#wait. I’m seriously tearing up at this. what…

[goldenroutledge]

if tomorrow never comes

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

prompt: ❛ i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just have a lot on my plate. ❜. based on this request.

summary: in which you and carlos drift apart and the tension boils over on your anniversary.

a/n: i’m having so much fun writing these requests! thank you to everyone requesting :)

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“When do you think you can be here, Carlos?”

His voice is tight on the other end of the line, knowing that you won’t like the answer. “An hour. Ninety minutes tops.”

You want to scream out and repeat his answer back to him so loudly that he can hear from the balcony of your shared apartment. It’ll let all of Monaco know how ridiculous he sounds. The flight attendant’s presence at the other end of the cabin helps you keep your composure. “And you’re sure that’s it? One hour?”

“Yes cariño, I promise.”

“Don’t call me that when I’m annoyed with you.”

“Can’t help it.” Carlos smiles cheekily, you can hear it in his voice. You can’t help but roll your eyes, feeling that he’s not taking you seriously. Postponing time spent together, sometimes venturing into canceling dates altogether, was becoming too frequent for your liking. But patience had to be your strong suit dating Carlos. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You end the call abruptly, leaving him to a last minute business meeting while you’re sitting here, awaiting your boyfriend on the private jet he has abandoned. Then again it would only be considered abandoned had he shown up on time to begin with.

He’d returned home from training yesterday exhausted as ever, yet reassured you with the promise that you two would spend a few days on a quiet getaway for your anniversary. Just the two of you, alone together. A trip you’d been planning for weeks now, with the need to make it an anniversary you’d always remember. If getting away was what it took to get Carlos to relax again, to be with you free of any distractions from work, you’d do that.

Carlos regards his career with a dedicated spirit, diligently organizing his schedule to make sure nothing falls between the cracks. His training, his sponsorships, his future at Williams… As badly as he feels to leave you waiting, duty calls. A last minute Zoom meeting with a new sponsor held him back at the apartment for longer than he anticipated. While most people have already resigned themselves to the fact that they can’t have it all, Carlos Sainz is not most people. He’ll either have everything, or die trying. It’s one of the many traits you love about him. Your heart aches at the thought of it being what tears you apart.

“Champagne?” The flight attendant offers you the drink, one of two that was meant for your celebratory toast with Carlos to kick off your anniversary trip.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day.” The flight attendant gives you a sympathetic smile, watching you down the drink with no effort. If this keeps up, it’ll be a long weekend too.

–

Once Carlos finally joins you on the plane, his ask for forgiveness is difficult to deny. He brought you a bouquet of flowers so large they took up their own seat on the plane, and he hadn’t stopped showering you with love since he arrived. Something about making up for lost time, he’d mumbled into your ear when you questioned his overwhelming affection. The colors of the flowers tied in beautifully with your outfit; Carlos was sure to capture it with a few photographs.

His attention to detail was another thing that you loved about him, it drew you in everytime. When you’re together like this, free of the outside noise, you wish it could last forever. Always on the other end of the phone or outside the airplane window is something ready to whisk him away. Ideally, an anniversary spent with him would consist of a lazy morning making breakfast together, simply basking in each other’s company.

His company was hard to enjoy when you were barely experiencing it, now sitting alone at your anniversary dinner hours later. Your mood turned sour when Carlos excused himself to take a call, walking away from the table before you had a chance to express your distaste. The tension that had been simmering between you two was bound to bubble over once again as Carlos returned to your table with a guilty look, phone to his ear as he ended his call with his cousin/manager.

You didn’t bother to look up, taking your anger out on your meal instead, poking and prodding the food with your silverware. It was a delicious meal that did nothing to deserve a brutal assault by fork and knife, ruining its picturesque presentation.

“Mi amor, I’m sorry.”

“Did you know that the more you say those words, the more they lose their significance each time?”

He sighs, running a stressed hand through his dark hair. “You know the kind of pressure that I’m under right now, cariño. How much this year has worn on me in general. Please, I just need you to be a little more-”

“Understanding? Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” You cut him off harshly, and the look you give him across the table is worth flinching from.

“You have. And I feel terrible, but it won’t last forever.” He attempts to soothe your worries, reaching for your hand. You don’t accept or deny his touch, you’re just still. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“You’re right, Carlos. It won’t last forever. You’ll make sure of it.”

“What do you mean by that? You think we’re going to break up?”

“I’m saying that if you don’t make time to nurture our relationship, there won’t be a relationship left! I’ve been here, Carlos. For you, for us, while juggling my own life and career, so don’t tell me it’s impossible. There was a time when you balanced it all before, when you weren’t working yourself to the bone because you decided you have something more to prove to the world.”

“I’m trying to balance everything, but it’s not always going to be smooth sailing. You know it’s not easy.”

“I know it’s not. I don’t need it to be, but I miss the days when you felt like our relationship was worth making time for. When I wasn’t the last of your priorities.”

“Maybe I miss the days when you understood that I’m not always going to be available for you 24/7.” Carlos rants, feeling defensive at how this time, the gloves are off, you’re finally letting Carlos feel the weight of the burden you’ve been carrying– loving enough for the two of you. Your pounding heart reminds you that it’s impossible to carry on like this. Something has to give. “Do you realize how much time I’m spending away from training to be with you? Is that not making time for our relationship?”

Tears prick your eyes in frustration, the air suddenly feeling warmer than before. Your nervous system begs you to get out of there, to leave the conversation before either of you say something you’ll regret. If it hasn’t been said already. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t even need any of this! I just want you! I remember the days when that wasn’t too much to ask for.”

Your hand has long dropped his, and Carlos’ eyes widen in panic as he watches you move out of your chair. “Amor, stay. Please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Confliction moves through you like a strike of lightning, torn between staying to talk it through or taking a moment of space, after pouring out the feelings you’d spent so much time locking away. The last straw is when your waiter approaches your table, holding a small cake in his hands. On the top of it is a picture of you and Carlos together on your first anniversary, more content and in love than ever. A candle burns on the cake and wax melts down the sides, resembling the tears that wish to fall. Carlos’ eyes plead with guilt, begging you to stay and forget. Smile and pretend that right now, you’re still that happy couple printed on the cake.

Instead, you throw your napkin to your plate. “I need some air.”

–

Carlos watches you go, he doesn’t stop you. A timeout will do you both some good right now. He tries to tell himself that it’s not that bad. Couples fight. But he sits there, sullen, knowing that he’s fucked up this time. His heart burns as he stares at the picture of you two on the cake. It’s unbearable, and that little surprise he orchestrated now feels like a pointed joke at his expense. He blows out the candle and the light goes out. But closing his eyes won’t help his fear of the dark. Even he can’t run from this.

