#this was mostly through elementary school

[mononijikayu]

love is a losing game — ryomen sukuna.

GENRE: alternate universe - squid game au

WARNING/S: afab! reader, romance, angst, break up, post-break up, hurt/comfort, on and off relationship, profanity, violence, gun violence, death, implied suicidal ideation, emotional manipulation, emotional distress, trauma, resentment, confessions, toxic relationship, gambling addiction (implied), longing, pining, bittersweet, reunion, depiction of violence, depiction of gun violence, depiction od emotional manipulation, distress, depiction of trauma, depiction of death, wife! reader, husband! sukuna;

WORD COUNT: 4k words

NOTE: in honor of me losing my mind this week due to squid games and alien stage, i did something of a mix of it. i genuinely needed to get this idea off my head. its a lot. for the resources to the japanese games and other stuff i mentioned, i'll put them below so you can read about them!!! anyway, enjoy!!! <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

THIS WAS YOUR BREAKING POINT, IF THERE WAS ONE. You had just finished your second shift, perhaps worse than the first one. You could barely have the strength to tie your apron right, let alone smile at your boss as he muttered something about cutting hours next week. 

The city air was damp, but this place was even damper. You could feel your knees ache from standing for too long, and you could still feel the bruises on your pride from that morning’s encounter. 

Another debt collector coming once again. You hated when they did that, ruining your peaceful day, your existence. Different faces. Same tone. Same threats. All because of him. Ryomen Sukuna. Your husband. Or… ex-husband now, you supposed.

You’d loved him. God, you still did. You probably still do. That stupid kind of love that lingered in the marrow even after the body rots. But it wasn’t enough for you. Not when he kept making reckless decisions, chasing fast money and leaving you to clean up the blood trail behind.

So, you left everything and him. You found yourself finding the courage to take what you could and moved out. You built that house with everything you had but took nothing but your clothes and a dented rice cooker. 

You told yourself it was for the best. You needed that peace. You need to love yourself, take care of yourself. That’s what your mother would have wanted for you. After all, that was more important than loving someone.

But the debts didn’t stop with him. They came for you too. You changed your address, you even reverted back to your birth name. But they still managed to find you, those stupid brutes. The lot of them are crude, and horribly terrifying to even look at. 

Yet you didn’t have the heart to tell Sukuna. You didn’t call him. Not once. Too proud. Too tired. Too angry. But mostly because you knew what he’d say just from thinking about it. With that certain reassuring look, one you knew you would fall for, he would say to you: “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

He’d say it with that smirk, with the same careless ease he used to take your last savings to pay for a poker hand he swore was a sure win. You sighed heavily, pulling your coat tighter around you as the wind bit through your sleeves. The bus stop was still a block away. Your feet dragged.

That’s when he appeared.

A man in a finely cut suit. 

Smile too polite to be genuine.

“Sumimasen, ojō-san.”

The voice came to you all too lightly, as if dropped into the air like a coin in water. You turned, startled at his presence. He was already too close. Smiling like an old friend. Like someone who’d been waiting just for you.

“Do you have a moment to play a game?”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He held up two square pieces of thick, colored cardboard. You looked at them carefully. You could see that it was old and well used. It was too worn at the edges. But that bright colors blending together with those figures was recognizable. Menko.

It was a game you hadn’t seen since elementary school. Even then, it had evolved into a different thing. This sort of menko was the old kind. You slap the tile on the ground. Then you try to flip your opponent’s piece. Whoever flips it wins. 

It was the familiar old schoolyard rules, the ones which your grandmother used to teach you when you were still a little girl. You couldn’t win against her, though. She was too much of a pro at it. 

“Traditional games.” he said, still smiling like he wasn’t wearing a suit worth more than your last three paychecks combined. “Very simple. If you win, you earn cash.”

You eyed the tiles, then him. “And if I lose?”

“You get slapped. I know it’s not the old rules, but I don’t wanna take it from you.” he said cheerfully, like it was the weather forecast. “Just a little change. Nothing serious.”

You almost laughed at his words. You were tired. You had just finished scrubbing tables at a ramen stall that paid you half what it owed. And now this man was talking about childhood games and slaps? You didn’t have time for this.

But then he crouched, unhurried, and set a thick envelope on top of his briefcase. Peeled it open for you and almost instantaneously, it showed the cash inside. Your mouth opened agape. It was ¥10,000 per win.

The gears shift in your head. It would be enough to buy groceries. Even maybe enough to get the collectors to back off for a few days. Just maybe, it would even be enough to shut your mind off and breathe. Your pride hesitated. Your exhaustion didn’t.

“…Fine.” you muttered, stepping forward. “But….Just one game.”

And that’s how it began.

Not with a fight. Not with a scream.

Just a slapped Menko card on the pavement and a stranger’s smile.

The first slap across your face stung more than you expected. The sound cracked across the empty alley. Your cheek flared with heat, but the man only laughed, handing you the next card like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Another round?”

You hesitated. Your hand hovered in the air. But the pain was familiar. For a moment, it reminded you of everything you were running from. The voicemail from the loan office. The unpaid gas bill. Ryomen Sukuna’s debt collectors are camping outside your apartment like vultures on a power line.

You nodded. “Again.”

Three more slaps. Your cheek was flushed and burning. But then you got it. Your tile hit him with a perfect strike, flipping it finally. He clapped at your success. You hated it. It was too calculated. Too eager to be the salesman.

“Excellent.” He handed you the envelope. Neat. Crisp. ¥10,000. “See? You’re not unlucky after all.”

You kept playing soon after that. That adrenaline got you going. That’s what winning does to you, even in the smallest ways. Humankind can be addicted to the feeling. It was gratifying to just have one moment of good, even with the bare minimum. And you hated that. Win. Slap. Win. Slap. 

You didn’t even notice when the bus you were supposed to catch hissed past in the distance. Didn’t notice the sun beginning to set.  By then, you had five wins. Fifty thousand yen. Your wallet was heavier. Your cheek, sore. But you could almost taste relief.

The man adjusting his tie, still all politeness. “You’ve got grit, I see.” he said. “That’s rare. I’d like to offer you something more… lasting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of more?”

“More reward.”

He opened his briefcase again and took out a cream-colored card. It had vibrant gold lettering. No name. No address. Just a phone number. And a symbol you didn’t recognize. You looked up at him. He was still smiling that same way, one which made you uneasy.

“If you want to clear your debts—truly clear them—and maybe walk away with more than you ever imagined… call this number.” he said. “But be warned. The games beyond this point… aren’t quite so harmless.”

You stared down at the card. You thought of the phone calls. The pounding on your door. The sleepless nights spent wondering if you’d made a mistake leaving Sukuna. And you thought: what’s left to lose?

You took the card.

He smiled at you.

And then he left.

That night, in your cramped 1K apartment, where the lights flickered when the kettle boiled and the neighbor’s dog barked like a curse against your walls, it was hard to not think about it. You stared at that card like it was cursed.

You told yourself you wouldn’t call. That game in the subway was enough. Everything about this would be beyond insane. But at 2:34 a.m., when the latest message lit up your phone.

「 最後の警告です。返済期限は明日です。」

Final warning. Your deadline is tomorrow.

You dialed the number, both curious and too sudden.  The voice on the other end was cold. “You’ve been accepted. We’ll send a car.”

You nearly hung up. Nearly. But instead, you whispered back. “Okay.”

In a shadowed parking lot at dawn, a black van waited. You stepped inside.

You didn’t know what was going to happen. You didn’t even know that you would see him there again. You didn’t know what awaited you. All you could do was think about the fact that this was the only way to escape your reality.

Yet you didn’t know that the worst was yet to come. But you didn’t know that. Not yet. Not until the games began. Not until you saw blood spilled on concrete and heard his voice again in the middle of it all, rough and familiar. Still yours in some stubborn, ruined way.

You were the last to enter. The van doors shut behind you with a final-sounding click, and silence followed, thick and uncomfortable. The only sound was the gentle hum of the engine and the shallow breathing of the others. 

There were six of you, all wearing the same dull colored tracksuits with numbers on the chest. Yours was 046. No names. No questions. No warmth. You didn’t look at them. You couldn’t do that even if you wanted to.

So, you just stayed silent. You just leaned back against the seat and stared at the floor, hands clenched in your lap. You told yourself this was just a game. That you could survive it. That you had no other choice.

But your heart wouldn’t stop pounding. The van drove for what felt like hours, until your eyelids grew heavy and your body gave in. A sharp prick on your neck came just before everything turned black.

You sat up on a hard bunk in a massive dormitory lined with triple-decker beds. There were dozens of others now. You could see men and women, all ages, all races. Some looked confused. Some are too calm.

WHEN YOU WOKE UP, THE WORLD LOOKED TOO BRIGHT AND COLORFUL. All you could see were the vibrantly decorated walls. The bright paintings of childhood games from the ceiling. The dull yet shiny tiled floors. It was almost nauseating how childishly pastel everything was. It was like some cruel dream of a kindergarten.

And then your gaze locked on him. He was leaning against the metal post of a bunk bed, arms crossed. Same gray uniform. Same unmistakable face. You would know that face from anywhere. Number 49, Ryomen Sukuna.

Your mouth went dry. It felt like the air thickened between you instantly as you continued to stare at him the way you did. You tried to look away but you can tell he saw you before you could look away. His scarlet eyes narrowed. Soon enough, he made his way to you. 

“Well, well….” he drawled, voice low and edged. “Look who finally decided to come and see me.”

You flinched. “I didn’t. This isn’t about you.”

He laughed once. Bitter. “Are you sure about that? Because last I checked, you didn’t care if I lived or died.”

You stood slowly. “Don’t twist it. I cared. I just couldn’t keep bleeding from your mistakes.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t reply to your words. He knew you were right. You hated how much your chest hurt, seeing him here. That scar on his lip was still there. His scarlet eyes were still that infuriating shade of crimson. 

And somehow despite everything, you still remembered what it felt like to sleep beside him so peacefully. The weight of his arm around your waist. The heat of his breath on your neck. But that was before the collectors. Before the screaming. Before he chose chaos over you.

A loudspeaker crackled overhead. “All participants, please proceed to the arena for Game One.”

A door opened on the far wall, from the right side. As you all walked there in a line, you saw the armed guards standing there, waiting. You didn’t move for a moment, until Sukuna stepped past you. His voice is low, just for you.

“I don’t know what game this is. But I know one thing—” he paused, glancing at you. Then at the armed guards. “I’m not letting you suffer here……die here.”

You scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Why would you care?”

He didn’t answer. And maybe it was just a trick of your heart, but when the guards herded everyone forward and you stepped into the blinding light of the first game. You could’ve sworn he stayed just a little closer to your side.

Like old muscle memory.

Like it was an instinct.

Like love that refused to die quietly.

The light was too bright. Artificial and blinding, like stage lights at a show you didn’t want to be in. As your eyes adjusted, you found yourself standing on sand, actual real sand. You found yourself almost confused. 

This feels like those summer days by the beach, enclosed in this room. It was what it felt like, but beneath it was a painted sky so blue it was almost offensive in its cheer. But you were certain now. You weren’t in the city anymore.

Rows of players shuffled in beside you, uniformed and stiff with fear. Concrete walls loomed around the field like the inside of a stadium, and in the distance stood a massive Daruma doll. It was hard to look at, with its oversized, grotesque figure, its painted face staring blankly ahead.

You recognized the game the moment you looked at it. It was Daruma-san ga Koronda. You’d played it as a kid with the other neighborhood kids. You had chanted those words with your friends in schoolyards and summer parks, trying not to laugh as you froze mid-step.

But no one was laughing now. Everyone around you was taking this as seriously as they possibly could. That was certain. The Daruma’s head turned slowly, mechanical joints whirring. Then the voice rang out across the field.

「だるまさんが…ころんだ！」

Everyone ran. The Daruma’s head snapped around. A sharp bang cut the air like a hammer cracking glass. The man beside you dropped. Hard. Blood was already soaking through his shirt. 

You flinched at that. You could hear a few people, someone beside you screaming so loudly, it could puncher your ears. The guards raised their rifles. The gates behind you slammed shut like the jaws of a trap. Sukuna grabbed your wrist, yanking you down before your legs gave out.

“Keep your head, babe.” he muttered. “Don’t move unless I do.”

You stared at him, dazed. “They’re shooting us—”

“Yeah, genius.” His grip tightened. “Welcome to hell.”

Another chant echoed across the field.

「だるまさんが…ころんだ！」

You bolted forward. The Daruma turned. You froze. Someone behind you tripped. Bang. The game was merciless. Precise. The moment the Daruma faced you, if you even twitched. It was the sound of the bang that came after.

It felt endless. The repeated rhythm of the chant, the thudding of your heart, the bodies falling one by one. You followed Sukuna’s movements like a shadow. When he crouched, you crouched. 

When he stopped, you stopped. When he darted forward, you did too. Until you could smell blood on the wind and taste bile in your mouth. But somehow, you kept going. You just had to. Or else, you would be one of them.

You noticed the way Sukuna’s body moved. It was not reckless like before, but sharp, measured. How his head turned just slightly toward you before every sprint. How he never let go of your hand, even once.

