” you grumbled to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Well, unfortunately, it is. There’s not much either of us can really do about that.”

“And what, you’re just gonna go with whatever your father tells you? You really think this is a good idea?”

He shrugged. “Aren’t you doing the same exact thing? We don’t have a choice.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to get along in two weeks?”

“They obviously don’t really expect us to do that. They just want us to make a show of it. Then when we’re alone, we don’t have to cling to each other anymore.”

“Who said we’d be clinging to each other in the first place?”

“God, (Y/n), I really thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You’ve never acted before? Never had to play something up for the public?”

“Not to this extent, no,” you sighed. “This isn’t just any other publicity stunt. We are literally engaged.”

“It’s all the same to me at this point.” Satoru suddenly stood, lifting his arms into the air and stretching over his head. He placed a hand on his hip and turned to look out the window, past you, before his eyes found your face again. “I can hold your hand and kiss you without it meaning anything. It’s just work.”

You scrunched your face. “Like hell I’d ever let you kiss me.”

“Get over yourself for one second and stop being bratty.”

“Me? Bratty?” you chuckled. “Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“Just listen,” he said firmly. “It’s easier for people to believe that we’re together by choice than by force, because then it would be painfully obvious that we’re only doing this for the sake of our companies.”

“Well, duh, but I feel like that’s painfully obvious already. Our companies have always hated each other.”

“So the better actors we are, the more clients we get.”

“You don’t need to speak to me like I’m an idiot, I already get this gist. I just don’t understand the point. It’s extra work that we’ll have to do for no reason.”

“Obviously you don’t get it, or else you wouldn’t be saying it’s for no reason.”

“Gojo, listen. The more effort we put toward pretending to be in love, the more exhausting this entire thing will be. Being cordial is, you know, fine, but holding your hand for people to see isn’t gonna make this look any different in the public’s eyes.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re literally only saying that because you always think you’re right.”

“I am always right. Like I am now.” You rolled your eyes. “Listen, sweetheart-”

“That’s not my name.”

He ignored you. “-I’m more familiar with this territory than you are, being the next head of the firm and all. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen this a hundred times over. I would’ve thought you have too,” he stopped, looking over your stiff posture. “Or, if this is just about you being stubborn and pretending you don’t want to show me affection, then that’s an entirely different thing.”

“I’m not pretending! I don’t want to marry you, let alone kiss you!” you barked. 

“Oh, come onnn,” he drawled, saunting over to you pridefully. You kept your gaze hard on his face as he approached you, his hands tucking into the pockets of his slacks as he leaned over you with a playful glint in his eye. “You haven’t thought about what it would be like just once? You can admit it. I’m no stranger to women falling in love with me.”

You pushed your hand against his forehead, shoving him away harshly. He flailed, stumbling back as he waved his arms about to regain balance. “As if. I don’t want whatever herpes you’re carrying.”

“Herpes?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his forehead dramatically. “I’m as squeaky clean as a bar of soap. I don’t know what kinda men you’ve been around.”

“I don’t go around men in the first place. All of you suck.”

“That would explain a lot then,” he snorted. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for keeping your attraction to me a secret. After all, you’ve worked so hard to hate me.”

“Never, and I mean never, in a million years would I be attracted to you,” you said flatly, face blank.

“Everyone’s attracted to me. I’m a Gojo.”

“Then congratulations! There’s a first for everything,” you smiled tightly. “One day you’ll learn that being a Gojo isn’t everything in this world. Beneath all of that, you’re still a piece of shit.”

“You wound me,” he sucked his teeth. “How could my wife think so lowly of me?”

“Don’t call me that either. We’re not married yet. Hell, we’ll hardly even be married when we actually are.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re gonna have to pretend.”

You slimmed your eyes, examining his figure, attempting to look past the mask of indifference that he wore, replaced by an irritable playfulness. “This doesn’t bother you?”

He cocked a brow, crossing his arms as he stood before you. “What kind of question is that?”

“I’m just saying,” you started. “I mean… this is our whole lives, and you want to just act the entire time? Have you even really processed any of this?”

The glimmer in his eyes dimmed slightly, a far off look occupying the space in his irises. He looked back out the large window panes that stretched from the floor to the ceiling behind your father’s desk chair, gazing over the city. “This already was my life,” he said, blandly. “I’m gonna be the next head. I always knew I’d have to marry in accordance with the company’s needs.”

You blinked. “Yeah, but-”

“Don’t be naive, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “I’ve got much bigger things to worry about than marrying for love. Whether it bothers me or not doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter to you either.”

Your brows drew together tighter at the sentiment. “How could you think like that? That’s no way to go about living at all.”

“And yet, it’s the life we’re beginning to live, isn’t it?”

You watched him for a few seconds more with your lips clamped together and your eyes sharp. He kept your gaze, unwavering, his smile drifting back onto his face. You caught the snap of his icy eyes over your seated figure before they flew back up to yours in an instance, then shielded themselves behind his lids the moment he closed his eyes. 

“You gotta stop thinking with a heart and think with your brain. Life isn’t a fairytale, and I’m definitely not your Prince Charming. The two of us will probably end up falling in love with other people and getting tangled into a messy affair that inevitably destroys us and this contract years down the line. But hey, our firms will have been making money and I’ll be head by then. I’ll be able to make it all go away with the snap of my fingers. That’s what matters.”

You shook your head in exasperation. “You’re so shallow.”

“As much as I’d love to go in circles about how shitty of a person you think I am,” he tilted his head, peering down at you through strands of white hair. “We’ve got a wedding to plan, and a relationship to build. Or at the very least, some master classes in acting to take.”

You tossed him a strange look. “Are we seriously gonna go hang out in public together now?”

“...You like to bowl?”

“Don’t piss me off.”

“We gotta do something, (Y/n). I mean, is it really a horrible thought to let me take you to dinner?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that, Gojo.”

Satoru jutted out his bottom lip, looking up to the air as if contemplating. “You know, my father told me about this party that I should attend. I’m sure you’ve heard about it too.”

You paused, looking at him quizzically. “A party?” 

“Mhmmm,” a mischievous glint flickered in his eye. “Friday night.”

You took a moment to think. “Wait…”

“Thrown by the Itadoris,” he posed.

Your eyes widened in realization. “No.”

“Maybeeeee,” he continued.

“No, absolutely not.”

“You and I…?”

“I am not going to the stupid ass, stuffy ass, creepy ass mansion and I sure as hell am not going with you.”

“See, but that’s the issue,” he hissed. “I have to go, and it would practically be a crime not to bring my fiance along with me as my date.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned.

“Soooo…” he grinned, shrugging innocently. “My offer stands. You wanna come?”

“You’re not exactly letting me make a decision!” you barked.

“Because you don’t really get to. Our parents already agreed that we should go together anyway.”

“Oh really?” you frowned. “And why the fuck do you know everything about what our parents plan but I don’t?!”

“Only one of us is going to be the head of the wealthiest law firm, so only one of us really needs to be in the loop. All you need to worry about are your pretty little dress fittings, remember?” he smiled condescendingly.

You gritted your teeth together. “I swear on my life, Gojo-”

“That’s another thing,” he interrupted you. “It’d be a little weird for my future wife to address me the same way she addresses my father. From now on, just call me Satoru.”

“I’d rather die.”

“That’s your prerogative,” he winked. “But seriously. I’m not my dad. My name is Satoru.”

His tone shifted slightly when he uttered the last phrase, as though the idea of being jammed into a box with his dad were the very worst thing he could possibly endure. Your brow twitched slightly at the observation, and while you wanted to argue on the subject more, somehow you felt as though this was not something Satoru was willing to go back and forth with you about.

“Alright, fine,” you huffed. “I’ll call you Satoru, but only if you knock it off with the pet names. You can keep calling me (Y/n), but I dare you to address me as some shit like ‘snugglemuffin’ in public.”

He snorted. “You think I'd do something like that?”

“I know you would. Just to get a rise out of me.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll stick to the basics.”

“Yeah, like hell you will.”

He grinned, presenting you his outstretched hand. You stared at it, unimpressed, before looking back at him boredly. “It’s a date, then?”

You pondered it. His hand remained stuck rather closely before you, failing to provide you any room to turn it away. His hand, in many ways, represented your future, drew you into a promise that you made against your morals and in honor of your family’s legacy. His hand, with soft lines creasing over his palm and long, slender fingers splayed out toward you, was a symbol of the life you were leaving behind and the life you were stepping into against your will. Into the unknown, into the godforsaken misery spent beside the Gojos from now on until forever more. 

Before, you would have never allowed yourself to even be caught dead in the company of Satoru Gojo, but now, as the worlds forced into collision and the very bane of your existence stood before you as your future husband, you swallowed your pride and apologized to your past self for giving in to a fate drawn out for you rather than by your own hand.

Your stomach churned and your hand met his reluctantly. His fingers clasped tightly around your hand, pressing into your skin, and your eyes warned him to relax when his lips curled further to emphasize his dimples. 

“We have a date,” you finalized bitterly, and Satoru laughed as he shook your hand.

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“Please, this is the most enthusiasm you’ll ever hear from me,” you mumbled, tearing your hand away from his after a few seconds passed. You stood to your feet, brushing past Satoru to gather your purse from beside you on the floor. You were frankly entirely too exhausted with this conversation, as well as Satoru’s presence, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and mourn your existence. “What time is this gala anyway?”

He hummed to himself, watching you as you made your way to the door. “I’ll pick you up at 9. How about that?”

Your hand froze over the door handle as you turned over your shoulder to glare at the white haired man. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Not all questions can be answered, can they?” he teased.

The muscles under your eye twitched before you took in a deep breath and closed your eyes. “Just- fine. Okay,” you muttered. “I’ll be ready at 8:59. And don’t you fucking be late, Gojo, or I swear to god, your family will have to find another arranged bride.”

“I’ll be on time when you address me properly.”

You gritted your teeth. “Satoru. Don’t be late, Satoru.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, satisfied. He reached over to grab his jacket from his chair and made his way behind you once you pushed open the door. “I will be there right on the dot.”

-

You didn’t know why you had expected Satoru to actually stay true to his word. By the time 9:00 on Friday night rolled around, you had been waiting by your door for the next thirty minutes, and there had still been absolutely no sight of the bastard.

Conveniently, after having abused his privilege of obtaining your phone number upon your initial meeting with your fathers and blowing up your texts every second he found to himself with nonsensical bullshit, the moment you began to demand to know where he had been was when he had fallen uncharacteristically silent and ignored your texts.

You had spent the past few days attempting to adjust to this newfound closeness to the Gojo family. Your days had been filled with servants taking your measurements, wrapping measuring tape tightly around your waist and your arms to get a rather fitted measurement of your dress size, alongside long lectures given by both your father and Satoru’s, consisting of the two of them advising you of how to behave in the public eye. Satoru’s father had even taken it upon himself to tell you what he expected of a Gojo bride, and how if you failed to meet certain expectations, you would have reflected poorly on not only the public but on hundreds of past Gojo generations. 

You had tried to reason with your father one more time the night after you all had met in his office, but all he did was turn down your concerns.

“Daddy, why won’t you listen to me? You know how awful Gojo is! How could you expect me to marry him?” you whined.

“My dear, I don’t know what more to tell you,” your father had exhaled, shoulders slumped with the weight of exhaustion and stress. You, however, did not care to pay those signs any mind. You were entirely too roped up in your state of distress. “I know the boy is a nuisance, but you’ll have to make do. You and Satoru will marry, and that is final.”

“And what about my career? My life?!”

“Good god, (Y/n), your world isn’t ending. There are much worse fates than marrying a wealthy heir,” he attempted to reason. “Besides, you're my daughter. As much as you wanted to build a life of your own and get your own employment, you never needed to do any of that. I’ve been trying to tell you that forever.”

“Yeah, and at the same time I’ve been trying to tell you that I don’t want to be handed everything all the time!”

“Believe me, if you were born less fortunate, you would not cling to such childish ideals.”

You fumed, body trembling, feeling as though you were preparing to burst at the seams. You wanted to explode, but you had no outlet. You wanted to scream, but there was no tunnel in which your voice could escape freely. You were no longer free, you thought to yourself. You were trapped, stuck, and the feeling tore you to shreds like no other emotion ever had.

You believed that the very worst of the remainder of the week were the rumors that had already begun circling around about you and Satoru. You recalled waking up one morning to a text from your friend Shoko, and narrowing your eyes in shock when you read what she had said.

Sho: Um, girl, please tell me what I hear about you marrying Satoru Gojo isn’t true.

You immediately took to the internet, scouring Twitter, Instagram, and every celebrity news blog possible to find a secret picture of you and the white haired man taken from afar from at least two months back. You remembered the exact occasion, as well. You had been on your way home from a lecture when you ran into the blue eyed freak at the market. He had significantly invaded your personal space, by the looks of the picture and if your memory had served you well, which it always did, and he was leaning over you with a challenging grin, eyes half lidding and hand pressed to the brick wall with his arm blocking your path by your head.

He had made a comment about something you were wearing, or perhaps it was a snippy comment about where you were coming from - you don’t exactly recall all the details, but you could tell by your rigid stance that he was irritating you once again. The paparazzi, however, and the thousands of people soaking up  the gossip, mistook this brief interaction for a romantic rendezvous, a suggestion of a flirtatious exchange, a hint toward a far deeper connection.

The suspicions alone paired with the picture may not have done too much harm on their own, for rumors about wealthy individuals’ personal lives spread all over the internet every single day, but what transformed what could have been an innocent, meaningless encounter into a bigger scandal was a particular tweet that you found with a blank profile and teetering over a million hearts that read: “I heard that the Gojo heir and the (L/n) daughter are getting married…”

This could have also been completely taken out of context, but the uproar from the picture combined with such a drastic piece of gossip only further fueled the internet’s hunger and curiosity.

This had Gojo’s father and his team written all over it. 

And you had no choice but to tell Shoko that the rumor was, in fact, laced with no trace of falsehood. As you expected, she reeled in shock and asked a million questions, considering her knowledge of your long-harbored hatred for the man, but you pleaded with her not to say anything to anyone until you and Satoru yourselves went public with the information. She agreed, and you at least were given the opportunity to rant to your friend about the truth behind the news once she was sworn to secrecy by your undying trust in her. 

You felt such pity for yourself, especially as you studied your reflection in the mirror as Satoru neared the forty-five minute mark with no text, no car, and no arrival. Gold jewelry dripped from your ears and dazzled around your neck above the crease of your cleavage, your satin black gown hugging your body velvety-smooth. You tugged at your gown gloves, eyes boring into your own. You were the very pinnacle of first class wealth and beauty, a gem untouched by the greedy grasp of man, but that would only last until the moment you arrived at the altar with a man you did not love, with a man you rather despised, with a man who couldn’t even keep a promise to pick you up at the time he had set. 

You had such grand dreams for yourself, a life away from a legacy birthed into you, a life christened by your careful planning and your nurtured ambitions, and all of it had been crushed within a matter of seconds. 

You envisioned yourself years down the line, dressed in a similar fashion, awaiting your husband’s arrival for a charity event that the two of you were to attend together. He was late, and time ticked on, and the bags weighed heavily under your eyes as you stared into the empty souls of your eyes, once filled with vibrance yet having been drained by the tireless despair of pretending to be happy within a crystal palace of your own doom.

Was this your life? Was this who you were meant to be all along? Had the years studying in school, traveling, honing in on your own craft though so closely connected to your father even been worth it? Was this worth it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud honk of a car horn from outside your front door. You jumped slightly, then immediately filled with rage at the notion that Satoru had the audacity to not only show up almost an hour late, but to beep his horn as though you were the one who had been delaying the two of you this entire time. He didn’t even have the decency to greet you at your door, and you wondered for a moment if he treated all of his dates like this or if you were the only exception. 

You thought about ignoring him and staying home, but the honking persisted and your patience was wearing thin. With an aggravated grunt, you swiped up your bag in hand and marched out of your door, slamming it closed upon seeing Satoru laze about in the driver’s seat of his benz, parked up in the center of your circular gravel driveway with the engine running. 

You didn’t even bother acknowledging him when he looked up and you were already yanking his door open and shutting it harshly behind you, brows angled and eyes fiery with anger. You sat rigidly in the seat, arms crossed over your chest tightly. 

“...So, I’m a little late-”

“So help me Gojo, drive the fucking car or I’ll kill you right here and make it look like an accident.”

He sucked in a breath, tugging his mouth down as he bared his teeth and shifted the car back into drive. “Someone’s pissy tonight.”

“Oh, and I wonder why!” you exclaimed, whirling your head over at him heatedly. You could barely see his eyes through the dark, round shades that he wore, which complemented the navy velvet tux adorning his figure. “Your ass is too busy being blind wearing fucking sunglasses in the dark instead of getting here on time like I specifically told you to do.”

“What? You don’t like ‘em? I think they look good. And I get held up with work, relax,” he groaned. You threw a hefty punch into his shoulder, leading the man to yelp and clutch the injured area. “What the hell?!”

“You’re an hour late, Gojo!” you yelled. “Not five minutes, not ten, not fifteen, a whole hour.”

“Technically, there’s still a few minutes until it’s an hour-”

“Who the fuck cares?!” you interjected. 

Satoru blinked at you, trying his very hardest to bit back the smile that was creeping onto his face in reaction to your anger. “What do you expect me to do- you want me to apologize, sweetheart?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“I’m just getting into character,” he defended. “I’d hate to start off our first date with such negativity.”

“I can not do this with you tonight. Hurry up and drive, Gojo. We’re already late.”

“Mmmm, try again, honey. Remember, what did we agree on?”

“We agreed that you’d get here at 9:00 and that if you were late, you needed to find a new fiance,” you hissed. “But since I can’t exactly make that happen, I’ll settle on not calling you Satoru.”

Satoru clicked his tongue. “You’ll need to switch that up once we’re at the party, (Y/n).”

“I don’t think I will,” you smiled tightly. “I’m not going to make tonight easy for you in the slightest. You want me to come? I’m coming, but I’m not doing so happily.

He gave you an irritated glance. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

You lifted your clenched fist as though to punch him again, and he flinched, leaning away and shielding himself with a hand. “Okay, okay! I’m driving. Sheesh.”

The car ride over to the Itadoris’ was rather silent, save for the radio that Satoru had turned on for the sake of the tension bubbling in the air, inspired solely by you. You kept your body twisted and tensed toward the passenger door, hair blowing about your face as the wind whipped through the open vehicle. You kept your gaze to the dark sky above and the blurry city lights that glazed over your eyes as Satoru sped through traffic.

Eventually, the two of you made it past the excitement of the bustling city to the other side, where tall, bright buildings and flashing billboards were replaced by rural, gran estates, cottages, and temples. The landscape shifted as well, rolling hills cascading amidst tall, flourishing flower trees and ponds guarded by quant bridges. You took in a deep sigh, anticipating the very worst as you entered the vicinity in which the Itadoris lived. 

Lavish, large, and disgustingly rich, Jin Itadori, the head of a well-loved shipping company, housed a luxurious home on the other side of the city, amidst the brush within a secluded section by the edge of the forest. There, the patch of greenery seemed to clear for the very loud residence of the family home, where the entire Itadori lineage lived in one space. 

The Itadoris, while immensely well known, were a rather strange… eccentric crew, to say the very least. While you felt that you could at least attempt to handle one of them at a time, the thought of having to encounter all five of them at once was incredibly unappealing to you. You were already experiencing the displeasure of arriving as Satoru’s date and fiance, therefore, being forced to mingle with the likes of such a chaotic bunch was not something you were looking forward to very much.

There was Jin, of course, who had assumed the role of the head of this company by Wasuke, the former head as well as his father. Wasuke, once a sharp mouthed, spritely, mischievous young man who had gone great lengths to achieve his ambitions of wealth and success, had aged into a sharp mouthed, mischievous old man, bitter with his permanent physical connection to the rest of his family whilst still living amongst them all in his mansion, despite his refusal to move into a nursing home at his elderly age. Wasuke had the terrible habit of delving into lengthy rants about the very expansive list of things he did not care for regarding his family, as well as how the world and its society developed into a gentrified, modernized “pit of doom,” as he would have liked to describe it. With every chance he found, he was souring a moment of joy, tainting happiness with his miserable outlook on life. 

His son remained the more reasonable of the group, attempting to regain composure when chaos inevitably erupted. He served as the anchor, the man of reason with an incredibly strong, though dwindling tolerance for the hell that his family put him through every day. He was currently working toward showing his son, Yuji, a kind hearted sixteen year old boy, the ropes of running a company to prepare him for the day that he succeeded him as the business’ next head. 

Yuji never bothered you much, for he was a kid with a bright future. He always made sure to greet you happily whenever he saw you, asking questions about what you were up to and humoring your desire to branch out on your own. Yuji Itadori may have been the only person in this world you had met who did not immediately judge you by your relation to your father, and for that, you had always admired the kid. You only hoped that the path his family led for him did not hinder his wonderful spirit. 

His half-brother, Choso, was not in any way directly connected to the Itadori legacy, yet he was a member of the family nonetheless after having been estranged for years. He often kept to himself, straying away from the public light unlike the rest of his family. You weren’t entirely sure of what his goals were, however, he wasn’t a terrible guy. He was quiet, reserved. You would have pegged him as a misunderstood artist, or a poet, or something like that - far separated from the world of business that those around him were so heavily involved in. You doubted you would even see him tonight if he weren’t clinging to the wall in the corner with a bored look upon his face.

But then, the very worst of them all and perhaps the main reason why you didn’t want to attend this party, was Sukuna, Jin’s twin brother and Yuji’s uncle. 

You weren’t even sure where to begin with him. Hell, you could barely decide who was the worst of them between him and Satoru, and that certainly was saying something.

Sukuna was an asshole in a far less playful and lighthearted manner than Satoru portrayed himself to be. He was the type of man to get ‘canceled’ by Twitter four times within a month, without providing any form of apology for the rather outlandish things he elected to say. He was often saved by his brother’s mercy, and let’s not fool ourselves, the curse of impeccably good genes that graced his facial and physical features. 

Whenever something went south at the Itadoris’, it was mainly due to his antics and thirst for conflict. He figured that since he was already undeservingly wealthy, and not any successor of the company, he could get away with more than most, only when he behaved out of line, it had an impact on those who were actually involved in keeping the company afloat. 

And oh, Sukuna loved when he threw his family into a scandal then acted as though he was not responsible, fading away back into the noise and watching the entertainment unfold. 

You groaned. You felt it in your gut that something was going to go wrong tonight, especially so if Satoru intended to expose the two of you as a couple at this gala. 

Dread flooded your stomach as the two of you pulled up into the gravel, past the thick ravine that surrounded the entryway just behind the gate. A man in black guided Satoru’s vehicle to a row of expensive cars lined the circle before the Itadori estate.

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “I hate this place.”

“Tell me something you don’t hate, sweetheart,” Satoru quipped, parking his vehicle and turning off the ignition. He turned to you, eyes glinting over his round frames with his hand still gripping the wheel. “Are you done pouting?”

“Are you done getting on my nerves?” you raised a brow, glaring at him. “The answer to that is no.”

“You can’t still be mad about me being late. I told you it was because of work,” he whined. “We have a whole night ahead of us. You need to let it go.”

“What work exactly were you doing to make you an hour late?”

“Does that even really matter right now?” he shifted. He reached an arm back, stretching over the back of your seat and pushing himself upward, invading your space slightly to reach for an item behind you. You leaned away, tightening your lips. Satoru glanced at you once he grabbed whatever he was looking for, seating himself properly back into his spot. “You could stand to not look so disgusted by being close to me, you know.”

“But I am disgusted by being close to you.”

“Then you won’t like what we’ll be doing soon at all,” he laughed slightly to himself, shaking his head. You opened your mouth to retort when he presented a small, velvet box in his hand before you, holding it to you over the console. You examined the box, your mouth falling open in shock. “Here. It’s yours.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at him incredulously. “That is not what I think it is.”