He finds you outside of the restaurant, sitting on a bench, staring down into the renewing waters of the fountain. It’s mesmerizing, the way you can drown in the sight and get lost in the calming sound. He slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just have a lot on my plate. But that’s no excuse to put our relationship on the backburner. I’m so, so sorry.” Carlos presses a chaste kiss to your temple, and feels comforted by how you subtly lean into his space. It’s a step. “I love you, and I’m going to listen to you. I want to make this better because there’s not a life for me without you in it. I need you, cariño. I want to be with you, always.”

“I’ve felt so disconnected from you lately and being here on our anniversary, reminded of all the happier times we’ve shared, I just… that scares me. I’m scared we won’t get back there if there’s any more distance between us.”

“I should’ve seen it sooner. The truth is, I am able to do what I do because you’re always there. You support me when things are up, when they’re down. When I lost my seat, when I got sick with appendicitis, when I won races… you’re there for it all. I took you for granted thinking that I could give everything I have to my career, when it’s you who deserves it.”

“You do give it everything, but I think you’ve lost sight of things a little bit. Usually you give me everything you have too, I mean the little cake with us on it… I love that you did that for me, Carlos. I’m only so upset because I love you too.”

Those words haven’t stopped echoing in his mind. He swears he’ll engrave them into his brain forever, as long as you’re happy. “Maybe I have been overcompensating a little bit, feeling pressure to make things perfect in my career. The year has been difficult, but I couldn’t have gotten through without you.”

You kiss his cheek, warming up to his affectionate words. He’s sincere, he truly means them. “You’re more than enough, Carlos. Just the way you are. Weathering the storm isn’t always easy but there’s nobody else I’d rather be with either.”

“Can we start over?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

“I have an idea. Should I throw my phone into the fountain, cariño? You’ll have my undivided attention for days.”

“Tempting, but no. Keep your phone dry, my love. Would you be opposed to going back to the villa? Enjoying the rest of the night in?”

Carlos wiggles his brows, as he recognizes that familiar glint in your eyes. One that shimmers with hope and longing. “We do have a pretty sweet cake being boxed up as we speak.”

“Maybe we can light the candle again? I promise I won’t leave the room this time.” Your hearts soar at the thought of blowing out your candle together, hands held as you make a new promise to each other. The past years together have been bliss and the rainbows have always shined through the cloudy skies. The next years together, you will wish for the same and even more.

“Anything for you, cariño. Happy Anniversary.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you with no choice but to cup his jaw and bring your lips to his. The cool breeze outside is no match for either of you– you’ve got your love to keep you warm.

“Happy Anniversary, Carlos.”

💌: thanks for reading! reblogs & comments are very much appreciated :)

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[lmvari]

⟳ 03. FALSE HOPE

No reply. You shake your head and rub your temples, setting your phone face down and trying to focus.

And then, barely fifteen minutes later, a familiar figure slides into the seat across from you. Kuni, hoodie loose over his frame, hair still slightly damp like he left his dorm in a hurry. A cup of coffee and a bag of snacks land on the table between you.

You blink at them. Then at him.

“What is this?” you ask.

He shrugs, nudging the coffee toward you. "You look like you’re two pages away from losing your mind."

You don’t take it immediately. You steady your breaths, grounding yourself to reality and not letting your thoughts stray from what is actually real.

You tell yourself it’s just coffee. Just your favorite snacks. Just Kuni, showing up unannounced because he feels like it. And yet, something about it sits in your chest, unsettling.

"Seriously," you murmur, staring at the cup instead of him. "Why are you here?"

He leans back in his chair, watching you. "Dunno." A pause. Then, a little softer, "Just figured you’d need a recharge."

Your fingers curl around the cup before you can stop yourself. It’s warm. Comforting. A contrast to the cold pressure in your head from hours of studying.

He noticed these things.

Kuni’s gaze drifts over your notes, your scribbled notes and highlighted texts. He doesn’t comment on the mess, just tilts his head and studies your face. "You sure you don’t wanna take a break?"

"I can’t."

"You look like you need one."

You scoff, tearing open the snack bag. "Yeah, well, I don’t have that luxury."

He just watches you again, unreadable. "It’s late. Continue studying at home.” He ponders for a but before casually adding, “Or at my place. It’s closer.”

You freeze, fingers tightening around the edge of your textbook.

Of course. Of course. You should’ve known. Kuni never just shows up. Never just does things for no reason. He always wants something.

And yet, for a moment, for just a second, you thought maybe…

No. Stupid.

You force out a laugh, shaking your head. "Right. And I’m sure we’d get so much studying done there."

He raises an eyebrow in confusion at the sharpness in your tone. "What do you mean?”

You push your notes into a neater pile, trying to steady yourself. "Nothing." You don’t look at him when you add, "I still have a lot to do.”

Silence. You expect him to call you out, to tease, to say something snarky, but he doesn’t. He just exhales, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand. He waits for a few minutes before making a move to stand up.

"Fine," he murmurs. "Don’t overwork yourself, moron."

You hate that you almost believe there’s no ulterior motive behind it.

Yeah, leave because you’re not getting what you want.

⟳ BLURRED LINES — PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

NOTE what do you guys think about my writing style? i’d love to hear out your thoughts and if i need more improvement <3

TAGLIST @joiurz @sketcheeee @mywillt0live @kyouzki @ylapsha45 @eternallykira-143 @bananasquash @kunikissr @swivi @ariesloves @lloversss @b-bbytears @kokoscutie e @vi0let-writes @tomsishere

if your name is in bold, that means i can’t tag you

[bitchinbarzal]

Stay With Me | B Faber

Summary: You and Brock have been together since high school, your love unwavering through the years. But now, with his career taking off, you feel like you’re being left behind. When you start to pull away, Brock notices—and he won’t let you go without a fight.

-

You don’t realize how much you’ve pulled away until you catch Brock staring at you across the living room, his brown eyes dark with frustration. His duffel bag is still slung over his shoulder, fresh from practice, but he hasn’t moved. Hasn’t even bothered to take off his shoes. He’s just watching you.

“Are you even going to say hi to me?” His voice is low, tinged with something sharp. It makes your stomach twist because you didn’t mean for things to get like this.

“Hi,” you murmur, barely looking up from your spot on the couch. It’s pathetic, and you know it. You should at least pretend things are normal, even if they haven’t been for a while.

Brock exhales harshly, dropping his bag to the floor. The sound makes you flinch, and he notices. His jaw clenches. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s bullshit.” His voice rises slightly, frustration finally breaking through. “You barely talk to me anymore. You barely even look at me.”