And then, the final line. Just five feet away.

「だるまさんが…ころ—」

You ran. Both of you.

「—んだ！」

The Daruma turned. Sukuna yanked you backward, both of you crashing into the sand. Your elbow hit the ground hard. The air fled your lungs. But you hadn’t crossed the line too soon.

You were still alive.

Follwing that was silence.

Then a single chime.

Game over. The Daruma’s eyes went dark. The gunshots stopped. There was only silence. And then only the sound of weary breaths remained. You didn’t hear the last few bodies fall. Just the pounding of your heartbeat and the rough rasp of Sukuna’s breathing beside you.

His hand was still on your back. Still steady and still holding you strong. The surviving players, maybe numbering less than half, were herded into a line by the masked guards. The sand soaked with blood behind you.

And for the first time since stepping into the game, you realized: This wasn’t just about survival. This was war. And the only person you could trust here was the man who once broke your heart far too many times.

"Can I trust you?" You whispered to him.

He looked at you. "After that? With your life."

It was strange, knowing how this all began. That you were still breathing. That you were still next to him. And even now, despite everything, you couldn’t help but stay near. When you ate, when you slept, you always had to be near him. Or else, you knew you would grow mad. 

YOU HAD SEEN FAR TOO MUCH, AND YOU HAD ENDURED FAR TOO MUCH.  Yet the only thing you could be thankful for was that you were alive, somehow. And that against every odd and all that grievous feelings you have, you were still with your husband, Sukuna.

Throughout the games, you’d leaned on him for everything. Just as you used to do when you were happily married. You leaned on him for safety, for strategy. For something that still, quietly, resembled love. As horrible as this situation is, this was the most married you had ever been.

This was the penultimate game, at least that’s what you think. Now there were only thirty of you left. And they needed to lower the number now. That’s what they’ve been doing with all the other games. Just to narrow the winner.

They led you into a new room. No pastel walls. No fake skies. Just gray cement and harsh white lights that buzzed like flies. At the center: a square tatami mat. Two cushions. A small lacquered box sat between them. 

Inside, you saw the glint of round, flat glass disks in green, red, and clear. Your eyes widened. It was Ohajiki. You turned around to Sukuna and then once again to the pieces of marble on the ground.  Two guards stood at the back. No other players. Just you.

Your breath caught. “What is this?”

One of the guards stepped forward, flanked by guards. His voice was cold and smooth. “Congratulations. You’ve reached one of the final games.”

He gestured to the mat and the box. “This is Ohajiki. This event will be done in pairs. Each player begins with ten pieces. Take turns flicking. Whoever collects all twenty wins.”

You stared at the disks. “And if neither of us…?”

“If no winner is declared within thirty minutes, then we must follow protocol.” the guard said flatly. “Both players will be eliminated.”

Your chest tightened. “Wait, there has to be another way—”

“No, stop.” Sukuna said softly. “They won’t change their minds.

You turned to him, eyes full of panic.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t bargaining.

He just looked… resigned to fate.

“They knew what they were doing with this.” he murmured. “It was always going to come down to this. Us. You know that.”

Your voice cracked. “I’m not doing this. I won’t—”

“You have to.” He stepped closer, slow, careful. “One of us has to make it out. That’s how this works.”

You shook your head, tears already blurring your vision. “You know I can’t. Not like this. Not you.”

He gave a tired smile. It reached his eyes, just barely. “Yeah. You can.”

He picked up one of the colored pieces and slipped it into your hand. “Here. Start with this. Let’s say I misjudged my shot.”

Your heart twisted. You had survived hell. Bullets. Betrayals. People turned into corpses. Friends lost. Names forgotten. But now they wanted this? When your relationship was starting to be your everything, they wanna take it away too?

“You idiot, you fucking idiot.” you whispered, voice shaking. “Why do you always do this?”

Sukuna chuckled under his breath, the sound broken, full of something sharp.  “Because I’m still in love with you. And if one of us gets out…” He looked at you. “I want it to be you.”

“No, no. Fuck no. I’m not going out of this place without you. You know that!” you said, stepping back. “We’ll cheat it. We always do. We’ll figure it out—”

But the guards raised their rifles at you. Sukuna sighed and took you away from them for a distance. The timer started. Thirty minutes, finally going and coming, ticking away on the massive screen. Sukuna knelt down on one cushion. Then he gestured to the other.

“Come on.” he said softly, smiling at you. “Just a stupid game. Like when we were kids. On the tatami. Trying not to flick too hard.”

You sat down. Your hands trembled as you flicked the first piece. You were never good at Ohajiki. Sukuna was always the better one. He was even praised for it. You continued to play, feeling your heart thumping the entire time.

The flat marbles continued to clack gently against another and knocked it aside. You collected another one. Sukuna took his turn. A bad aim. He let you take it. You knew that. And that was frustrating you, angering you. But he didn’t stop.

You won another. And another. Each round, his pile shrank. Yours grew. At fifteen, your hands dropped to your lap. Your chest heaved. He continued to do as he wanted, as he wished, with eager failing.

“You’re letting me win.”

Sukuna didn’t deny it. “You always had better aim, between the two of us.” he said, a soft smile in his voice. 

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Being a liar is good.” He whispered to you. “But that’s enough for me. You’ll survive. That’s enough for me.”

You stood, shaking. “No. I’m not finishing this.”

“Then we both die.”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. “I’d rather die with you—”

He came to you. Touched your face with his calloused thumb against your cheek. “Don’t say that.”

You looked at him desperately. “Sukuna, please…..”

“Live for me, okay?” he whispered. “You think I want to go? I don’t. But I can’t let you die here. Let me do this. Let your good ol’ husband finally do something right for his wife, okay?”

He just continued to hold you as you started to cry in his arms. You took in his warmth, you took into the embrace that you knew you would never get again. You felt his lips press against your head, his fingers tracing the edges of your tresses. 

The timer ticked louder.

Twenty-eight minutes.

Twenty-nine.

“Let’s finish this game.” He said as he let you go. He smiled at you. “Let me see you do well.”

You looked at him, tears endlessly falling.  And with shaking hands, you flicked your final piece. He watched the piece arc in a clean, trembling line with your final flick. The flat marble tapped his final piece and sent it skittering across the mat.

The soft clack was deafening. Your vision blurred with tears as you reached out and gathered the final disk. Twenty. Silence. No cheer. No applause. Just the low mechanical ding of the timer stopping.

Game over.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even look at him. Not yet. But he moved first. Ryomen Sukuna stood up slowly, knees cracking, shoulders slumping like he’d just dropped a weight you couldn’t see.

He stepped over the mat, his steps quieter than ever. Your husband crouched in front of you one last time. His long, beautiful callused fingers cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear that had no end. He smiled at you.

“That’s my girl.” he murmured.

You finally looked up at him, shaking, broken, mouth open like you wanted to scream but couldn't. He didn’t do anything else, he just laughed. He moved towards you, pressing a kiss on your cheek once again. You shake your head at him, feeling the tears fall even more than before.

“Now go win the whole damn thing.”

The guards moved. Your body tensed, but he didn’t resist. He just turned, hands raised, walking toward them like it meant nothing. But at the last second, right before the door, he looked over his shoulder.

There it was. The face you fell in love with. Not the devil-may-care gambler. Not the stubborn man who couldn’t stay out of debt. Just your beloved Sukuna. The one you had loved with your whole heart. Your husband, your ruin, your misery…..and your home.

“I’ll be waiting.” he said softly. “Somewhere.”

And then he was gone. You just stared as they dragged him through steel doors that slammed shut like the end of a book you never wanted to close. You sat there, the Ohajiki pieces warm in your hand. As if they carried the last of his heat.

You didn’t remember standing. Or walking out. 

Or how the guards said your number out loud.

But somehow, you moved from your position.

Somehow, you lived. And then became a widow.

epilogue 

Spring came late that year. The cherry blossoms bloomed like they always did. Always soft, fleeting, unaware of all the blood that had been spilled beneath skies just like this one. You stood beneath a tree in Ueno Park, hands tucked deep in your coat pockets, watching petals fall without grace.

The world kept turning. The money was still untouched, sitting silently in the account like a ghost you couldn’t exorcise. You paid off Sukuna’s debts from what little you’d earned before the games, just enough to get the collectors off your back. The rest… stayed. Cold. Untouched.

You worked again. Small things. Quiet places. 

You mostly kept to yourself these days. 

You never told anyone where you'd been.

Not like they needed to know anything about you.

Sometimes, you dreamed of him tenderly into the night. Not of his death. Not of the guards dragging him away. But silly things about him. The things that made you fall in love with him in the first place. 

His terrible singing in the shower. The way he used to hold chopsticks like a child. His laugh. That brutishly loud laugh that sounded identical to the cracking of an old bell. The way his fuschia hair glistened against the sunrise. The way his scarlet eyes looked at you.

You cried yourself for hours after those dreams. Those were the parts of him the games couldn’t erase or take away from you. Just as much, these were the parts you wished you still had. The parts of him that you would always mourn, until the day you die.

You visited a shrine one morning, early, when the city hadn’t quite woken yet. You lit incense. You carefully laid twenty Ohajiki pieces in a neat line on the stone. You said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

But as you turned to leave, a breeze lifted around you. That soft, warm, carrying the scent of blooming sakura. And for just a moment, you like to think that you could almost hear his voice saying those words again.

“I’ll be waiting.”

You smiled through the ache in your chest. “I won’t keep you waiting too long.” you whispered back. “I promise.”

since squid game is going global in-universe, i thought about how it would be in japan. at first i tried other sort of games, but like kendama, which you can read about in one of the sourced links. but it didnt fit.

so i tried to find something similar to the original games, while maintaining its japanese roots. of course, i do have to tweak some of it to fit in the context, while also being able to bring out the story and some respect.

i thought about making it longer, but it wouldn't work. as it would just be repetitive and i would have to do a bit more searching and fitting for what game suits it all. so i ended up shortening it. still i hope it is enjoyable to you all!!!

here are the sources:

menko

how is menko played?

daruma-san ga koronda

how is daruma-san ga koronda played?

ohajiki

how is ohajiki played?

reader and sukuna's numbers are 46 and 49. together 46 and 49 read something like "yoroshiku" (よろしく) in wordplay which means best regards/please treat me well/nice to meet you and thanks in advance. but in this context, i used please treat me well and best regards.

4 = よ (yo)

The number 4 is pronounced shi or yon, but in wordplay, it's often shortened to yo.

6 = ろ (ro)

The number 6 is pronounced roku, and the ro sound is taken from the beginning.

4 = し (shi)

Again, 4 = shi here.

9 = く (ku)

The number 9 is pronounced kyuu or ku, and ku is used here.

[bluemoonpunch]

Hey dear,

First I wanted to thank you for all the readings you prepared for us, and for your dedication to our community 💜

I wanted to ask you - if you don't mind sharing - a little bit of your own spiritual journey?

What was the process for you to get so incredibly good at your craft? 🤭

How did you get interested in reading cards?

What was your spiritual awakening?

How do you usually practice? Do you have rituals (meditations or other things)

What is your advice for people who want to start reading cards? (I know some people are interested)

Can you tell us your opinion again about the concept of free will on making readings about celebrities, and your point of view on it? (Many people are turned off to interact with those readings because they feel it's invasive.) What's your own personal stance on it? Can you explain like we are 4?

I know this is a lot of questions. Answer only to what you're comfortable with of course!

Thanks again for everything 💜🥰

Fun stuff!

What was the process for you to get so incredibly good at your craft? - Very annoying answer, but I have no idea. In terms of the more technical side of reading, which is mainly just learning the cards and other various tools, it was just basic study and familiarization. My way of reading, how I actually go about doing readings, I really don't know. It's not something that I learned really, it was something I was always doing since I was a tiny kid (I was one of them "I see dead people" kids).

I mostly just stick to trusting myself, not really looking too far out into things, both in terms of spiritual matters as well as things online, other readers who cover similar topics, just keep things contained and manageable so that I don't look my own lens. I have a lil mantra for myself that I've had since I was little, "those who need to find it will find it, and those who need to understand will understand. Fuck the rest." It was originally applied to art and writing, but it applies greatly to my work here too especially in terms of my bigger intentions in regard to helping people with self-navigation, exploration, and personal development.

How did you get interested in reading cards? - I just randomly decided to buy myself a tarot deck back in 2016. Before that, I used to use standard playing cards or uno cards, as well as books, dice, a magic 8-ball, and chains or bracelets as pendulums. The thing is though, I didn't know what I was doing with any of those other things, like I didn't intend to do readings for people, but that... basically what I was doing in elementary and middle school. Most of the intended readings I did for myself back then were channeled, and handled through very deep meditations without any other tools.

I was living alone in 2016 and was just not having a very good time, so I got the cards so that I could have something to do, to learn, to be interested in.