“Open it and find out,” he pushed it further into your lap.

You pushed your hand against his, shoving the box back to him. “I don’t want it.”

“(Y/n),” Satoru began, clearly becoming just as annoyed as you already were. “Neither of us want it, but you need to wear it. Open it and put it on, for god’s sake.”

“No! This will not be how you propose to me, Gojo - not in your car in the middle of the night at the Itadori estate!”

“I’m not proposing, you idiot. We’re already engaged. You need to wear it so people here can know that we’re together.”

“I’m not wearing it,” you argued stubbornly. Satoru’s brows angled, jaw clenching. 

“Yes you are,” he murmured firmly.

“No, I’m not.”

Before you knew it, he was snatching your wrist up in his grasp forcefully. You yelped in retort, attempting to tug yourself away, but the Gojo heir’s strength proved to succeed your own, just as he did in every other aspect of your lives. You faltered slightly, watching with blown eyes as he held you securely with one hand and popped the box open with the other, revealing a breathtaking gold ring encrusted with a shimmering, turquoise gem in the midst of winding, plated vines. 

You admitted that the piece of jewelry was absolutely beautiful, not to mention that it was gold - the color of jewelry you had worn all your life. 

Wordlessly, Satoru pinched the ring between his fingers, lifting it from its velvet bed to slide onto your outstretched ring finger, settling it snugly around your digit. The warmth of his palm was immediately ripped away once you were wearing the ring. He turned to toss the box into the backseat over his shoulder behind him, then swiftly pushed open his car door. 

“Happy?” he growled over his shoulder. You had nothing to say as you stared confoundedly at the ring he had just pulled onto your hand. “Great. Now let’s go.”

In the midst of your surprise by his forcefulness and by the way the ring complimented your hand, you followed his order and dazedly got out of the car, closing the door gently behind you with your gaze casted down to your hand. 

You were too distracted to notice Satoru making his way over to you, and before you knew it, his arm was looping around yours, pulling your hand from your gaze and gluing you to him. You huffed when your side collided with his, your shoulder pressing into his bicep. You flinched and looked up as the blue eyed heir towered over your side. He peered at you out of the corner of his eye, catching the way you stared at him like a lost puppy, and his previous anger diminished slightly. 

“What’s the matter?” his smooth voice slid out. “Getting flustered on me already?”

His comment immediately snapped you out of your trance and your face hardened once more. “Fuck no.”

He laughed, guiding the two of you slowly to the staircase. “But you like the ring, don’t you? I can see it all over your face.”

“It’s a ring, Gojo-”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I mean, it could,” he proposed, allowing you to take the first step up as you gather the hem of your gown in your hands. You kept your eyes to your heels, proceeding carefully, and Satoru did the same while your mind was occupied, eyeing the motion of your feet intensely as your dress draped over your exposed angles, dangling from your pinched fingers. “The ring’s a family heirloom. It’s been passed down for generations. So you liking the ring at least means you like us just a little bit.”

“Are you serious?” you asked him. “I didn’t peg you guys for the gold jewelry type.”

“Guess there’s a lot you still don’t know about who I am,” he answered rather swiftly. The two of you finally made it up the stairs and stood before the wide doors of the estate.

“How late exactly are we?” you asked him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as he tugged you closer into him. You bore a grim expression, looking off to the side.

“Uhhh, not that late,” Satoru responded. “Maybe about two hours.”

“HUH?!” you exclaimed. “Two?! You mean to tell me you were already trying to get me an hour after the party even started?”

“I was busy, and I never arrive at these things on time. I prefer being fashionably late.”

“There’s a difference between fashionably late and just late, dumbass.”

“Either way, we’ll make a big entrance. And that’s what we want, right?” he smirked down at you. “Attention.”

You sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I got talked into this.”

“You’ll be fine,” he drawled. “Just relax and stay with me. And remember, we’re getting married!” he pressed himself down to you, leaning his mouth toward the shell of your ear. “Try to act like it.”

You shuddered, recoiling aggressively. “Don’t do that!” you barked over his symphony of amused laughter. 

The two of you entered the space as servants pulled the doors back for you, the symphony of classical music echoing through the pristine space. You were led past the main spiral staircase to the left, down winding hallways, through spacious corridors, and into the ballroom. The entryway was guarded by two marble, Greek statues on either side, welcoming its visitors regally. 

You felt Satoru’s elbow tighten slightly around yours, catching your attention. His piercing eyes swallowed you whole, glasses tipping down the bridge of his nose as he looked at you. “Smile,” he whispered.

You yanked his arm back just as tightly, tilting your head with a tight jaw. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you grinned, bearing pretty teeth in a threatening, forced manner. 

He smiled, breathing out softly, before entering the large space scattered with well-dressed, familiar faces, the most honored names within the small community of the 1%. You shivered as a cold gust of wind brushed over you, sprouting goosebumps across your bare skin as eyes flickered your way and whispers ignited in accordance to your arrival. Your eyes looked over the people, noting everyone you saw and praying to whatever god above that you wouldn’t run into Wasuke or Sukuna first thing tonight.

Thankfully, the two of you were greeted by Jin mere seconds after you stepped into the space. Hushed murmurs of gossip continued to circle the huge room, and you caught a few glances darting to your linked arms and the ring adorned on your finger. 

The salmon haired heir approached you with a knowing look upon his face, eyes focused on Satoru tiredly with his hands clasped behind his back. Satoru bore a wide beam, nodding toward Jin casually. 

“Jin,” Satoru greeted grandly. “So happy to be here. Thanks for having me.”

“Satoru,” the said man exhaled. “The gala ends in an hour. What the hell are you doing here so late?”

The white haired man shrugged. “Just got caught up in some business. You know how it goes.”

“Oh really? The same business that you often neglect to take care of your own personal needs? Like the time you took my son to the mall instead of signing off on papers?”

Satoru sucked in a gulp of air slowly, his smile remaining as shamefully as it always had been. “Damn, you know about that, huh? I could’ve sworn I bribed Yuji to keep that a secret.”

“There’s no need to bribe him, the kid can’t keep a secret to save his life. An honest one, that boy. Maybe too honest,” Jin murmured. “So what were you really doing?”

“Come on, Jin, don’t make me spell it out,” Satoru said cheekily, his attention suddenly turning to you. You perked up, put on the spot, and looked with confusion between the man at your side and the Itadori family heir. You reeled at the manner in which Satoru gazed at you, his eyes swollen with feigned admiration as his tone dripped with infatuation, albeit rather over the top. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news about (Y/n) and I. You remember the (L/n) daughter, don’t you?”

Your eye twitched while you tried to keep a steady, small smile. Jin turned to you, nodding. “How could I forget? You’re the girl who always manages to rile my brother up.”

You puckered your lips and knitted your brows together. “Uh-” you stopped. “What? You mean Sukuna?” Jin nodded again, a hint of an amused smile gracing his weary face. “I don’t remember ever sharing a conversation with that a- mm- I mean, I’ve– never really had the pleasure of crossing paths with him to even say something that would bother him.”

“Please, save it. I know my brother’s a monster,” he chuckled and you relaxed slightly. “That’s not what I meant anyway.”

“...Then what did you mean?”

Jin paused, shifting his heavy eyes between you and Satoru. “It’s nothing,” he elected to say. “Now, tell me- what is it you were saying about you and (Y/n), Satoru? Are you…?”

Satoru nodded, his smile molding into something rather tense. “Engaged,” he finished quickly. Jin visibly faltered, his rather cool exterior altering when the word fell upon his ears. Your breath hitched in your throat, for you hadn’t expected Satoru to jump right into blabbering your business to the whole world.

You felt his other hand creep over yours, the one attached to your conjoined arm, and he melted his touch into the back of your palm, smoothing gently over the skin and your ring. You tried not to jump, to pull away, to tear yourself far from the man when you felt the unwarranted and rather intimate contact. Your nose twitched slightly and your stance went rigid, eyes blank as your lips curled into what you believed to be something akin to a love stricken grin. 

“...Engaged?” Jin repeated.

“Yep. For quite some time now, actually. We’ve just been keeping it quiet considering how our companies have always been with each other. But that’s all in the past now. I’m late because we just got so caught up in our newly betrothed excitement,” Satoru recited expertly. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

God, you wanted to kill him. You wanted to kill him so bad. If you could have just slapped him straight across his face and left a burning red handprint on his sickeningly perfect skin, you would have been satisfied, but instead, you buried the urge.

“That’s right,” you nodded, refusing to make eye contact with Satoru as you did. 

Jin cleared his throat. “Well, congratulations. I would have truly never expected something like this.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” you giggled kindly, feeling the way Satoru physically reacted to the comment as subtly as possible when his fingers pressed into your knuckles. 

“What she means is that we hadn’t expected to fall for each other so easily,” he clarified. “Who would have thought that I would settle down with someone like her?”

You sensed the backhandedness of his statement and swiftly bounced back. “It’s funny, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed I’d settle for someone like him either. Not in a million years,” you grinned, finding his eyes when you tilted your head back up to him. The two of you communicated through your tense gazes, exchanging sentiments of aggravation nonverbally, momentarily forgetting that Jin still stood before you.

The said main puffed a laugh, raising his brows. “Hey, as long as the two of you are happy.”

You and Satoru turned your heads back to him at the same time. “Very,” you unified.

“And what about your parents? What do they think?”

“You know, it took some adjusting, but they’re actually taking quite well to it now,” Satoru said.

“Surprisingly, right?”

“I bet,” Jin said. “Alright then. I’ll be sure to ask (L/n) and Gojo for the details. The family and I will be happy to make it.”

“Better clear your calendar soon,” you hissed quietly under your breath, Satoru tugging you in warning though Jin did not hear.

“Trust me, you guys will be the first on the list,” Satoru grinned.

“We appreciate it,” Jin said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure my brother hasn’t harassed any more of our guests. Enjoy the evening. Or whatever’s left of it at least.”

You smiled and waved as Jin bid you farewell, watching him turn and leave. “Care to knock it off?” Satoru growled from beside you.

Your smile dropped as you looked at him heatedly. You turned to stand before him, unlinking your arms and prying his fingers away from your hand. “I told you that I don’t wanna be here, and you pissed me off. I’m not in the mood to play nice.”

“That’s your issue, (Y/n), you never are,” he grumbled. “You act like a spoiled brat. You can’t get everything you want in this life and pout because of it.”

“Watch your mouth, Gojo. Don’t pretend to know who I am or why I act the way I do.”

“But you can do the same to me without consequence?” he challenged. “You’re a hypocrite above everything else, too. And for the last time, my name is not Gojo.”

“And I told you I don’t care,” you leaned in, pursing your lips together stubbornly as Satoru returned your hard glare. You had failed to notice the proximity in which the two of you had closed into one another, your faces mere centimeters away as your mutual frustration fueled your minds. 

Fortunately for the two of you, from the outside perspective, you appeared as though you were cosying up to one another, keeping close in the bliss of your personal bubble. You clicked your teeth and pulled away eventually. 

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Satoru seemed to oppose the idea, stepping forward to reach for you, but you dodged him. “We need to be seen together more-”

“Then have your dad take another secret picture of us and plaster it all over Tokyo for all I care. That’ll last longer than any second we spend with each other in person,” you said sternly before turning off to the organized array of drinks on the other side of the room. Satoru stood and watched you march away tensely, hands clenching into fists and unclenching at your sides as your heels clicked loudly against the floor. You disappeared into the crowd, gown fluttering at your feet, and he sighed. He truly didn’t understand how you could behave in such a complicated manner. He didn’t understand you at all, and it was gnawing away at him minute by minute. 

The night drifted on rather slowly, despite the fact that only an hour had remained when the two of you got to the estate. You had successfully shaken Satoru off of your back for the time being while you occupied yourself with speaking to Yuji and a few other people you had stolen the time to catch up with. Each person you spoke to asked the same question of whether you and Satoru were together, which you reluctantly affirmed each time with the flash of your ring before greedy eyes. Gasps of delight ensued and you masked yourself with an expression of giddiness, soaking in everyone’s reactions. Yuji himself had been rather confused to hear the news, considering how well he knew you and Satoru, but congratulated you happily nonetheless. Wasuke, however, who you inevitably ran into, held you captive by a ten minute tangent about the horrors of marriage, which you honestly couldn’t find yourself to disagree much with in this case scenario.

Satoru kept a sneaking eye on you the entire time you were parted, watching the way you lifted the rim of a glass to your painted lips daintily, glassy eyes moving over the room with contempt as you feigned politeness. His lips flattened into a firm line as he watched you, studying with simmering annoyance. Despite your constant complaining, you managed a room very well with your false exclamations of joy. You had a presence about you, certainly so in the dress you wore, though he had always known you to be a woman of great beauty. He could recognize that from a general standpoint.

Still, the way you behaved irked him to his very core. He didn’t understand how you so easily blasphemed his character and everything he stood for when you paraded about with the same riches and privilege. You thought too highly of yourself, withholding this image of righteousness and uniqueness that deluded you into the fantasy of going to law school and trying to branch out from under your father’s firm. You looked at Satoru as if you were insulted by his very existence, as though he reminded you of the worst parts of yourself, and you took this insecurity of yours out on him. Granted, Satoru knew that he could be a handful. He had heard so from plenty, watched the many different ways people reacted to his carefree, audacious personality, but he didn’t care. He knew who he was and wore his pride on his sleeve unapologetically, but you didn’t seem to know who you were at all and you made it his problem.

Satoru never wanted to marry you, despite his fascination with pushing your buttons. He couldn’t say that he hated you though. What he felt for you was more so a form of befuddlement by your sheer naivety and your quickness to turn the blame of your own doing to anyone but yourself. He found you vexing, at times, because you couldn’t own up to your truest self. He thought you were bratty, mouthy, and prissy, but he didn’t hate you. Not the way you hated him.

He wasn’t ecstatic when his father first presented the news of the two of you marrying because he knew how things would go with you. You were impossible to work with, and yes, Satoru knew that his teasing didn’t make your tolerance of him any more plausible, but even in putting that aside, you refused to meet him halfway or see him eye to eye. It drove him crazy.

You couldn’t even fathom standing by his side for more than five minutes at a party. You were too caught up in yourself and your hatred for him, or more so the effect he had on you, that it interfered with your social abilities and therefore Satoru’s goals. 

God, you were a pain. A gorgeous, stubborn, spoiled pain that Satoru had the misfortune of marrying. Utahime’s words faded off into white noise as she yammered on to the white haired man before him, his mind stuck to you and the very meticulous ways you aggravated his entire being. 

You were heading over to find another drink presented by a waiter when your path was suddenly blocked. You halted, looking up past the broad suited chest before you to find the second face you dreaded craning over you with a sly grin. You failed to hide your disdain, your face dropping and your shoulders slumping the second your eyes met the crimson ones before you.

“Sukuna,” you groaned. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Is it?” his smirk widened, hands tucked into his slack pockets, voice dripping with malice. “It doesn’t seem like you’re very happy to see me.”

“What. No, I’m thrilled,” you said flatly with no emotion, and Sukuna hummed.

“Clearly,” he jumped his brows. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight.”

“Well, I was praying you wouldn’t.”

He tutted lightly, dragging his brows together as if to scold you with his expression. “Come now, don’t be so rude. You are a guest in my home, after all.”

“Technically, this is your brother’s home.”

“Technically, it’s Wasuke’s but that’s besides the point. We all live here, so the details of whose house it was in the first place are of no importance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“So, let’s cut to the chase,” the burly man began. He took a step close to you, moving to your side as his eyes wandered the area, then back to your face deviously. “I saw you come in with Gojo.”

Great. Another interrogation. “Yeah. So?”

“Jin says you’re dating, now. That true?”

You shook your head, twisting your mouth up. “If it is, why do you care?”

“Everybody cares, doll. You’re the talk of the town these days. I’m just trying to get my facts straight.” His body turned into you, and you shuffled back slightly. “Is it true?”

“You know, people used to have this thing called privacy. You ever heard of that?”

A low chuckle rumbled through Sukuna’s chest. “What’s the use of privacy when you live like this?” he questioned. “The notion’s practically nonexistent.”

“Then it’s out of the question to tell you to mind your own business?”

His smirk widened, blood red eyes simmering into you. “You’re always so feisty.”

“And you’re always a creep.”

“Am I now?” he mused. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“Because I obviously don’t want to talk to you about my love life, Sukuna.”

“Then I was right. You are together.”

You were about to reply when a body pressed into you from behind, pushing into the space between you and Sukuna and settling itself close to you at once. You knew it was Satoru when the scent of his signature cologne invaded your nostrils and the familiar rigidness of his buff, lanky form collided into your own. Sukuna was forced to step back slightly when Satoru invaded, and you jumped when a hand snaked itself around your waist and rested snugly.

You glanced down at the sight, the way Satoru’s hand clutched at your side and pulled you into him almost possessively. When you caught the look on his face, you noticed a bitterness swimming in his eyes and biting at his jaw. Though his glossed lips pressed into a smile he had worn all night, this one appeared blatantly exaggerated.

“Isn’t it clear by the ring on her finger?” Satoru grinned, blinking at the salmon haired rogue. “Or maybe your sense of sight is starting to fail you after all these years. You gettin’ old, Ryomen?”

“What? I can’t ask the woman a question myself?” Sukuna crossed his arms, eyes slimming when he registered the sight of Satoru before him. “I hate to jump to conclusions. I don’t like to believe everything I hear without going to the source first.”

“If you’ve heard our names circulating, then you’ve heard that we’re getting married.”

Sukuna made an unimpressed scoffing noise, lifting his painted fingers to scratch the side of his jaw as he eyed you suspiciously. “Like I said, I don’t believe everything I hear,” he muttered lowly. “How long exactly has this been going on?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you countered. Ryomen flashed an enticed grin your way, and Satoru’s fingers instinctively dug further into your side. You could tell by his body language and the way his grip tightened around you that he and Sukuna did not exactly enjoy each other’s company. You assumed by the way he had swooped in that there was something he felt he needed to prove to Jin’s twin, and whether it was his superiority as a businessman or as your ‘fiance’ you weren’t sure, but what you did know, or believe, was that it was still all for show. 

“Honey, the man’s asking, so there’s no need to keep any details from him, hm?” Satoru proposed sweetly, his eyes still burning into Sukuna’s face as he spoke to you. You remained hesitant to play into his behavior, though Sukuna’s interference admittedly made you want to fit into the role more than you had when he wasn’t pestering you. Nevertheless, hearing Satoru address you as ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’ proceeded to rub you the wrong way. You chalked it up to disgust at first, but the pit in your stomach that was forming due to discomfort was attempting to sway you. 

Maybe it was because he was calling you such cute names while his arm was wrapped around you. The contact was rather foreign to the both of you, yet Satoru did so as though he had done it a hundred times over. 

It felt… odd, in the sense that it didn’t feel terribly out of place. 

Your underlying bitterness still peeked through and impacted the shift of your opinions. As strangely natural as Satoru’s touch abruptly felt, your disapproval of the evening and the overall ordeal remained. Satoru was your fiance, not your friend or lover.

“Seems like she doesn’t have much to say,” Sukuna jumped in. “Possibly because… it’s not true,” Sukuna posed, rolling his head to the side as he surveyed Satoru’s reaction devilishly. In many ways, you noticed the similarities between the two men like this. They both sought to bring a rise out of others, though Sukuna aimed to do so with as much ill-willed intent as possible and a very obvious lack of subtlety. In comparison, Satoru seemed like a saint when Sukuna uttered the most foul things he could think of to piss someone off. You could tell he was simply charging up to do so in this case scenario.

“How could it not be true when the goddamn ring is on her finger,” Satoru shot back slyly, eyes narrowing. “If you really want, I could bring the signed papers for you to see too. Would that be real enough for you?”

“I just find it hard to believe that miss ‘hard-to-get’ here managed to settle down within the span of a month,” Sukuna shrugged. He looked back down at you. “Could’ve sworn you told me you were never gonna entertain another man, much less get married to one.”

“I’m sure she was only saying that about you,” Satoru chuckled. “Since you couldn’t take a hint if a meteor was hurtling toward the earth and (Y/n) shoved you into its path.”

“You really think she wouldn’t do the same to you once she gets tired of pretending?” Sukuna’s brow raised. “I can see right through you. I know what this is really about.”

“I do too. It’s about my future wife preferring to marry me over having two seconds of regrettable sex with you.”

“Ha!” Sukuna bursted out, leaning forward slightly with the release of his aggressive amusement. “Regrettable? I may be a lot of things, but my dick is anything but that.”

“OKAY!” you exclaimed, pushing your hands at the both of their chests, shoving them away from each other. Satoru’s hand failed to leave your waist as you moved, his eyes holding a coldness to them that made his smile appear rather daunting as he stared at Sukuna. “Whatever the fuck is going on with you guys, knock it off right now. This is not the time or place to have a dick measuring contest. Alright?” you lectured, looking wildly between the two men. Sukuna watched you with lazy hilarity as Satoru tugged you back to him.

“I’d win one anyway,” he grumbled, your back colliding with his chest.

You turned to give him an exasperated glare. “I doubt it,” Sukuna pushed.

“Enough,” you hissed. “The fuck is wrong with you two?”

“Wh- he started it!” Satoru accused, looking down at you from over your shoulder.

“And you entertained it,” you growled.

“Uh oh,” Sukuna snickered. “Trouble in paradise? All because of me?”

“Jesus Christ, Sukuna, find a hobby.”

“I’ve got plenty of hobbies, doll.”

“Don’t call my wife ‘doll,’” Satoru frowned.

“Sorry, does she prefer ‘baby?’”

Satoru hummed lightly. “You know what I’d prefer?” he simpered, holding you close. “Taking this outside.”

“Must you always resort to violence?” Sukuna exhaled as though he weren’t practically known for his tendency to get involved in unnecessary brawls at bars. “And at my family home of all places. Tch, some heir to the Gojo firm you are. I bet your father’s real disappointed in how you’re turning out, but it seems he doesn’t have much of a choice but to trust you against his better judgment.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

Satoru’s smile widened into something almost sadistic, his grip on you finally slacking to inch toward a confidently still Ryomen. You butted in again, wedging yourself directly in between the two of them, trying your best to handle the situation without drawing much attention. 

You pressed yourself into Satoru, urging him back. “Stop it,” you demanded.

Your fiance didn’t even look like he had heard you, though he allowed your touch to guide him back despite his overwhelming strength in comparison to yours. He stumbled about with a wicked expression, eyes locked in a murderous haze. You had never seen Satoru look so riled up before, on the brink of insanity. It had all happened so fast as well, and you weren’t exactly sure how to handle the situation.

“No, let him swing,” Sukuna urged. “I’m sure his father will love to see the headline in the morning. ‘Gojo Successor Throws Punch at Itadori Twin on a Generously Extended Invitation to Family Gala.’ It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Sure does. I wonder how the headline would change if I stomped your face in,” Satoru mused, moving to approach once more, but you pushed him back with all your might.

“Satoru!” you seethed through gritted teeth, voice dropping with intensity. He blinked, flickering his eyes down at you hesitantly, caught suddenly between your objective and his own. Sukuna puckered his lips as though to make a silent ‘ooo’ sound, taunting Satoru from behind you. The blue eyed man eventually ripped his gaze completely from Sukuna and met your eyes. “Cut it out,” you mouthed carefully, pupils shrunken and hand pressed firmly to the space in which his heart beated rapidly amid his chest, your other hand firm on his shoulder.

Gojo’s chest rose and fell slowly, deeply, eyes searching your own as he slowly allowed his resolve to crumble under the severity of your gaze and the press of your palms to him. He had never seen you so serious before, so dominant with intensity when you normally took to whining and pouting around. Not only that, but you were trying to protect him from his own behavior, or perhaps you were protecting yourself, which was the real reason why you looked so sincere. Either way, it succeeded in convincing him to back off when he normally would not have bothered to stop and think about what he was doing. 