You swallow hard, staring at your hands in your lap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You don’t have the words for this. You don’t know how to explain that watching him succeed—watching him live this life that’s getting bigger and bigger while you feel like you’re standing still—hurts more than you ever expected.

You’re so, so proud of him. You’ve been there since the beginning, when he was just a kid playing hockey in Maple Grove, dreaming of something bigger. You went to Minnesota with him, stood by his side through every high and low. But now, with him in the NHL, it feels like he’s soaring while you’re stuck on the ground.

And maybe that’s where you belong.

“You should go,” you whisper, the words tasting like poison on your tongue.

Brock stiffens. “What?”

“You should go.” You finally look up at him, eyes burning. “You don’t need me holding you back.”

His brows furrow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You shake your head, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I can’t keep up with you, Brock. Your life is—” You gesture vaguely, trying to find the words. “It’s everything you always dreamed of. And I’m just… me. I don’t belong in it.”

His face twists, something breaking in his expression. “That’s not fair,” he says, voice rough. “That’s not fucking fair, and you know it.”

You press your lips together, looking away. If you don’t say it now, you never will. “I think you’d be better off without me.”

Silence.

Then, a harsh laugh. But there’s no humor in it—just disbelief, just hurt.

“Are you serious right now?” Brock takes a step closer, but you don’t move. You can’t. “Do you think any of this—any of what I have—means anything without you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Brock—”

“No.” His voice cracks, and when you finally meet his gaze, your heart shatters. He looks devastated. “You think I want this without you? That I’d rather come home to an empty apartment? That I’d rather not have you waiting for me, telling me how bad I played, or how I need to eat something other than takeout?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to resent me.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus, babe. I could never resent you.” His voice softens, raw and real. “You’re my home. You always have been.”

Your throat tightens.

He steps forward, so close now that you can feel the warmth of him. “I don’t care how big my life gets, okay? It’s only worth it if you’re in it.” He swallows, voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t do this.”

You break.

Tears spill over, and before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for him. He catches you instantly, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. You clutch at his hoodie, burying your face in his chest, breathing him in.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracking.

He presses a kiss to your hair, his grip tightening. “Just stay with me,” he murmurs. “That’s all I need.”

And in that moment, you realize—maybe you don’t have to let him go to love him. Maybe, just maybe, you can still belong.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 25 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇druses screentime

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

With that, he hauled her out of the tent, ignoring their grumbling as he made his way through the ruined camp. The warprize stayed silent, her expression carefully blank, but Acrisios could feel the tension in her body. She was waiting for an opportunity to run. He tightened his grip. Not happening. When they finally reached Telemachus’ tent, Acrisios shoved her inside.

Telemachus sat at a makeshift war table, fingers pressed against his temple. He looked up, his eyes tired, his face gaunt from stress and sleepless nights. He barely spared the woman a glance before sighing. “Tell me you have good news,” he muttered.

“Oh, better than good,” Acrisios said, smirking as he pushed the warprize forward. “Our little captive here just confessed that she let herself get kidnapped so she could rat us out.” Telemachus’ expression darkened. His gaze flickered to the woman, who swallowed but held firm.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “We’ve lost more than half our men because of that ambush.” His voice was low, simmering with restrained anger. “We’re outnumbered, our supplies are running low, and now we’ve lost Florus—the only person who could actually keep us fed and stitched together.” The warprize flinched but didn’t say a word.

Acrisios tilted his head. “So, what are we doing with her?” Telemachus was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, his expression shifted—his lips curling into something that almost looked like amusement.

“We’re using her plan,” he said simply.

Acrisios blinked. “Come again?”

Telemachus finally looked up at him, his blue eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “She snuck in under the guise of a warprize. We’re going to do the same thing.”

Acrisios’ brow furrowed. “You seriously think one of us can pass as a warprize?”

Telemachus smirked. “Not just anyone.” He leaned forward. “Druses.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Acrisios snorted.

Telemachus raised a brow. “Something funny?”

Acrisios wheezed, pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “You—you want Druses, Druses, the guy who literally tore through soldiers like a rabid dog, to dress up as a Greek warprize and sneak into the Skiaphian camps?”

Telemachus leaned back, entirely unbothered. “He has the most feminine features of all of us.”

Acrisios was dying, barely holding back his laughter. “Oh my gods, you’re serious.”

Telemachus’ smirk widened. “Deadly.”

Acrisios lost it, doubling over, his laughter shaking his entire frame. “You better pray Enyo doesn’t smite you for this—she’s gonna be pissed when she sees her favorite little bloodhound dressed like a woman.”

Telemachus rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the amused twitch of his lips. “Druses will manage. And if he gets caught, well…” His smirk turned sharp. “Let’s just say they won’t be keeping him in chains for long.”

Acrisios was still wiping tears from his eyes when Telemachus stood. “Go find Druses,” he ordered. “Tell him we have a new mission.”

“Oh, I cannot wait to see his face,” Acrisios said, grinning as he turned toward the exit. This war was hell. But at least, for now, there was some entertainment.

——

The sun had barely crested the horizon when the entire camp was jolted awake by the sound of furious yelling.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

Druses’ voice boomed through the camp, loud enough to rattle the sparse equipment still scattered across the ruins. Soldiers peeked out of their tents, bleary eyed and confused, as Druses stormed through the center of camp, his long black hair wild, his purple eyes blazing with outrage. “This is insulting,” he raged, gesturing wildly with a bundle of fabric clutched in one hand. “You think I’m going to—what—paint my face and prance around like some delicate little maiden?”

Cassander, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, leaned against a post with a bemused grin. “I mean, you’ve already got the hair for it.”

Druses whipped around, pointing a threatening finger at him. “Say that again, Cassander. I dare you.”

Eurymachus was struggling to keep a straight face. “Come on, Druses,” he teased, arms crossed. “You’ve got those long lashes, soft skin—really, you’ll make a beautiful warprize.”

“Fuck you,” Druses spat, throwing the bundle of clothes onto the ground. “This is undignified! Insulting! I am not dressing up like some trophy just because—”

Acrisios, barely suppressing his laughter, stepped forward, clapping a hand on Druses’ shoulder. “It’s not about the looks, Druses,” he said, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s about strategy.”

“Strategy?” Druses echoed, eyes narrowing. “You mean humiliation.” He shoved Acrisios’ hand off, glaring daggers at anyone who dared to snicker. “I’m a warrior—a killer. Not some—some—bait.”

Telemachus, leaning casually against a stack of crates, finally spoke up. “We need someone who can infiltrate their camp without raising suspicion. You’re the best fighter we have—and the only one who could realistically pass as…” He trailed off, lips twitching. “A warprize.”

Druses’ glare could have set the whole camp ablaze. “You can’t be serious,” he seethed. “You want me to doll up, chain myself, and parade into the Skiaphian camp like some helpless captive?”