What was your spiritual awakening? - I think, technically, I've had a few. So, again, "i see dead people" type child I was, however, I was completely unaware of the fact that everyone else couldn't see what I was seeing up until I was about 9 or 10 when I saw the spirit of my grandma's dog that had just passed away. Obviously, I was aware she was dead so, started putting some pieces together there. But even with that, it still wasn't an all-go situation because where I'm from people are all kinds of open-minded when it comes to the paranormal and aliens and all kinds of stuff like that (very closed-minded to everything else of course, small town), and my mom was a practicing wiccan as were most of her friends, my grandpa was way into psychics and there's a bit of an interesting history to part of my family regarding some stuff, so me bringing any of this up didn't really cause a fuss and therefore it just sunk into the background again. It just wasn't a big deal, so I really didn't think about it too much.

Then, through middle school, I was exploring things more on my own, experimenting with quite a lot of stuff while living in an extremely haunted space (in activity not the quantity of spook) with my mother and her then-husband. All kinds of spooks were happening, we were being put THROUGH IT in that house, but I was also going a bit insane due to some mental health stuff at that time that had me coping in very bad ways. Ended up having to go to the hospital and it kind of shocked my system a bit so I did the whole "none of that's real, I was just completely insane" for about 8 or 9 years after that.

Had my 7 years of self-imposed isolation between 13/14 - 20/21. Didn't leave my room for 3 years, then didn't leave the house for an additional 4 until my mom died and then I had to move. Spent one more year alone in hell (literally, the Universe set the fucking plagues to the house I was living in to get me to leave. Worst year.). In that last year on my own, I kind of went SO INSANE that I looped back around to being sane (with just a wee bit of quirk for fun) and was like why the hell have I been raw dogging all of this shit for all of these years, I got contacts, I know how to DO SHIT. And then I just kind of fucked around and found out with this really intense 3 day ritual thing that just so happed to line up with that Leo Eclipse that year (it was on my rising) and I SCREAMED to the universe, as I did most night, but on this one particular night I VOWED that if I could just get one more opportunity, one more chance to get out of that house, then I would just trust everything that I see, feel, hear, and I will not question any of it or deny it ever again. Swore on, did all the shit, two or three days later my gram shows up telling me that I have to move because that house is required by another. Then I moved in with my grandparets, and then two months later I started my first job.

Reminder, 7 years of isolation up to this point, so that first job, working retail, in a mall, in a massive department store... I wasn't doing so good at first. But I really, really enjoyed working there adn there was a lot of bullshit (harrassment, robbery, liquidation sales, someone shot their whole ass up the bathroom wall once, 40 year old bullies) but I literally learned how to be a person again there. AND TO THIS DAY I have never known a feeling more pure and genuinely fulfilling than the day, about 5 months, I was actually working on the cash register, something I thought I would literally never be able to do because of all of my issues.

One day, randomly, one of my gram's co-workers (she worked at the makeup place) asked me to do a reading for her and I was like O.O pardon?? You see, literally no (or so I thought) knew that I did readings or that I even had cards to begin with, and even now I don't know how my gram knew and according to my gram she doesn't know how she knows, she just randomly brought it up and then boom here we go, Spiritual Awakening: Chapter 4.

I end doing a pretty long reading, a reading that would eventually give birth to the first 5 readings I ever had online. Got the reading to her, then two other people in the store wanted them. Then this one day they were all stood together talking about their readings because something that had been mentioned in one of them had already come to fruition, so they were all really excited (and scared omg). Then my gram's friend was just like "you should do readings for other people, like make a website." And then clear as day, everything, vision and sound, just dropped out and heard this DING DING DING type bell go off, followed by "that's it! go!"

I knew this was my sign to quit working, but I was so scared of quitting and rolling backward with everything, ending back up in that house, and so I didn't. Which meant that I just broke a vow with the universe by questioning and denying a very clear checkpoint road marker thing telling me to turn left or die. Exactly like the plague that was unleashed onto my house, a hoard of demons was unleashed onto the mall, and they possessed all my co-workers, had everyone BOTHERING ME in the middle of me managing the HOME DEPARTMENT during a LIQUIDATION SALE on a FRIDAY. It actually is a long story, all the stuff the went wrong the week leading up to my last day, and then that last day itself... that requires a six-part docu-series.

So, long story short, I quit about 2 months or so before the store was to be completely shut down, and I took my last 640$ and bought a bunch of decks, and then started designing readings. I was just kind of going with the flow, like I had been handed a map there, it was clear to me what the next challenge or task was, and it was just this.

I feel like I hit awakenings all the time, little upgrades, most not too noticeable but some completely throwing me on my ass. I don't know if this would make a lot of sense, but I feel like, if I had to put it down to just one experience, there was this time where I had this "outbreak meditation" where things just went way off the rails but it was only in the span of about 5 minutes. I ended up writing down this back-and-forth conversation that was just so bizarre but, in my current standing, so prophetic and affirming. I think when that happened there was one final corner laid flat that let me see things fully with my own eyes again, without so much forceful doubt, shame, or fear.

I could also, giving an opening to my current state, say that when I first wrote "BlueMoonPunch was created in 2018 with the intention to help people broaden their perception of themselves and the world around them by presenting a deeper understanding fo the people they look up to and admire." and put it at the bottom of my original tumblr page, something happened. Some stone was placed, a brick was laid, like there's something more behind that statement that I can feel very strongly, but I can't see it, can't even begin to conceptualize it. There's a tiny part of my that thinks in like 5 years I'm going to look at my little tagline statement the same way I look at that written back-and-forth conversation. Like, I'll just be side-eyeing it for the rest of my life like I don't know how you got here or why but clearly you knew what was up, so sure, you can live in my desk drawer for all of eternity.

How do you usually practice? Do you have rituals (meditations or other things) - I used to be a lot more disciplined with it, but I do occasionally get on a daily meditation kick. At my absolutely best, I'm doing 30 minutes AT LEAST every morning and night, and am doing weekly cleanses, and grounding and centering through out the day. That's more maintenance stuff though. In terms of spiritual matters, I have my alter, I have my own readings, my own way of communing with my Guides, working with cosmic energies. I can only think to describe it as saying I make a great and deliberate attempt to be as within and harmonic with my own nature and the nature around me, and in that effort is my continuous, un-ended, eternal, daily practice or mindfulness and willful inclusion of the reality around me. (PS, so sorry, but I might have taken an edible before I started writing this, and it may have just kicked in, just a fair warning I might get WAAAAAYYYYYYY more rambly.)

What is your advice for people who want to start reading cards? - Oh, goodness, I always say the same thing and I know it can get a bit twisted for some people sometimes, but I like to keep in mind that everyone can read cards for themselves, but not everyone could or should be reading for other people. So, no matter what a person's goal is, it is always best to start reading for yourself exclusively.

Starting with the basic Rider-Waite Tarot deck and the Biddy Tarot website will give you a good foundation. If you're just looking to tap into it for fun and just want to learn about it, just shuffle the deck, pick a handful of cards and just start reading about them. Biddy Tarot has really great and detailed descriptions of the cards (based on Rider-Waite deck) upright, reversed, and the images themselves.

If you're looking to build a deeper connection or are planning to branch out in any way, I would suggest moving just a bit slower, creating a routine, perhaps a lil ritual of sorts to help you open things up and designate a "reading mode" for you body and brain to get used to it. Same with the mind in terms of clearing space and time for yourself that can really be put all on you by retraining your focus. A journal would be very beneficial with this as well.

Every day, either before or after journaling (which is best done after at least 5 minutes of a good guided meditation uwu), shuffle the deck (or shuffle before and just pull a card from the top every day) and select a card. First, really look at that card just as it is on its own, without thinking too much about what it's "supposed to mean," or what you already know about it, or what someone else has said about it. in that moment, you and that card are two people meeting for the first time, but you already know you're gonna become best friends (yes, even Death, The Devil, and The Tower). Look this person over, get to know them. What vibes do you pick up from the environment, the sky? the weather? What's this person's temperment, humor, voice? What's on the ground, at the feet? Growing? Sinking? Is that dirt? Rock? Water? Does this person feel reliable? Could you lean on them? Do they need to lean on you? Would they come to you for advice? Would you go to them? What would you ask? What do you think they'd say? Are there any animals in the image? Plants? A lot of people? No people? Standing? Sitting? Where are we? Why did they invite you here? Why did you invite them here? Does it even matter? Or is it all about your connection? Are certain elements of the card falling away while other pop out? Are some of this person's features shining and grabbing all the attention while others get lost behind their hair or clothing? Why do you think that's happening? Are they trying to hide something? Are you just very focused on those few features? Why would you be? What connects those elements? How do those features work together? What expression is this person making? What is your intuition trying to tell you right now as you hold onto this card and stare into it as if it has only ever been nothing more than a mirror.

Then write about it in your journal. If you did your regular writing before pulling a card - did anything interesting come up that could connect back to what you were already writing or thinking about? If you haven't written anything yet, start with an introduction to the card, your thoughts and feelings on the card, how you saw this "person" form. Write your own notes on what stood out, why you think it did, what it meant if anything in the moment.

Lastly, read the entire entry for that card on Biddy Tarot. Learn about the more technical meanings, elements, and stories of the cards. Do not take any of it in to a point where you are deleting your own thouhgts and feelings of the card in order to make room for the "right answer" that someone else is now giving you. When you "meet" your cards for the first time, you are establishing your personal intuitive foundation, the baseline of your personal language through which your Higher Self, Guides, and the Universe will attempt to converse with you at some point if they're not already. You've just built a foundation interpretation, a personal, unique understanding, and as you read the more technical explanation you are not learning something that is right or wrong, you are simply learning more about your friend. You know what your friends Temperance and Miss. Two-Swords told you about themselves, and now you're just hearing some of their history from our Biddy.

You are building on your own foundations in this way. Do not sacrifice your own personal understanding or experience in order to accommodate someone else. We are a marvelous type of creature, the kind with EYES, and like most EYES, most of us have peripheral vision, yes? To sacrifice your own personal interpretation, understanding, and perspective, would be to rip your own eyes away from that bird flying around in the sky to look at a squirrel that is running around in a tree because someone told you to. With a bit of practice and effort, utilizing your peripheral vision to simply catch a glimpse of one while looking at the other can greatly help you to move away from the more polarizing, based-in-opposition idea of there being a clean cut right and wrong to everything, as if everyone exists on the same exact level, dimension, governmed by the same laws and principles. This is, basicallly, the art of consideration. AND INTERESTINGLY ENOUGH!! The art of consideration, and the effort to bridge a gap between two perspectives rather than percieving one as always being over the other, is nearly identitcal to the art of channeling, reading, or spirit commuication. Boom, two pearls one snowglobe.

TLDR: A big part of being able to read anything is being able to maintain your own perspective while occupying another, and still being able to tell which is which. The issue of not being able to discern which is which is where I tend to find a problem with "anyone can read tarot and start doing readings for people!! :D!!" Like, yes, gold star for inclusivity, but also, shame shame, you get a moldy star too because now that wayward pilgrim is spiritually traumatized and the tarot hobbyist was just arrested with 250 of her closest cult members after getting caught pouring ayahuasca into the town's water supply.

Can you tell us your opinion again about the concept of free will on making readings about celebrities, and your point of view on it? (Many people are turned off to interact with those readings because they feel it's invasive.) What's your own personal stance on it? Can you explain like we are 4? - OMGGGG my favorite thing to talk about. It's a major grey area thing 100%. Like, I certainly couldn't (shouldn't, but I do lol) judge someone else in general for reading for celebrities, because, aside from the hypocrisy, I'd have to judge anyone who's ever written anything about a celebrity too. Reading and writing are very similar. If you can write about them, I can read them, and I can write what I read, and then you can read what I've written and write about what you've read of my reading, and neither of us has committed a crime or caused any more or less damage than what was there and would have been there had neither of us never opened our ears to listen nor our mouths to speak the very same.

Again, grey area. I claim absolutely no moral high ground over anyone who does the exact same thing I do but, perhaps, in a slightly different way. However, people who get on the internet, wave cards around, charge people to hear answers to extremely personal questions that anyone with common sense could tell you the subject of that reading wouldn't want people discussing, constantly play into drama or actively try to insight division or separation in a space that is not their own, communities and fandoms that are not their own. Extra points if they're actually completely full of shit and aren't actually reading at all. Yeah, I'm morally superior to those types of people, for sure.

My personal rules and such have been the same forever and they're not really based on any kind of moral code or what I personally think is right and is what everyone should be doing, it's mainly just what was in my head to begin with, it's just what made sense.

I do not know these people, I do not have permission to do these readings. These people are public figures, they're celebrities. I am not a person screaming into a microphone at a packed stadium, I am a speck of dust floating in space screaming into the void with millions of others who are much louder than me. To speak about them and to share ideas and thoughts about them is fine. In the way of the world as it is now, this is fine. However, when I do readings for them, I am not doing a reading for a "public figure" or a "celebrity," I am doing a reading for my guest. A guest's who's energy I have invited to connect with, with the proper precautions taken, protection, Guides on standby. My intentions are always made clear of what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. I make it clear that I am aware that I am not in charge here, their infomration is not mine, their energy is not mine. If I'm too close, tell me to get back. If I'm seeing something that I shouldn't because you didn't know how or that you had to hide it, that's fine, tell me to stop looking. All is well. I'm not stomping throuhg people's soulscapes ripping flowers out of thier garden and then bringing them out here to throw onto the internet all wilted and dead looking from how detached from the soul it actually is.