“I’ll be damned,” Sukuna snorted, catching your attention. His eyes hardened, clearly disappointed in his failure to push Satoru to the edge. 

“What?” you grimaced.

He breathed out heavily, closing his eyes. “Looks like you’re together after all.”

You furrowed your brows. “What does that mean?”

“Just that not even Satoru’s father can bring him down the way you just did. And we all know how Satoru’s father is,” he responded, suddenly disinterested. Your brain stuttered, unsure exactly of what Sukuna was implying by the notion. “Just don’t go off staining any of the couches in the house. They’re more expensive than all of our lives combined.”

Sukuna turned to leave when he stopped himself, looking back at you. “And if you ever get bored, you know where to find me.”

“Fuck off,” you snapped, leading him to chuckle and walk away.

The moment Sukuna disappeared, you grew hyperware of your hands still placed on Satoru’s chest. You turned back to him and swiftly let your hands fall, clearing your throat as Satoru followed Ryomen’s fading figure with his eye. “What a tool,” Satoru snarled. “Imagine if we were a real couple and he said that stuff. He’d have gotten his windpipe crushed.”

“I don’t know,” you started, eying Satoru questioningly. “You looked pretty ready to kill him anyway. Wanna tell me what that was about?”

The white haired man scratched the back of his head, looking off to the side with an exhale. “Not really,” he told you. “He and I have always hated each other’s guts.”

“I can see that,” you shook your head. “Seriously, what were you thinking? You were just gonna fight him in the middle of his ballroom? With all these people watching?”

“Calm down, jeez. You get worked up so easily.”

“Me? You just threatened to beat his ass!”

“For show, (Y/n). For show,” he smiled. “And I’m pretty sure it worked. He was convinced that we’re together by the time he left, wasn’t he?”

“Not to pretend like I know you very well, but I’ve seen the way you are when you act. That wasn’t acting. You looked pissed. For real.”

“Aw, thanks,” he beamed. “Must mean my practicing is paying off.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Hey, I was doing you a favor,” the blue eyed man defended, his hands finding his hips. “You weren’t exactly enjoying your conversation with him. I helped you get out of it.”

“Which, by the way, you did not have to do by grabbing my waist!” you pointed out, recalling the touch that swarmed your lower half. “You need to learn more about personal space.”

“How many times do we have to go over the fact that I need to be handsy with you to convince people we’re together,” he craned his neck to ask you, looking down at your stubborn expression.

“Not the way you did it. That was way too intimate.”

“And what’s so wrong about that? Husbands and wives are intimate with each other all the time.”

“Yeah, but we’re not an ordinary husband and wife- we’re not even husband and wife yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Satoru blabbered, leaning back to stand up straight. 

“I’m serious, Satoru. We need to talk about what just happened.”

The Gojo paused the wandering of his eyes, looking down at you as a grin spread over his face, his eyes twinkling. You looked at him oddly in return. 

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re calling me Satoru now.”

“I-” you stopped yourself, realizing that you had let his first name slip when you were trying to regulate his argument, or whatever the hell that was, with Sukuna. You clamped your mouth shut, having subconsciously gone against your own promise to yourself. Satoru only continued smiling smugly at you, awaiting a response. “…Shit. I did.”

Satoru’s chest jumped with laughter. “All on your own, too. Isn’t that something.”

“Look, I had to get your attention somehow. It just slipped out,” you rubbed your brow. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal~” he sang, stepping closer to you.

You held your hand out. “What did we say about personal space?”

“You’re warming up to meeee.”

“No, no,” you pointed out your index finger, tilting your chin downward. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

Gojo pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, keeping his grin contained.“At least just a little bit.”

Against your better judgment, you felt the corners of your lips twitch slightly, his rather contagious pestering at long last impacting your mood. The moment you caught wind of yourself almost smiling, you forced the feeling away, looking everywhere but at Satoru and doing your damndest to look as though you were unmoved. You blamed the slip on the two glasses of champagne you had welcomed yourself to.

“I’m still mad at you for being late,” you reminded him. “And for even dragging me to this hellhole in the first place - two hours into the event.”

Bright hues of crystal blue held the vision of you for a bit longer, as though the heir were thinking, until he finally spoke again. “I’m kinda hungry.”

You were puzzled momentarily. “Okay…? They’ve got… like… horderves here.”

“No, I’m hungry for real food,” Satoru clarified. “Like a burger or something.”

You still weren’t sure which direction he was taking this declaration into. “Alright. And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You wanna get out of here?”

You stilled. “For a burger?”

“Why not?” he grinned.

“...You’re not asking me on a date, are you?”

“I’m asking you if you’re hungry and want to leave, because either way, I’m dipping in the next two minutes and you’d have to come anyway. Besides, you’ve been going on and on about how badly you wanna get out of here.”

You were torn. On the one hand, you were absolutely working up and appetite and itching to run as far away from this stuffy scene as possible though you had only been present for about forty-five minutes, but on the other hand, you weren’t sure if you could handle spending any more one on one time with Satoru.

Even so, you only dreaded so because for some reason, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea at the moment. It had felt like such a long night already, and you were already out and about… you figured another hour or so with the Gojo wouldn’t kill you. You admitted that he somewhat defended your honor tonight with Sukuna, whether it was for his own gain or not, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you would have killed for a burger at this late hour. 

You didn’t feel very suffocated by Satoru as you stood before him, though you had felt so up until this very moment. That alone frightened you, confounded you, sparked the gears to turn in your head over what about this gala had you softening to accept your fate just a little bit, succumbing to the will of your father and playing the tiniest bit nice. 

Hell, you didn’t know, but you truthfully hoped that you would snap back to reality the following morning. For now, however, a meal was on your mind. 

“Well?” Satoru urged and you huffed in defeat.

“You’re lucky I’m starving,” you said. “And I wanna get the hell out of here.”

“I can’t believe for once in our lives we’re on the same page.”

“Don’t get used to it. And I’m only coming if you’re paying.”

-

The two of you shamelessly conducted an irish goodbye when departing, and half an hour later found yourselves in the parking lot of a rather deserted fast food drive through at the other edge of the city, the distant sound of horns honking and tires screeching drifting off into the background. You leaned your head back in Satoru’s passenger seat, fingers graciously clutching the cheeseburger in your hand as you stared up at the starry night sky peacefully, chewing quietly.

Satoru sat with his seat reclined and his legs propped over the dash, his tie undone and dress shirt unbuttoned, blazer tossed carelessly in the back. He sipped the straw of his soda as he held what had to be his second or third burger in his other hand, keeping his gaze on the same sky above as his bluetooth transitioned into the next queued up song. 

You found this moment reluctantly tranquil, your energies to bicker occupied by the satiation of your hunger and your building exhaustion. After a night of shallow interactions and little food, the greasy meals within your grasps tasted like heaven had melted onto your tongues and jolted your senses back to life, therefore, you ate in peaceful seclusion. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

You turned to look at Satoru, mouth full and cheeks round with food. A spec of ketchup dotted the corner of your mouth and the white haired man laughed lightly at the sight before you swallowed and swiped the back of your hand over your lips. 

“Why do you always wanna ask questions?” you mumbled, distracted by your next bite.

Satoru peeled back the wrapper of his burger, the paper crinkling loudly over his music. “I’m a curious guy,” he said simply, looking down at the food in his hands. “What was going on with you and Sukuna back there?”

You hummed in retort, bringing your burger to your mouth to take another bite. “Y’mean- with how he was talkin t’me?” you asked, voice muffled as you shielded your mouth to chew and talk at the same time.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It was kinda weird.”

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “He’s always been like that with me.”

“But you told Jin that you’ve never had any interaction with him. Why lie?”

You swallowed, angling your brows. “I didn’t lie. I misunderstood. I’ve never had an interaction that warranted Sukuna being angry with me, which was what I thought Jin was trying to say earlier, but I guess not.”

“Oh,” Satoru nodded, proceeding to eat again himself. He tucked his soda cup back into his cup holder and tilted his head back, eyes searching the black sheet above as he charged up his next question.  “So, he basically just wants to fuck you and you’ve always rejected him?”

Your mouth twisted upward at his words. “I mean- I guess, but you don’t have to be so vulgar about it,” you responded. “Plenty of men behave that way with me, which is why I don’t pay them any mind.”

“Sure, but Sukuna’s in a league of his own.”

“Yeah, a league of belligerent douchiness,” you quipped, causing Satoru to chuckle. “He just likes to push my buttons. Like someone else I know.”

You eyed the blue eyed twenty-six year old, and he rolled his eyes. “Hey, don’t lump me in a box with that prick. What he does is borderline sexual harassment.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never consistently hit on a girl who hasn’t been interested in you.”

“Can’t say I have, ‘cause women are always interested in me.” You scoffed.

“Whatever. You two have your resemblances.”

Satoru lowered his burger to his lap, looking at you in astonishment as though you had offended him. “Like what?”

You pressed your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You both get on my nerves.”

“That’s not grounds enough to compare us like that!” Satoru exclaimed. “Only one of us has something actually going for his life while the other wreaks havoc because he’s bored. Not to mention, I’m more likable, more popular, more handsome, funnier, more charming- I could go on.”

“Please don’t,” you begged. “You obviously have more of a problem with him than I do.”

“I’ve just never liked him,” Satoru sighed. “He thinks he has the authority to knock me down, but he doesn’t. Yet he keeps trying and trying. It’s like he wants to see me fail for some reason.”

“You think he’s jealous?”

“Ryomen doesn’t get jealous. He just gets competitive.”

You looked down, crumbling up your wrapper into the balls of your hands once you had finished your burger. You avoided eye contact with Satoru as you prepared to speak. “And that stuff he was saying about your father?”

Satoru fell quiet for a second, his playlist filling in for his silence. “What about it?” he finally asked, his voice deflating. You could tell that this was a sore topic. 

“That was what set you off in the first place. After he was targeting me, he went for your dad and you let him get to your head.”

“That’s…” Satoru took in a breath, turning his head away from you. “Something entirely different.”

“Is it?” you said slowly. “Is there… something I should know? Considering I’ll be a part of the family.”

“No,” he answered quickly. “I mean- nothing that concerns you. My father is…” he trailed off, searching for the words to say. He must have noticed that he was trekking further into uncomfortable, foreign territory, and his eyes got that distant look in them again. It wasn’t like him to be so occupied mentally by something. Examining his reaction to your gentle prying about his father was surreal, for you had never pegged Satoru to be an emotional or swayed person. Yet here he was, struggling to describe how he felt about his own flesh and blood.

You knew the Gojo head to be a stern man, and a rather dislikeable one, but you had never stopped to think about how his personality clashed with Satoru's, who harbored such a free spirit. There was never any mention of a mother in the picture, for as long as you’d known about the Gojos, it had always just been Satoru and his dad as well as their predecessors, but perhaps there was more. Perhaps there was an underlying reason behind Satoru’s attitude welded within the burden of his family name shoved onto his shoulders by a cold and calculating father who had prioritized business training over emotional connection with his son.

It was second nature to ponder over it now, but you had never bothered to before, having been so blinded by your hatred for them. 

And for someone who was always so quick to give you replies, Satoru was surely taking his time to answer.

“My father’s a tough guy,” he eventually elected to say. 

You leaned a hand over to grab hold of your fries, jutting your brows in agreement. “I can see that,” you said. “He must get on your ass a lot since you’re his successor.”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled, picking at his wrapper. Your gaze lingered curiously as he looked down, yet the moment he looked up again, you turned away. “Anyway,” he tried to lighten the mood and change the subject. “Again, not your issue.”

“If you say so… but the man will be my father in law, so I figure I should know at least a little bit.”

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed everything you need to know about my family.”

You thought back to the robotic servant hands gripping at your body and the inhospitable words of Satoru’s father as he privately guided you through his expectations. “You’ve got a point,” you admitted. “I will say, you seem to stand out in that setting.”

“Hm?” he bit and chewed. “How so?”

“You seem a little more lighthearted than the rest of them when you’re being an arrogant dick.”

He snickered. “Do I, now?”

“Yeah, but take that as you will.”

“Are you trying to say I’m more tolerable than the rest of my family?”

“No- stop putting words into my mouth,” you pinched a fry between your fingers. “I’m just saying, even though you’re still bad, you’re a little warmer than the people I’ve met at your estate. Psh, especially your dad. That man could make hell freeze over.”

You stopped yourself when you lifted a fry to your lips, believing you had possibly crossed a line when mentioning his father in such a way.

“Sorry,” you murmured, shoving the fry into your mouth to shut yourself up.

Satoru sported a humorous grin, dimples popping as he gazed at you in surprise. “Don’t apologize on my account,” he said, lifting a free hand to nudge your arm playfully. You shot him a weary look. “That actually makes me feel better.”

“Hearing me shit talk your dad makes you feel better?”

“Believe me, I’m surrounded by plenty of people who ride his ass out of fear or greed without knowing the worst of it behind closed doors,” he confessed bitterly. “It’s a good change of pace, your disapproval of him. Which, obviously, I know goes hand in hand with your disapproval of me,” he was quick to add.

He reached his hand over and stole a fry from your bag, and you quickly turned your food away and tucked it under your arm. “Hey! Eat your own food, fat ass!”

“I paid, so it’s all fair game,” he smirked, making a show of eating your fry before your eyes very slowly.

“You’re wicked,” you frowned.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m terrible,” he played along, his comment earning him a swat to his shoulder that he took like a champ by laughing at. “Enough about my father, though. What about your dad?”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Do we have to talk about our families?”

“You’re who one who started this conversation…” Satoru kicked back further, tilting his head completely to you to show that you had his full focus. “What’s he really like?”

“You seem to have your own opinions of him already,” you said, referring to all the times Satoru had delivered conniving comments about your dad and his practice for you to hear.

“I have my business opinions of him,” he modified. “I don’t know what the man is actually like  beyond that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, he’s my dad,” you quickly said, not entirely desiring to indulge this topic. “He works hard. He tries his best to make the right decisions.”

“You seem pretty close to him.”

You looked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“In comparison to how my dad and I are. I don’t know, I can just see it in the way you talk.”

“...Has anyone ever told you you’re nosy?”

“Yeah.”

You scoffed a laugh, lowering your head with a soft smile. Satoru studied the sight closely, unfamiliar with such a sign of contentedness portrayed by you in his company. 

“I guess you could say we’re close, sure,” you mumbled. “It’s just me and him, too.”

Satoru shifted, turning his upper body to face you as he lounged. “No mom?”

You exhaled. “No.”

“...She’s not dead, is she?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Well, actually, I don’t know. She ran off when I was five. I never really knew her.”

“Oh,” Satoru deflated. A stiff moment of silence settled between you as the man tried to figure out how to respond. “That’s… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him strangely, for you had never heard Satoru apologize to you. “Like I said, I didn’t know her.” You paused. “What about yours?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his neck, a hesitant, awkward smile befalling him. “Dead.”

Your eyes widened and your heart dropped. You hadn’t expected him to admit such a thing, and to do so in such a casual way. “Wh-? She…?” you stammered. “I- I had no clue.”

“How could you have? She’s the one thing my father doesn’t talk about or share with the whole world. Only a few people know that. The rest of the world probably just thinks it’s always been my dad and I, which I guess, it always has,” he explained.

You turned your body, sympathy overtaking you as you faced Satoru with severity. “How old were you?”

“Younger than you were. Probably four,” he said calmly. “I didn’t really know my mom either. I do remember how she felt, though,” he began, eyes glazing over as he looked past you, daydreaming. “I only know because she was the only source of warmth I ever felt in that house. Then it was gone so fast.”

Your brows drew together, heart hammering with empathy. “That must have been hard.”

Satoru noticed the glint in your eye, one of sadness rather than pity, and he cleared his throat. “I was a tough kid. It wasn’t so bad.”

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t kill her, (Y/n).”

“I know, but-” you stopped, pursing your lips. “I know…”

Satoru smiled. “Don’t look so sad. Sweet of you to care, but it’s a little weird seeing you all choked up because of me. Where’d that fire of yours go?”

“I’m not a monster, Satoru,” you clicked your tongue. “Besides, I know what it’s like to grow up without a mom.”

“...I guess we have at least that in common.”

You tapped your fingers against your bag restlessly, nodding slowly. “I think my dad and I are close because of it,” you eventually said.

Satoru looked over your face. “Yeah?”

“We have our moments, of course. We don’t see eye to eye on everything, including this whole… arranged marriage thing, but I can see he’s just trying to do what’s best for us. I think I give him a hard time for it.”

“All kids do that to their parents,” Satoru chuckled. “Especially daughters with their fathers. You guys get away with everything.”

You smiled to yourself. “He tells me the same thing… I wanted so badly to make my own life, but he never saw the purpose in me doing that.”

“I can’t say I see the purpose in it either, if I’m being honest.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Look at me, (Y/n). My whole life has already been planned out for me, and I've got no reason to stray elsewhere. Not a lot of men in this world get to say that they were born into a wealthy home and have had a successful career on lock since the day they were born.”

“Okay, but haven’t you ever wanted something different? Haven’t you ever wanted to create your own path?”

“Of course I have, I’m a human being,” he said obviously. “But this is my legacy, and that also doesn’t mean that I have to take everything on the same way my father did. He calls me a disappointment because I like to have fun and not be cooped up in an office every hour of the day. I get my work done and I do what I have to do, but I’m gonna still be different nonetheless, which is the only path of freedom I take.

“People say I’m irresponsible and childish, but I don’t know anyone on this planet who lives happily as an emotionless slave to labor. If I’m gonna work for the rest of my life, I can at least do so with personality- in my own way. My dad may not agree, and he may call me a disappointment, and it may suck, but I don’t care. Either way, I’ll still be rich and I’ll have my dignity intact, which isn’t something a lot of people like me can say.”

You stared at Satoru blankly, taking in his words carefully. He caught the way you looked at him and sighed once more, smiling gently. “Look. I get how you feel. I really do. We’re both in this together, but you have to take a second sometimes and realize just how good you have it by even having the choice of not working for the rest of your life. You turn your nose up at everyone else like you because you’ve got this idea in your head about what life should be, but I don’t even think you’ve seen life through the eyes of the ordinary people who actually live it. You think you know, but you don’t.

“You and I may never agree on anything. We may never like each other. We may very well be miserable for the rest of our lives, but you will be secure and I will take care of you because that’s my responsibility. Yours is to just trust that I’ll do just that, whether you want to or not. I don’t blame you for wanting to build yourself up. I don’t blame you for going to law school, and I don’t even blame you for resenting the world we live in, but you need to have more of an open mind. I’m not here to trap you, I’m here to help you.”

Your eyes searched for him, his honesty entrapping you in the isolation of his overwhelming regard. You wanted to argue, to tell him off for even thinking to lecture you so similarly to how your father would have and even had in the past, but you felt no anger. You felt no agitation or aggrievance. For the first time in your life, you saw Satoru Gojo rather clearly before you, untouched by the bias of your judgment or your father’s, untampered by your headstrong displeasure and resentment. He wasn’t trying to irritate you, he was trying to connect with you.

Even so, you couldn’t agree with him.

“All my life, people have been telling me not to work,” you started. “Nobody understood why I wanted to push myself, or why I got so passionate about steering away from the title of my father’s daughter. I know you think I’m spoiled and naive. The whole of Japan thinks the same thing. I’m not surprised, and I can’t even really tell you how you should think of me. Because you don’t know me. Not really.”

You looked back up to the sky, examining its vastness.

“It may have been stupid to go to school. It may have been stupid to fight with my dad so much about it, and it may have been stupid to dream so far out of my reach… but I don’t care. You’re not a woman, Satoru. You’re an heir and you’re a man. I don’t get to take on my father’s business, because even with all my knowledge about his work and having been raised within it, he doesn’t trust me as a woman to handle it. I either have to live as an extension of him or as myself, and it’s damn near impossible to do the latter. I know that. I’ve always known that, but I couldn’t just hold myself back because of what society expects me to do. I couldn’t just stop dreaming and wanting for myself. I couldn’t give up on me, and yes, it’s a naive way of thinking, but as long as I had a mind and an ambition, it was enough for me to try.

“Men look at me and see a little girl with a head full of fantasies, but I’m more than that. I’m me. I know what the world is like, and I don't negate that, but that doesn’t mean I have to push down my desires in accordance with how other people live. I’m my own person. I never asked to be stripped of my privilege, I just asked to be independent. To be addressed as (Y/n) and not my father’s daughter. As a woman in this world, I’m supposed to just sit back, look pretty, and not think. I’m supposed to be content, to marry and serve as a trophy or a piece of arm candy, but that’s not me. It never has been, and the more I speak my mind about it, the stupider people think I am. That’s not something any man can understand from a woman’s point of view.”

Something unreadable flashed in Satoru’s eyes as he listened to you. When you found his gaze again, you weren’t entirely sure what it was. He had mellowed out, his breathing steady and tranquil as he took you in, really took you in after having judged you so harshly, and you him. 

His glasses, having been removed for quite some time now, sat on the dash beside his feet and his brilliant gem-like eyes pieced you apart wordlessly, dug into your soul and into your mind. 

His snowy lashes fluttered delicately over his orbs, and you weren’t sure if the man was simply tired or captured by your conversation. 

He watched the ways your eyes shined as you spoke, and how they proceeded to once you were awaiting his reply. You looked so true to your word, so humbly outspoken. Your gentle words had guided a light of maturity onto you, one that Satoru was a complete stranger to in your wake, and it left him unsure of how to go on. 

His eyes danced down to the ring still on your finger as you clutched your empty fry bag. You followed his gaze, glancing. Your eyes bounced back up to his face inquisitively.

“What?” you mumbled softly. 

Satoru was shaking his head before he could speak, eyes failing to leave the sight of your ring. “I just think I’m starting to understand you,” he said lowly, his voice no louder than a whisper.

When your eyes met again, you felt something within you twitch, struggle, churn under him. You shuffled your feet, busying yourself with tucking your trash back into the empty bag on the floor. “I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“Me neither.” 

You felt his eyes stay on you, and your patience wore thin. “What?” you demanded again, turning to glare at him as though you were mad.

He smirked, eyes shining. “You’re not so bad like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not snapping at me. Just talking,” he said. “Black looks good on you too.”

Your body released an involuntary reaction, your cheeks pinching and tingling with heat as his honey like voice droned out to compliment you. You panicked, for you had never reacted in such a way to Satoru’s taunting before.

“Uh uh,” you immediately shut him down. “Don’t start with me.”

“Start what?” laughter bubbled into his words.

“You know what,” you growled. “I’m not falling in love with you any time soon, so quit the flirting.”

“Oh, you’re afraid of falling in love with me?” he teased, pushing himself up to sit upright.

You flustered, tossing the fast food bag about angrily. “No, because that’s not happening! This is strictly business, like you said.”

“Right,” he rested his elbow upon the middle compartment, leaning his head to look up at you. “Of course. Business.”

“So stop looking at me.”

“There’s never been any harm in looking, sweetheart.”

You gnawed on the inside of your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of revealing your flustered state. You pushed yourself back into the seat, tightening your posture and holding your arms to yourself, your gown suddenly growing uncomfortable the longer you sat in it. “It’s late.”

“It’s been late, (Y/n). You’re all of a sudden noticing that now?”

“I’m just- I’m tired,” you excused. “And I wanna get out of this dress. Take me home.”

Satoru smiled, taking his own trash and piling it into the back along with whatever else he had thrown back there. He readjusted his seat, lowering his feet from the dash. “Looks like someone’s back,” he snickered. “I guess you can only be easy to talk to for so long.”

“I should be saying the same thing about you!” you fumed.