Acrisios, failing to hide his grin, shrugged. “Think of it as—uh—method acting.”

Druses growled, his fists clenching at his sides. “I swear, if any of you so much as comment on this, I’ll slit your throats in your sleep.”

Cassander leaned toward Eurymachus, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Do you think he’ll wear lipstick?” Druses lunged, nearly knocking Cassander over before Acrisios pulled him back, laughing.

“Relax, Druses,” Acrisios said, grinning wide. “Just imagine the looks on their faces when you break free and start tearing through their ranks.”

Druses huffed, crossing his arms. “This better work,” he muttered darkly. “Because if it doesn’t, I’m taking all of you down with me.”

Telemachus smirked, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, it’ll work. You’ll make sure of it.” Druses glared, but there was no denying the dark excitement that flickered behind his eyes. This was humiliating, yes—but if it got him closer to the enemy, closer to vengeance, closer to tearing them apart from the inside…

Maybe he’d wear the damn dress after all.

——

Druses was seething.

Standing in his dimly lit tent, he yanked the delicate fabric over his head with all the aggression of a soldier sharpening a blade. The sheer material brushed against his skin like an insult, and the metal cuffs around his wrists—meant to mimic the restraints of a proper warprize—felt wrong.

“If any of them say a single word,” he muttered under his breath, violently fastening a golden sash around his waist, “I’m gutting them.”

He was just about to pull his long black hair into something remotely presentable when a chill ran down his spine. A presence—familiar, electric, chaotic, swept through the tent like a rush of battle drums.

Druses froze.

A low, delighted chuckle echoed through the space.

“Well, well, well.”

His entire body tensed. Slowly, he turned his head. There, lounging casually on his cot, was Enyo. The war goddess herself,, her piercing eyes gleaming with amusement as she took in the sight before her.

And then—

She cackled.

Druses’ eye twitched. “Oh, this is rich,” Enyo wheezed, clutching her stomach as she rocked back in laughter. “My champion, my ruthless, bloodthirsty little war dog—dressed up like a fragile maiden, guess I’d have to call you Enyo’s damsel!”

Druses clenched his fists, his face burning hotter than a battlefield at noon. “Shut up.”

Enyo only laughed harder. “Look at you!” she gasped between fits of mirth. “All dolled up like a proper damsel. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were preparing for a wedding instead of war.”

Druses gritted his teeth. “It’s a disguise.”

“A disguise?” Enyo wiped at her eyes, still grinning. “Druses, you look like you’re about to be gifted to some warlord.”

Druses’ entire body stiffened. “That’s the point.”

Enyo smirked, resting her chin in her palm. “So you’re telling me,” she purred, “that you’re willingly walking into an enemy camp, dressed like that, pretending to be some helpless little warprize?”

Druses swallowed down the urge to strangle something. “Yes.”

Enyo let out a long, exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. “What a fall from grace,” she said dramatically. “One moment, you’re slaughtering men by the dozens. The next, you’re playing dress-up.”

Druses glared. “Do you have a point?”

Enyo’s smirk widened. “I just came to check on you, darling. But this?” She gestured at him—the flowing fabric, the painted lips, the utter humiliation draped across his face. “This is the best entertainment I’ve had in centuries.”

Druses exhaled sharply through his nose. “I hate you.”

Enyo beamed. “Oh, I love you, my little princess butcher.” She leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. “Now, go out there and make me proud, won’t you, damsel?”

Druses’ grip on his belt nearly snapped the fabric in half. By the time Enyo disappeared, still chuckling to herself, Druses was left standing in the middle of his tent, fists clenched, face burning, and very much considering throwing himself into the nearest fire.

This was humiliating.

And worst of all?

She wasn’t wrong.

—— Antinous strode through the camp with his usual air of confidence, stretching his sore shoulders after the morning’s brutal training session. The place was still in shambles from the ambush, but that didn’t mean there weren’t sights to appreciate amidst the chaos.

That’s when he saw her.

Or at least, he thought it was a her.

Standing a few paces away, a figure draped in soft, flowing fabric stood near one of the tents, their long, wavy black hair cascading down their back in a way that caught the dimming sunlight just right. Their form—small-waisted, hips accentuated by the golden sash tied snugly around them—looked enticingly feminine.

Antinous smirked to himself. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, his usual cocky attitude kicking in. Without a second thought, he sauntered up behind them, let out a sharp whistle, and brought his palm down in a playful, solid smack against their ass.

The moment his hand made contact, he knew something was wrong. The muscles under his palm were too firm. The reaction—too fast. Because instead of a surprised giggle or a scandalized gasp, the figure went rigid. And then, very slowly, they turned around.

Antinous’ smirk froze.

Druses’ face was a picture of murderous rage. His striking purple eyes burned with the fury of a thousand battlefields, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like he was seconds away from biting something clean off. The delicate makeup dusted across his features only served to make his expression look even more terrifying.

Antinous blinked. Then blinked again.

“Oh, shit.”

Druses’ nostrils flared, his entire body shaking with barely contained wrath. Antinous, to his credit, only took a step back—not because he was scared, but because he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he finally said, grinning ear to ear. “Druses?”

“I am going to gut you like a fucking pig,” Druses snarled, fists tightening at his sides. Antinous, instead of apologizing like a normal person, laughed.

A deep, genuine laugh. “Oh, this is too good,” he wheezed, leaning against a tent post for support. “No wonder they picked you for the job.”

Druses took a threatening step forward, and Antinous put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, hey—no need for violence, princess.” Druses lunged.

Antinous barely dodged the punch that came hurtling toward his face, still laughing as he backed away. “Alright, alright! I’ll stop!” Druses didn’t stop. Because he was out for blood.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4|frOgg3r @permanently-nothere

@eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa@doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan @xo-cuteplosion-xo

@galaxygurIll @pjopinkk @h0ne4bee

@minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @yuvany @i-liketoast

[dkniade]

(reading some past birthday mails)

Fischl 2021 birthday mail*: heard you like collecting crystal cores so I got some for you :D

Kaeya 2022 birthday mail: …heard you like collecting crystal cores so I got some for you :))

*possibly Oz’s translation since it’s in prose?

-

(Reacting to Albedo’s birthday mail)

“人们说，作画的目标就是将一刹那的美景化作永恒。”

(as an artist) so you understand!!