I learned in 2013 about Guides, but especially Spirit Guides, stepping in and blocking or warping information in order to protect their person. Certain information can be triggering to the soul or the conscious level mind, but it is still important for me to know as the reader in order to understand other things that I am allowed to share. There is an issue with sharing information, both written and spoken, where this can carry transmissions, sometimes intended sometimes not, which then can, even if they themsleves never actually hear it or know about it at all, travel to them and just kinda... POP! into awareness. It can be troubling on multiple levels, so never ever ever have I ever argued with a Guide about blocked information. I have, once or twice, argued with a Spirit Guide but that was only because it was her past husband and he was trying to help her by making her seem better off than she was at the time and he didn't realize he was kinda making things worse. And that other time where there was a Spirit Guide dressed up like an angel because (first-timer) he thought that's what he was supposed to look like.

UMMMMMMM... but yeah, I don't know if I actually have anything of interest with this one. I'm very in the grey area. I have no issues at all with people who have a problem with it, I only have a problem with people think they need to like kill me and shit over some blog posts that most people probably don't look at too differently from fanfiction or something. I respect the people that I read for - I do nothing different between the celebrity readings and paid personal readings when it comes to how they are perfromed, how I engage, what I look at. The only difference comes with how they are written. Obviously, no filter applied to paid readings becasue that's straight between me and the person who got the reading. Filter obviously yes applied to public readings because that is not my info to give out. Just in general, it's not.

Similar to how if I posted a photo of a celebrity out and about in the world that I was able to capture. That's not my information to give BUT grey area shit. I can share it becasue there is such a social norm to this when it comes to celebrities that this is just a thing we know we can do. Every individual can have a different degree that they fall into. Some will say any and all photos are stalker photos and should be criminalized, others will say as long as they're in a majorly populated place it's fine. If you post it the next day, that's fine, next week, even better. Post it, but blur the location. Post it, but make it black and white so it's harder to identify details. I PERSONALLY would be okay posting a photo, but I would probably block out anything that gives away specific location, and I absolutley would wait a couple of days. This is exactly how I am with how I post readings.

In the same way, if I ran into a celebrity, got a picture, and they specfiically said, please do not post that for like three months, then that picture is not going up for three months?? If they say don't post at all?? THEN IT'S NOT GOING UP AT ALL??? LIKE??????? THERE ARE TWO PEOPLE IN THE PICTURE????? NOT ONE PERSON AND A DECORATION THAT YOU GET TO SHOW OFF I don't know why I'm yelling, I have pizza here now :D

So, yeah, again, grey area, listen to the spiritual chaperones, respect poeple like they're people and always treat them like they're people becasue people like that. I personally say no to posting family, relationship, sexuality, and mental health-related information unless it's been made clear that that person has in fact spoken about it publically before. And even if they haven't but their soul's in there like SPEAK IT SPEAK MY TRUTH, I absolutely will not. Respect and preservation hits the conscious level first. Like lolololol that's kind of how Jungkook is, and I think there was someone else from a long time ago, or maybe a couple of years ago that had that same kind of pushy I NEED YOU TO SAY IT BECAUSE CONSCIOUS ME WONT like lollol NO!!!! We gotta look out for flesh and bone counterparts. Can't be making thier experience strenuous and brittle just because we're getting a bit impatient now, can we?

I'm going to stop talking now, thank you thank you !! :3

[myrfing]

how do people not make ocs that spawn a ton of other ocs with their own equally lengthy stories. bar characters that are not mortal beings you’re gonna be like ok this is anne. anne has parents and so obviously they need spinoff arcs where the main character is francie before she had ann who is her daughter. and in that backstory there’s another character emily who was her best friend and is extremely important to her character and fundamental in who she turned out to be. As for why emily was like that we need to talk about her hometown. There is a guy in her hometown she was briefly friends with in elementary school and he stayed in the town after she left his name is basil and in his book exploring the weirdness of his hometown emily only makes brief appearances and is mostly recalled in bits of memory. anyway I think i would be interesting to have basil meet francie. And where did they meet well he is trying to find out what happened to emily after the events of his book and finds out about ann who works at the library after searching through obituraries there. The librarian on shift at that time grows curious and worried for ann and guilty she may have given away personal info to a stalker. Her name? Lana. Now let’s talk about Lana and the people that made her into who she

[mxcrayon]

i think im stupid because i've been a merlin fan since i was like 10 but i JUST realized

balinor was killed bc of anti magic, making hunith extremely scared for merlins life and willing to do anything to make sure he was safe. merlin started the series hating all nobles

ygraine was killed bc of magic, making uther extremely scared for arthurs life, willing to do anything to keep him safe. arthur started the series hating magic

merlin ended up best friends with king uther's son, the guy who ruined balinor's life in the first place and caused the anti-magic craze which led to his death, also fucking up merlin's life. and arthur ended up best friends with emrys, literally the most powerful sorcerer ever

they are literally like.. two sides of the same coin.. woah.

[clumsypuppy]

if escape rooms as team building exercises became popular im not sure if id be more excited or terrified

[floorpancakes]

big fan of headcanoning that kid doumeki killed the class chicken because nobody else wanted to and he was already being picked on for being Inexplicably Weird and Smelling Like Death so his classmates probably thought it would work as a bullying tactic. he handled it like a champ and it makes sense that he would but it's still kind of sad

[hello-delicious-tea]

Mary Pope Osborn has redeemed herself with Dragon of the Red Dawn. Night of the Ninjas was such absolute crap - clearly she was still properly feeling her way into her whole “history lesson thinly disguised as adventure story” schtick, and in this second trip to Japan, we’re doing MUCH better. Very pleased that Teaschooler is learning about Bashō and historical firefighting methods. However, he was not pleased when I tried to read The Narrow Road to Oku to him.

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

So this episode was about teachers committing to and caring about their students, and district people too, and I love that :'). Sometimes all you need is a district person who will keep putting in the effort like that, and I love when it happens for people <33

Anyway! I'm so glad they got the interpreter for Amani, she so deserves it :'D. Everyone does :').

I'm glad Gregory decided to let them stay :') I think he can really help these kids out and be a good place for them :)) :D

Also proud of Tariq for finally calling Nick his name :'D hope they do get close :)

Poor Barbara though xD

And once again proud of Janine for fighting through it to get the ASL interpreter :')) and the way she did it was so iconic xD same for the parents lol, going to a reporter that already doesn't like the district LOL, but yeah I am so happy for them :D

Also I love Jacob and Janine <33

With going out for drinks at the end, I hope Janine doesn't leave them behind :((

Btw the reason for the boys being in Gregory's room being that the Mortons are in couples therapy is hilarious xDD

And lol hopefully it's just like, upkeep, because they just got married xD

Anyway!! I am distrustful of districts but I hope it works out (with the issues obviously) on the show :). And even though I am I know this side of the story needs to be seen as well so it's nice to see, switches it up on me a bit more than usual. Like, makes me a little more uncomfortable and see it a different way more than usual. Which is good :)

Loved the episode!!! I'm so excited for next week :D

And also terrified :')

But I almost definitely won't be able to watch it lol so, I'll see y'all a little bit after that lol

Bye y'all!

[skrunksthatwunk]

i just need you guys to know that american schools often don't teach about like. any of the USA's wars past wwii. almost all of the history classes i took centered on american history nearly exclusively and it always trailed off around mccarthyism. i need us to talk about that and never stop because every time i remember it i feel like im losing my mind

[bxtonpxss]

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

[birdmenmanga]

top ten unproductive impulses include thinking 'huh, maybe I should give pitchi pitchi pitch mermaid melody another try' like I literally tried it. and it sucked. probably because it's a kid's show

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- this chap - p in v sex, car sex, multiple positions, Satoru being possessive, oral (f! receiving) fingering, cum drinking, obsessive love, confessions of past love, EMOTIONAL, so many feelingsss, angsty in places - Tag list closed

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazingg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 Comments/rbs appreciated <3

<<<Part Five - Masterlist - Playlist- Part Seven>>>

Part Six

It’s completely dark outside, aside from the brilliant stars shining overhead, and the glimmering moon. Satoru looks up at the sky then, such a far cry from the LA fog, it’s clearer here, it’s prettier. He has your hand in his, you’re both bundled up in your jackets and gloves, rushing over to the car, where he quickly starts the heat, as the two of you see your breaths.

You giggle then, and the sound melts him, he can’t help but have a million images flit through his mind.

Elementary school you, middle school you, high school you.

He never knew you in college, he had left you behind - you haven’t changed much since he last saw you physically, maybe a little more hips, a little maturity in your features, but mostly identical to that girl. The girl he fell in love with on sight, that day way back - the first day he’d gone to a new school, shy and hopelessly awkward. You had instantly befriended him.

You were just like that, too sweet for the world, fuck you’d be eaten alive in his world actually - not that he’d let it happen - but the differences are setting in. As badly as he wants every part of you, of this opportunity that seemed fated in its synchronicity, he also just as badly was afraid. Where did it all lead?

“You’re quiet, Satoru.” You murmur, giggles subsided, a serious expression on a face so pretty to him it makes him ache.

“I got a message,” he is quiet as he lets the heat warm you up, pulling your hands closer to the warmth and rubbing them when he takes your gloves off. “I have to go back after tomorrow night.”

“Oh. That soon?” Your brows knit together, he nods then, he has to be honest with you - he can never just leave like that day again.

“Yeah, I want to spend all the time I can with you.” He feels so vulnerable saying it then and there, but you lean closer, cool hand on his cheek, stinging from the frosty air outside.

“You really do?” He nods then, a hand gripping your wrist in the quiet of the humming sports car, a little oasis where it’s just him and you.

He wishes it would stay that way.

“All I can think about right now is how badly I don’t want to leave you, how fucking scared I am to, like you won’t…” He’s blinking back unexpected tears, you feel your own welling up then, swallowing nervously as you swipe one off a perfect cheekbone. “Like this is some dream.”

“It’s real, Satoru, I’m real.” You take his hand, placing it on your chest now, he feels your heart beat erratically under his palm then, as you grip his wrist, thumb brushing across it. “I’m scared too.”

“That I’ll disappear?” He finishes, feeling the weight of just some of the pain he put you through in your look.

“That, or you’ll get back to those models, and realize I’m nothing.”

“What!?”

“It’s my feelings, okay?” He scowls at you, jaw clenched as he grips your chin, your eyes are glimmering with unshed tears, lip trembling.

“Stop forgetting who the fuck you are.” He whispers, you look down for a moment.

“A failed teacher? Someone at home with her parents at twenty six? A girl who works at a bar and-”

“You’re so much more than that.” He cuts you off with a desperate kiss, which you lean into, when he pulls back his snowy lashes are lowered, darting side to side as if to catch every image of you to memory. “You chased your dreams teaching. You still do teach. You’re helping your fucking family, how is any of that not worthy of admiration?”

“Satoru-”

“No. No, I won't hear any more of it. You were the best friend I ever had, since that day… I’ve felt so empty inside.” Your tears fall rapidly, as he pulls you close against his chest, sighing and stroking your back, a hand up and down your spine over your pretty dress. “I wouldn’t admit what it was, how could I?”

“You were made fun of, you were hurt. I don’t blame you for running away, I just miss you for it.”

“Stop excusing it all.”

“But I don’t blame you.”

Satoru sighs now, breath against your lips, shaking his head. “You are the sweetest person I’ve ever known, and I hurt you. Maybe I don’t forgive myself for that, maybe I just realized what I did. I never knew you’d… miss me.”

“How could I not miss you!?” You pull back, the emotions overwhelming, the car so warm, mixing with the heat of your bodies in the night, in front of an empty movie theater parking lot from long ago, as you look into his brilliant blue eyes, eyes you missed, thought of so often. “You never let me answer how I felt.”

His heart stops then, because if you did feel more than friendship, that knife would bury deeper in his chest. But there was surely no way you…

“I didn’t cross the boundaries because you never, ever tried, even when I gave you so many hints.” You swipe at your cheeks now, sticky with your tears, as he watches with his breath caught in his throat.

“Hints?” His voice is hoarse.

“How many times did I claim my ‘feet were cold’ and needed to put them on you? You’d throw a pillow on them. And how many times did I get undressed right in front of you, but you’d hide like I was scary?” Satoru’s mind whirls with memories, as you continue, painting vivid images of you. “How many times when we cuddled, did I back right on you?”

“Shit…” He’s remembering it all now. “But you… no way that…”

“I dated other people because I wanted to push those feelings back, god Satoru I wanted you to be my first kiss. I asked you, don’t you remember?”

“You… what?!” You sigh now, shaking your head.

“I couldn’t have been more obvious. I asked if we could practice, when we got shoved in that closet for seven minutes. But you just… played your Nintendo DS, remember?” He grimaces now.

“I thought you were kidding. And I thought your feet were really cold! I thought you just enjoyed cuddling and…”

“So my hints all sucked.” You laugh then, like you’re losing it, and maybe you really fucking are, sighing now. “Prom, I tried to kiss you.”

“I thought you were drunk?”

“No. You seemed like you never, ever wanted to try more. So I decided to give you that, to be the best friend I could. I never, ever wanted to hurt you.” Satoru can’t even look at you for a moment, burying his head against his hand as the tears continue to fall right with you.