“Uh huh,” he dismissed you, now having seen a raw side to your frequent antagonization of him. He was hardly affected by your attitude now that he knew how your mind worked a little better. “I’ll take you home, don’t worry. But what do we say for treating you to food and for telling of Sukuna at the party…?”

He leaned his head toward you expectantly, and you were quick to nudge him away stubbornly, your chin propped in your hand as you looked harshly out the window. “I’m not thanking you for picking me up late, moron.”

Satoru grumbled dramatically. “Seriously?! You’re still stuck on that? I thought I had made up for it.”

“You’ll be trying to make up for that for the rest of your life.”

“It’s a little impressive how long you can hold a grudge.”

“I only hold onto them when you’re involved.”

When Satoru dropped you off at home and watched you head into your house safely, the gnawing feeling that something had shifted between the two of you prevailed in both of your minds. The blue eyed man studied you intensely as your figure ascended your steps, your figure moving gracefully snug in the magnificent dress you wore, your ring still twinkling in his sights even from afar. 

He thought about shouting something out to you before you stepped into your front door, something that would leave you festering with annoyance, that would leave you thinking about just how much he grinded your gears, but nothing came to him. He had no more words for you, nothing left to say. He was silent, dumbstruck.

Meanwhile, you worked your very hardest not to turn around as you walked away to sneak another glance at the white haired man, for your entire body was trembling with the betrayal of your own heart. You didn’t know what it was about tonight that allowed you to see Satoru in a slightly different light, that gave you insight into how he behaved and what life was like to inspire him to pester you so much. 

You thought back to the way he held you at the gala, how he had dragged you along and blabbered to practically the entire space that the two of you were together. You recalled the darkness in his eyes when he cut into Sukuna’s harassment of you, his easy retraction when you called him by his name and pressed yourself before him. 

You slapped a hand over your face, mulling over it all, upset with yourself. You lifted your hand to look at your ring once more behind the safety of your front door, lips turning up with confliction. 

You didn’t want to think of yourself as someone who could fall for Satoru Gojo. You knew you were better than that, but you were his fiancé now. You were to be married in less than two weeks, and it was dawning on you with such heaviness all of a sudden. 

You hated Satoru Gojo. You did, but something about him tonight had admittedly gotten to you. Whether it was the way he looked in his suit or how he had opened up to you about his mother, you weren’t sure, but you were impacted nonetheless, and it was driving you insane. 

You only prayed that you were not stupid enough to step further into the dangerous territory of warming up to your previous competitor.

[perfectsunlight]

I BET YOU THINK ABOUT ME - JISOO

kim jisoo x reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: implied age-gap, class disparities, isolation, belittling, emotional manipulation, mentioned breakup.

synopsis: despite being broken up, you bet your wealthy ex-girlfriend still thinks about you.

there were many things you enjoyed about dating kim jisoo. the way her laughter could light up a room, soft but knowing, like she was in on a joke no one else understood. how her touch was always delicate—calculated, even—as if everything she laid her hands on was an extension of the control she had over the world around her.

but her wealth and status? no, those were never the reasons you stayed.

even now, walking down the narrow, cobblestone streets where red and gold leaves scattered beneath your feet, you couldn’t help but be swallowed by memories of her. the crisp autumn air bit at your skin, a sharp reminder of the past, tugging at your thoughts like the wind tugged at your coat. it was in this season that jisoo had always seemed to glow brightest. her beauty matched the fall—effortless, rich, like a vintage painting come to life. she was untouchable.

however, she was just as cruel.

you just didn’t realize it at the time. how her perfectly manicured fingers—always cold to the touch, always adorned with rings that shimmered in the dying autumn light—had dug deep, not into your skin, but into your spirit. each time she mentioned your "quaint" lifestyle, your "charming" lack of understanding about the finer things in life, it had been wrapped in a velvet glove of affection, so you hardly noticed the sting at first.

it had felt like walking through the falling leaves, admiring the beauty, unaware that winter was creeping closer, ready to strip everything bare.

she had always made sure you knew she was from another world—one where silk sheets were the norm, where every meal came with a waitstaff and a glass of wine you could hardly pronounce. her apartment had been like a showroom, sterile and pristine, with floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched out over the city like a kingdom she ruled from above. and you, standing in the middle of it all, had felt small.

but now, in the aftermath, you could see how she had looked at you, like a pet project. an amusing distraction.

you remember the last dinner you shared at some restaurant you couldn’t pronounce, where the chandeliers above flickered against the dim light and the leaves outside the window swirled like some gilded snowstorm. she had ordered for you without asking, her voice as smooth and cool as the autumn breeze that crept into the cracks of your jacket.

"it’s adorable," she had said, waving her hand dismissively at your confusion when the plates arrived, "how little you know about this. really. it’s sweet."

at the time, you’d laughed it off, sipping the wine that burned your throat more than it soothed. but now you realize how sharp her words had been, each one a blade wrapped in silk.

the holiday parties were even worse.

you’d always felt out of place, like an actor in the wrong movie, wandering through rooms filled with people who looked like they belonged in some old-world painting. there were always murmurs of stocks and art auctions, people in tailored suits that hung off them like armor. you, in your off-the-rack blazer, had felt like an imposter. but jisoo, with her arm linked loosely through yours, had moved through the crowd effortlessly, her smile cold and practiced, like she knew every secret and every face in the room.

the air inside was thick with perfume and candlelight, but it never warmed you. outside, through the towering windows of the penthouse venues, you could always catch glimpses of the world you belonged to—the same city, but miles away, where people didn’t wear silk scarves that cost more than your rent or talk about vacation homes in hushed, reverent tones. the autumn leaves that still clung to the trees seemed desperate, the last few hanging on in the icy wind. much like you had been, clinging to jisoo’s side, pretending not to notice the subtle, cutting remarks she’d make about your clothes, your taste in music, your background.

"you know," she’d say in that breathy, disinterested tone of hers, eyes scanning the room like a queen surveying her subjects, "maybe next time you could wear something… a little more appropriate for the occasion?"

the words had stung, but you’d smiled, nodding like you hadn’t just been dressed down in front of people who already looked at you like you were her charity case. you’d downed your drink, hoping the burn of it would distract from the ache in your chest, while jisoo had already moved on, laughing airily at some joke from a man whose name you couldn’t remember, but whose disdainful eyes stayed with you long after the night was over.

at those parties, she’d always introduce you the same way: “this is y/n.”

nothing more, nothing less. like you were just another accessory—another piece of her perfectly arranged life. your name alone always hung in the air, stiff and formal, with no affection behind it. 

it was a title, not a connection.

but the way she spoke about herself was different. she was kim jisoo, daughter of one of the wealthiest families in seoul, a woman who everyone admired but no one truly knew. she never missed a chance to remind people of her lineage, of her success, of the places she’d been that you could only dream of. you’d stand there, smiling politely, the outsider in your own relationship, as she charmed the room with stories of her luxury trips to europe or some exclusive party she’d attended.

you used to tell yourself that maybe this was just her world—one you didn’t quite understand but could learn to navigate. after all, you thought, love was supposed to be about growing, about adapting to each other. but now, looking back, you see it differently. you hadn’t been adapting. you had been erasing yourself.

you remember the first time you’d seen her living room—everything about it had been a display of understated opulence. the couch, soft and inviting, had been custom-made in italy, a piece of furniture that cost more than you’d make in a year. the kind of thing you wouldn’t even dare to sit on without an invitation.

she’d caught you staring at it once, your fingers brushing lightly over the velvety surface, as if afraid you’d leave some permanent mark on it.

“do you like it?” she’d asked, her tone casual, almost playful, as she kicked off her shoes. organic shoes, she’d said—handcrafted by a designer who only used sustainably sourced materials, each pair worth thousands. she’d tossed them carelessly to the side, as if they were nothing more than an afterthought.

“it’s beautiful,” you’d breathlessly answered, unsure of how to respond. what else could you say? the couch was more than a place to sit. it was a symbol of everything that separated you from her.

the older woman had smiled, that knowing little smile of hers, and settled onto the couch, curling her legs beneath her. “it should be,” she’d replied, her voice laced with a subtle arrogance. “it cost a fortune. but you can’t put a price on comfort, can you?”

at the time, you’d nodded, sitting beside her, careful not to spill the coffee you’d brought from a café that seemed almost comically out of place in her world of curated luxury. but now, looking back, you realize how much weight that moment held.

the couch, the shoes, the apartment—it was all part of the same narrative. jisoo’s life was meticulously designed, every element perfectly placed to reflect her status. even her so-called love of organic, sustainable products wasn’t about caring for the earth; it was about showing the world that she could afford to care. it was another layer of the image she presented, another way to remind you that you didn’t quite belong.

the shoes—those ridiculously expensive shoes—had been one of the first things you’d noticed about her. how she would glide through the city in them, effortlessly chic, while you tried to keep up in your well-worn sneakers. how she never seemed to care about the price tag, because to her, money wasn’t something you worried about. it was something you had. something you displayed.

you remember asking her about them once, marveling at their craftsmanship, at the intricate details stitched into the leather. “they’re nice, right?” she’d said, almost bored with the conversation. “made by a small artisan. i like supporting brands that are more...conscious. but it’s not just about the shoes, you know? it’s about a lifestyle.”

at the time, you’d nodded along, impressed by her philosophy, thinking there was something admirable about her commitment to sustainability. but now, with the clarity that only distance can bring, you see it differently. it wasn’t about responsibility or caring for the environment—it was about exclusivity. 

jisoo didn’t just buy things; she bought status. and as a result, she never let you forget where you came from.

she didn’t need to say it outright; her silences were louder than any words. the way her gaze would graze over your simple gifts, a flash of disappointment quickly masked by a too-sweet smile. the way her laughter, always so soft and melodic to anyone else, would carry a sharp edge when she’d point out how "cute" your attempts to impress her were. every look, every gesture, had been a reminder: you would never be enough.

and the holidays only magnified the divide between you. her family gatherings were a spectacle—elegant, with a quiet kind of opulence, but they were colder than the snow beginning to fall outside. conversations were distant, sterile, filled with politeness and half-meant compliments. you’d watch as jisoo’s mother raised an eyebrow at you, a polite but questioning smile on her lips, while her father barely acknowledged your presence at all, too engrossed in conversations about business acquisitions and real estate.

you remember the first time you had brought her home to meet your family. the warmth in the room had been undeniable, even if the house had been modest. the table was small, the plates mismatched, and the wine was cheap, but there had been laughter. real, full-bodied laughter, the kind that left your cheeks flushed. but jisoo had sat there, stiff and out of place, a polite smile frozen on her lips as she delicately picked at her food. she had said all the right things, but you could tell—she didn’t belong in your world, just as you didn’t belong in hers.

and after that night, she’d never come back. not once.

"it’s not my kind of environment," she’d said, as if your family home was some quaint little corner of a forgotten world. but you hadn’t pushed it. you’d just smiled, hoping that love would eventually smooth out the rough edges between your lives.

but it never did.

your image of her entirely changed once she launched her own dior collaboration.

the transformation was undeniable. jisoo had always been poised, elegant, and out of reach, but when her dior collaboration was announced, it was as if she ascended to another level entirely—a world you never truly belonged to. the moment you saw her in those campaign ads, draped in luxury from head to toe, with that distant, unreadable expression in her eyes, you realized something had shifted. it wasn’t just the clothes or the brand—it was her.

the once subtle differences between you were now glaring. she’d always had a way of making you feel small, of making the simplest moments feel like they were being measured against some invisible standard. but now, with the world’s eyes on her, she no longer had to hide it. she wore her superiority like couture, and her status was no longer just an undercurrent in your relationship—it was the defining feature.

you remember scrolling through your phone that first day the campaign was released, seeing her everywhere—billboards, social media, magazines. her image was iconic, flawless, unattainable. the woman in those pictures wasn’t the same person you once loved, or perhaps she was, and you had simply refused to see it. the jisoo in dior was the one the world adored: polished, elegant, and untouchable. and the jisoo you had known—the one who laughed with you on lazy sundays, who curled up next to you in bed with soft whispers—felt like a figment of your imagination.

that night, you sat in your apartment, surrounded by the faint scent of coffee and fallen leaves, watching her face appear on the tv during yet another interview. the host praised her for her taste, her grace, and asked how it felt to be a global ambassador for such a prestigious brand. jisoo smiled that small, practiced smile, the kind that could melt an audience but had always left you feeling cold.

“it’s an honor, truly,” she said, her voice as smooth as ever. “i’ve always been drawn to the finer things in life, and working with dior is the perfect alignment of that vision.”

drawn to the finer things. those words echoed in your mind long after the interview ended. it wasn’t that she loved the finer things—anyone could—but the way she lived for them, the way they seemed to define her, made you realize just how different you were.

the last time you saw her in person, it was the tail end of last fall, the leaves almost entirely stripped from the trees, the sky a muted shade of gray. you’d met for coffee, though it felt more like a final performance than a reunion. she had walked in, dressed head-to-toe in dior, effortlessly chic in her monochromatic outfit, the click of her heels on the hardwood floor echoing like some distant reminder of all the ways she had outgrown you.

she hadn’t even taken off her sunglasses, those oversized black lenses that concealed any hint of vulnerability. the moment she sat down, you knew—this was the end.

“i’m heading to paris for fashion week,” she had said casually, as if she were talking about a trip to the grocery store. “things have been busy.”

you remember nodding, unsure of what to say, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between you. there was no warmth in her gaze, no familiarity in her voice. the woman sitting across from you was a stranger, more concerned with her schedule, her image, her empire, than with you.

when you finally found your voice, all you could manage was, “i’m happy for you.” it sounded hollow, even to your own ears.

she had smiled—an empty, fleeting gesture. “thanks. it’s good to hear you say that.” her leaving behind the scent of her designer perfume felt more symbolic than it probably should have,

that’s when you knew—there was nothing left of what you once had. 

the girl you had fallen in love with was gone, replaced by someone who only cared for power, prestige, and perception. and as the autumn wind howled outside, rattling the windows of the café, you realized you weren’t mourning the loss of her, but the version of her you had once believed in.

jisoo wasn’t just a woman anymore. she was a brand. a symbol. a masterpiece crafted by the very world she belonged to. and you? you were simply a chapter in her rise to the top, forgotten as soon as the ink dried.

you didn’t date kim jisoo for her wealth. 

you dated her for the way she seemed to know the world in a way you never could—confident, poised, above it all. you thought that maybe, by loving her, you could somehow touch that world too. but love wasn’t what had tied you together. not really.

it had been power.

she loved the way you looked at her, like you were eternally trying to catch up. the way you stumbled over the names of her favorite designers, or blinked in confusion when she mentioned some art exhibit you hadn’t even heard of. she loved the control. and you—god, you had loved her for it. back then, you thought it was awe. now you see it for what it was: submission.

but there, in the middle of the bustling autumn streets, as you watch the leaves scatter across the pavement in a dance as fleeting as your relationship, you find yourself wondering—does she think about you?

does she ever sit in that apartment of hers, surrounded by luxury and untouched by the season, and wonder what it would be like to be less than perfect? does she ever close her eyes and picture the messier parts of love, the parts she could never let herself fall into?

you smile bitterly, pulling your coat tighter around yourself. maybe she does.

maybe, even now, as you wander through the city you had once explored together, her mind drifts to you—the one person who had never fit neatly into the frame of her perfectly curated life. maybe she remembers how, despite everything, you were never quite small enough to be molded. 

and maybe, just maybe, in her moments of silence, with her designer bags and high-rise views, she thinks about how she’ll never find someone quite like you again. someone who saw her for more than just the polished surface she presented to the world. someone who, despite it all, had loved her—flaws, cruelty, and all.

the wind howls, scattering more leaves into the air, and you watch as they swirl and disappear. there’s a certain beauty to the way things fall apart, you realize. a kind of freedom in it.

jisoo might not know that, but you do. however, your mind refused to let you rest.

it was 3 am, and you were still wide awake. the cold light of your phone screen cast shadows on the walls of your tiny apartment, worlds away from the penthouse where jisoo was probably fast asleep. you imagined her there, wrapped in those luxurious silk sheets, her breath steady, undisturbed by thoughts of you. in her city. the one that always felt a little brighter, a little shinier than yours. a place you never quite belonged.

your mind wandered, picturing her with someone new. someone from her world. the kind of girl who knew all the right names to drop at fancy dinners, who could wear those thousand-dollar organic shoes without feeling like an imposter. a girl with a perfect pedigree, someone who her friends probably thought was “better” than you. you could almost hear them whispering it, their voices low but full of certainty.

it wasn’t long ago that you had tried to fit into those circles. you’d been the outsider, awkward and out of place in jisoo’s world of high-society dinners and private parties. but you tried, back when love made you brave, when you thought if you just held her hand tight enough, the rest would fall into place.

they let you sit at the table, once. out of courtesy, or maybe because you were still attached to her arm like an accessory she wasn’t ready to give up. you’d laugh when they laughed, your smile tight as they sat around talking about the meaning of life, throwing around names of philosophers and books you’d never heard of.

“the book that just saved me,” one of them had said, casually, like it was a known fact that certain books saved people. you’d smiled and nodded, even though the title flew right over your head, another reminder of how little you belonged.

jisoo had glanced at you then, her eyes softening in the way they sometimes did when she noticed you struggling. she squeezed your hand under the table, like she used to when you were still hers, when you thought her world was one you could live in.

but that was before. before the doubts crept in, before the weight of her world pressed down on you. now, it felt like she’d moved on, maybe even found someone who fit in effortlessly where you never could. someone who didn’t have to pretend.

you rolled over, the silence of your room closing in, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she was asleep now, completely at peace. and if the girl in her bed had the right name, the right look, and could keep up with her friends when they talked about art and life and all the things that always seemed just out of your reach.

the thought made your chest ache, that deep, familiar loneliness that always seemed to come with thinking about her. about them. those nights when you sat in the background, silently wishing you could be enough. but no matter how much you tried, you could never quite silence the feeling that jisoo’s friends were always comparing you to someone else, someone better.

and tonight, even though you knew it was pointless, you couldn’t stop wondering if they were telling her that the new girl was everything you never could be. or maybe jisoo was out at one of those cool indie concerts she dragged herself to every week, trying to feel young, trying to prove she was still part of the scene, even though she didn’t belong there any more than you did. it was always about feeling cooler than she actually was, pretending she wasn’t inching further from the age of the crowd around her.

but even with her friends laughing by her side, pretending to be someone else, you knew the truth. 

“i bet you think about me.”

[sweetlyvibe]

» 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦, 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗦, 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗕𝗘 «

PAIRING : Atsumu Miya / Suna Rintarou x Fem!Reader

GENRE : hurt / comfort

WORD COUNT : 4.8k

SUMMARY : Unspoken feelings break the bond between you and Atsumu. As you try to heal, Rintarou steps into your life in ways you never expected. But with lingering regrets and new emotions, what happens when the past tries to catch up?

CONTENT / WARNINGS : Angst, emotional hurt/comfort, unrequited feelings, heartbreak, romantic tension, use of [Y/N], mentions of past relationships, slow burn, and light references to jealousy.

You and Atsumu Miya had been inseparable for years. From the very first day you met, something clicked between you two. You knew each other’s quirks, your favorite foods, the stupid inside jokes that no one else would ever understand. Everyone around you always teased you both, constantly dropping hints that it was obvious to anyone that you liked each other. But you two? You pretended to ignore it.

Atsumu never said anything, and neither did you. There were moments, small gestures, like the way his eyes softened when you laughed, or the way you could tell he was thinking of you just from a quick glance. But every time the tension became too palpable, one of you would retreat. It was always safer to stay in the realm of friendship. But everyone could see it. And deep down, you could feel it too.

Then, everything changed. It wasn’t sudden—more like a gradual shift that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It started when Atsumu began pulling away from you, and at first, you chalked it up to him just being busy with volleyball. But days turned into weeks, and the distance between you two grew too noticeable to ignore. He was still the same Atsumu—playful, loud, and always there for the people he cared about. But he wasn’t there for you. Not like before.

You’d come to expect him to show up at your favorite café, or to make his usual sarcastic remarks when you were hanging out with friends, but he stopped. You’d leave him text messages, but the replies were shorter, less frequent. He’d cancel plans, and when you saw him at school or during volleyball practice, there was a clear gap between you two—an invisible wall that you could never quite break.

It hurt.

You couldn’t understand why he was distancing himself. Every time you saw him, you fought the urge to confront him, to demand answers. But you knew him too well. Atsumu wasn’t the type to share his feelings easily, especially when it came to something like this.

It was a quiet afternoon when it all hit you. You had been sitting in the back corner of the café, sketching aimlessly in your notebook, trying not to notice how the seat across from you was empty.

Then Atsumu walked in. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t even glance in your direction as he walked past you and sat with someone else—another teammate, someone you didn’t even know.

Your stomach twisted into knots, but you kept your cool. You told yourself it was nothing. But the longer he stayed, the more you felt the weight of the situation. He was avoiding you.

You were left with only your thoughts. Had you done something wrong? Did he find someone else? Was it possible that Atsumu had grown tired of your friendship?

—

A few days later, you found yourself standing in front of his house, your heart pounding against your chest. You hadn’t seen him in days, and you couldn’t take the silence any longer. You had to know why.

You knocked on the door, and when Atsumu answered, you were met with his usual teasing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, well, look who decided to show up. What’s up?”

His voice was too casual, too distant. Something in his expression made you feel like a stranger, like he was seeing you through a veil.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

He blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by the question, but the smile stayed. “Avoiding you? C’mon, you’re overthinking it.”

But you weren’t. You could feel it. The distance, the silence, the coldness. It wasn’t like before.

“Atsumu, stop.” You stepped forward, your voice trembling. “You’ve been pulling away for weeks now, and I need to know why. What happened?”

For a moment, it seemed like he might actually say something. You saw the conflict flash in his eyes, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared. He took a deep breath and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s nothing, alright?” His tone was defensive, but there was something in his voice that made you pause. “I just need some space, okay? You… you won’t understand.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. You had no idea what was happening, but the feeling of rejection stung deeper than you’d ever imagined. You could tell this wasn’t a simple issue. But instead of pressing him further, you took a step back, feeling like the words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat.

“I’ll give you your space then,” you whispered. “But I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me what’s going on.”

Atsumu didn’t respond. He just watched you walk away, the door clicking shut behind you.

Days turned into weeks, and you fought every urge to reach out to him again. You tried, really tried, to keep yourself busy. You spent more time with friends, buried yourself in schoolwork, but everything reminded you of him. The silence between you two was unbearable.

—

It had been weeks since you last saw Atsumu properly—really saw him, like how it used to be. You were tired of the confusion, tired of overthinking, and most of all, tired of missing someone who was right there but felt a thousand miles away.

So when you caught him alone after practice one evening, you didn’t hesitate. He was leaning against the wall of the gym, scrolling on his phone, and when he noticed you approaching, his expression froze.

“We need to talk,” you said, your voice firm but not angry. You weren’t sure what you were feeling anymore—too many emotions swirling in your chest.

Atsumu sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Alright. Let’s talk.”

You searched his face, looking for the boy you used to know, the one who made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. But all you saw now was a mask of discomfort, like he was bracing himself for a storm.

“Why?” you asked simply. “Why have you been avoiding me? What did I do wrong?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away from you. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?” Your voice cracked, but you pressed on. “Why did you push me away? Why did you leave me out of your life like this?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to answer. Then he took a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt the air leave your lungs, your heart dropping into your stomach. “You… what?”

“I’m dating someone,” he said again, his tone quieter this time. “That’s why I’ve been distant.”

You stared at him, trying to process the words. It wasn’t just that he had moved on—it was that he had chosen to leave you behind without a word, as if you were disposable.

“So that’s it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving me—your best friend—for someone you’ve known for what, a few weeks?”