“发现旧作的颜料干裂时，我偶尔会循着裂纹补上几笔，如此竟能得到一幅新的得意之作。”

*hiding my face in embrassement/happiness*

“确认了岁月在彼此脸上留下的风霜后，心生慨叹，却也让彼此的情谊更加醇厚。”

...WHY IS THIS GUY SO SMOOTH. Whoever wrote for Albedo’s birthday message this year KNOWS WHAT THEY’RE DOING

风霜？？ figuratively meaning hardships BUT ALSO LITERALLY USING CHARACTERS FOR WIND AND FROST

you poetic Dragonspine bastard is this what living in the City of Poetry does to a person (affectionate)

[link to the Chinese wiki page on character birthday mails]

What kind of poem would he write…..

Oh but, the idea of adding a few strokes upon an old work’s cracked dry paint… Brings to mind Albedo doodling around his imperfection (star mark) which in theory sounds cute but it is the neck we’re talking about

But, adding a few strokes… Hmm, how inspiring. I’ll have to try that sometime with my art too. Of course it doesn’t quite feel the same on a digital artwork but… I guess for too long I’ve held the belief that physical artworks are prone to destruction.

No, actually, an artist I knew in real life has also told me the same thing about adding new strokes to old artworks—or even painting over them completely.

[xi-vz]

Shen Yuan stared up at the man, disbelief clear on his face.

The man before him huffed a laugh, brown eyes becoming crescent shaped with amusement. He was a little taller than Shen Yuan, a little broader, with a sleeve tattoo covering his right arm to his wrist. His dark brown hair was softly curled, more wavy, and a little shaggy, falling to his shoulders. His face reminding Shen Yuan of Binghe. Not a lot, but just enough if he were to tilt his head and squint.

“You’re just a kid.” When the man finally spoke his voice was as smooth as velvet. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” Shen Yuan automatically responded as he gawked.

The man had round wire glasses, a piercing on the left side of his lower lip, both ears were pierced, and he had cheekbones that belonged on a magazine cover. He was a little older than Shen Yuan expected. Somewhere in his late-twenties compared to Shen Yuans late teens.

“Cucumber-Bro, come on, I’m not that different.” Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky offered a smile, showing off dimples underneath a days worth of scruff.

“How old are you?” Shen Yuan demanded, still blocking the doorway into the dorm.

“Thirty.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Shen Yuan asked aloud.

Seriously, this was the caffeine addicted crack-writer?!

When Shen Yuan had woken up back in his dorm room instead of in bed with his husband in the bamboo house, he immediately contacted Airplane—it was a gamble, but it paid off. The relief Shen Yuan felt when Airplane responded was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He gave the other man his phone number and address, then waited an excruciating five days until the two could meet. (Because Shen Yuan lived in Beijing, but Airplane apparently lived in Chengdu, and last minute flights weren’t cheap.)

Shen Yuan knew that his friend would look different. Hell, Shen Yuan looked different! A little shorter, a little rounder, way younger. With pitch black eyes, short inky black hair, and an ear piercing. He was pretty rather than handsome, softer than Shen Qingqiu.

And it wasn’t that Shang Qinghua wasn’t handsome—he was! Like everyone else in PIDW. But Airplane?

“Can I come in?” Airplane asked while shoving his hands into his back pockets. He wasn’t dressed fashionably. His beat up backpack was slung carelessly over a shoulder, jeans were ripped due to wear and tear, his faded band shirt was due to too many washes, his sneakers were scuffed. And yet…

Shen Yuan dressed in the latest fashion. He tried his best to look good, he had standards for himself! He looked like a C-Pop star.

Airplane wasn’t even trying to be hot. (WHY WAS HE SO HOT?!)

It shook something inside of Shen Yuan. All of his past theories of Airplane being a troll flew out the window.

“Well?” Airplane looked like he wasn’t above shoving past his friend to get in.

Shen Yuan allowed his friend inside, still shook.

“Shang Qinghua.”

“What?”

“My name, bro.”

“Wait…you used your actual name for the character closest to Mobei!? Fucking Mary-Sue!”

“Ah, there we go, there’s the Peerless Cucumber I know. Although it’s weird to hear such vitriol from a face so cute.”

Shen Yuan felt the blood rush to his face and wished he had a fan in his hands to use as a weapon when Airplane chuckled.

“Come on, let’s try to figure out how to get back home,” Shang Qinghua said as he moseyed to the desk in the room.

Shen Yuan sighed as he closed and locked the door.

BONUS:

SY: I thought you said you were a broke university student who wrote to make sure food was on the table.

SQH: Yeah, dude. I’m working on my dissertation. Writing pays the bills.

SY: YOU’RE GETTING YOUR DOCTORATES?????

SQH: Yeah, in Topology.

SY: YOU’RE GETTING YOUR DOCTORATES IN MATHS?????

[rmview]

they say something hurtful, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — when the enhypen boys say something hurtful to you in an argument!

contents — angst, hurtful words.

hee 𖦹 seung

arguments weren’t common between you and heeseung, but when they happened, they were intense. he was usually calm and collected, but tonight was different. stress from his packed schedule and the unresolved tension between you had created the perfect storm.

“i don’t get why you always make everything about you,” heeseung snapped, his voice rising in frustration. his words stung, and you flinched.

“i’m not making it about me! i just want you to hear me for once!” you shot back, tears threatening to spill as you tried to keep your voice steady.

he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “you know what? if i’d known you were like this — so needy and dramatic — i wouldn’t have dated you in the first place.”

the silence that followed was deafening. heeseung’s own words echoed in his mind as he saw the hurt in your eyes. your lips parted slightly, as if you were about to say something, but no words came out.

you stepped back, shaking your head. “you didn’t mean that… right?”

heeseung’s heart dropped. he knew he had crossed a line, but his pride kept him silent. you waited for him to say something — anything — but the room stayed painfully quiet.

“i can’t believe you,” you whispered, voice trembling. without another word, you turned and grabbed your coat. “you know what, heeseung? if this is how you really feel, then maybe you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t have dated me.”

as you walked out the door, the sound of it closing behind you felt like a finality heeseung wasn’t ready for. the guilt hit him immediately, but by the time he moved to chase after you, it was too late. you were already gone.

jay 𖦹

jay prided himself on being patient, but tonight his limits were tested. the argument had started small — a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control.

“i’m tired of this, jay! you never listen to me!” you exclaimed, your voice laced with frustration.

“and i’m tired of you always nagging me about everything!” he shot back, his tone sharper than he intended.

you recoiled slightly, hurt flashing in your eyes. “nagging? i’m trying to communicate with you, but all you ever do is shut me out!”

jay clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. “maybe if you weren’t so clingy all the time, i wouldn’t feel the need to shut you out!”

his words hit you like a slap. “clingy?” you repeated, your voice breaking.

jay’s anger faltered as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, but his pride kept him from softening immediately. “yeah,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

you took a shaky breath, your hands trembling at your sides. “if that’s how you feel about me, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

jay’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, panic briefly flashing across his face. “wait, that’s not —”

“no, jay,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the pain. “you’ve made it clear how you see me. i won’t stay where i’m not wanted.”

before he could stop you, you grabbed your bag and walked out. jay stood frozen, the weight of his words crashing down on him as the door shut behind you.

jake 𖦹

jake was usually the one to keep things lighthearted, but tonight, the argument had dragged him into uncharted territory.