He hasn’t cried once since he left that night.

Not once.

Your trembling hand brushes his hair back, and he looks at you, vision swimming as the full truth is set upon him. As all those little moments start coming back - times you would blush being close, clinging to him on the pool a little too tightly, falling asleep in his arms and snuggling closer when he pulled back. At prom, you’d shut your eyes and leaned up, and he’d panicked, thinking someone spiked your punch.

He remembers it all, through a different light now.

“I didn’t have a crush on you,” you whisper, shaking your head now. “I loved you, as a best friend and I wanted more, but I thought you didn’t want me.”

“How could you not know? How badly I did want you?” He whispers, heads touching as your breaths mingle, as his hands press you closer, feeling your body tense and then relax, as you lean back, hair falling against his fingers.

“You never told me.”

“I thought you’d laugh or-”

“I would have never. Satoru I was hopelessly in love, okay? I just had to move on, because I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Love.

In love.

“In love with me?” His voice breaks, and you smile sadly, nodding.

“Your cute glasses, the silly jokes you made, the way you always made me feel so beautiful. How smart you were, how thoughtful and kind, when your smile lit up your face. When you got excited about some new insect, some new theory, some star that you discovered.” He whispers your name, as if asking you to stop, but you’re not sure your heart can stop anymore.

“You’re telling me, all those years, you loved me? More than…” You nod now, exhaling nervously, you’d been too scared to ever say those words out loud. 

“I still have the letter, in a box of letters from you.”

Satoru’s heart hammers now.

Everything he thought he knew was wrong, he’d never noticed your signs, so wrapped up in his own thoughts - in his own infatuation, like you were some otherworldly being, how highly he did think of you. He never stopped to think you were just a girl, like he was just a boy back then. A girl he left behind for such stupid reasons.

What would life have been if he let you answer?

“It’s all in the past, okay? I get it, we’re not the same exactly anymore, I am okay with whatever this might be. If it’s just us… getting together, I don’t expect a white picket fence and three kids from you. I just want to be with you for now.” Satoru exhales, shaking his head then.

“That is your dream.”

“It is. But you’re here, and I don’t think I can let it slip by me.” He kisses you, his own tears swiped by your now warmed fingers gently.

“I was obsessed with you, it was beyond all of that. It was… so embarrassing.” He blushes even now, and you see the sweet boy you loved in that moment. “You were all I thought about then. All the ways I would give you your dreams, and what did I end up doing?”

“You’re here now.” He moans, kissing you deeper and deeper, it’s desperate and messy, poured with every feeling the two of you ever had. Tongues slipping together, teeth clicking, when he pulls back for a gasp of air, his eyes so dilated they’re black in the night.

“If we don’t stop now, I can’t stop. I want to bury my fucking self inside you,” he whispers, hands slipping down each side of your waist. “I’ll always fucking want you, as bad as then, worse. I’ll always think you’re the most beautiful girl that walks the fucking earth.”

“Satoru…”

“I will, I do. I always have. Don’t you know no one has compared to the girl whose picture is in my pocket?” His words end any resolve, and care for getting hurt then, how can you not be with him in this moment?

“Promise you won’t forget me.” You whisper, he sighs then, shaking his head.

“I never, ever forgot you. How could I forget you?” He yanks you on his lap then, you’re grinding against him, hungry and messy in the front of the car, hands enwrapping in his silken white locks as he pulls back, looking up at you, thumbs brushing against your nipples, making you moan. “You really liked me back?”

“Like wasn’t the word, Toru.” The old nickname melts him completely, as the girl he left behind gives him chances he doesn’t deserve.

“You shouldn’t even talk to me.”

“Toru-”

“You shouldn’t. But I can’t help but be greedy with every moment,” he’s kissing down your neck, mouth sucking at the base of it, moaning as he feels your heat against his cock over the layers. “I could never forget you.”

“Y-you’ll keep in touch?” He hates the fear in your voice, lips pulling back, angry you’re insecure when you look and feel like this.

Everything he’s ever had is just a blur now.

“I want more than this, I don’t know how the fuck it works, okay? I don’t know how we… make it happen. But I will never leave you like that. I will never hurt you like that again.”

You lean close, sighing now. “Then show me how badly you wanted me all those years.”

Satoru whimpers at that, hungry and desperate and needy when he slips your dress up your hips, you yank off your coat, tossing it in the chair, as he slips two fingers under your panties, finding you soaked. “God, you think I don’t still want you as bad as I ever did?”

“Show me, mnh!” Satoru’s sunk two fingers and curled them up, moaning as you grip him so tightly.

“Never felt anything like you, god I want you wrapped around me,” he’s looking right up at you as he curls his fingers, your back arches, head falling back, you feel the cool steering wheel against you, feel that gearshift shoving against your thigh, but all you can focus on are his eyes. “Want that, sweetheart? Me stretching her out?”

“Please, please - ngh!” Satoru’s curling them up just right in your gummy walls that grip him so good, hitting that spot his long fingers already know, when you eagerly reach down, unbuckling him, shoving his jacket.

“Cum first, then I’ll take it off.” He teases with a little smirk, and you throw your head back, whining and rolling on his hand. “Look at you.”

His husky words of devotion and his fingers hitting that spot again destroy you, you’re weak and whining, a pathetic mess as the orgasm runs through your body. You’re throbbing around nothing when he pulls them out, sucking you off him and moaning before he yanks off his jacket, and the engine hums under you both when you find his cock, biting your lip at the sight of it.

He’s pretty everywhere, of course, tip blushing pink and oozing milky beads of liquid out of it, his veins wrapping, so long, you’re stroking it slowly, from the base to the tip, watching his eyes flutter shut, hearing his whimpers for you. Supermodel, LA manwhore supreme, who’s been with actresses, models, singers, he is just your Satoru right now though.

You lap at his precum off your thumb, the action wrecking him, he’s ripped your panties now, they’re torn from his fervent grip, the sound echoing in the car, that’s when you really feel his strength, as your hands rest on his shoulders, broad and strong under your touch. You look down at the ruined material as he drags your cunt back against him, and you whine out at it.

“Condoms are in the back in a bag,” he murmurs softly, but you’re too lost now. “Sweetheart…”

“Are you good?”

“Squeaky,” he answers softly. “Are you on…”

“Yes.”

He laughs then, softly. “You know how hard it was to get them, now you’re good me fucking raw?”

“Well now I… hush. Just fuck me - ah!” Satoru needs no further urging, he’s picked you up, and slammed you down on his cock in one mean fucking stroke, making you gasp out at it, so full you can’t take it, eyes rolling back.

“God, fuck…. You’re so tight…” he moans, lifting you up and dragging you back down by your hips, your head smacks the roof and he curses, leaning his seat back to recline more, pulling you down with him. “Hang on to me.”

You do just that, clinging to him in the cramped car, when he holds your hips up and slips down in the seat, fucking up into you. “Ah! S-Satoru!” You’re screaming out, thanking god no one was in this parking lot, as he holds you up with those strong hands, pressing kisses to your neck, your cheek, anywhere he can reach, fucking more of his length up in your hole.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans now, flipping you before you can blink, lifting a thigh up high and sliding his length back in your cunt, eager and greedy she swallows him, as he stuffs her more and more full. The sounds are filthy, your mind whirling, tummy tensing as he slams his cock deeper, harder. “Never felt anything like you, fuck you take me so well.”

“T-Toru…” You can’t form a proper thought any longer, you’re writhing under him, struggling to take his cock, when his tip kisses your cervix you’re shattering, cumming so hard you can’t see.

“That’s it, cum for me. Just me.” He huffs, feeling you grip and spasm around his thick cock, groaning as he pauses, rolling his hips, letting you ride your orgasm out until you have pretty tears falling from your eyes. “That’s it, you’re so good for me.”

“Toru…” It’s all you can keep murmuring, he lets your thigh fall just a bit as your aftershocks pulse around him, moaning as he leans down, kissing you, drinking in the mix of your tears and your sweet saliva.

Mine.

The thoughts keep swirling in his mind.

Mine, mine, mine. He wants you to be only his.

He doesn’t think he can ever leave, he doesn’t know if he can get on that fucking plane, wait weeks in between seeing you. He’s brushing back your hair as your thighs grip his hips, and you’re clinging to him while he slows his strokes, hands running down your body slowly, lips pressing against yours again, drinking all your moans in. You’re so warm, so wet, so perfect.

You are perfect.

Satoru leans over as he yanks you further up in that laid back leather seat, slamming his cock inside you in a brutal stroke, so good you can’t take it, losing yourself in his ardent kisses, his desperate strokes of his huge cock, stretching your cunt out just for him. Your hands slip under his sweater, nails pressing into his skin and earning a husky groan as he pulls back, tip leaking against your cervix.

“Wanna know how many times I stroked my cock, picturing this?” His words are against your ear, making you tremble as images fill your head, him in his glasses stroking it to you.

“How m-many times?” He groans softly, burying his head against your neck, silky white locks brushing against your cheek, you whine out when you feel him thicken inside of you, so full of him, so much pressure it’s unbearably sweet.

“Every day since I knew how to,” you giggle a bit, breathless, but your cunt is just soaking him more as he pulls back, snowy lashes low over his beautiful eyes as they study you, so bright it’s intense. “I thought of it - ah - so many times. Having you.”

“Live up t-to your… mnh… expec-” He cuts you off with a hard stroke, one that has your mouth open in a slutty O, as you gasp out and he drinks in the sight of you, stroking his thick, veiny cock in you again.

“Couldn’t have imagined how good you feel,” he whispers, your eyes are rolled back in your skull, sweat dripping on your brow from the heat of the car and his body over you. “Nothing feels this good.”

“Toru…” You drag his face down for a kiss, it’s so full of everything you’ve always wanted to say, the fear of losing him and the longing for him, while Satoru’s tongue sweeps inside your mouth, a hand cupping your face.

“Wanna cum inside you, fuck,” he’s whispering, mind short circuiting at having the girl of his teenage dreams under him, but it’s so much more than that. “Fill you up, huh? Bring you back with me?”

“Shh, crazy.” He just whines out when you kiss across his neck, teeth nipping an earlobe, his hand entangles hard at the nape of your neck, the other leaving bruises on your thigh as he fucks so deep. “C-can’t just go.”

“I’ll shove you - ah - in the luggage.” You giggle, as he does, breathless, slowing those strokes and eyeing you with a serious expression then, unreadable. “Can’t just be once.”

You nod nervously, too fucked out to really comprehend the future- unwilling to actually, dragging him back down for his kisses, ones you can’t get enough of, ones you dreamt of. How many days did you look at those plump, glossy lips? How many times did you look at those long, elegant fingers and picture them inside you? That body on top of you?

“T-touched myself to you,” your whisper earns his look of shock, he shakes his head just a bit. A supermodel, still just a little insecure, did he not realize how hot he was then, too?

He feels more human like this, when you brush his cheek, biting your lower lip as he rolls his hips achingly slow, crying out as your walls clench him. “You d-didn’t.”

“Y-yes I did, mnh!” Satoru exhales now, leaning up, so tall his head is right against the hood of the car, when he slips your fingers down between the two of you, right where he’s engulfed in your messy, slick cunt. “Ah!”

“Show me, sweetheart. Wanna see.” You blush so cute he can’t stand it, and he watches your little fingers swirl on your clit, moaning at the sight, making you clench around his cock so tight. Your eyes dilate, lids heavy as you look up at him, crying out as he lifts your hood up, pressing your fingers against your clit more firmly. “Like that, for me?”

“Y-yes, for you. You were hot then, too okay- mmm!” You’re jerking under him, hips bucking up.

“Cum one more time, lemme feel her.” You are already pushed over the edge, when he fucks a mean stroke, his tip slipping against your walls, hitting just that spot as your fingers hit your clit just so, and you’re falling apart. “Beautiful, fuck,” his words barely register, you’re lost in your pleasure, hand falling weakly, only for him to grab your fingers, sucking it into his pouty mouth.

“Please,” you’re whispering, watching him suck your juices off you like he’s starved for you, with eyes that are feral and so bright they’re blinding in the dark little car. “Cum in me.”

He pauses then, and you should question yourself, but all you can think of is how bad you want it inside you. “Y-you sure?” His soft, vulnerable words bring together the two Satorus you know, as he nuzzles your palm, whining out as your walls are pulsing around him.

“I want it, please.” He moans now, slamming his lips against yours, hands gripping your hips and lifting you up, arching your hips so he can hit deeper, bottoming out and stuffing your hole. “Toru!”

“Gonna fill you up so fucking good,” he whispers through his teeth, cock pulsing inside your slutty little hole, balls smacking on your ass, while he holds you pinned like that, thumbs pressing into your pelvis. “Ready, can you take it?”

Your answer is a little nod - how are you expected to talk, head shoved back, neck at the weirdest angle in the car, and Satoru is fucking you so hard you can’t see or think, everything is blurry, swirling. He’s sweating, it makes his pale skin glow with a shimmery sheen as it drips onto you, and you just cling to his waist desperately, gasping as he finally busts.