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, but you could hear the guilt in his voice. “She’s… She’s uncomfortable with me having a girl best friend, okay? I didn’t have a choice.”

Your heart cracked further at the excuse, the way he tried to justify abandoning you. “You didn’t have a choice?” you repeated, bitterness creeping into your tone. “So instead of talking to me, you just decided to disappear? To act like I don’t matter anymore?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he insisted, though his voice wavered. “I just— I thought it’d be easier for both of us.”

“For both of us? Or just for you?”

Atsumu looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, you saw the truth in his eyes. It wasn’t about the girl he was dating. It was about something deeper, something he wasn’t saying.

But you were too tired to push any further.

“Fine,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If that’s what you want. If you really think it’s easier to just… cut me out of your life, then fine. I’ll do the same.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No, Atsumu,” you interrupted, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to leave and then act like you’re the one hurting. You made your choice. I hope it’s worth it.”

His face fell, but he didn’t stop you as you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, even as your vision blurred with tears.

And Atsumu, standing alone outside the gym, let you go. Because even though every part of him wanted to stop you, he convinced himself that this was for the best.

Rintarou Suna wasn’t usually one to get involved in other people’s business. He observed things from a distance, took mental notes, and let the world unfold without interfering too much. But watching you these past few weeks made something in him stir.

You were a shadow of yourself—walking through the halls like you carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. The bright, cheerful person who used to light up every room was gone, replaced by someone quieter, someone hurting.

It was impossible not to notice.

And as much as he tried to convince himself it wasn’t his place to step in, he couldn’t ignore the pang in his chest every time he saw you. He knew what had happened with Atsumu. It was impossible not to know. Atsumu might’ve been his closest friend, but even he couldn’t understand why the setter had let you go like that.

So, one evening, Suna found himself staring at your name in his messages. He didn’t overthink it—just sent a simple text.

True to his word, Rintarou showed up at six the next evening. You weren’t sure what to expect—it wasn’t like the two of you had ever hung out one-on-one before. You were always part of a group, usually with the Miya twins.

He took you to a casual ramen shop, the kind of place you wouldn’t have picked yourself but immediately loved. It was quiet, tucked away from the busier streets, and the food was amazing.

You were nervous at first, unsure of how to act around him. But Rintarou had a way of making things feel easy. He wasn’t overly chatty, but he had this calm, steady presence that put you at ease.

After eating, the two of you wandered to a nearby park. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

“I didn’t know you liked ramen so much,” you said as you both sat on a bench overlooking a small pond.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Rintarou replied, smirking slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Like the fact that I’m ridiculously good at claw machines.”

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. It was the first time you’d genuinely laughed in weeks, and Rintarou noticed.

“See? Told you I was good for something,” he said, leaning back against the bench.

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about everything and nothing—your favorite shows, the places you wanted to travel, the things that made you happy. For the first time in weeks, you felt like yourself again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you glanced at Rintarou and realized how much you appreciated his company. He wasn’t trying to fix you or force you to talk about what happened with Atsumu. He was just… there. And that was enough.

—

A month passed, and your hangouts with Rintarou became more frequent. What started as casual conversations turned into late-night texts, impromptu coffee runs, and long walks through the park. You hadn’t felt this close to someone in a long time, and it scared you a little.

One evening, you were sitting on the swings at the same park, the stars shining brightly overhead. Rintarou had been quieter than usual, and you could tell something was on his mind.

“What’s up?” you asked, nudging him with your foot.

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I like you,” he said, the words blunt but sincere.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “And I know you’re still trying to move on from… everything. I’m not trying to rush you or make things harder for you. I just wanted you to know.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. You didn’t know what to say, and he seemed to notice your hesitation.

“I’ll wait,” he added quickly. “As long as it takes. I just… I think you deserve to be with someone who actually sees you. Someone who doesn’t walk away when things get hard.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You thought about all the times he’d been there for you over the past month, the way he made you feel seen and understood.

You didn’t know if you were ready for something new, but one thing was clear: Rintarou wasn’t like anyone else.

“Rin,” you started, your voice soft. “I don’t know if I can—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “And that’s okay. I’m not asking you for anything right now. Just… think about it, alright?”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. For the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of hope.

The relationship with the girl Atsumu had chosen over you didn’t last long. At first, it felt like a distraction—a way to silence the feelings he was too scared to confront. But the more time he spent with her, the clearer it became: she wasn’t you.

Every laugh, every conversation, every small moment felt hollow. He’d catch himself comparing her to you—the way she didn’t understand his jokes the way you did, or how her presence didn’t bring him the same comfort.

By the time the relationship ended, Atsumu was left with an emptiness he couldn’t ignore. He had thought pushing you away would make things easier, but all it had done was make him realize how much he needed you.

And now, as he sat alone in his room, scrolling through old photos on his phone, the ache in his chest felt unbearable. One picture caught his attention—it was from last year, the two of you grinning at the camera with Osamu and Rintarou behind you, all mid-laugh.

He stared at the image for a long time before closing his eyes, his fists clenching. He couldn’t keep running from his feelings. He needed to tell you.

It had taken Atsumu days to work up the courage to confess. He had rehearsed what he would say over and over in his head, imagining every possible scenario. Would you forgive him? Would you hate him? Did you still care at all?

But before he could act, something stopped him in his tracks.

It was a Friday night, and he was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram when he saw it: your story.

The first slide was a picture of food—burgers and fries from one of the places Atsumu knew you loved. He almost swiped past it, but the next slide made his heart drop.

It was you, sitting across from someone at a dimly lit table. The photo was candid, your smile so wide and genuine it almost hurt to look at.

Then came the next slide: Rintarou, leaning back in his chair with a small smirk, his eyes focused on you like there was no one else in the world.

Atsumu’s chest tightened, his breathing shallow.

No.

His thumb hovered over the screen, his mind racing. He stared at the story until it looped back to the beginning, unable to process what he was seeing.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

He put his phone down, his hands trembling. All the confidence he’d built up, all the plans he’d made to confess—it shattered in an instant.

Because it was too late.

He spent the rest of the night lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were a whirlwind, alternating between disbelief, regret, and a sharp, unrelenting pain.

Rintarou. Of all people, it had to be Rintarou.

They had been friends for years, practically brothers. Atsumu couldn’t even be angry at him—he knew Rintarou wasn’t the type to swoop in unless he was serious.

But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

The memories flooded back: the way you used to laugh at his dumb jokes, the way you’d tease him when he got too full of himself, the way you always seemed to know when he needed someone to lean on.

He had taken it all for granted.

And now, someone else had stepped in to fill the void he had left.

The next time Atsumu saw Rintarou at practice, he couldn’t meet his eyes. The usual banter between them was gone, replaced by an awkward tension that neither of them addressed.

He wanted to say something, to confront him, to ask if it was true—but what right did he have? He had been the one to push you away. He had been the one to hurt you.

Later, when Osamu asked him what was wrong, Atsumu just shook his head. “Nothin’,” he mumbled, forcing a smile.

But Osamu wasn’t fooled.

“Yer terrible at hidin’ things, y’know,” Osamu said, crossing his arms. “This about her?”

Atsumu froze, his eyes widening. “What?”

Osamu sighed. “(Y/N). I ain’t stupid, Tsumu. I know how ya feel about her. And I know ya messed up.”

Atsumu looked away, shame creeping up his neck. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered. “She’s with Rin now.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow. “And yer just gonna give up?”

“What else can I do?” Atsumu snapped, his voice cracking. “I already lost her.”

Osamu didn’t say anything for a long moment, just staring at his twin. Then he clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm.

“Then don’t screw up yer next chance.”

Atsumu didn’t respond, but Osamu’s words lingered long after he walked away.

Atsumu hadn’t planned to do this. He wasn’t sure why he thought talking to you would help, but the knot in his chest had grown unbearable. It wasn’t fair—not to you, not to Rintarou, and certainly not to himself. He needed to say something, to let it out, even if it meant facing the harsh reality that you were no longer his to have.

The opportunity came one quiet evening after practice. He saw you sitting on the bleachers, scrolling through your phone while waiting for Rintarou to finish up. You looked peaceful, content even, and it made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice hesitant.

You looked up, surprised. “Atsumu? What’s up?”

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside you, leaving a noticeable gap between you. The silence stretched as he searched for the right words.

“Can we… talk?” he finally asked, his tone softer than you were used to.

You frowned slightly, concerned by his unusually serious demeanor. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Atsumu exhaled shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately… about us.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you stayed quiet, giving him space to continue.

“I know I screwed up,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Pushin’ ya away, makin’ ya think I didn’t care… That was on me. I thought it’d be easier, y’know? If I just… buried how I felt.”

Your heart sank as his words sank in. “Atsumu…”

He finally looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But it wasn’t easier. It just made everythin’ worse. And now… now I’m here, watchin’ ya with Rin, and I can’t stop thinkin’ about how it could’ve been me.”

You bit your lip, your chest tightening. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I need ya to know,” he said, his voice trembling. “I need ya to know that I loved ya—still do. But I know it’s too late. I can see it in how ya look at him. And I don’t wanna mess that up for ya.”

The weight of his confession hung heavily between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“Atsumu,” you began carefully, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I’m not going to lie. When you pushed me away, it hurt. I didn’t understand why, and I hated that you wouldn’t tell me. I spent so long trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

He flinched at your words, guilt washing over him.

“But now I get it,” you continued, your tone softening. “And I appreciate you telling me this. I really do. But… things are different now.”

Atsumu nodded slowly, his throat tightening. “Ya really care about him, don’t ya?”

You smiled faintly, a warmth spreading across your face at the thought of Rintarou. “I do. He’s been there for me in ways I didn’t expect. And I don’t want to hurt him, Atsumu. He deserves better than that.”

He swallowed hard, forcing a small, bittersweet smile. “Yeah… he does.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken feelings finally settling. It wasn’t the ending either of you had envisioned, but it was the one you both needed.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Atsumu said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to him, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re still important to me, Atsumu. Maybe not in the way you want, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

He gave a small nod, though the ache in his chest didn’t lessen. “I’ll always care about ya too.”

As you stood to leave, Rintarou approached, his gaze flickering between you and Atsumu. He didn’t say anything, but his presence alone made Atsumu realize it was time to step back.

“Take care of her,” Atsumu said quietly, meeting Rintarou’s eyes.

Rintarou nodded, understanding the weight behind the words. “I will.”

That night, Atsumu walked home alone, the cool breeze biting against his skin. For the first time in months, the knot in his chest felt looser, the weight on his shoulders lighter.

He knew the pain wouldn’t go away overnight, but he also knew that holding onto something that was no longer his would only hurt him more.

You were happy, and that was all that mattered.

As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a single tear slipped down his cheek. He let it fall, letting himself feel the loss one last time before closing his eyes.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and Atsumu Miya would find a way to move forward.

Rintarou had never been one to act impulsively, but watching you over the past few months had tested his patience. He had seen you laugh, cry, and slowly stitch yourself back together after Atsumu broke your heart. He’d been there for the late-night texts, the casual hangouts that became something more, and the quiet moments when you thought no one noticed how much you were still hurting.

He noticed everything.

From the beginning, his feelings had been something he shoved to the side. You were Atsumu’s best friend, practically untouchable in his eyes. But now? Now, you weren’t just someone he admired from a distance. You were the person he wanted to see happy, even if it meant waiting until you were ready.

Rintarou was deliberate about everything. If he was going to confess, it had to be perfect—not flashy or overwhelming, but something that felt like you. Something thoughtful.

He remembered a conversation you’d had weeks ago about how you missed doing creative things, like drawing and painting. The way your face lit up when you talked about it stuck with him. That’s when he got the idea.

He spent the next week preparing: buying canvases, paint, brushes, and even scouting the perfect spot in the park where you’d have privacy. The confession itself was the tricky part. How could he say everything he felt in a way that wouldn’t scare you off?

That’s when he decided to let the moment speak for itself.

—

The day of the confession was perfect. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the park in warm hues, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Rintarou arrived early, setting up the picnic blanket under a tree with the canvases and paints neatly arranged to one side.

When you arrived, he felt his heart skip a beat. You looked happy, carefree even, and it made his nerves settle just a little.

“This is so sweet, Rin,” you said, sitting down beside him. “I didn’t know you liked picnics.”

“I don’t,” he teased, smirking. “But you do, so here we are.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “You’re not as lazy as you pretend to be, huh?”

He shrugged, pulling out the canvases. “I thought we could try somethin’ different. You said you missed drawing, so…”

Your eyes widened, a soft smile spreading across your face. “You remembered?”

“‘Course I did,” he said, avoiding your gaze as his ears turned pink.

The two of you spent the next hour painting and chatting, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You decided to draw each other, and while you tried your best to capture Rintarou’s sharp features, he seemed oddly focused on his own canvas.

“Are you even trying?” you teased, leaning over to peek at his work.

He quickly pulled the canvas away, his smirk widening. “Patience, (Y/N). You’ll see when it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes but went back to your own work, tongue poking out in concentration as you added the finishing touches. When you were finally done, you turned your canvas to him.

“Okay, don’t laugh,” you warned.

Rintarou’s eyes softened as he took in your painting. It wasn’t perfect, but it was undeniably him—the way you saw him, not just as a friend but as someone important.

“It’s great,” he said sincerely, his voice quieter than usual.

You blushed under his gaze. “Thanks. Now let me see yours.”

He hesitated for a moment, then handed you his canvas without a word.

Your breath caught as you looked at his painting—or rather, what wasn’t a painting at all. Instead of a portrait, Rintarou had written words in bold, neat letters across the blank canvas:

Will you be my girlfriend?

You stared at the canvas, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you looked up to meet his gaze.

“Rin…”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I know this might be bad timing, and I know you’re still—well, I just… I like ya, (Y/N). I’ve liked ya for a long time. And I get it if you’re not ready, but I just wanted ya to know how I feel.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You thought back to all the little moments with Rintarou—the way he had been there for you when you felt at your lowest, the quiet understanding he offered without expecting anything in return, the subtle warmth that had started to grow between you.

Tears pricked your eyes as you smiled. “You’re not bad at this romantic stuff, huh?”

He let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over him. “So… is that a yes?”

You nodded, setting the canvas down and leaning forward to wrap your arms around him. “It’s a yes.”

Rintarou froze for a moment before hugging you back, his usual smirk replaced with a genuine, almost shy smile.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice soft. “‘Cause I wasn’t gonna give up that easy.”

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the two of you stayed close, the world around you fading into the background.

Rintarou couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, waiting had been worth it after all.

The next time Atsumu saw you, it was at school. You were sitting with Rintarou, your heads bent close together as you shared a laugh. He watched from a distance, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t quite name.

It hurt, but it also gave him clarity. You were happy, and Rintarou was the reason why.

For once, Atsumu didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to make a joke to ease the tension or fight for your attention. He turned and walked away, knowing that this was the choice he had to make—not for you, but for himself.

He’d hold onto the memories of you, of what you’d been to him, but it was time to let go.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward his own new beginning.

[koiiiji]

author’s note ; im not really into that omegaverse stuff, and don’t know much about it, but dynamics of big lonely wolf seongji yook x mischievous fox reader living in my head for awhile now 👉🏻👈🏻

tw ; fantasy au, omegaverse (?), suggestive +18 content, nsfw, seongji being service dom, MINORS, AGELESS BLOGS DNI, dom/sub dynamics, whatever else i forget to add

❁ seongji found you in the forests on his mountain. you were hissing and sizzling on him, not letting him get closer to you, when seongji just tried to safe your leg from trap, that definitely was set by people of village to catch him - a monster who terrorized their village (only in their honest opinion)

❁ and honestly, he felt terrible for you, you got in trap that was set for him, and was way too big for you - huge, sharp teeth of the trap bit deep into the skin and meat on your ankle, hampering your movements. also, as seongji noticed, you definitely was close to his species, it was obvious because of your big ears, annoyed fluffy tail, small claws and fangs. he never saw any fox hybrids in this area, so you probably was so lonely all this time, just like him… and you were so cute, hissing at him, trying to play it cool. it was obvious that you were scared, this is a natural reaction to a larger predator. each time seongji tried to get closer to you, you pressed your cute red ears to your head, your fluffy tail started twitching in annoyance! and yet, you were so… small, seongji just knew you didn’t had enough food last few months…

❁ when he finally got you out of the trap - you just passed out when his huge palm tried to cover your eyes, that’s how exhausted and hungry you were - so he brought you to his cave.

❁ days passed as you warmed up to him, opened up to him, became more natural around him, your true self came out - you truly were live proof of why fox hybrids deserve their name of weasels and dodgers. you always clinging to him with your cocky little jokes, having no concept of what personal space is in your pretty little head, your small fangs lightly biting his cheeks or ears, or even his biceps when seongji tries to stop your little games, holding your annoying loud head between the elbow bend and biceps, just to finally had his afternoon nap after another successful hunt.

❁ even though he was enthusiastic when he found you, seongji really wanted to help, and he actually saved you. but when you refused to leave his cave - not like he kicked you out, despite his perpetually grumbling, he liked that you were sneaking around his house here and there - sometimes he was wondering for what sins did you fall on his head… but generally he is happy that he have a company now, at least it’s not so lonely anymore on his mountain.

❁ and everything was wonderful until… your little game with him didn’t start… to feel different. seongji could say that something in him changed too. now you became more clingy and generally more close to him, always nuzzling your cheek under his chin, right above his adam's apple, where was his sensitive spot. each time you pass by him and your tail not so accidentally touched his nose or neck he was rolling his eyes in in ecstasy, immediately turning his head in your direction and sniffing at the strip of sweet smell that was trailing behind you, giving out only a low, rumbling, quiet growl somewhere inside his throat. another problem was that you were very hot. no, not in the sense that seongji thought you were sexy, (that's exactly what he thought), but literally. it was very pleasant to touch you, you were so warm, even hot, and the blood raging in your body gave your cheeks such a sweet blush. it was cute. and he couldn’t help himself really, it was hard, each time leaving his house for hunt, only to get in another fight with any other male that showed up on his territory, or getting a little bit carried away and bringing home more food then needed. Seongji didn't understand why he had become so worked up. now all he can think about is to fight, and somehow his usual instincts were deep down now they’re came back, more feral, wild, bestial. he could sense your presence, your warmth kilometers away, he could sense you.

❁ on the other hand Seongji noticed changes in you as well. yes, you were clingy before, but now it doubled and seemed that you became more vocal… always mumbling, almost purring each time you managed to touch him. and oh, how sensitive you became. each time you start your games again, seongji needed 3 minutes before you whimper from his teeth on your ear, because in your opinion he bit your ear too hard, when in fact he didn’t even put any force on it. Seongji would rather sink through the ground than admit that in fact he likes your games, and what an offended grimace you make when you try to take offense at him, but always coming back.

❁ one day, after another hunt, Seongji returned home, only to be greeted by silence and it was unusual, because you always met him with open arms. making his way deeper into his house, he called you a couple of times, but when he didn't get an answer, he started to worry. he always wondered if other hybrids could sense you miles away as he did? what if his guesses were true, and someone else felt your scent? what if- he had no opportunity to finish his thought when someone abruptly knocked him down and knocked him to the floor. Seongji was caught off guard and now his opponent had an advantage over him from above. just second after, your scent hit his nose, and your hot breath burned his neck, until he felt your body almost on fire.

❁ you looked down at him, pinning him to the floor with your hands on his broad chest and shifting your hips on his abdomen. your cloudy gaze didn’t leave his face, your cheeks were flushed, and tears almost came to your eyes when you whined on top of him "Seongji…. please help me...it's... it's so hot there.... and it hurts…" to say that Seongji was shocked and confused at the same time was to say nothing. he was bursting with overflowing feelings and thoughts. he lived most of his life completely alone, and had no idea what partner actually means. and as he got older, he didn't have a chance to get close to anyone, but he would be lying if he said he hadn't touched himself. just like he’d be lying if he said he’d never fantasized about the two of you. when you moved into the house, he had some sweet thoughts, but Seongji always blushed and waved them away, convincing himself that you were just friends.

❁ and after each thought how he would bend you over nearest surface and pull your tail up after you annoyed him a little too much, he convinced himself that you were just friends. after each wet dream, when he woke up in the middle of the night because of the too realistic images in dreams, where the two of you are gently clinging and nuzzling to each other, the bodies move in unison, and you literally drown in each other, when you reach your peaks, he still convinced himself that you were just friends and he shouldn’t think about you like that.

❁ but when both of you started to change in your behavior, Seongji couldn't stop himself. every day his head was full of sinful thoughts, and your behavior didn't help in any way. and that's what your general silence led to - whining, you pinned him to the floor, desperately fidgeting and looking for more friction, in an attempt to calm the heat below. gently intercepting your hands, Seongji looked into your eyes a little tensely, as if asking if he could sit down. at the same time, he raised himself on his elbows, and sat down uncertainly, now holding you on his lap, slowly releasing your hands. his tail wagged a little and his ears flattened against his head as he bent lower, slowly touching your lips, exploring and tasting you. you deepened the kiss in your impatience, and knocked him to the ground again, biting his lips with your little fangs and digging your claws into his shoulders. in response, he let out a low throaty growl, making you guiltily put your ears to your head and apologetically look into his eyes. sitting down again, he pressed you closer so that you could feel his stone boner through your clothes, and without giving you a chance to squirm and enjoy the friction, Seongji grabbed you by the hips, carrying you to his room.

❁ later that evening he discovered how much your lower back can arch when his hands are on your sides and he's hammering into you from behind. Seongji found out what a sweet voice you can have when he fucked you standing up, so you had to rise on your toes, so he could hit into that sensitive spot inside you. that night, he also zeroed in that your soft, hot walls squeeze him harder if his big palm presses on your tummy, just below the navel. Seongji also liked the feeling when he folded you almost in half, when he held both your legs on his shoulders, denting you into the mattress. but most of all, he remembers the moment when your throbbing walls squeezed him for the last time, when you both lay on your side, hugging each other, and then he could swear that in the dark of the night he could see the little hearts in the depths of your eyes when he came after you, filling you deeply and abundantly, so you almost drooled.

[beomiracles]

Can ii request for how they would react with reader not understanding their language well?

WHEN YOU DON'T SPEAK KOREAN

A/N ─ as I don't speak Korean myself I wrote it more generalised. English is not my first language so I very much understand language barriers and wrote more from my own experience(s) rather than going into depth about the Korean language :3

pairings: txt x gn!reader warnings: maknae line + Beomgyu's is slightly SLIGHTLY suggestive

YEONJUN

thinks it’s cute how he has to explain certain sayings and words to you.

doesn't mind you asking questions. 

might tease you a bit for it at times.

usually speaks english with you to make things easier. 

Yeonjun’s back is turned to you as he leans against the kitchen countertop. Phone pressed against his ear as he speaks. He rarely spoke korean with you so hearing him on the phone with his mom had your ears perked as you listened. You could only make out a few words and phrases here and there. 

Walking up to him you lean against his chest, fingers playing with the fabric off his shirt. Your boyfriend’s hand runs through your hair softly as he engages in the conversation with his mom, occasionally glancing down toward you with a grin. 

When the call finally ends you look up at him, “what was it about?”. He smiles as he gives your forehead a kiss. “She asks if we’re coming over for dinner soon”, he says his fingers play with the strands of your hair. You frown, “I…what if I can’t understand her…I want to make a good impression”. 

Yeonjun shakes his head, “you already have”, he grins, “she’s always asking for you”. His words make your heartbeat a little faster. “Besides, I’ll be there the whole time to help”, he reassures and you smile, “okay”. 

SOOBIN

gets more flustered than you when you tell him you didn’t catch what he said. 

very shy to speak korean around you. 

when he doesn’t know the word in english and only in korean he tries his best to explain it to you. 

always curses in korean, in turn making them the only words you know. 