“why do you always assume the worst about me?” jake asked, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“because you never give me a reason not to!” you retorted, your frustration bubbling over.

jake threw his hands in the air. “you’re being ridiculous! do you even hear yourself right now?”

“ridiculous?” you echoed, your voice rising. “you’re the one who never takes anything seriously, jake!”

the comment struck a nerve, and jake snapped. “you know what? maybe this is why i don’t take things seriously — because being serious with you is exhausting!”

the room fell silent, his words hanging heavily in the air. jake’s eyes widened slightly as he realized what he’d just said, but the damage was done.

you stared at him, your heart breaking. “exhausting?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

jake opened his mouth to take it back, but the guilt and panic froze him. “i didn’t mean —”

“no,” you interrupted, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. “i got it, jake. i get it now.”

you grabbed your bag and headed for the door. “if i’m so exhausting, then maybe you’ll feel better once i’m gone.”

“wait, don’t —” jake called out, stepping forward, but you didn’t stop. the door closed behind you, leaving him standing alone, regret consuming him as the silence in the room grew unbearable.

sung 𖦹 hoon

sunghoon wasn’t one to raise his voice during arguments, but tonight was different. the frustration in his tone was sharp, and it only seemed to escalate the tension between you.

“i don’t get why you always have to make things so difficult,” sunghoon muttered, pacing the room.

“make things difficult? i’m just asking you to talk to me, sunghoon! you keep shutting me out!” you shot back, your voice trembling.

“maybe i shut you out because you always blow things out of proportion!” he snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

your breath hitched, and sunghoon immediately regretted it. the hurt in your eyes made his heart drop, but his pride kept him standing stiffly.

“blow things out of proportion?” you echoed, your voice soft but laced with pain. “if you really think that, then maybe you don’t know me at all.”

sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words, but his silence spoke volumes. you let out a shaky laugh, more out of disbelief than humor.

“i get it now,” you whispered, grabbing your coat. you couldn’t stand to be around him any longer. “if that’s how you feel, then maybe i should stop trying.”

“wait,” sunghoon said, his voice breaking slightly as he reached out toward you, but you had already opened the door.

you turned back, your expression heartbreakingly calm. “don’t worry, sunghoon. i won’t bother you anymore.”

the door clicked shut, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, the weight of his words crashing down on him. he sank onto the couch, his head in his hands, consumed by regret.

su 𖦹 noo

sunoo hated confrontation, but tonight, the argument had spiraled out of control. his usual patience was worn thin, and the words tumbled out before he could think.

“you’re so sensitive about everything! why can’t you just let it go for once?” he snapped, crossing his arms.

your eyes widened, the sting of his words hitting you like a physical blow. “sensitive? i’m trying to talk to you, sunoo! i’m trying to fix this!”

“well, maybe i don’t want to fix it right now!” he shot back, his voice trembling with frustration. “maybe i need space from all of this — space from you.”

the room went deathly quiet. sunoo’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said, but the damage was done.

“space from me?” you repeated, your voice cracking. “is that what you really want?”

“yes... wait, no — i didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, his tone softening, frustration still clear in his eyes, but you had already stepped back, hurt etched across your face.

“fine,” you whispered, grabbing your bag. “if you need space, you can have it. don’t worry — i won’t take up any more of your time.”

“wait, don’t go,” sunoo pleaded, stepping forward, but you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“i just… i can’t do this right now,” you said, your voice breaking as you walked out the door.

sunoo stood frozen, the weight of his words suffocating him. he sank to the floor, tears streaming down his face as he realized he might have just pushed away the one person who meant the most to him.

jung 𖦹 won

jungwon was usually the calm one, the one who diffused tension with logic and patience. but tonight, his composure cracked under the weight of the argument.

“why do you always assume the worst about me?” jungwon asked, his voice louder than usual.

“because you never let me in!” you fired back, your frustration bubbling over. “you keep everything bottled up, and i’m always left guessing how you feel!”

“maybe i keep things bottled up because you’re impossible to talk to!” he snapped, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

you froze, the hurt in your expression instantly replacing the anger. “impossible to talk to?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

jungwon’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had come, and he immediately regretted his words. “wait, i didn’t mean it like that —”

“no,” you interrupted, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. “you did mean it. and now i get it. i’m impossible to talk to, so why should i even try?”

“please don’t say that,” jungwon pleaded, his voice soft and filled with guilt.

but you had already grabbed your bag, your movements stiff and robotic as you headed for the door. “i won’t bother you anymore, jungwon,” you said, your voice trembling.

as the door closed behind you, jungwon sank into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. the silence of the room was deafening, and he replayed the argument in his mind, each word cutting deeper as he realized how much he had hurt you.

ni 𖦹 ki

ni-ki had always struggled with expressing his feelings during arguments. he often relied on humor or avoidance to diffuse tension, but tonight was different. the argument had escalated quickly, and before he knew it, his frustration boiled over.

“why do you always have to push me like this?” ni-ki snapped, his voice louder than he intended.

“push you?” you retorted, your eyes narrowing. “i’m trying to talk to you because you never let me in, ni-ki! you act like nothing bothers you, but it does, and i know it!”

he rolled his eyes, a frustrated groan escaping his lips. “maybe i don’t let you in because you always make everything a big deal!”

the words hung in the air like a slap. ni-ki froze, realizing too late what he’d just said. your expression shifted, the hurt in your eyes piercing through his defenses.

“a big deal?” you repeated, your voice shaking. “i just wanted to understand you, ni-ki. but if you think i’m such a burden, then maybe i shouldn’t be here at all.”

“no, that’s not —” ni-ki began, but you held up a hand, cutting him off.