He’s crying out, whimpering as he cums so deep, filling you - no flooding you - with so much cum it’s ridiculous, you feel the hot spurts of it just gushing, as he finally slows, exhaling and looking right at you. His expression is one of utter devotion, when he eases his hold, slowing and looking down at the twitchy mess your thighs are, while you push cum down his length in swirls of white.

“Fuck, sweetheart, my god…” He’s shaking his head, trying to form a word, while his heart pounds, at the sight of filling you up - something he’s never done, but that he couldn’t imagine not doing with you.

He’d give you three kids and a mansion on the fucking beach if he could just look at you like this again, fucked out and so pretty, whining when he eases his cock out, still mostly hard, squelching sound filling the space. He pushes it back in your slick, tight entrance, groaning at the sight, while you’re fluttering your eyes shut.

“Sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he pulls out and you wince.

“More sore.” He frowns, inspecting your puffy cunt now, opening your lips to watch his cum pouring out in a creamy white string, making him want to shove it right back inside you, fuck three more loads in, it does something insane to him.

“Was I too rough?” You shake your head, he brushes kisses along your brow as he eases you down just a bit. “You sure? Not enough prep?”

“No I wanted it, just it’s been a long time. I think I have bats in there.” He laughs then, so hard he snorts, bringing you back to your little nerd you loved, and you giggle with him.

“Pussy is elite, bats and cobwebs aside.”

“Hey!” You smack at his chest and he laughs again, cupping your face sweetly. “You were eating those cobwebs last night.”

“They’re yummy cobwebs.”

“Really!” He’s laughing again, and it all hits him suddenly, making him falter, lips pressing together then frowning. You look at him with concern now. “Toru?”

He hasn’t been happy.

He didn’t realize it - laughing and acting a fool, joking around with his colleagues and ‘friends’. Has he ever been happy without you, a free moment, a silly moment? Not comfortable enough with anyone, to do more than make conceited, mocking little comments for shits and giggles, when the girl who loved him all along was left here, the missing piece of him.

You’re what’s always been missing, and he caused it.

“Toru,” you’re murmuring that name, the one only you and his mom call him, it’s how deeply you’re ingrained with his life. How deep a part you are, that he set aside for eight years. “Are you okay? Is it… was this too soon?”

“Too soon?” He laughs without humor, resting his head against yours, sensing your confusion. “Waited my whole life for this moment.”

“Don’t say that, please, it’ll hurt more.” He sighs, eyes shutting, drunk and fucked up off you as he was, the self loathing was eating at him.

“I mean it.” Satoru helps you up, adjusting you carefully, and soon you’re in the passenger seat, a flustered mess.

“You don’t have-”

“I’ve never wanted anyone like you.” You look away nervously, slipping back on your jacket, his cum is hot and sticky and dripping, a feeling you’ve never had before, so intimate you can hardly think properly as he says your name, earning your look, he leans over the center console, long fingers fixing your hair carefully. “Where do we go to sleep tonight? I want to hold you.”

“You do?” He nods, swallowing nervously.

“I can get us a suite, or we can go to my room and snuggle in the twin.” You giggle, shaking your head.

“My room, you haven’t been there in years.” He nods then, and soon the two of you are sneaking in your house, tiptoeing like a couple teenagers, it reminds you of all the nights he used to come sleep over, or when you did, those nights you’d try to drop your hints to your oblivious bestie.

“Will your parents get mad?” He teases, earning your shush as you two head up the stairs, your fingers on your lips.

“They might get very mad, bringing a boy home,” your whisper almost ends him, your fingers now entwined as he follows you, feeling like he’s in a dream again, especially when you open your door, and he sees your room. “It’s the same, too.”

“Shit…” He takes it all in, the Sailor Moon posters all over, pictures decorating a corkboard with little fairy lights, the same white daybed and dresser he always remembers you having. A fluffy rainbow rug that screams you back in high school, little Hello Kitty plushies all along your mattress. “God, nothing changed.”

“No, it’s temporary living here, so. I just got rid of my old clothes though, this ass isn’t getting in those jeans.” He snorts at you, gripping your ass then and making you gasp.

“Yeah, no one is complaining about that, though it was always nice. I know, I studied it carefully.”

“Oh, did you?” You look back at him, while he eyes your reflection in your mirror, and then sees his pictures in the corners, swallowing nervously as he reaches over, brushing his fingers against them.

“You had these on your mirror? You didn’t… take them down when you moved back home?” His voice is hoarse, but you shake your head, leaning over to take off your earrings, feeling the tension in him behind you as you bend over, slipping off your bracelets now, they clink as they hit your little glass tray.

“Why would I? I always missed you.” You hate the emotion in your voice, you try to hide it but fail, as he walks to the corkboard, seeing the endless pictures of the two of you together.

He notices you had other pictures of friends, but Satoru was front and center, braces and glasses next to you - a fucking bombshell in a cheerleader outfit. “You wanted that, huh?” He tenses when you smack his arm, hard.

“Don’t talk shit about him.”

“Him?”

You sigh, walking back over to the dresser now, hands brushing the vintage chalk painted wood softly. “It’s hard to connect you two, sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he touches that cheerleader picture of you now, smiling. “You were always such a perky little thing.”

“Perky huh? I don’t feel perky lately.” You mumble a bit, taking off your heels now, when he walks back toward you.

“You’ve been through a lot.” His voice is a husky caress, brushing your hair to the side now, his hands slipping across your bare skin. “And I wasn’t here.”

“You didn’t even know.” Your eyes catch his reflection of him towering over you, so different from the lanky boy you took selfies with in this very mirror, throwing peace signs and laughing. Now he is grown, buff and so huge behind you, self sure hands dancing across your shoulder blades.

“I should have known. I don’t know how you forgive it all,” he sighs, arm wrapping around your waist now, resting his chin on top of your head. “I am sorry you went through it alone.”

You swipe away tears, it feels so perfect in his arms, you want to forget anything that’s coming when tomorrow is the last night with him. “Unzip me?”

He pauses at your whisper, swallowing nervously. At this point he’s seen most of your body, just not fully, the full picture of you. He unzips you slowly, exposing the smooth expanse of your back inch by inch, sighing as more and more of your skin is revealed, down to those dimples on your back. The backs of his fingers brush against your spine, raising goosebumps as they do.

Your eyes lock again, as you let the dress fall to your feet, and Satoru sees your breasts bounce just slightly as the dress falls, and you step out of it, naked for his hungry gaze. He moans softly, slipping his hands up the curves of your body, the sides of your breasts, squishing them in his huge hands in the mirror, making you gasp, your head falling back against his chest.

“God you’re beautiful,” his words have you flustered, his devoted touches, the way his eyes devour you. “Always have been.”

“Toru…”

“Shh.” He steps back, slipping up his sweater, revealing the thick, corded muscles of his arms, the cuts and lines of his perfect abdomen, the lines of his ribs in your softly lit room, reflecting warm light across the planes of it. You have seen most of him, but when he’s down to his boxers, and you’re about to turn, he halts you. “Keep looking at your pretty face.”

You’re overheated again, when he’s on his knees suddenly, grabbing your ass and yanking it to his face. “Ah!”

“Gonna wake your parents, shh.” He teases, chuckling as he laps at your slit, tip of his tongue sliding from your little clit along your slit, up to your ass, filthy licks and sucks, drinking all his cum out of your hole. You can hardly stand it, arching back against him, seeing your flushed, fucked out face in the mirror as he fucking hums against you.

“Mmm!” You cover your mouth with one hand, leaning over the dresser while he worships your cunt far too thoroughly, slurping sounds as he laps up all the remnants of the load he’d busted, mixing with your sweet arousal gushing. You can’t help but move against his face, feeling his chin press against your clit as his tongue fucks your hole deliciously.

His sounds are ridiculous, only making you wetter, reaching around to grip his hair, eyes rolling back at how good his face feels gliding against your cunt. “Mmm, fuck my face, yes baby,” he’s whispering, hands wrapping your thighs as you arch for him. “Keep looking.”

“C-can’t see… mnh…” You’re done for, vision blackening as he curls that wet muscle up in your walls, which quiver as he drags you further on his face, having you cum, screaming your orgasm into your palm weakly. “T-Toru!”

“Mmm,” he’s sucking each lip with a suctioned pop, coated all over his face in your slick, pressing little kisses as he watches you quiver, feels your legs giving out damn near. He finally stands, lifting one of your knees up over your dresser, the other is dangling hopelessly. “I got you.”

“You’re insane!” He’s just chuckling softly, reaching around to wrap one arm under your breasts, the other around your neck, turning your chin to face the reflection once more.

“Look at yourself,” his whisper tickles your ear, his cock slipping inside you, your eyes threaten to flutter shut, so he squeezes your throat. “Look, baby, look at your beautiful fucking face, how good you’re taking me.”

“Toru…”

“Look,” he orders again, shoving his cock up inside you, your eyes catch sight of your blurry reflection, whining out softly and bracing a hand on the mirror, touching the cool glass as you see your fucked out face. “Beautiful, say it.”

“Mmm…” you’re too lost in pleasure to speak, back arching for more of his cock, when he stretches you back out, moaning behind you, slamming up inside you so hard you fucking fall, but he’s just holding you there, arms wrapped, slamming his cock inside again as your hands grip the dresser for some sense of balance. “Satoru!? You can’t just hold me in the air!”

“Sure can, what you scared baby? I got you.” He grins like a psycho now, burying his face against your neck as he fucks into you from the back, your thighs pressing together as you lose yourself completely.

“Put me down, shit,” you’re freaking out being manhandled by this huge man, he laughs softly, placing you down on your bed, it creaks under his heavy weight, he leans over you then, lifting your thigh and laughing again. “You’re so psycho, Hollywood has you insane!?”

“Not used to being tossed around?” He murmurs now, all conceited, but he’s also sweet as he lifts your thigh again, pressing his cock into you as you catch your breath, arms wrapping his neck, fingers carding through his hair.

“Cobwebs and bats.” You whisper teasingly, he moans then, pressing a kiss along your cheek, forehead, your eyes that flutter shut, watching you whine out, back arching up.

“Feel okay, too sore?” He murmurs softly, attentive in his study as you hiss just a bit.

“I’m good, I want this,” he exhales as your words reassure him, and the two of you lose yourself in the bed. He's slow and gentle this time, so the bed doesn’t make the most obnoxious noises. “I want you.”

“I want you.” His fingers entwine, and your eyes lock together when he brings you there again, the intimacy of the moment is so much it’s beautiful then, a mix of filthy and wanton but also beautiful. He’s beautiful, over you, sinking so deep, his lips and fingers anywhere they can reach. “Wanna fill you again.”

“Want you to fill me.” He moans, filling your cunt to the brim again, pulsing so deep inside you as your walls spasm around him, like she’s milking him for all he’s got, while he loses himself in you.

Your scent, your taste, the feel of you, all his senses consumed - your beauty, your sounds, your pulse thudding quickly under his thumb as he pins your wrists up over your head, continuing to fuck his cum deeper inside you. You’re sobbing quietly from your orgasms, your mouth quivering as it meets his every kiss, in the quiet of your room scattered with memories of you both.

When he finally pulls out he’s littering your body with kisses, little apologies whispered everywhere he sees a mark, as if he’s not more than happy to leave marks, little bites all over your collarbone, finger marks bruising your thighs. He hates how good it makes him feel, that if someone came near you they would know you’re his.

Are you his?

The reality is trying to crash into his mind, to sober the beautiful moment, you’re brushing his hair back and he looks up to see they’re fucking with you too.

“I still have the yearbook,” you say softly, he sighs now, sitting up and pulling you to sit with him. “What you wrote? It was beautiful.”

“I remember every word,” he says softly, pulling you against his chest. “I want to be in our own little world, just me and you.”

“Y-yes.” Your tears brush against his neck as the fan overhead tries to cool you both down unsuccessfully. “You said you loved me.”

“I know.”

“Then you said… you didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” He sighs, cupping your face, swallowing with a dry throat, seeing your eyes that night in his head. “I was so embarrassed, I was so scared, but I never let you know - I meant them all. Every word then.”

Was it high school love? Puppy love? - Your mind races, wondering where the two of you stand.

Was this just a beautiful night? Was this another snow globe of you two, about to get shaken up with reality?

There is a knock at the door then, and you quickly dress, Satoru laughs softly as you shove a blanket over him when he throws on his boxers. You walk over to the door, and it’s your mom. “Mom… hey?”

“Oh, Satoru is…” She clears her throat now, when Satoru awkwardly waves, then looks back at you, and you blush furiously. “I thought you were… upset?”

“No, no. Not upset.”

“Well this is awkward.”

“Yep!” Your mom laughs softly, concern lacing her gaze with equal amounts of awkwardness, brushing a lock of your hair back.

“We didn’t know he came to stay too. Satoru, you need some clothes?”

“Yes please?” She heads out and you exhale, covering your face when Satoru chuckles. “You’re twenty six.”

“I know!? But still!” You soon bring him a pair of your dad’s clothes, luckily he’s pretty tall so they decently fit, though the shirt is almost a crop top, making you giggle as you see it. “Now this would be hot as a magazine cover.”

The words are lighthearted, but the deeper reality sets in. He takes the shirt off, smiling a bit. “The pants work.”