Propped up on the sofa in the living room you’re engrossed in a book. A loud noise followed by a row of profanities and words you couldn’t make out pulls your attention to the kitchen. Quickly you make your way over as you find your boyfriend cleaning up the mess that was a broken plate. “What happened?” you ask, making him jump in surprise, a few words leave his lips that you don’t quite understand. 

“Sorry..?” you ask and Soobin’s face flushes with color. “I…just, you scared me”, he says shyly causing you to giggle. Walking over to him you bend down to help him clean up the pieces. “No don’t, you’ll get....get”, he frowns, “you know, pain”. “I’ll get hurt?” you ask and he nods. “Yes, hurt”. 

Smiling, you stand up to give his cheek a quick kiss, “thank you for looking out for me Soobs”. His face turns a bright pink as he scratches the back of his neck, “n…no worries”. He’s quiet for a moment before he clears his throat, “you uhm…you like very..nice today”. His simple compliment makes your face burn, and you have to bite back a giggle. 

BEOMGYU 

biggest tease about it. 

speaks korean to you when he’s mad or just being annoying. 

makes a lot of inside jokes that only a korean speaker would understand. 

though as soon as you mutter something in your own language under your breath has him immediately curious, “what was that??”.

The sound of your boyfriend’s intense raging filled the apartment as he gamed with his friends. Usually you didn’t mind him having fun but you had a lot of work to catch up on and this wouldn’t do. After another thirty minutes you’d had enough and walked over to his room. 

Pushing the door open it slams against the wall loudly, “mind quieting down a little?”, you cross your arms over your chest. Beomgyu lifts his headset off one of his ears as he turns to look at you. Mischievous glint in his eyes as he utters words that he knows you won't understand. 

Huffing out a breath of air you give him a glare before turning around, so that's how it's going to be. On your way out you make sure to curse him thoroughly in your own mother tongue. You haven't even reached the door to your own room when his hand grabs onto yours. 

“What was all that?” he frowns, you roll your eyes, “don’t know what you’re talking about”. He shakes his head, “no, say it again”, he insists as he pushes you up against the wall, “it sounded so fucking sexy”. 

TAEHYUN

becomes the biggest teacher. 

has you learn anything from basic sentence structure to adjectives and verbs. 

his english is so good that he doesn't really speak korean at all around you. 

always compliments you in korean though. 

Twisting and turning in front of the mirror you let out a defeated sigh. Nothing looked good. Half your wardrobe had been pulled out on the floor and yet nothing seemed to meet your expectations. 

There’s a light knock to your door, “come in”, you sigh as you glance at yourself in the mirror once more. Your boyfriend comes up to stand behind you as his arms wrap around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek before moving down your neck. 

He mumbles something under his breath, which you don’t understand. You frown, “what’d you say?”. Taehyun smirks against your skin, “that you look beautiful”. His words manage to turn your frown upside down as you lean back against his chest. 

“I’ll wear this then”, you state as your hands run over the fabric lightly. Taehyun groans against your neck, “please do”. 

HUENINGKAI 

does his best to make you feel included in group settings where everyone else speaks korean. 

translates for you a lot and explains jokes to you. 

appreciates how hard you try to learn for him. 

eager to learn your language as well as he thinks it’s an important part of your culture. 

“And this means that you’re sad but things could be worse”, Huening says as he finishes explaining another of his expressions to you. You nod along as he teaches you how to pronounce it. “You have to put more pressure on this part of the word”. 

“I think I understand!” you exclaim and your boyfriend smiles. “It’s quite similar to our language”, you say and Huening frowns, “really?”. “Teach me something!” he then says as he leans closer. You think for a moment, “okay! what do you want to know?”. 

He grins, “I love you”. You ignore the blush rising to your cheeks as you explain the phrase to him. You even teach him how to pronounce it, giggling over his many failed attempts. After a while he finally masters it.  

“This is hard”, he whines and you grin, “now you know how I feel”. He sighs, “I think I prefer just kissing you”. You smirk, “what’s stopping you?”, your boyfriend’s lips are on yours in less than a second, “nothing”.

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ★ all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[misstycloud]

How to stop your husband from being weird: situation one- digging in the middle of the night.

One of the things that I have noticed about my dear husband, Arlo (bless his soul), is the constant digging in our backyard; he leaves in the middle of the night and when I dare glance out the window, I see him. His back is always facing towards me, so I can’t get a good look at his face. He is a very expressive person and I can tell what he thinks from simply looking at his face, hence why this is somewhat concerning.

Had I known that my dearest would wake up during ungodly hours of the night, get dressed, fetch the garden tools from the shed, and then proceed to dig a massive hole, then maybe I would have hesitated to say ‘yes’. (Do not be worried, I love my husband deeply and this was just a little joke.)

Joke aside, it is still very annoying. Does he not know this will keep me awake too? I have work to do and I can’t keep on going if my sleep is this disturbed. I would have to be some sort of abomination- a vampire perhaps?

That is not all; I find dirt particles inside our house; I clean for nothing apparently.

I have tried bringing this up(somewhat hard to ask your spouse why they are leaving you all cold and lonely in the middle of the night) with Arlo, but every time he changed the subject. The audacity! He even asks me if I’m ill and is in need of a doctor. I tell him ‘I am quite fine thank you very much!’ and remind him my eyesight is good, I’m not imagining things and I know he’s been up to something in the yard. I also know he’s not preparing to pot new plants for summer so he better not try that with me.

Last time I tried prying the answer out of him, he finally relented and gave me what I wanted.

His explanation: I have been finding a lot of roadkill and other deceased animals lately. I didn’t want you to have to see it. You know I work so many hours, I don’t have time during the day, that’s why I bury them at night. It’s horrible, but understandable since they’re rebuilding the library and trucks loaded with materials drive by often.

Whether I believe this explanation or not doesn’t matter. There is factor agreeing with his explanation and there are ones that goes agaisnt it.

Those vouching for him: it is true that trucks drive by often these days since the library really did catch on fire recently. It was an unfortunate accident casued(according to the police) by some teenagers. They played around with a lighter and things escalated beyond their control. The saddest part is that I can’t go to the library anymore, I suppose I’ll have to find new hobbies to entertain myself until the library is rebuilt and restocked with books. Another thing is that I do like animals and it definitively wouldn’t be fun to see a run-over one in real life. My husband is very caring and wouldn’t expose me to something he knows I hate, therefore it makes sense for him to bury them in secret. Besides, his job is demanding and he actually wouldn’t be able to do so in the day.

All of this form one solution that is: burying the dead animals in secret from his wife(me) during nighttime as to not disturb me or his work hours. (If we look away from the fact I wake when he does)

Factors indicating he’s lying: how come I have never found a roadkill if they are so common nowadays? It’s unusual for him to come home before me, and if he’s that busy with work, it wouldn’t make sense for him to find all of them before I’ve even caught a whiff of something foul nearby. You see what I mean? Secondly, there is not reason why he should be the one doing all this work. Surely there are professionals dealing with here things? In that case then he should call them instead and tell those truck-drivers to be more careful.

Ultimately this is very suspicious, but what else can I do? Statistically, there is a high chance(I believe?) that your husband will have at least one weird hobby. I will have to live with that and I have said to him ‘I love you more than anything and if this is something you wish to do then o won’t question you.’

He was almost in tears, it was adorable. He said, ‘Yes, my love, thank you. I also love you more than anything in this world and I would be damned if something came between us.’

Afterwards I lectured him on not bringing in dirt in the house again, though. This was his answer: of course not, my darling!

To summarise this incident: my husband still visits the outdoors at night, however not as often as before. I warned him, too, of being careful because a bunch of men have been going missing lately and I’d be devastated if his name came up on of of those reports. I shouldn’t say this- but I will- I’m kind of happy those men are gone. I recognised their names and/or faces from the papers, you see. It turns out that all of them were ones I’d met previously. I won’t bore you with the details, but they weren’t pleasant encounters.

Everyday I have checked the floor for dirt and have found none. This is very good news for my ‘cleaning-spirit’. Whenever I feel Arlo leaving the bed I have decided to relax my mind and go back to sleep again. Then, if I’m still half-awake, I will feel him laying down beside me once more and together we drift off to dreamland.

The lesson I learned from this is that you don’t have to ‘fix’ everything about your partner, and they are allowed to have their special hobbies. There is a difference if you’re being harmed in the process, though. If that’s the case then you should immediately speak up about it and you compromise. Remember, communication is key!

———

Written by: (Y/n) (L/n)

[elliesflwrgirl]

cw, oral (ellie receiving), fingering (r receiving), lots of dirty talk, petnames (sweet girl, baby, etc), cheating, alcohol use, and lots of banter.

summary: ur gf hates ur bsf ellie, for no apparent reason at all…it’s not like she thinks about fucking u all the time or smth…but ellie sees u at the party, all by yourself, no girlfriend in sight…wonder what’ll happen when your unresolved tension is let loose…hm

i was kinda on a abby kick yesterday so here have a long ellie angst/smut!!

if u enjoy pls reblog and like!! i love u.

.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.

you and ellie had been friends for years, and there were fallouts but you always ended up friends again. and no matter how much your girlfriend, amber, hated ellie, it changed nothing. ellie was an extension of you, you and ellie we’re a package, everybody knew that, everybody accepted that…except your girlfriend.

you never saw the issue, doesn’t everyone have that really close friend that they tell everything to? at some point you found it was easier to avoid ellie when with your girlfriend, and ellie understood. she liked being your little secret, though she’d never tell you that.

you’d sneak out to sleepover at her place, go dancing with her when amber was away, and even go to parties with her. but recently you pulled away from ellie, things were getting serious with amber. you even had sex with her for the first time a couple weeks ago, and you loved her. at least you thought you did.

when dina told you about a party, you thought it’d be a great time to invite amber, but she said she knew ellie would be there and she didn’t want to start anything. you told her you understood but a part of you just wished she’d grow the fuck up.

ellie was part of you, and amber knew that from the second she met you. you didn’t understand what shifted, what made amber suddenly hate ellie?

you decided it was best not to drive yourself mad thinking about it. you decided to go with dina as your plus one, seeing as her and jesse aren’t together at the moment.

you wanted to look hot, you wore that dress dina said made your ass look good, and then you wondered if you were dressing to catch someone’s eye. you pushed that thought away, ellie and you had only ever been friends. despite being each others first kisses, it was totally, and utterly, platonic.

as you walked into the bar dina kissed your cheek and told you she was off to find some friends, you didn’t mind. you were searching for someone anyways.

you spot her auburn hair at the bar, sipping whiskey. a smile graces your face as you walk over to the bar, “hey stranger,” you hum as you lean an arm on the bar. she tilts her head as a greeting, taking another sip of her drink. “so i’m taking it as you’re not ignoring me in public anymore?” she turns her head to you, her green eyes connecting with yours.

you roll your eyes playfully, “oh it’s temporary, i’ll go right back to ignoring you tomorrow.” you joke and she nods her head, a soft smirk on her lips. “ignoring me never lasts long though, does it? always at my place after she goes to sleep.” she murmurs and you widen your eyes. the tone of her words were suggestive, though the words themselves weren’t.

“ellie..” you speak softly so only she could hear you and she grins at you, “people might here you and think something else,” you explain and she nods her head. “let them think it.” she takes another sip and you roll your eyes once again. you knew if amber heard what ellie said she’d blow a damn fuse. she was already jealous of ellie, and the way ellie was acting tonight…it would send her into a blind rage.

“amber would be pissed if she knew i was with you right now.” you hum and lean your back against the back, crossing your arms. ellie smiles, “oh i know.”

“did she ever tell you why she hates me so bad?” she asks and you shrug. knowing exactly why she hates ellie. she was jealous of ellie. you were closer to ellie than with anyone else. ellie knew you inside and out. and amber always raged about how ellie looked at you, like she was just waiting for her turn.

you opted out of asking ellie about it all, maybe something deep inside of you knew the answer but you weren’t ready to hear it. “she’s jealous of you.” you spit out, ordering a beer as ellie laughs dryly. “that’s fucking adorable,” she hums, turning to face you.

“do i scare her? is she scared i’m gonna steal you for myself or something?” she taunts and you scoff under your breath, grabbing the beer and taking a swig. “she thinks you’re like in love with me or something,” you sigh and ellie grins, “is it bad that i like that she’s intimidated by me?”

“god you’re such an ass,” you laugh dryly and ellie smiles. she loved to make you laugh, but she wasn’t kidding at all. “i mean i don’t see why she’d be jealous of me…i’m not the one fucking you.” she laughs again and you shrug your shoulders. your silence making ellie question you, “you guys have fucked, right?” she checks and you roll your eyes. “yes. once.”

ellie’s eyebrows raise, “how was it?” the question makes your skin crawl. if that night had to be described in only one word, awkward. “um…it was okay.” you hum before taking a sip of beer.

ellie gapes at you, “sex is not supposed to be just okay, how bad was it?” you shrug your shoulders. “it was just…awkward.” you sigh before taking another sip and she nods her head. “did she make you cum?” her question catches you off guard causing you to nearly choke on your drink.

“ellie.” you glare at her and she smirks, “what? cmon just tell me.” she pushes and you roll your eyes. “no.” you mumble and ellie leans in closer. “was that a no?” she soaks up the moment.

“oh fuck you.” you scoff and she grins, “oh you wish, with me you’d cum.” she taunts and you shove her shoulder, feeling her muscles under your fingers.

“shut up.” your cheeks feel red and hot and you forget just how much alcohol changes things for you. alcohol made you all touchy, and needy. you weren’t even close to drunk, but just one drop of alcohol had you eyeing ellie’s hands on the glass. “i’m gonna go find dina.” you huff before walking away.

after a few more beers and some small talk with dina you find yourself a tipsy mess in front of ellie. it gave you the courage to do things you wouldn’t do before.

you grab her drink from her hand, setting it on the bar and pulling her onto the dance floor. “cmon, dance with me.” you hum and she rolls her eyes. she placed her hands on your hips, her hands felt like they were burning into you.

you grabbed her wrists, going to replace them onto your waist but you felt the scar on her forearm, gently stroking your finger over it. you glance down to see the tattoo that you always loved. “i love this tattoo.” you hum and she nods, “i know you do.”

she pulls you closer, pulling you flush against her. you hum against her neck, pressing a kiss to it. “i really missed you,” you hum and her cheeks flush. the way you were kissing on her neck, and the sound of your voice had her wanting to clench her thighs together.

you were tipsy, but you knew what you were doing. you had it planned out, blame it on the alcohol and say you don’t remember anything. but all you knew right was that she felt good. her hands felt good, your lips on her neck felt good.

she’s drunk, she reminds herself. but you kiss up to that sweet spot below her jaw, making a soft sigh leave her lips. “okay let’s get you home..” she sighs before you whisper against her neck again, “i don’t want to go home, amber will be there, can i stay with you?” you hum and ellie knew it was a terrible terrible idea. but that didn’t stop her from nodding her head.

once you both were in the car it was a long, silent car ride. well, it was only seven minutes but it feel like eternity. your thighs clenched together every time her hands moved over the steering wheel, you felt like a fucking pervert. everything she did was so sexual. the way she bit her lip as she change lanes, the way she gripped the steering wheel. everything.

once you finally got to her house, you were practically running inside the house. you flopped down onto her couch, kicking your heels off and leaning up on your elbows to watch as she kicks off her shoes and takes off her jacket. “cmere.” you wave her over and she lays down on the opposite side of the couch, causing you to roll your eyes. “i don’t bite.” you huff before laying your body weight into her.

she smiles softly at you and tries not to pay attention to the way this is all making her feel. pushing some loose hairs from your face as you look up at her, you slowly slip your hands under the bottom of her shirt. feeling her soft abs flex against your fingers, you run your finger up and down the center of her abs.

looking up at her as you do, her eyes burning into you. there was a tension in the room, a dark fog of want. you both knew you shouldn’t, but you were both selfish.

you slip your hand to the buttons on her jeans, looking up at her for approval. “what’re you doing?” she sighs, as if she was holding her breath. “nothing?” you say innocently, undoing her pants. she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“we shouldn’t.” she murmurs and you nod your head, “i know,” you hum as you tug the jeans off of her, leaving her in her black boxers.

you buries yourself between her legs, kissing up her thighs. she let out soft whimpers each time you placed a kiss on her thighs. “ellie,” you hummed and she looked down at you, “i wanna taste you” you spoke softly and she blushed deeply.

“please,” you press another kiss to her thigh and she nods her head softly. you pull her boxers off of her, humming at the sight of her. running your finger up and down her slit slowly, hearing a soft whimper leave her lips. “you’re so wet,” you hum and she scoffs, “because you’ve been driving me fucking insane all night.” she tilts her head back.

you grin to yourself, circling your finger over her clit slowly. “yeah? you ever think about this? me between your legs.” you taunt and she whines softly, giving you your answer.

you pull her closer, running your tongue over her cunt. gently flicking your tongue against her clit, her hands flying into your hair as you do. she tugs at the roots of your hair as you push two fingers into her. her wetness collecting at the base of your fingers. you moan softly against her cunt, taking in this moment. taking in how sweet she tastes.

she moans softly as you curl your fingers, the sounds she’s making make you buck your hips against the couch. feeling that friction. she sees your hips grind down and a strangle laugh bubbles from her throat.

“you getting off on this, sweet girl? tasting me is making— fuck, you such a needy slut, hm?” she hums, gently grinding herself against your tongue. you grind your hips harder onto the couch, a weak moan leaving your lips.

you thrust your fingers into her faster, gently sucking on her clit. a soft moan leaves her lips, “mhm, just like that, fucking me so good baby.”

“i’m so close, you’re doing so good for me” she whines, tossing her head back, gently closing her thighs around you.

you massage your fingers on that perfect spot deep inside of her. her hands grip at the roots of your hair, tugging softly as she moans your name.

as her orgasm washes over her, she whimpers softly, pulls you close, kissing you roughly. her teeth nipping at your bottom lip. she pulls you into her lap, your back against her chest. she runs her hands up and down your thighs, and you whine every time she gets close to the spot you need her most.

she pecks your lips, humming against them. “i’m gonna make you feel good, sweet girl. better than she ever could.” she taunts with a grin before running her fingers up your cunt, feeling how wet you are. she grins softly, “so fucking wet just from licking my pussy, hm? such a dirty girl.” she moves her fingers over your clit in slow torturous circles.

a soft whine leaves your lips, “ellie please,” you beg and she kisses your head, “poor baby, you’ve just been aching for my touch hm? probably touch yourself thinking about it.” she teases and a soft whimper leaves your lips.

you had thought about this, the way ellie’s fingers would feel deep inside of you. you hated how she could see right through you. she plants lazy kisses on your shoulders as she teases your entrance with her fingers.

“do you cum thinking about my hands all over you? thinking about how good i can make you feel?” she hums into your ear, making your body erupt into chills. you clench around nothing and she grins, pushing her fingers into you slowly.

a loud whine leaving your lips, “fuck—“ you toss her head back against her shoulder. “yeah? you like that?” she watches as you buck your hips against her fingers.

she places sloppy kisses on your neck, whispering praise into your neck. “taking my fingers so good,” she praised. you felt yourself about to cum, whining softly. “‘m gonna cum, els”

“make a mess, baby. you deserve it. been such a good girl for me,” she edged you on. and as you came she was the only thing you could think about. not your girlfriend, not that you just fucked your best friend, and definitely not that you just cheated.

.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.

[vickyzangels]

% “..you know who's callin' even though the number is blocked.”

# synopsis ; sfw and nsfw headcanons pt 2 yippee 🎉

# pairing ; tom kaulitz x reader

# word count ; 646

# tags ; nsfw further down “keep reading” (mdni)

a/n ; i’ve had hiccups throughout writing this entire thing and i’ve been miserable

sfw

he has a specific look for you. every picture you’d ever see of him and a fan that he was guaranteed to have flirted with, he never looked at those fans the way he did at you

the way he looks at you like you hung up every star in the sky regardless of the situation, “absolutely enchanted by your beauty,” he’d say when you asked him why you kept catching him staring

y’all look like this religously: 👁️👁️ 👀

he always goes over the top for getting you gifts for events but he never understands what is “too much” and maybe for valentines’ day or something he bought you a fucking mercedes and dior like it was nothing

my gut feeling is telling me that he genuinely loves traveling so much, and for him to be able to travel and sightsee with you is extremely intimate to him

horror movie marathons where he puts on the most gruesome, gut wrenching movies not only cause he likes them but because he gets to be gripped on by you when you get scared

even if that means you nearly dislocate his arm

he’s a lana del rey and norman fucking rockwell girlie (now i’m just projecting my bad)

group conversations with the band, you, and him might be the brightest you’ve ever had cause it’s every single time that you barely even start talking, within minutes it gets difficult to breath cause you’re laughing stupidly hard at tom’s jokes

the type of guy that sits on your bed in your room and just lovingly stares at you as you go on with your life, but the way he looks at you when you’re getting dressed up a little for an event is SOOO🧎🏻‍♀️

domesticity looks so good on him. the few times that tom has woken up before you have (which is very few because he’ll stare at you till you wake up), you’d walk into the kitchen to see him making you a small and simple breakfast just to get your day started

branching off of food, he pays EXTREME attention to everything about you, to the point where he’s memorized an elaborate coffee order and when would be a good time to order it just for you

nsfw

you two fuck like bunnies, the walls vibrate every time you’re both in the building and you both have definitely caused an earthquake

he got jealous when he found your vibrator and swore that he hated it knowing that it got to touch you before he did, but him and the vibrator became great friends when he was using it on you while you two fucked 😇

i’d say usually till you’re both crying but that takes like 5-7 rounds average. every single time.

he has this thing where he’s entirely willing to get off just by grinding on you which comes very handy when you’re on the tour bus (assuming bill didn’t make you get another way of transportation just to make sure you two wouldn’t raw dog on the bus)

do you understand how many quickies you get on a regular basis. in the venue bathroom, their dorm living room while everyone is away doing something, i really meant it when i said like bunnies

he’s so fucking loud?? moaning and groaning into the air and he’s not even inside of you yet

say hypothetically those dick piercings he constantly mentions were, i don’t know… authentic…. he takes great pride in the pleasure it gives not only him but you, especially you

omg he’s DOWN BAD for marking like he loves constantly giving you hickeys or biting you but when you give him hickeys or bites he goes into cardiac arrest

it makes him feel closer to you somehow, probably cause he sees the marks as personal and reinforces your guys’ relationship to him

a/n ; multiple things, 1) thank you so much for 110 followers??? i swear to you i was at 13 5 days ago thank you so much wth 2) working on a request from my inbox next, stay put for that 👍

© ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO VICKYZANGELS. do not steal, repost, plagiarize, or use my work for anything.

[cositapreciosa]

Of wolf and sheep

Alejandro Gillick x gn!reader, (the usual for the movies, nothing too graffic) 1793 words

a/n : another Alejandro Gillick fic??, I hear you say, and to that I respond, do you mean sexy Alejandro fic, eat my children

Tagging the besties-that-might-like-this as usual @narcolini @drabbles-mc @anunhealthydoseofangst @hausofmamadas

‘’ Are you here to kill me? ‘’

You haven’t turned on the lights yet, boots still on, waiting in the entryway. Silence is heavy in your apartment, but you know he is here, Alejandro, you can sense it, waiting in the dark at your expense. You are not surprised you are next, not when you know how they handle deserters, when you know too much, when they are scared you might talk. It makes your heart beat faster, especially because you know they hold Alejandro in a tight lease like a dog.