“i get it,” you said, your tone quieter now, yet filled with finality. “i’m always the problem, right?”

he panicked, stepping closer to you. “wait, no. i didn’t mean it like that —”

but you were already grabbing your bag, your movements stiff and deliberate. “it’s fine, ni-ki. if that’s how you feel, i won’t push you anymore.”

as you walked out the door, ni-ki stood frozen in place, his heart pounding as he replayed the argument in his mind. the click of the door shutting behind you was deafening, and regret settled heavily in his chest.

he sank onto the couch, his hands gripping his knees tightly. “what have i done?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. he stared at the door, willing you to come back, but the silence of the room only confirmed his worst fear.

notes: happy new year lovelies hehe

[jungwnies]

scaring your f1 boyfriend | requested

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : jump-scaring your boyfriend LOL

୨ৎ : genre : humor ୨ৎ : tws : teasing, yelling, fluff, lots of jumpscares, mentions of scary themes ୨ৎ : word count : 3840

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : the max photo above is literally killing me i cant 😭

ʚ・max verstappen

max had just stepped into the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the stress of the day. the bathroom was dimly lit, a soft glow from the streetlight outside filtering through the small frosted window. you, meanwhile, had been sitting on the couch, bored out of your mind, until the perfect idea struck you.

with the stealth of a spy, you crept to the bathroom and flipped the light switch off. the room was immediately plunged into shadow, save for the faint moonlight that spilled through the window. you silently positioned yourself in front of the shower curtain, your heart racing with anticipation.

inside, max paused. "y/n? did the power go out?"

you stayed silent, fighting the urge to laugh.

"y/n?" his voice was louder this time, tinged with confusion. "hello?"

still, you said nothing.

there was a beat of silence, then the water stopped. you heard him shuffling around, probably grabbing a towel.

"did you forget to pay the electric bill or something?" he asked, his dry humor cutting through the quiet. "seriously, what’s going on? you can at least answer me, you know."

you didn’t move a muscle, standing perfectly still, a shadow among shadows.

"y/n, if you’re trying to mess with me, it’s not funny," he said, his voice closer now.

the shower curtain shifted slightly, and then it flew open. for a second, max didn’t register what he was seeing—the faint outline of a figure standing inches away from him, completely silent and unmoving.

"WHAT THE F—" he jumped back, nearly slipping on the wet tiles as he grabbed onto the shower rod for support.

"y/n!" he barked, his voice cracking slightly. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

you couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, clutching your stomach as he stood there, towel in hand, glaring at you with wide eyes.

"oh my god," he muttered, his hand still on his chest as he tried to catch his breath. "i actually thought i was about to get murdered in my own shower. do you know how ridiculous that is?"

"you should’ve seen your face!" you gasped, tears streaming down your cheeks.

he stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. "you’re lucky i didn’t slip and die. imagine explaining that to everyone." his lips twitched, betraying the smallest hint of a smile.

"totally worth it," you managed between giggles.

he groaned, wrapping the towel around himself. "you’re insane, you know that?" he muttered as he walked past you.

"and you’re so easy to scare," you shot back, grinning.

as he left the bathroom, he called over his shoulder, "enjoy your victory, y/n. because next time, i’m getting you."

ʚ・lewis hamilton

lewis had just wrapped up an exhausting day—a full schedule of training, meetings, and, of course, dodging paparazzi. as he entered the dimly lit bedroom, he was humming lightly to himself, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos you were orchestrating under the bed. you were lying in wait, suppressing giggles as you positioned yourself for the ultimate ankle grab.

he moved around the room with his usual grace, taking his time as he set his phone down on the nightstand and slipped off his jacket. "man, what a day," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his braids. oblivious to the brewing chaos below him, he leaned down to untie his sneakers. you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing—you were so close.

finally, he stood, stretching his arms with a relaxed sigh, and took a casual step toward the bed. now or never, you thought, and as soon as his foot came within reach, you shot your hand out and grabbed his ankle.

"OH SH—!" lewis screamed, leaping so high he looked like he was auditioning for a horror movie. he scrambled backward, nearly tripping over himself as his eyes darted around the room, wide with panic.

"NOPE. NO. NOT TODAY," he shouted, grabbing a pillow off the bed like it was a weapon. "WHO—WHAT IS THAT?!"

you couldn’t hold it in anymore. rolling out from under the bed, you were already crying with laughter, clutching your stomach as you gasped for air.

"y/n?!" he blinked, realization dawning as his terror morphed into sheer disbelief. "nah, nah, nah. are you serious right now?! you’re the demon under the bed?!"

"your face! your scream!" you choked out between fits of laughter. "i didn’t know you had that kind of altitude! do they measure verticals in f1?"

he stood there, hands on his hips, still holding the pillow like a shield. "first of all, don’t test me. i thought i was about to get dragged to hell. second of all, i will sue you for emotional damages."

"oh, come on," you teased, finally sitting up. "you’re a seven-time world champion, but a little ankle grab gets you?"

"don’t even start," he said, his voice shaking with residual laughter as he tried to regain his composure. "i thought i was about to throw hands with a ghost or something!"

"worth it," you grinned, dodging the pillow he threw at you as he finally shook his head, laughing.

ʚ・george russell

it was 3am, and george woke up to what he thought was the faint sound of your voice calling his name. groggy and slightly disoriented, he sat up in bed, glancing over—only to find your side empty.

“y/n?” he called softly, but there was no response.

with a sigh, he swung his legs over the bed and got up, rubbing the back of his neck. the house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every little sound feel amplified.

he stepped out into the dark hallway, the faint moonlight from a nearby window barely illuminating the path ahead. “y/n?” he called again, his voice a bit louder this time.

then he saw them.

at the far end of the hallway stood two small figures wrapped in identical blankets, their faces barely visible in the dim light. they were completely still, their heads slightly tilted to the side in perfect synchronization.

george froze, his breath catching in his throat. “what... the hell?”

he squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. his heart started to pound as one of them took a tiny, almost imperceptible step forward.

“y/n, if this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny,” he said, his voice betraying the fact that he was definitely spooked.

then, in perfect unison, your twin cousins whispered, “come play with us...”

that was it. george practically stumbled backward, his hand slamming into the wall for support. “oh, NO. absolutely NOT.”

he turned on his heel and bolted back toward the bedroom, muttering under his breath, “nope, nope, nope. i didn’t sign up for this. i date you, not some stephen king horror scene.”

you, of course, were hiding just out of sight, trying your hardest not to laugh as you watched the whole thing unfold.

george made it back to the bedroom, his nerves still shot. he sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair and muttering, “this is why i don’t watch horror movies…”

just as he started to relax, he looked up—and there you were, standing completely still in the doorway, wrapped in your own blanket, your face partially obscured by the shadows.

"oh, for—NOPE!" he yelped, scrambling backward on the bed like a man who had just seen his worst nightmare materialize. "y/n, what the actual—how are you everywhere right now?!"

you couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, flipping on the lights as tears streamed down your face. “oh my god, george, you’re too easy!”

his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, and that’s when he noticed your cousins peeking into the room behind you, still eerily in sync, still in their matching blankets.

he groaned, rubbing his temples. “y/n, it’s three in the morning. i genuinely thought i was about to get haunted by some creepy twins.”