“Perfect.” Soon you’re in his arms, the second night in a row.

Was this a beautiful memory?

If you could, you’d stay there forever.

“What time do you leave?” You ask softly, looking back now, his eyes glint in the dark, moonlight streaming in gently.

“I won’t know yet, but it will not be forever. My schedule is super flexible, and I have plenty of money. It's not like I can’t get right on a plane.” Your lips falter a bit. You teach part time, work at the bar part time, in search of a better opportunity for now.

But how would you fit in his life, and would he really want you to when he goes back home?

“Sweetheart, I swear I won’t just disappear.” You put on a smile, kissing him and letting him hold you.

“My feet are cold,” you tease, he chuckles then, tugging you against him, wrapping a leg around you and letting you put your feet on his legs then. “That was what I was going for.”

“You really do have cold feet, ah.” You giggle again, the feeling far, far too perfect, but the gnawing ache in your heart won’t go away.

Would he want you when he went back to the glamour?

You drift to sleep, and Satoru hears your heavy breaths, dreading the moment he had to remove himself from this day bed too damn small for him, the peace and perfection of holding you in his arms. He gently recites the words he wrote all those years ago in your yearbook, stroking your hair like it’s a little bedtime story, until he drifts next to you.

The room is peaceful and quiet as different versions of Satoru and you coexist, smiling pictures of your childhood, awkward middle school photos, high school ones where you can clearly see the changes, and now the two of you - adults. Different worlds, holding each other in the night, not wanting to let go.

I got so into this one I rly hope you all enjoyed it :')

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

[invincibledc]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪 𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 + 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑿 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹!𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑫!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹⋆. 𐙚 ˚

pt.1 || pt.2

☆〜 what a smart child, a powerful child that is a god in their own world. The power to shift through realities, the power to make things shift to your own amusement. But what happens when this simple child, this child in elementary, shifts into a universe of violence, landing onto a soft bouncy house.

Giggling wildly, they hop off the bouncy house, ignoring the shock looks of parents as some kids at this assumed birthday party had their jaw drops. But this child didn’t care but to explore! And explore they did, they found themself in a place called bludhaven. A man with some kinda suit with black and blue appears the next minute behind the child.

“Hey kiddo, where’s your mommy or daddy?” His tone soft and gentle. Turning around, the child shrugs, use to them being randomly teleported due to their powers. “Don’t know. I want ice cream!” They point to an ice cream truck, accidentally changing the topic as they rush at it. Nightwing could only panic as he rushes over to this hyper child.

“Hey! Look both ways before crossing!” After the small heart attack, nightwing lets the child get on his back. Going to the police station to see if there is any records about this random child that had randomly made the one scoop ice cream into a three scoop.

After seeing there were no records of the child’s parents, or at least the child at most. Nightwing didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to give the small child up to foster care. Foster care isn’t the best option at times.

So….he took care of you. He made sure you didn’t know who he was. Dick started to take care of you like a father and an older brother. Not bothering to help you learn things you didn’t know before. But it was only for so long til he could keep the secret before you had found his suit in his closet. “Mr. Grayson!” Dick turns around with a smile. “Yes kid—” immediately drops the pan that held pancakes as you held the Nightwing costume.

“Hero! You’re a herooo!!” Your eyes widen as you put it down gently with small pats. “I wanna be one!” Dick puts the pancakes up with the pan and picks you up, shaking his head no with worry. “No! No! You are too young, and you still are in 3rd grade. You can’t just be a superhero” you pouted as you pointed to the pancakes which transformed into blueberry waffles.

“But.. I wanna help people.” Dick has learned about your powers since you turned broccoli into a chicken sandwich. “Yeah… but it’s not worth it. Believe me.” Haley barks at her owner, staring at him with those big eyes of hers. “But Haley goes out on missions with you!” Dick’s eyes widen as he sits you down.

“You know I went on missions!?” Pouting, you huff. “How can Haley go but I can’t?” “Cause you have school!” “Not on weekends!” The argument you both had left some heavy air for a few days. Mostly cause of your stubbornness, you held a grudge, and when you hold a grudge. You hold one. You reminded him of his younger brother, Damian.

Dick tried everything to get you to forgive him, as such as; ice cream, plushies, movie tickets to the new paw patrol movie. Hell even the newish SpongeBob movie.

Okay now you did talk to him and cling to him like you usual do. But that ended right after the movie ended. Then finally, you’ve won as dick had Bruce clutch in and made you a suit. The suit was very cute with pastel colors due to your love with sparkles. You even named yourself the “Sparkler”, but who knows how long that name will last when you get older.

Yes, dick intends to take care of you to the point you grow old enough to move out. He’s practically the only family you got… in his point of view not knowing you have an actual family out of this reality. But he feels like he actually has his own family, sure he has one with the batfamily. But with you around and your childish antics, he felt.. calm.

As if you were his charge. And he loves it. It’s been months, almost a year since you’ve been here and he would go to any rehearsal you have if you join anything. Hell, he was so happy to hear you call him dad at least. Not dick, not Mr. Grayson.

But dad.

You both already created such a family bond that Bruce even sees you as his grandchild. And his brothers see you as their [nephew/neice]. Damian even gifted you a tiny sword, and dick snatched it away the minute you started swinging it around.

But eitherless, you had fun with your parental figure! That was still a sparkly patrol arrived out of no where.

You were coloring as Dick was in the kitchen cooking your favorite meal, you turned at the portal, not interested as you only rolled your eyes. It was just some portal that would appear when your time limit in a reality has passed. But you loved staying here! Dick was better than your own parents at your own world… but you guess the portal said otherwise.

The portal made a weird noise, like it was growling as it started to suck in everything in your room. Eyes widen, you get up, ready to run. “Dad! Dad!” You yelled for him, the portal started to suck in the plushies like a black hole. You dodged some things that could’ve hit your head.

You were so close to the door! But then the portal got angry, starting to gulp in everything. Dick, who heard a loud scream, dropped whatever he had in his hands when he heared your scream. Haley was ready too as she followed her owner to the room of his beloved child.

But he was too late.. the room was empty of everything. Including you. The blue eyed male dropped to the floor, Haley whines, trying to sniff around. You were gone, your scream echoed in his head.

He was late… late.. late….

Late……

He felt broken. He couldn’t save you from whatever happened…..

Where did you even go?

☆

Mark was flying through the sky, patrolling the city bored as he frowned. “God this is more boring than usual…” then he gets hit with a flying child that fell from a sparkly portal.

Mark grunts as he held you tight to his body, not wasting time or fly to a safe spot. He would’ve thought you would be shaking, scared, crying. You looked no older than 8 or at least 9, yet you had such a soft look on your face along with nonchalance.

“Well that was fun!” You exclaimed as you jumped excitedly. “H-how..? What the…. Are you okay?!” Thoughts was running through his head, a kid, much younger than his half brother was standing infront of him, dusting themself off as if they weren’t close to even dying!? “Oh me? I’m fine! But i need to back to my dad.” You looked around the place that you landed by with this hero.

Seeing no sparkly portal, you frowned. You felt sad, usually you didn’t feel this sad when going through another universe or whatever they are called. Mark looks at you confused, “Hey uhm, buddy? What are you looking for?” He questions as he tries to gentle his voice. “Portal with sparkles! It’s my way back to my dad!” You grabbed mark’s hand. “You’ll help me right?”

Mark didn’t know if he wanted to, he should! Of course he should! But the way you aren’t worried about falling from the sky, yapping about some kind of sparkly portal, and you’re a child. This could ring into trouble. But you look so innocent, and scared.

“Listen, what does your dad look like?”

“Well he has black hair, blue eyes, and he has dimples.” You pointed to both side of your cheeks to make it seem like dimples. Doing so, mark almost laughed at how adorable you seemed. Okay maybe you weren’t trouble, but you definitely were lost.

“Alright, let’s find your dad.” He picks you up, having you smile thinking that maybe he could get someone to have you into the place you were in before…

TO BE CONTINUED

[lovemaybankk]

sweet - part 1: rafe cameron x kook!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

read part 2 here!

inspired by lana del rey's song, "sweet" ♡

summary: growing up with your protective older brother, topper thornton, has been challenging yet comforting. until recently, have you been starting to see your older brother's friend, rafe cameron, in a new light and your relationship with him starts to change.

word count: 2,324 words

author's note: thank you so much for reading this new series!! i sincerely hope you enjoy :)

p.s. next chapter includes smut!!

warning: cursing, mostly fluff!

"topper!" you called out, your voice sharp as it bounced off the walls of your large kitchen. "topper, where are you?!" frustration bubbled up as you roamed through your house, checking room after room. the faint thrum of loud music reached your ears, pulling your attention toward the home gym.

with a deep breath, you shoved open the door to the home gym, the music instantly blasting at full volume as if it had been lying in wait.

"topper!" you yelled, your voice barely cutting through the pounding bass that seemed to vibrate the very walls.

dumbbells, resistance bands, and foam rollers were scattered across the floor and in the center of it all, topper was doing bicep curls with his dumbbells, completely immersed in his conversation with his two friends, kelce and rafe. you had absolutely no idea how they could even hear each other with that loud of music playing.

"topper!" you shouted again, louder this time. he froze mid-curl, finally noticing you, and a little startled yet annoyed at his younger sister for barging in.

"what do you want, y/n?" he barked, as though you were the one intruding.

you marched straight to the speaker and turned the volume down to a level that wouldn’t have the neighbors filing noise complaints. the music dropped to a faint hum.

behind you, kelce was pumping through incline bench presses, his grunts in rhythm with his reps. rafe, meanwhile, was bent over a barbell, effortlessly pulling through a set of deadlifts.

"are you kidding me?" you snapped, spinning around to glare at your brother. "topper, you ate my food in the fridge! that was mine!"

he rolled his eyes, tossing the dumbbells onto the floor with a loud thud. "god, y/n, relax. it’s not a big deal. i'll give you cash and you can buy another one that's freshly cooked anyways."

"you’re so selfish, you know that?" you said, folding your arms.

he snorted. "chill out, y/n. here..." he pulled out his phone in his pockets and started frantically pressing the screen. you felt a vibration in your pockets and brought your phone lit up to your face to see a notification,

"'top' sent $100"

"that should be more than enough. go get yourself snacks if you want too. whatever will make you shut the hell up."

growing up, topper had a habit of finding ways to annoy you whether it was stealing your food when he knew you’d been saving it, blasting his music in the middle of your movie nights (with yourself), and even leaving behind his messes for you to clean.

and yet, in his own way, he cared about you. like the time in elementary school when you scraped your knee during a particularly bad fall on your bike. you’d been crying, more out of frustration than pain, and instead of teasing you for being "soft," he had come back minutes later with a band-aid, your favorite snack, and an awkward pat on the back.

there were moments when he let his guard down to be a good older brother. moments when he’d pick you up from sports practice, or buy you a bag of clothes after a long day, or cover for you when you accidentally broke the vase that one summer.

since then, topper had continued to care for you in his clumsy older-brother way. sure, your parents mostly favored him but their expectations for him still existed. they expected him to excel, to lead, and to be a perfect role model for you, especially since he was (exactly two years) older. topper carried the weight of their demands, which often translated into him pestering you with the same energy he’d picked up from your parents. like now.

"why don’t you just go and hop on your bike now, huh?" he said, cracking open his water bottle as though the solution was obvious. "go grab something to eat, chill out, and leave us alone."

"it’s literally freezing outside, topper," you shot back, already regretting coming into the gym.

"you’ll be fine,” he said, smirking as he leaned back against the bench.

and before you could deliver your next scathing comeback, rafe came in, setting down his barbell with a clang. "i’ll drive her," he offered, shrugging casually as he wiped his hands on a nearby towel. "it’s too cold for a bike ride, and she looks like she’s about to bite your head off, dude."

truth be told, you’d always kind of liked rafe cameron growing up. unlike most of topper’s other friends, who barely acknowledged your existence, rafe was the one who always made an effort to be friendly. he’d always greet you when he came over, ask how school was going, and sometimes even share a laugh at topper’s expense with you.

and then there was that one memorable time, back during the ninth-grade, when you’d gotten stood up for your first high school dance. you’d spent weeks picking out the perfect dress, building up the courage to say yes when a boy you liked asked you to go. but when the night came, he’d never shown up. you had sat on the couch, trying to hide your disappointment as topper and his friends teased you about your "special night".

rafe had been different, though. he’d walked into the room, taken one look at you sitting there all dressed up, and without missing a beat, said, "i’ll take you." you’d blinked at him in response, a little stunned. "what?"

"i’ll take you to the dance," he repeated, a faint grin on his face as he shrugged. "you’ve already got the dress and everything, right? might as well go."

topper had rolled his eyes and laughed, but rafe had ignored him. twenty minutes later, he was in a suit jacket, standing by the front door, waiting for you like a proper date.

that night, he made sure you didn’t feel out of place, even though you were nervous and embarrassed at first. he’d danced with you, cracked jokes until you were smiling, and even pretended to be your date when your friends asked questions.

when the night had finally wound down, rafe hadn’t dropped you off and gone home like anyone else would. he’d offered to take you out for a late-night snack. so, the two of you had ended up at a diner near the city, picking at plates of fries and sharing stories while the neon lights flickered outside. and for a brief moment, it made you forget all the times you felt like an afterthought in your family, while your older brother was the center of attention.

that night had turned into one of those memories that stuck with you dearly. and though rafe was still the same cocky, laid-back guy, he had an empathy that maybe only you saw. and by the way, your older brother made the decision to gather himself and his friends, including rafe, to "confront" that same boy who stood you up.

topper groaned, rolling his eyes. "fine. go, whatever. just let me and kelce finish our workout in peace."

luckily, rafe was already grabbing his keys.