If he hears you he doesn’t answer, and so you keep moving, what else is there to do? Removing your shoes, dropping your bag. Maybe you are just tired, maybe the doormat wasn’t that crooked, maybe the fingermarks on the handle were yours, maybe-

‘’ You know I couldn’t. ‘’ Alejandro sits on your sofa, his back against the cushion, your cat purring on his lap. ‘’ Such a pretty thing like you… ‘’

It is meant as a joke, probably, but it doesn’t make you laugh, doesn’t make your insides warm up like they used to. All you feel now is cold, a deep, freezing cold that seeps inside your bones, and tense your shoulders, making bile pill up in your mouth.

‘’ Can I feed the cat? ‘’

A simple question, one that he nods to, one that he understands means you are not jumping on a hidden gun or making a b-line for the bedroom window. The cat is up as soon as he hears the pantry open, rubbing on your legs, wet nose meeting your ankles. You put more kibble in the bowl, just in case.

‘’ Wasn’t easy to find you. ‘’ He continues, ‘’ Montana is large, it was pretty hard to track. You could have moved countries. ‘’

‘’ Just to have you catch the flight log? ‘’ You move to the armchair in front of him, taking a seat, ‘’ I thought I did well, everyone makes mistakes. ‘’

You cross your legs, tucking your feet. He watches your every move, like a hawk, barely moving. Alejandro doesn’t look much different than he was a year ago, black still looks great on him, his arms are bigger, the beard slightly longer too.

Your first mistake was getting recruited by the CIA, a consultant they had told you, something up to your added value. Talent, Matt had called it later down the line, interrogation is what makes the world turn. In a way it did, they all talked, and you went home, cashed your check, just to fly back out whenever was needed. A few months later, you met Alejandro on base, near the Mexican border. You liked his eyes, how he didn’t speak much, didn’t move air, a peacefulness to his presence, weirdly.

And then one day your contract changed hands, no CIA, just Matt, and whoever held the chains. Your second mistake was to accept it, not to ask for a transfer, and join the team. You could sense the heaviness in the interrogation rooms now, notice the dangerous glint in Alejandro’s eyes. The hours would be longer, the pay better, dirtier. Sometimes, Alejandro would join you, make you leave the room halfway in, cutting the camera before closing the door behind you. Everything was more hands-on, no more slowly gnawing at it, no more psychological tactics, just raw human nature, animals in cages. Most days would end with you screaming at Matt that you would quit, that this wasn’t what you had signed up for. Oh, but it is, sweetheart, do you know what happens to you if you break this contract?

Threats, every day, all of it, but you couldn’t allow yourself to find out, not after Kate, not when you had heard words here and there of what had happened. You had gotten to know Alejandro better pretty quickly after that. Maybe you had eventually gained his respect by being so out of bounds every time.

Between the long hours, the endless plane rides, inevitably running into him at the motel bar, even when you thought there was no way something would come out of it, you kept finding him around every corner. And then you kissed him one night, or maybe he did, one drink too much, pressing on you, bringing you up against the bed. Your third mistake. It felt different to be able to touch him, how he would accept it, initiate it even. A breath of fresh air compared to those stuffy interrogation rooms.

You found comfort in Alejandro’s arms, in the dark of night, letting him wrap around you, letting the sound of his breathing ease the voices in your head, letting him trace figures on your back with his fingers until you would fall asleep.

No one knew, no one suspected a thing, and you liked it better that way, as you are sure he did too. Matt wasn’t blind, though, you could see the crease between his brows when you would get on the plane together, how he had started to comment on your outfits, your hair. You could tell he was going fishing, throwing the bait, waiting to see if the wolf would bite. Still, he was always your colleague first, a good one, never late, easy to work with, and then he was something else. Something you couldn’t name, something you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, not lovers, not friends.

Then one day you cracked, like an egg, somewhere in the middle, slicing you in half. A long time coming. I can’t do this anymore, you had told Alejandro, sobbing, huddling in the tub, under the water. You could feel the water in your lungs, the tightness of your chest, in your throat. I can’t breathe, I can’t, I- You don’t remember him turning off the water, gently pulling you out, but you remember him wrapping the towel around you, hugging you to warm you up, brushing your wet hair with his fingertips, rubbing the water of your back. You can, of course you can.

You remember telling him you were done, that when Matt would receive your resignation letter tomorrow you would be long gone. You owed him that, the truth, the why, before leaving and never seeing him again. You couldn’t bear the thought of him wondering, the pain it could cause of losing someone again. Don’t do this, you know what they think when people leave, what they will do.

What they will make me do, he meant, and here he is.

You let yourself sink into the pillows, feel the tightness in your throat, let your shoulders drop. Now that you are closer, you notice more grey in his hair, a sign that time hasn’t stopped for him either.

‘’ Now what? ‘’ You breathe. The air is thick, the room dark. What will you do now?

‘’ I’m not here for you. ‘’ His eyes soften, and he readjusts himself in his seat. ‘’ I killed Alarcón. I’m here because I’m done, it’s over. ‘’

I’m not here for you. I killed Alarcón. It is just Alejandro in your living room, plain, simple, soft Alejandro, no wolf, no sharp teeth, waiting to pounce. Him, here, after that, you think maybe he wants to talk about it. A shoulder to rest on, after all the stress from those years, the hard work, repressing everything down.

‘’ How do you feel? ‘’

‘’ I don’t know ‘’ His dark eyes are back on you. ‘’ Relieved, I guess. ‘’

You are still not over the fact that he is not here to kill you, only looking for comfort, friendship. Your fingers are still tightly wrapped around the armrest, and the fabric bristles as you let go.

‘’ You want a beer? ‘’ A peace offering.

‘’ Hmm. ‘’

You can tell Alejandro is somewhere far away now, deep in thought, going back to caress the cat as it snuggles back into him. He must be there, you think, where Alarcón was that day, he probably feels the gun in his hand, hears the bullets hit the ground. You know the way he remembers those things so clearly as if he was hovering, watching. He had told you so one night on the jet, when Matt was fast asleep on the couch, when you were seated across from him, when you had asked him if he had dreams too, as vivid, as bloodied. I don’t, he had said, and then motioning to his temple with a finger, but it’s in here, I’m always there.

You are alone in the kitchen for a minute and then you aren’t, turning around, knocking into him who is now in front of you, with so little space to spare. Alejandro takes the beer from your hand, gently discarding it on the countertop. You let his eyes run over your face, let him observe for whatever he is looking for. He opens his mouth and then closes it, swallowing words that he decides are not meant to be said.

‘’ I came here because I’m not sure what to do now. ‘’

After all of it, he means, now that his goal is achieved, that debts are paid and revenge is cold and done.

‘’ You’ll figure it out, you always do. ‘’

You don’t flinch when his palm reaches up, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he cups his hand around your face, cradling your jaw between his fingers. You let his fingers warm up your skin, letting the familiarity of it submerge you.

‘’ I meant it, ‘’ he whispers, ‘’ so pretty… ‘’

‘’ I think you need sleep. ‘’ You caution back. It feels overwhelming, having him here, so close, after so many months.

‘’ I guess. ‘’

He trails off, but he is not listening, there is a hunger in his eyes, and you remember all the nights he would look at you like this, soft, tender, something you could mistake for affection. The tip of his fingers caresses your hair, running down the side of your neck, feeling your pulse underneath his touch. He knocks out of it after a few seconds, letting his hand rest on your shoulder instead.

There is a seriousness in his eyes, an int of doubt, something different.

‘’ I know what I need. I’m going to Bogotá, and I want you to come with me. ‘’

I need you to, he means, you’ll be safe with me. You feel as if the wind has been knocked out of you, the blood pumping in between your ears is loud and heavy, you can’t hear yourself think.

I can’t, I-

You can, of course you can.

[itacats]

Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: trauma, war themes, prisoner of war, injury/allusions to torture, feelings of guilt/failure, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Exciting news! Part 5 is now out to read! Dive back into the journey and catch up with the latest developments!

Read Part 1 here! Read Part 2 here! Read Part 3 here! Read Part 4 here! Read Part 6 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here! Read Part 9 here!

Part 5: Return to the Light

The first sound of gunfire was like a distant echo, faint but unmistakable. At first, I thought it was just another hallucination, a cruel trick my mind had conjured after weeks—no, months—of isolation. But the tremors that followed, reverberating through the walls of my cell, were real. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and the crackle of radio chatter. And in that moment, I knew—*they hadn’t forgotten me.*

Task Force 141 was coming for me.

But as much as my heart swelled with hope, that hope was quickly swallowed by the reality of what I had become. The person who had walked into this hellhole wasn’t the one who would walk out. That person—whole, defiant, confident—was gone, lost somewhere in the endless nights of torture and loneliness. What remained was a husk, a shadow of who I had once been, held together only by the iron will that had refused to let me die.

When the door to my cell finally swung open, the relief I had expected to feel was buried beneath a crushing sense of shame. I wanted to stand, to greet my comrades as the soldier they had once known. But my body betrayed me. I couldn’t move. I lay there, shackled not just by chains, but by the weight of everything I had endured. The person who had been so certain of their place in the world, so sure of their strength, now felt utterly broken.

Gaz was the first to enter. His sharp eyes, always quick to read a situation, widened in shock as they took in the sight of me. The glint of unshed tears danced on the edges of his vision, though he tried to mask it with a forced smile. But even that smile couldn’t hide the truth. He was seeing a ghost—one who barely clung to the world of the living.

Soap was next. His bravado, once larger than life, had dulled to a grim silence. There was no witty quip this time, no cocky grin to break the tension. Instead, his eyes scanned me, taking in every bruise, every scar, with a fury that was barely contained. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words died on his lips. There was nothing that could fix this. No joke, no banter, could erase the months of torment that had left me in this state.

Captain Price followed, his presence steady and unwavering. His steely grip was the first thing I felt as he knelt beside me, his hands warm and solid against my cold, broken body. There was no hesitation, no pity. Just strength. In his hands, I felt something I hadn’t felt in so long—*safety.* It was as if, for the first time in months, I could finally breathe. His grip wasn’t just pulling me out of the cell; it was pulling me back from the abyss. But even in that moment of salvation, the weight of what I had endured pressed down on me like a vice. How could I face them now, after everything? How could I look them in the eye when I no longer knew who I was?

And then, there was Simon.

Ghost.

He stood just inside the doorway, his eyes locked on me, unreadable behind his mask. There was a tension between us—something heavy, something unsaid. We had always shared a connection, an understanding that went beyond words. But now, in this moment, that connection felt frayed, strained by the horrors we had both endured. He didn’t move toward me, didn’t speak. But I could feel the relief rolling off him in waves, even as something darker thrummed beneath the surface.

*Guilt.*

It was there, just beneath the surface, simmering in his gaze. He blamed himself for what had happened, for the months I had spent in that hellish cell. And though he wouldn’t say it—couldn’t say it—I knew that part of him believed he had failed me. The man who had faced death a hundred times over, who had survived horrors beyond imagining, now stood there, feeling the weight of my suffering as if it were his own.

But it wasn’t his fault. None of it was. I wanted to tell him that, to somehow reach across the chasm that had opened between us. But the words wouldn’t come. I was too tired, too broken to bridge that gap. So we stood there, silent, the air thick with everything we couldn’t say.

As they lifted me from the floor, carrying me out of that nightmare, I felt the enormity of the moment crash down on me. I was free. I was going home. But the road ahead was littered with the ghosts of my past—of the person I used to be, of the comrades who had fought and died, and of the months I had spent teetering on the edge of oblivion.

I wasn’t the same soldier who had walked into this compound, and I would never be that person again. The shadows of this place would haunt me for the rest of my days, just as Simon’s ghosts haunted him. We were more alike now than ever before, our scars a mirror image of each other’s pain.

And yet, in the midst of all that darkness, there was still a glimmer of something—something fragile but unbroken. The bond between us, forged in the fires of combat and suffering, had not shattered. If anything, it had been tempered, made stronger by what we had both endured.

As we made our way through the corridors, the sounds of gunfire fading into the distance, I glanced over at Simon one last time. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the mask fell away. I saw the man beneath, scarred but unyielding. And in that moment, I knew: we would survive this.

Together.

Read Part 6 here!

Thank you so much for joining me on this journey through the latest development in this story! We’re halfway through, and now it's time for some much-needed recovery after those last two parts.

The next story (mafia au) is coming out later this week, and you won’t want to miss it! Your support means everything. Have a wonderful day lovely!💙

[chasedeys]

do you write any rpf, like on Ao3? I’m new so idk if you’ve posted about it or not but IM LITERALLY OBSESSED with your answers to any anon ask. I would read a whole ten page essay from you about joemarr and im not joking. anyways, i love anything you post!!

hiiiiii loveeeee, thank you for liking my thoughts on joemarr!!! kind of self conscious abt it honestly bc im drawing up conclusions abt them technically without any basis but yeah 😭❤️ (also english is very much not my first language so i struggle to word things so saying you'd read a 10 page essay from me is very <33333)

i have written and posted 1 (one) fic and its a ja'marr gets nipple piercings fic lmaooo and opposite to the way it sounds it's not even horny or even tender horny its just like full of love and devotion ahaha no but really don't expect much please

some extra under the cut wkwkwk

SORRY BUT im taking advantage of this ask to add a whole unfinished 2k- jumble of another fic i was working on but probably won't finish bc the lack of full understanding of how contract and free agency works and like refusal to actually research shit bc i get stupid sad thinking about it so:

Joe stares down the stretch of the field, Ja’Marr standing by the rest of the receivers laughing as Chuck and Andrei try to playfully (....maybe) murder each other via sumo wrestling moves that are definitely not regulation. He’s just wearing tights today for bottoms–so the delicious tautness of his thighs are free for Joe to gaze hungrily at. Truck, 30 yards in front of him very patiently waiting to catch his warm-up throws, has cleared his throat three times in the past 45 minutes for Joe to tear his eyes away from Ja’Marr Chase and throw the damn ball.

It’s torture. It’s love, devotion.

It’s disgusting levels of Down Bad.

(joe gets introspective throughout practice post ravens lost yada yada they go back home, joe invites jamarr for sudden cheat day meal at like 2 am)

Ja’Marr shows up in his front door bleary eyed and sleep rumpled. He’s decked in thick flannel pajama pants that absolutely do not look cheap, dark grey geaux tigers hoodie with purple LSU letters that clashes with the red of his pants, last season’s bengals beanie that also clashes with the rest of his outfit colors, and gucci slides…that also clash with the rest of the outfit. It’s a mismatched sort of vulnerability that twists up Joe’s insides. Here’s his north star wrapped up in all the things Joe cherishes.

Ja’Marr turns up his nose when he finally finishes yawning right at Joe’s face and notices Joe with his raised eyebrow looking up and down amusedly at his outfit.

“Shut up,” he says. “It’s a 2 am non-party night. Like hell I’m dressing up pretty for you.”

Ja’Marr’s always pretty to Joe, but that’s fine.

“I didn’t say anything.” Joe replies back, moving to the side so Ja’Marr can drag his feet inside the threshold, “I don’t judge you for your fashion taste.”

Joe cleverly dodges the foot being kicked back to his side. Amazing reflexes, of course.

“Where’s this hearty meal you promised me?” Ja’Marr just talks loudly over the dig Joe makes at him.

“On its way. DoorDash says it’s 7 minutes out.”

“Did you get extra cream soup?”

“Yeah, of course.”

(yada yada some banter some cute shit wanted to describe them sitting in joes billion dollar custom renovated kitchen that i would stress out is 'modern and kitschy' with different shades of pink for accents)

He’s been making insane catch-and-runs, Joe reflects. Offers to his agent would be stacking up starting next year, his last year in his contract with Cincinnati.

“It would be easier.” Joe says, throat cramping. “If you want to trade.”

Ja’Marr’s hands stutter and his stupid little butter knife clatters to the table.

“What?”

Joe darts his eyes to the other man, a millisecond glance and he’s gazing back to his ice cream. The receiver’s voice had been harsh, choked up in surprise. Joe feels his insides curdle even worse.

“Just–” he starts, a mess of thoughts jumbled in his head, “if you wanted to. I would understand. Your stats are amazing. If Duke’s still gunning to be an idiot and wait for your contract to dry up before resigning, you can–”

Here he pauses. Saying things makes it real. Saying they’re not a championship level team made him want to gouge his eyes out. Saying how Ja’Marr could leave him would possibly end his life as he knows it.

But Ja’Marr deserves to know Joe won’t hold him back. He refuses to. So:

“If you want, you can sign up for free agency. Next season.”

Well.

Ja’Marr’s face is heartbreaking to see. Joe feels the corner of his mouth drag down, his eyes are fucking burning, his throat is closing up, his hands are clammy, his ears are ringing, his neck is cold but his head is on fire.

“Do you–” Ja’Marr starts, but his voice is cracking, so he has to start over again. He’s scrunching his eyes shut and his mouth is quivering and Joe feels like he’s clumped up dirt under a needlessly expensive boot. 

Twice this season now he’s caused Ja’Marr to look like this. At least this time he’s not pushing him physically, but with the way Ja’Marr’s trembling all over this might just be worse. God, Joe can’t even blame being in Kansas City for this. This time, Ja’Marr isn’t hiding from the thousands of eyes scrutinizing him from the bleachers, from across the field, from the houses of unknown fans through LED screens. The agony is clear in the widening of his eyes and the curl of his mouth and the crack of his voice. 

“Do you not want me?”

Just the barest whisper like Ja’Marr’s vocal cords has up and left. Joe feels insane thinking of the heart-clenching anymore? Ja’Marr doesnt say.

Joe’s mouth falls open but no sound comes out. There isn’t a single universe in the hypothetical collection of potentially diverse multiverses Joe believes in, that a Joe Burrow wouldn’t want Ja’Marr Chase to stay by his side. But would saying this to the other be right? 

He takes too long to answer. Ja’Marr’s face shuts down, going cold.

“Wow, okay, fuck you.”

Joe flinches back at the viciousness of the curse. He has never once in his life been the direct recipient of Ja’Marr’s brand of tiger claws defense, teeth sharp, no mercy. 

“I cannot believe you. I thought we were fine now! We’re on the same page again! I leave that contract bullshit behind, you fixed your anxiety over your wrist, but, what, another fucking shitty pick and you don’t think I got it anymore? Fucking free agency, shut your stupid fucking mouth, Joe Burrow, before I do something I regret.”

Joe’s hands automatically flashes to settle the plates rattling when Ja’Marr abruptly stands up and slams his hands to the table. He’s looking up at him now, still sitting down on the bright pink stool in his billion dollar kitschy kitchen with Ja’Marr Chase looming over him in fury.

“I followed you here! To fucking Ohio. I hated the idea of even stepping foot in this state before I fell in love with this fucking city! I did it because of you! I have said multiple fucking times that I’m not leaving you. I said to the fucking media that you were like a god to me, are you fucking kidding me? I bullshitted my way through all those disgusting interviews trying not to say the wrong thing and still having people say I’m stalking you or some shit because I can’t help word-vomitting over you! I have been this fucking close–” 

Ja’Marr shoots his right hand up right in the space between them, pressing his thumb and pointer finger so close the skin whitens.

“–to saying to fucking Hobs that I’m ass over tits in love with you! And now you’re telling me it’ll be alright if I leave? That it'll be easier? Just because, what, this stingy ass poverty franchise doesn’t know how to handle its players unless they’re you? That we keep losing even when you throw fucking bullets and I run across the entire fucking field from endzone to the endzone for 60 points? Joe Lee Burrow, I swear if I loved you less I would kill you.”

Ja’Marr finishes his rant with another slam on the table like he needs one more outlet for his anger. He’s heaving breaths, tears running down his cheeks (god, no), face all twisted up. Through Joe’s frozen state, he could see Ja’Marr’s face pale rapidly as he fully realizes what he’s said. Mouth always running a full minute over his brain.

God.

Joe stands wobbly quick when Ja’Marr stumbles around the table towards the kitchen doors.

For all that Joe unashamedly lies over how fast he is–(’i am fast, ja’marr. I can outrun you.’ ‘be so for real right now.’)–he can never outpace Ja’Marr. But for this one thing–this one thing–Joe slams against a blurring Ja’Marr and uses the momentum and extra inches and pounds he’s got over the man to cage him against the nearby fridge.

Ja’Marr yelps as his back rattles against the fridge doors, magnets and receipts and photos and post-it notes not trapped between him and the door fall to the floor. One of those brightly colored humanoid magnets slam against Joe’s left toe. A polaroid of Joe and his Mom somehow balances perfectly right on top of Ja’Marr’s head before fluttering away when Ja’Marr shakes his head in furious disbelief. His beanie had fumbled off his head in the initial tackle, lying on the ground right next to Joe’s right foot. 

Joe’s left hand is pinning his man’s right shoulder against the fridge door, hips flushed against him, a leg between his thighs, right arm tucked against the side of Ja’Marr’s waist, face right up against each other like every other overly enthusiastic helmet slam in the field after a ridiculous yard run–but there’s no helmet this time, and there’s no reason for Joe to hide how his eyes slide down the length of Ja’Marr’s face to his lips, letting his gaze linger deliberately long.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Ja’Marr blusters, cheeks going deep red, eyes pinballing widely over Joe’s own features (to his lips even! how exciting.), hands curling on each of Joe’s elbows with his nails biting down through the thick fabric of his sweatshirt over his skin. “What, are you going to hit me? Break my heart? You already did, asswipe, no need to be an annoying overachiever this time! Get off of me, I swear–”

“I don’t want you to go. I never want you to leave. Ever.” Joe cuts him off brutally. Let this be the firmest truth he’s ever said in his life. “I asked you to come here. I always want to play football with you. I always want random midnight DoorDash dinners with you. You keep saying insane shit about me in interviews, have you heard me talk about you? The last KC presser I had to hold back saying I hurt you in front of 50 people sitting down with their laptops open looking at me like I’m a bug to study. I have never been normal about you. You drive me insane, stop staring at me with those cow eyes. Who the fuck lies about dressing their friends up in magazine interviews? And that fucking photoshoot! Were you planning on killing me? Tee sends me your Instagram training pics from back in May like once a week to torture me! I nearly blocked his ass, Ja’Marr, shut up.”

(like. i want the speech to be more?? idk more emotional in the confessional aspect but alas i don't know how to write shit out)

Ja’Marr looks back at him wide-eyed. He hasn’t really said anything throughout Joe’s turn of ranting, but even so Joe needs him to shut up, genuinely. This beautiful, beautiful man doesn’t know Joe loves him. Stupid. Stupid.

“Ja’Marr.” Joe says, low and hoarse. He slides his hands up to cup at his cheeks now that Ja’Marr isn’t pushing his weight back at him. The wetness of his cheeks from his previous tears seeps into Joe’s skin. “I love you.”

“Oh, wow.” Ja’Marr just says back, hoarse and dumb. This man, Joe swears.

Whatever.

Joe kisses him hard and gets dizzy with it. Ja’Marr chokes in surprise, but gets with the program quick enough.

The side of his nose presses against Ja’Marr’s, he’s biting at his bottom lips, his lashes brush against the cold wetness of his cheeks, his hands press hard against the side of Ja’Marr’s neck and he feels like he can count each heartbeat against the tender skin of his wrists pasted to Ja’Marr’s jugular.

“Hi,” he murmurs over his man’s lips, heart feeling so fucking full.

Ja’Marr laughs against his lips incredulously, eyes screwed shut and lips stretched stupid wide. The prettiest thing Joe’s ever seen in his life. Insanely, he feels that if he were to play all 12 games of the season left this morning right after separating himself from Ja’Marr, he’d throw over 300 yards each. Things love could fuel you to do–winning a championship of a sport he’s thrown his entire heart in, with a man who’s gripped it tight since he knew how to throw it to him too.

“Dumbass,” Ja’Marr murmurs back, nudging his nose to Joe’s for the softest nose kiss Joe has ever experienced, “hi to you too.”

ok bye

[alicerosejensen]

Hey you might have seen my comment idk and if you didn't that's ok but I would really like a part 2 of the Zombie Movie with dad leon.

Well, to be honest, I didn’t plan the second part, but people wanted to and I wrote.

No warning. No injuries, no blood. Just dad and daughter having a good time together. Oh yes, there is a mention of "The last of us".

Part 1

Zombie movie. Pt 2

While you were cleaning up Leon's mess in the kitchen, he stood at the nursery door with a sinking heart. He knocked several times, but there was no answer, however, the sounds of a working game console could be heard from the other side.

Pulling the door handle, D/N did not even pay any attention to the visitor because with a frowning expression on her face she was busy with some kind of game from which she was distracted from time to time by answering messages on her phone.

Leon sat down next to her on the bed, well aware that his presence had not gone unnoticed. He watched the game without much enthusiasm, biting his cheek from the inside, looking at how his daughter shoots virtual zombies with a good result. It would be possible to omit the joke that the paternal genes played here, but Leon held his tongue until the moment of the zombie attack on the main character for whom D/N played. She fired three shots, but all in the chest, so the damage inflicted was not enough to kill the enemy. One bite and a game over.

"Shoot to the head"

D/N gave him an offended look and just loaded the last save.

In general, these zombies were different from those that were in real life. Yes, they bit, but instead of a decomposed body from which pieces of flesh fall, they had some appendages on their heads that looked like a walnut or a mushroom?.. in addition, they made strange clicking sounds.

"Strange zombies," Leon finally said, continuing to watch the gameplay "Why are they chirping?"

"This is not a zombie," D/N muttered more under her breath, making Leon realize that the conversation would not be easy, but he nodded his head in agreement. "Just infected people."

Leon sighed and put his hand on his daughter's shoulder, thereby forcing attention to himself. D/N exhaled irritably and paused the game.

"What?!"

"Pumpkin, I was wrong when I yelled at you," Leon confessed, pulling his daughter to him, but she refused to hug him, although when she was younger, she could never tear herself away from him. "I'll take you to this movie with your friend tomorrow... If you want, I'll buy you something with her in a cafe"

"Don't already," she muttered viciously, grabbing the phone. "I'll watch it later by subscription"

There was another awkward silence. Leon knew he shouldn't have flared up over the movie. After all, as you said, zombies don't come off the cinema screen, so his outburst of rage was just a sharp jolt due to fucking work.

"I understand that it's easier for you with your mom... I'm often not there for you when you need me, and sometimes I can miss birthdays, but I try, honey. I try to be the kind of father you deserve, despite the fact that I don't always succeed. When you were little, it wasn't so difficult for me, because we could catch up with books, games, walks."

D/N was silent with her legs tucked up to her chest, tapping her nails on the phone case. She still looked offended even though she listened to everything her father said to her. D/N was no longer small and understood that her father had a difficult job that required his constant presence, which is why he was often not at home, but this did not mean she was not offended.

Leon moved closer, pulling his daughter to him, hugging her shoulder. D/N did not protest.

"I've already canceled everything anyway." She said while continuing to knock on the phone. Leon sighed, resting his head on the top of her head.

"You know, we could go to this movie together, what do you think about it?" Leon looked at his daughter with a smile, waiting for her answer, hoping that his baby would say yes "I was in the Tall Oaks once, so I can even remotely say how plausible the director shot his picture"

D/N's eyes lit up with genuine interest when she heard that her father was in this town. Of course Leon was going to skip the part with the outbreak of the C virus and the death of the president. But his brain still remembers those moments when it was an ordinary beautiful small town.

"Come on!" Leon hooked her, seeing that he was able to arouse her interest, "you like this. Especially since mom assured me that the movie is not scary. Let's spend time together"

A slight smile appeared on her lips as she picked up the joystick and handed it to Leon.

"Do you want to play with me like when I was a kid?" She suggested it, and although Leon did not like the idea that he would even have to fight zombies (even virtual ones) at home, he still took the joystick and made himself comfortable on the bed. D/N even put a pillow under their backs with the image of her favorite character because you always spoiled her and bought such things.

"Okey" Leon's voice sounded uncertain, but he didn't refuse "So we're just running around a post-apocalyptic city and shooting zombies?"

"No!" snapped D/N. Her tone was already calm and harmless. "There's actually a plot here. Because of the disputes of fungi, an epidemic of cordyceps occurred. When people get infected with it, a fungus starts growing out of their heads that makes them aggressive and vicious. But they are still people. The main character must bring the girl" D/N pointed to the character who was standing next to the main character " To an organization called "fireflies" to make a vaccine since her immunity was developed after the bite. That's all. Take a joystick and play for Joel. Save ammo and use all resources wisely, and try not to miss".

Leon grinned when he heard a brief introduction to the game, and immediately began to understand the controls in the game.

"Fantastic."

Leon had been gone for an hour when you seriously worried about his long absence. After removing the fragments of a broken glass and a bottle of whiskey, you listened to the voices, but nothing was heard except the sounds of shooting and malicious laughter. Having decided to go upstairs, the last thing you could expect was that Leon would sit on the bed and play with D/N a recently purchased game that your daughter has been talking about tirelessly lately.

When you carefully grabbed the door handle and lowered it a little to look through the gap, you immediately saw how D/N was eating Snickers and Leon...

"Looks like you're having a good time," you smiled as they turned their heads to your voice.

Leon was comfortably ensconced in a nest made of pillows and a plaid, while D/N put her head on top of his head watching him try to pass the location using stealth. Leon, in principle, rarely played on a computer or a console due to lack of free time, but he was ready to buy the whole world for his daughter (Although more often he only paid for it). However, now, having stepped over his personal rejection of such games, he himself lies and plays a zombie game with his daughter in order to get closer to her again. You didn't mind and were even glad that he quickly found an approach to D/N, even through the game. To consolidate this result, you brought them hot drinks into the room, in a strict joking voice, telling them not to get too carried away and not forget about the time. But in fact, your child went to bed quite late. You didn't protest because she had Dad's permission!

You felt the embrace of Leon's arms around your waist late at night when he went to bed, snuggling up to you as close as possible.

"If you only knew how much I love you both..."

Just a nice declaration of love, but in the morning you had to leave the house because of urgent work, hoping to listen in the evening to how they spent time together watching a movie, despite the fact that you were afraid of Leon's reaction to zombies. He's dealing with this shit too much.

As a matter of fact, the worm of uncertainty really devoured him from the inside when he looked at the giant poster on the stand. These zombies in the background and a couple in love consisting of the main characters. Leon bit his cheek from the inside, repeating to himself that it was just a movie. Zombies are not real in it, and if the age of D/ N allows to watch this, then nothing should be scary. There's not even a horror genre listed there! so everything should be fine.

They took good seats, but Leon's posture indicated that he was in constant tension, ready at any moment to protect his only child. It was stupid, of course, but after so many years of fighting biological weapons, he couldn't do anything more with himself. And yet, after half an hour of watching the movie, Leon realized that zombies are mostly just mentioned here. But yes, they flash from time to time, but they obviously spared money for extras, Leon even figured to himself that the film would most likely be a failure, but for teenagers it would be the very thing. He even got bored, which can not be said about D/N, she was clearly delighted.

Of course, there was a moment when the cameraman allegedly filmed a report from the scene of the event and a zombie popped up on the screen, forcing the young part of the audience to flinch from the abrupt moment, but Leon's reflexes immediately reacted to protect D/N, which is why she looked at him strangely but did not react in any way.

In general, for the most part, the film was full of shit with cheap special effects and disgusting acting. But Leon did not condemn, if his daughter liked it, then to hell with him. In the end, later they went to a cafe where she did nothing but chatter incessantly about what a handsome protagonist. He did not regret the time spent because his baby was happy and did not argue with him anymore. D/N didn't even pull out her phone once, but she hugged her father on the way home and everything melted inside Leon when he hugged her back.

"Dad?" she called softly, still hugging him, and Leon gently looked into her eyes, "I'm sorry for what I said last evening... I didn't really think so.

"It's okay, baby," Leon patted her on the back, making it clear that he wasn't angry, "I also got angry in vain, but everything is fine. I guess I forgot that you won't always be the little girl who sleeps with a teddy bear and watches cartoons"

D/N laughed at his words while walking with him back to the car.

"Aren't you mad at me?" She asked uncertainly, raising her head and looking at him, waiting for an answer. Leon just shook his head kissing the top of her head.

"I love you and mom too much, so I don't get angry for a long time" She calmed down by smiling at him with her innocent smile when Leon opened the car door for her. "Sometimes I forget that you're growing up"

Leon sighed when he realized his baby's interests were changing and it was completely normal. D/N will not always be a child and one day she may even bring her boyfriend to the house to introduce him to her family, but for now Leon will prefer to buy her and himself ice cream and not think about the rapid maturation of the only daughter.

Even if it's unavoidable.

[gatitties]

Hello! I seen your requests are open! Could I request

Levi Ackerman x calm and kind reader where everyone’s on a mission and all of the sudden we got ambushed by titans. Reader is killing titans with Levi and her sister when she sees a hand reach down for her sister. She tries to get to her but instead she watches her sister get bit in half. Reader goes crazy and gets extremely violent with the titans because her sister was her sanity. After the battle everyone whose left alive are regrouping while reader walk up to a tree and takes her anger out on it(slicing punching etc). Levi sees her and stops her from hurting herself. Later back at camp shes training with an anger that she didn’t before so some jerk makes a joke that it took for her sister to die to become a real soldier. Levi comes around the corner to reader beating the shit out of the jerk. He gives her a warning and she listens but she’s still very violent towards targets during training and missions and cold to people. Happy ending please.

If you don’t, I totally understand! I just really like your writing style lol. ꨄ

─Levi x fem!reader

─Summary: Your entire kind personality breaks when a loved one dies, making you a completely different person, although there are people who remain by your side despite the change.

─Warnings: none

oh oh finally something to write about aot, ty! <3

You had always been a kind and warm person despite being part of the survey corps, despite having experienced a lot of atrocities, having seen so many deaths before your eyes. Your smile did not falter in the lowest moments, helping and taking into account all those who were badly injured after a cold battle, you felt that it was your duty to make everyone feel as good as possible to eradicate the problem, after all if hope is lost everything would be lost.

You had seen how many people fell apart when they saw their loved ones go to another life in a painful way, even though you felt sorry for them and helped them improve emotionally, you never knew what it felt like to lose someone for whom you would give your life without a second thought, ever, until your sister died inches from you by a titan.

You felt your vision darken, your breathing quickened and you crashed into some trees as you had lost control of your equipment, luckily you ended up high enough so they couldn't catch you, however you didn't shed more than a couple of tears, you swallowed your sadness, still stunned and unaware of what had happened.

You two were cleaning the area of titans and out of nowhere, from one moment to the next… she's gone? It had to have been a hallucination, your sister was alive and what you had seen was a hallucination due to fatigue, right?

"I-It's not true…"

All bravery was gone, you fell to your knees on the thick tree branch, screaming in indescribable pain, nothing in your body hurt, but something was burning inside you, you felt nauseous for a moment, but after a minute staring into space, listening to how a pair of titans were trying to climb the tree you were in, something lit up inside you, a furious flame.

You went crazy when you saw those titans, letting everything you were keeping inside you explode in the form of the desire to kill, you don't even remember what you did until Levi kicked you to stop because you were going to kill yourself if you continued like this.

You argued with him for stopping and you got a big punishment for disobeying orders from a superior, but you didn't complain, after all it would make you think about something other than the death of your sister, which you ended up accepting as the years went by.

Levi cannot remove that image of you, he knew that you were strong, with your limitations, but reliable enough to go in a small special group, he knew you well, he admired how you were capable of providing tranquility and hope to the most desolate people, he admired the warmth you transmitted, never in all his years working with you had he seen you lose your temper like that, even though he was scared to see you full of blood, red eyes and a furious look, he understood your pain, he had been there before.

He thought the drastic change to a tougher, less empathetic, and loner personality would go away as quickly as you got over your grieving phase, however it didn't seem to go away over time. No more kind words, no more selflessly helping people, no more considering leaving any titans alive for Hange. Levi wasn't bothered by your new way of being, in fact, you had more similarities now, but knowing you for years, it was like seeing a stranger and not the person he used to know.

He would love to be able to help you, give you words of support and return that warm and bright personality that he liked, but he was not the one, he was never good at expressing his feelings, taking cautious steps around the people he loved, he always created a wall of separation just in case, he couldn't stand any more deaths of people he really likes because it will affect him too much if he gets close enough to open up.

Despite the time that had passed, the anger and pain remained within you as you remembered the grotesque scene of your sister being devoured, it made you feel dizzy and restless, you found that training harder to get rid of your discomfort was a small solution to your conflicting thoughts. No one used to bother you at these times since you used to choose the hours when fewer people could find you, however some idiots had to watch you release all your anger by cutting trees in one fell swoop and hitting them until you bled.

"Oh look, I didn't think people here took hand-to-hand training so seriously."

"Look at those muscles, what strength!"

"Yeah, the death of her sister made her like that, before she was a weak ass, even I could beat her in a fight! There are people who need some canonical event to evolve, not me of course…"

Your actions stopped when you heard something you didn't expect from a mate, something that burned you to the depths of your being, you looked at the three guys who stood looking at you with stupid smiles, waving as if you hadn't heard anything.

You dragged your dominant foot along the ground, taking a breath, your best fighting pose to jump and bite their necks off if someone didn't get ahead of you.

"People like you should be food for titans, who gives you the right to talk like that about someone higher in rank than you!? You should show some respect towards people! Go before the punishment I give you is worse than I have in mind."

You rolled your eyes, watching harshly as Levi kicked their asses, watching as the three boys trembled like a leaf, you didn't bother to thank him, nor make a gesture of thanks, returning to your training.

"And you, what do you think you're doing? I thought I had banned you from training until further notice."

You sighed, frowning at Levi, he approached you with a determined look, you intended to start a fight with him to determine your dominance, however, he still managed to stop you, winning in hand-to-hand combat. You shifted like a worm as he sat calmly on your back, his hands gripping yours firmly, frowning at the new wounds on your knuckles.

"I learned my lesson Levi, now get off me."

"You haven't learned shit, your actions give you away, you don't have to act like that with me, I know what you're trying to do."

You mumbled some curses, feeling your eyes watering, although you were now a harder and colder person, it was only to cover your true sensitive personality, that Levi knew how to see through you bothered you.

"Just leave me alone, I promise not to continue training, but let me go."

He sighed, slowly getting up but catching you before you ran away from him, grabbing your damaged hands carefully, avoiding your gaze, pulling you gently.

"I will let you go, but first we will heal these wounds, the next time you want to de-stress... know that my door is always open for you."

[refiwrites]

Can you do arguements with loak, neteyam, and rotxo please

since im sick rn and feeling terrible and in need of content of our avatar boys, i give you this

Arguments (Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Rotxo)

GIFs used for Neteyam and Lo'ak are not mine, credits to the rightful owners! Whilst the GIF used for Rotxo is mine.

N e t e y a m

Thinking abt it now, I think there would be little to no arguments w this man 💀 I mean he is the perfect child, is he not? Well, you do have arguments but often times it wouldn't be that deep? I have a feeling he's too understanding that everytime you begin something, he's already defused it lmao

You would be the one initiating arguments tbh

For Neteyam, I think most of your arguments would stem from you just trying to watch out/care for him. The pressure of being the future Olo'eyktan often gets to him that he forgets to take care of himself and you'd be there reminding him to breathe.

"No, stop your sweet-talking!" you were really being serious, yet your other half wasn't.

"My love, I have to do this, it is for us. For our future, no?" Neteyam says, walking over to you and placing his hands on your shoulders, that damned playful smile on his face.

The thought made your insides run wild. "The future can wait, you can stay here for now. And tell me, when was the last time you ate?"

Neteyam blinks back, thinking.

"That's what I thought, you aren't getting out of here until I say so."

"Wait— fine."

L o ' a k

Well, we all know Lo'ak is reckless, always doing things without thinking.

You know he means well with his actions, but sometimes you just wished he would think things through!

As much as you didn't like to be another one of the people scolding him, you couldn't help it when he literally walked in one day in your tent, gashes and bruises littering his face and arm.

"What were you thinking?" You said, you knew Lo'ak probably had this phrase said to him for the hundredth time.

He stayed silent.

"You're stupid, did you know that?" You hiss, sitting him down and you began to take his armor and face paint off.

"Too many times." He replied, which you felt bad. So you sighed, carefully cupping his face and making him look at you.

"As much as I'd like to argue with you right now, I still have to patch you up. But please, Lo'ak, the next time you do something... Think it through."

"Yeah.. Sorry.."

"You promise?"

"Promise."

R o t x o

Can we take a few minutes just to appreciate the gif because hello LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS

Hm since we don't know much alot abt Rotxo this will be difficult.

But we know that he knows his limitations for making fun of someone, and that he's very truly a genuine, caring person.

I feel like he loves to joke around and stuff w everybody including you but I also feel like he made a joke one time abt you that you really didn't like or you just weren't in the mood and you kinda took it personally.

You didn't talk to him for like- what- two days max? Cause how can you resist him really when he's trying to catch your attention the whole day while his face looks like this 🥺 reincarnated? HELP

"(Y/N)... (Y/N)."

Wanting to shove his face in the sand already, you resist, plucking the berries from the bush and placing them in your bowl.

You just about remember why the two of you were acting like this in the first place.

It was from a joke that Rotxo made.

Now you didn’t exactly remember what the very joke was but you knew you were pissed off that day, and the way his joke pertained to you made something in you snap as he was laughing.

Now that led to here, with you ignoring him. Honestly you didn't know how you lasted a almost a day and a half without talking to him since the two of you were inseperable from the moment he met you and your siblings.

You didn't realize you were frozen in place as his voice spoke up again.

"(Y/N)..?"

"What?!" You finally answered, snapping your head back to look at him.

He visibly swallowed, eyes squinting at your sudden reply. He moves forward though, moving beside you and kneeling next to you.

"I'm sorry."

"Took you long enough."

"Eh? But you were ignoring m—"

"Okay, okay I forgive you." You said. As soon as your words registered in Rotxo's head, you saw the way his whole face lit up, his nose scrunching in the process, almost melting your heart.

"Really?" He asked again, smiling.

"Yes, would you like me to change my mind?"

"No! No definitely not!" He quickly said, gesturing as if that was going to prevent you from doing so.

But you didn't change your mind.

You couldn't, not when he pulls out an armband he made for you, as a sign of peace.

[redheadspark]

(Im not sure if my thing was sent so if it was just ignore this)

Hawwu can I request 6. “You and I together… would that be weird?” “No. No, I don’t think so.” and 5. Having so many inside jokes that just the two of them know, that other people often don’t understand their humor. With Druig thank uuu

A/N - HAWUU! Thanks for requesting this for druig, my friend!

Room

Summary - After the Emergence, you connected with your best friend again.

Warnings - Just some fluff!

“Here, This was all I could find in the Domo,”

“You got this from Makkari’s stash, didn’t you?”

“If you don’t tell, I won’t tell,”

Druig snorted as he dug into the small bag of chips you were holding between you.  As he took a chip and mushed away, you were leaning back on the beach and looking at what was left on the Domo.  It was in shambles, some of it still in the beach surf, and the rest was in flames.  Sure, it looked a bit depressing since it was your ship and your first home, but then again you were too exhausted to feel anything else than relieved.  The past few hours were a whirlwind, and now that you were sitting down and feeling the fatigue come over you.  

There was a change of tides in the air as you felt the wind whip your hair up and around your battered face, the change only from saving the world from the near Emergence that would have destroyed the entire human species, but also amongst your Eternal Family. The same family you haven’t seen in almost 500 years and you never thought you would see again.  

Without Ajak and Gilgamesh, and the betrayal of Ikaris still fresh like a new wound, you were wondering what was going to be the future for all of you.  The others had lives, Kingo with his movies, Phastos with his husband and son, you felt lost in the shuffle yourself.  

“How long do you think it’ll take Phastos to fix the ship?” Druig asked as he popped another chip in his mouth and hummed, you grinning.

“Not a long time if Makkari will help.  She knows more about the ship than any one of us at this point,” You explained, Druig humming in agreement as you took a chip from the bag, “Given the recent turmoil we just went through, I’m in no rush,”

“Me neither, we have plenty of catch up on anyways,” Druig reminded you as you looked over at him, seeing the sea ship his brown locks to hide his bright blue eyes.  You smiled, though it was not big since he was sporting a scab on his cheek and looked a bit too stiff.  As if the wind could blow him over if he’d let it. 

He was right, you two had lots to catch up on.  Being his closest friend on the ship, apart from Makkari, you were always at his side. He was the calm to your temper, the sarcasm to your gentleness, and the aloof to your meekness.  Being opposites brought you two together so quickly and made the bon so strong and thick that it was almost impossible to break.  You loved those earlier years with him, not just in protecting the Humans and watching their evolution, but simply having a friend in your corner.  

When he left you behind 500 years ago, it felt like a shattering of your bond.  Of course, you knew why he had to go and you didn’t stop him, Druig was headstrong in what he wanted and what he knew was right.  But then again, you were also wishing to be selfish and keep him in your life.  He knew you more than you knew yourself, brought you out of darkness and doubt, made you feel joy when you thought yours was gone.  

Those 500 years without your best friend, they were tolerable at best.

“I’ve thought about you, know you,” Druig explained, you looked away from the Domo to him now as he was looking at you fondly with his shoulder touching yours, “Those years I was in the Amazon.  It was nice, and I wouldn’t take it back, but I did think about you a lot.”

“Good things, I hope,” You teased, seeing him crack a small grin as he nodded slowly.

“Amazing things,’ He admitted, making your stomach do a small flip as he hummed and spoke again, “I remember all the jokes we did on the others, especially with Phastos.  All the stories we would tell together over the campfire, and the dreams we had for the humans.”

“I remember your dream you told me,” You explained, “You’ve always wanted to be in a small little house by the sea, away from cities and massive populations of people.  Nice and quiet,”

“You teased that I would hate it, that and get a suntan,” Druig joked as you chuckled.

“I mean, you burn easily under the sun,” You replied, poking his side as he shoved your shoulder playfully.  You both laughed on the surf, battered and bruised with your armor stained and almost shredded to ribbons It felt surreal to be laughing at this point, but almost seemed natural for the pair of you.  Something you both needed from being away from each other for centuries.  Once the laughing died down and you were both quiet again, a lingering thought was on your mind.

“Where do we go from here?” You had to ask, Druig shifting in his spot on the sand as he cracked his knuckles.

“Don’t know.  I know I can’t go back to the Amazon now, the villagers can do fine without me at this point,” He explained, “I guess I can figure it out as I go,”

“I’m in the same boat too,” You admitted in a shrug, Druig watching you as you were towing the sand with your boot.

“We can figure it out together,” he explained, you raising a brow at him.

“Would that be weird?” You asked carefully.

“Not at all.  I don’t think so if it’s with you,” Druig hummed, his voice sounding soft and sure when he gestured his chin to you.  You smiled, leaning your head over to then rest of his shoulder as you both watched the surf float in and out on the beach.  Being this close to Druig seemed safe, seemed warm like the first sun rays or the smallest touch of leaves along the treetops.  You’ve missed this, the unidentified feelings that you once tried to tuck away since your friendship with him was more important.  

But you felt Druig lace your hands together on the sand, seeing the scrapes and blood on his skin as he spoke.

“You and I together…would that be weird?” He asked, almost in a manner that seemed timid.  You thought about it for a small second or two, and all you could think about it joy.  The joy of having another person in your life that would bring you more happiness.  The joy of knowing someone else thought of you with adoration and love in their heart.  

The joy of it comes from your best friend.

“No,” You replied calmly, “No, I don’t think so,”

As Druig kissed the side of your head, you smiled brightly for the first time in what seemed like a long time.  Your heart, which seemed protected and hardened over time, was now making room for one more person to inhabit.

It took you two long enough

The End