"c’mon," he said, his voice low but firm. "i could use the break anyway."

as you climbed into rafe’s car, you glanced around the messy interior: empty water bottles, a stray jacket, and a faint scent of mint and cologne. he turned down the music as he started the engine, his movements smooth and unhurried.

"you okay?" he asked, glancing over at you as the car warmed up along with the slightly loud noises of the air conditioning. his tone was casual, but there was an edge of sincerity in it that comforted you. "yes," you muttered. "thanks for this."

he smirked, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "don’t thank me yet. topper for sure owes me for this one."

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, the tension from earlier melting enough to make the ride bearable.

as rafe pulled into the familiar parking lot, you realized where he was taking you: the same diner you’d gone to after the dance. the neon lights flickered outside, casting a soft glow across the empty lot. a wave of nostalgia hit you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of that night.

inside, the warmth of the diner greeted you, and the smell of greasy fries and fresh burgers filled the air. you both slid into a booth, and rafe didn’t waste any time before he ordered. you hesitated, but eventually chose something simple, the kind of comfort food you knew would hit the spot.

"you know, this place actually isn’t half bad," rafe said as he looked over at you, his voice light. he gave you a quick smile before shrugging.

you laughed, feeling a little lighter. "it's actually really good!"

as the food arrived, rafe handed you his jacket, noticing you shiver. "here, you look like you could use it." you blinked in surprise, but his easy, nonchalant gesture made it feel completely natural. you draped it over your shoulders, grateful for the warmth.

the ride back home was quiet, the sound of the car humming as you leaned back against the seat. the warmth from the jacket and the full stomach made your eyelids heavy, and before long, you were drifting off, your head lolling against the window.

when the car finally stopped, you felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder. "hey," rafe said softly, "we’re here."

you blinked awake, your body delaying to respond. you looked like a complete mess with a little drool coming out and your hair bunched up, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he gently slid the seat back, helping you out of the car.

before you could protest, he had already scooped you up into his arms, carrying you with surprising ease toward the front door.

"rafe, what the....?" you mumbled, still half-asleep and confused, but he didn’t answer. he just chuckled quietly and continued up the stairs to your room. when he set you down on your bed, he tucked the blanket around you, his movements careful as if he were trying not to wake you completely.

"get some sleep y/n," he said softly, pausing at the door. "you’ll need it."

your eyes fluttered closed again, the warmth of your bed and the comfort of rafe’s care wrapping around you. you barely registered when the door shut, but you knew, even if you couldn’t thank him properly, he’d done something more than just drop you off.

you felt a sudden tug at your shoulders, and your eyes slowly blinked open to find your older brother standing over you, shaking you awake.

"oh my god, what do you want, topper?!" you groaned, trying to push the blankets over your head in a futile attempt to block out the morning.

"it's 10 am y/n," he said, his voice more annoying than usual, "you remember breakfast with our grandparents, right?"

you blinked a few times, still trying to shake off the fog of sleep. the memory gradually crept back into your mind, and you groaned again, this time more out of frustration than sleepiness.

"ugh, i forgot about that," you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. "why did you have to remind me? it's too early for this."

topper shrugged, unfazed by your groggy attitude. "because mom wants us there by 11, and you know how she gets when we’re late. i also know you take forever to get ready and clearly, you're not even close to ready."

you shot him a glare, already thinking about how this day was shaping up to be like every other which was full of reminders about family obligations. "fine," you grumbled, throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. "i’ll go. but this better be worth it."

"no wonder you're so tired," he said, clearly annoyed. "i bet staying out late with rafe last night did you in, huh?"

you groaned, sitting up a little, now fully aware of the teasing tone in his voice. "it wasn’t that late," you mumbled, trying to sound convincing, but you knew he wouldn’t let it slide. "and maybe if you didn't eat my food, i would've slept at a decent time. and your friend actually had the decency to help me get that food back."

topper raised an eyebrow. "sure..." he paused and gave you a concerned look.

"and i’m not exhausted because of that, topper," you snapped, rubbing your face. "i’m just exhausted because you woke me up too early."

he let out a little laugh, walking toward the door. he shot you a teasing grin before he left. "you know, if you didn't stay up snacking with him, maybe you wouldn't be like this right now."

"you’re a pain in the ass," you muttered under your breath as he disappeared, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. you knew he was just being his usual protective yet controlling self, and maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of concern underneath the teasing regarding his friend's relationship with his little sister.

you heard the door suddenly open again, with topper lingering by the hinge, his hand hovering over the handle. "by the way," he said, his tone still calm, "we go in thirty minutes. so be ready and at the car."

"i got it," you grumbled, not looking up from where you were half-draped over your bed.

topper didn’t wait for a response. he just turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open.

"topper, are you serious?!" you called after him, your frustration mounting. "close my door!"

but of course, he didn’t. typical of him.

you sighed in annoyance, getting up to close the door yourself. and with the door finally shut, you hurried to get ready. you took a deep breath, grabbing your belongings and heading downstairs, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

[levandright]

i want to request a riki fluff drabble! soulmate au but it's the reincarnation type where they receive or dream memories of their past when they reach a certain age.

-⭐ anon

Eternal Bond

pairing : riki x fem reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : fluff, enemies/rivals to lovers, past lovers, soulmate au, riki calls you his sweet dove, highschool au ୨ৎ word count : 842 ・ archive

synopsis. in a world where everyone has soulmates and gets memories of their past lives when they turn seventeen, you’re completely shocked to find out that riki—your biggest rival since elementary school—was actually your soulmate in your past life. back then, you were his kind, devoted fiancée, a noblewoman engaged to a rebellious prince, and the two of you were totally in love. but in this life, all you and riki do is compete, pushing each other harder every year. ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : thank you for requesting this ⭐ anon <3 i had a lot of fun making this! hopefully you like it. my requests are very much open so feel free to send one <3

you had braced yourself for it since your birthday months ago, but nothing could have prepared you for the shock of remembering your past-life memories. the truth that your past self had been engaged to him, to riki, was something you could barely wrap your head around. he, the rebellious fourth prince, and you, the kind and loyal fiancée. it seemed unreal—especially since, in this life, riki was your biggest rival, the person you’d been trading snide remarks with since elementary school, and someone you were constantly trying to outdo.

but the memories didn’t lie. he was your soulmate. that fact settled into your mind, slowly softening the sharp edges of your rivalry with him. it was confusing, but no one else understood why you’d suddenly started holding back in arguments or why you’d bite your tongue when he’d tease you in class. it felt silly at times, but the warmth from your past-life connection began to weave into your present self, and no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t hide the change.

riki wasn’t an idiot. of course he'd noticed. you could feel his gaze on you more often, watching you closely whenever your paths crossed. there was a spark of suspicion behind his gaze, as if he was waiting for you to slip up. as much as you feared he’d figure it out, there was also a secret thrilling hope that he would. so when december 9th rolled around—his seventeenth birthday—you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d remember his past-life connection as quickly as you had.

the day came, and you tried your best to avoid him, slipping through the halls and sneaking into class a few minutes late. for the morning, it worked. but you knew that wouldn’t last.

lunchtime came, and you slipped aawy from class into the library, hoping to find a quiet spot where you could just be alone for a while. you settled into a corner near the back, buried in a book, trying to ignore the anxiety stirring inside you. but then you heard footsteps, and when you looked up, there he was. riki.

he stood by the table, arms crossed, a glint of determination in his eyes. you froze. “you can’t hide in here,” he said, his voice casual, but you could tell something was off. he wasn’t leaving.

riki walked toward you, and with each step, your heart raced. before you could react, he slid into the chair across from you, leaning in slightly.

“care to explain yourself?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual.

you blinked, feigning innocence. “explain what?”

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze intense. “you know exactly what i mean. we’re soulmates,” he whispered, low and filled with frustration. “and i find out now of all times? you could’ve told me earlier.”

your heart hammered as you nervously glanced around the library, thankful it was mostly empty. “i didn’t know how you’d react,” you said quietly, looking down at your hands.

riki let out a frustrated sigh, the tension rising. his eyes were no longer playful. “so you thought you’d just pretend nothing had changed? watch me get all confused about why you’ve been acting… different lately?” his voice dropped, and his gaze softened for just a moment. “what, you thought i wouldn’t notice?”

the silence between you both was thick, charged with so much unspoken emotion. you avoided his gaze, biting your lip. “i didn’t want to make things weird… especially with how we’ve been.”

for a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes studying you carefully. and then—bam!

he leaned in suddenly, placing a hand on your wrist, his touch sparking a reaction deep inside you. you jolted slightly, memories flooding back in waves, overwhelming you.

he tilted his head with a teasing grin. “you talk too much, you know that?”

before you could protest, riki closed the gap between you, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss, almost hesitant but filled with all the weight of your shared past. it was as though time had folded in on itself, and for a second it was like the two of you had never been apart.

when he pulled back, his smile was faint yet triumphant. “my sweet dove. you’re still as stubborn as ever huh?”

you stared at him wide-eyed, your heart racing. his words, that pet name—it felt so familiar, so right and yet so foreign in this life. “you… remember everything?”

riki nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips, though it was softer than usual. “every last bit.” he leaned back, crossing his arms. “now that we’ve got that sorted, what are we going to do about this little rivalry of ours?”

you blinked, a laugh comes out of you unexpectedly. “maybe we can take a break from it… just this once.”

he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “i’ll consider it… for my dove.”

and for the first time in this life, you felt something stronger than rivalry, something that bridged the gap between your past and present—a feeling that maybe, just maybe, love could make its way through everything.

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©levandright

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie walks into his house after a three-day work trip in NYC to find…..a lot of boxes.

Most of them cardboard, most of them labeled DONATE or TRASH or GARAGE in Steve’s familiar handwriting.

“Oh, jeez,” Eddie mutters, because he knows what this is. Sure enough, he follows a trail of boxes upstairs to find the rest of his family in his youngest daughter Hazel’s room.

“Spring cleaning?” Eddie asks.

“Spring cleaning,” Moe says with an affirmative nod.

“Just Hazel’s room?” he asks, because Moe and Robbie are looking awfully comfortable sitting on Hazel’s bed while Hazel herself is rummaging through a back corner of her jam-packed closet, Steve watching over her shoulder with his hands on his hips.

“Uh, well, Moe ‘doesn’t do clutter’,” Steve says as he looks over at Eddie, “and therefore is exempt, apparently, and Robbie’s room gives me a migraine.”

“Plus,” Moe cuts in, “Robbie’s room is all clutter. If we get rid of it all, she'd have no personality left.”

“Hey,” Robbie says, jabbing her elbow into Moe's side, “Don’t be rude.”

Steve gives Eddie a do you see what I’m dealing with kind of look as Hazel finally emerges from her closet. 

“Dad, do you want this?” Hazel asks, holding out a very small, dog-shaped notebook with a comically large spiral binding that she probably acquired when she was in elementary school, “For writing or whatever?”

“Uh…”

“Just say yes so I can move some shit out of here,” Steve mutters, so Eddie takes the notebook from Hazel, and as soon as she was turning back to her closet, Steve took it from him and tossed it into the ‘Donate’ box in the hallway.

A moment later, Hazel emerged again, turning around to show everyone two plastic lawn flamingos (mismatched, Eddie notes).

“Thoughts?” she asked.

“Hon, those don’t even match,” Steve says (and he sounds all beleaguered and everything as if all this wasn’t his crusade to begin with), “They’re two totally different shades of pink.”

“Well, did you know that they’re actually white when they’re born? And then they eat mostly shrimp and that’s how they turn pink.”

Steve just stares at her for a moment, “Okay, Haze, those are plastic.”

“You should keep those,” Moe said, “Genuinely they’re, like, decor. You can put them somewhere.”

They spend a few minutes watching Hazel precariously balance the flamingos’ spindly legs on top of her bookshelf, but it doesn't take long for something else to catch Steve's eye.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, jutting his chin in the direction of something on an open shelf of Hazel’s dresser.

Hazel fetches a plastic Starbucks cup with a dozen or so dusty rocks inside.

“They’re rocks,” Hazel points out, “From when we went to the Grand Canyon.”

“Okay…” Steve says slowly, “Do they have to be in your sock drawer?”

“Why don’t you put them on your windowsill?” Robbie suggests, “You can charge the rocks, like, spiritually.”

“Oh yeah, there’s an idea,” Steve comments, but Hazel is already halfway to the window. Still, she pauses, and then turns back to face them.

“Do you think they miss their home?” she asks.

“What?” Steve looks at her.

“In the Grand Canyon?”

“Oh, Hazel,” Steve sighs.

“We could try to ship them back,” Moe suggests.

“None of you are helping.”