“but you weren’t,” you teased. “just my cousins. aren’t they great actors?”

the twins gave him a little wave, their innocent smiles betraying none of the chaos they’d just caused. george blinked, staring at them, then at you. “your cousins?! so, you planned all of this?”

“yep,” you said proudly, walking over to sit beside him. “they nailed it, didn’t they?”

“nailed it?” george repeated, still clutching his chest. “y/n, i thought i was about to die. do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up at 3am and see that at the end of a hallway?”

you couldn’t stop laughing as he continued his rant. “honestly, you’re lucky i didn’t faint. or worse—trip and break something.”

“but you didn’t,” you teased, nudging him.

he sighed dramatically, finally flopping back onto the bed. “if this is the kind of chaos i’m signing up for with you, i’m going to need to start sleeping with a nightlight.”

you grinned, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “you love it.”

he groaned but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “remind me to check for tiny people in blankets before leaving bed at 3am from now on.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

it was one of those mornings where carlos was running a little behind, juggling work and trying to get out the door as quickly as possible. he hopped into his car, mind already on the busy day ahead. he tossed his jacket onto the passenger seat, started the engine, and zoomed off toward the office, not noticing that you were quietly hiding in the backseat.

you’d sneaked into the car earlier when he was distracted, hiding behind the seats and waiting for the perfect moment to scare him.

as carlos drove through the city, his thoughts were consumed with meetings, deadlines, and that one email he needed to send. he hummed along to the radio, completely oblivious to the fact that you were crouched behind him, practically holding your breath.

when he finally pulled into the parking lot at his office, he parked the car and got out, walking around to the back to grab his jacket. you could feel the excitement building up. now, it was showtime.

as soon as carlos opened the back door and turned his back to grab his jacket, you slowly sat up and leaned forward. you had just the right angle to pop your head into his line of sight.

“you forgot something,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

carlos froze. his eyes widened, his whole body went stiff, and before he could even process what was going on, he screamed, his voice high-pitched and panicked.

"¡ME CAGO EN LA P...!" he shouted, his heart racing as his body jerked back. "¡QUÉ COÑO ES ESO?" ("I shit myself!" "What the hell is that?!)

his hands shot up as if he was ready to defend himself, but he just stood there in complete shock, looking at you in the back seat.

after a few seconds of complete silence, he finally found his voice. "y/n, WHAT THE HELL?!"

you were barely holding back your laughter, completely enjoying the chaos you’d caused. “i got you good, huh?”

"cabron!" he cursed, still catching his breath as he tried to steady himself. (jerk!) “why the hell would you do that?!”

you stepped out of the car, still laughing. “i couldn’t resist!”

“seriously, you scared the life out of me,” he said, shaking his head and trying to calm down. he took a deep breath, his voice finally switching back to english. “you know, one of these days, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“you love it,” you teased with a grin.

“yeah, well,” he muttered, rubbing his chest where his heart was still pounding. “next time, you better believe i’m checking the back seat before i even get in the car.”

“oh, i’m counting on it,” you said, still smiling from ear to ear.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles was live on twitch, fully engrossed in a high-stakes sim racing session. he had his headphones on, occasionally glancing at the chat to answer questions or laugh at their antics. what he didn’t know was that you, his girlfriend, were plotting a masterpiece of chaos behind the scenes.

armed with some impressively dark body paint, you transformed yourself into a shadowy figure, blending almost perfectly into the darkness behind his gaming chair. the setup was perfect—his room was dimly lit, with just the glow of his monitors keeping things visible. you slipped quietly into position behind him, crouched low, and waited.

his chat was quick to notice something off.

chat: "charles there’s someone behind you 😳" "bro wtf is that in the back" "TURN AROUND CHARLES."

but charles just chuckled. "guys, stop trying to scare me. i know y/n isn’t here, she’s downstairs."

you bit your lip to suppress a laugh as the chat erupted with frantic messages. then, it was time to strike. you let out a low, guttural growl, something straight out of a horror movie.

charles froze mid-turn. "uh—what was that?" he muttered, glancing around nervously.

"it’s probably the wind," he said, but his voice wavered.

he finally spun around in his chair, squinting into the shadows. at first, he didn’t see anything—just darkness. but then, he grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight.

"chat, you’re being ridiculous, there’s no one here—"

and that’s when he saw you.

painted in a deep, almost pitch-black shade, you stared back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. the flashlight beam caught your eerie silhouette, and he let out the most high-pitched scream you’d ever heard.

"MON DIEU!" he shouted, nearly falling out of his chair as his chat went wild with laughter and messages like "💀💀💀" and "i can’t breathe."

you burst out laughing, standing up to reveal the full extent of your paint job. "surprise!"

"y/n, WHAT IS THIS?" he exclaimed, clutching his chest. "i thought you were a ghost! or a demon!"

his chat was absolutely losing it.

"she’s a menace omg." "y/n deserves an oscar for this." "never trusting the dark again."

charles glared at you, though his lips twitched in amusement. "you are unbelievable. i will get you back for this, i promise."

"worth it," you said with a grin, blowing him a kiss.

the clip went viral, and for weeks, his fans teased him about his "ghost girlfriend." meanwhile, you were already planning your next prank.

ʚ・lando norris

lando was sprawled on the couch, his attention fully on the game in front of him. his fingers moved rapidly over the controller, the sound of the game providing a steady backdrop to his intense focus. you had been waiting for the perfect opportunity, and now was your chance.

earlier, you had picked up a realistic fake cockroach, the kind that would easily fool anyone into thinking it was real. with it in hand, you silently crept toward lando as he was deeply engrossed in his game, completely unaware of the chaos about to unfold.

you waited until he leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen, and then you placed the cockroach right on his lap. you quickly backed away, staying just out of sight, holding your breath, waiting for his reaction.

it didn’t take long.

lando, completely unaware at first, shifted in his seat, and then his eyes widened when he glanced down and saw the cockroach. for a moment, he froze, his brain taking a second to process what was happening. and then, in true lando fashion, his reaction was absolutely priceless.

“what the hell?!” he yelped, jumping off the couch like he’d just been electrocuted. the controller flew from his hands, landing with a loud clunk on the floor. he stepped back, looking down at his lap like the cockroach was some kind of ticking time bomb.

“oh my god!” he shouted, his voice higher than usual as he stumbled backward, his eyes scanning the floor. “y/n!! what the actual hell?!”

you were already standing by the door, biting your lip, trying to keep from bursting out laughing at his reaction.

“i—uh, i just thought you might want to meet a new friend,” you said, grinning as you stepped into the room.

lando’s face had gone from absolute panic to an exaggerated glare. “no! that was not funny. you’re a menace!” he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but his heart was still racing. “i thought i was about to die. i can’t believe you did that to me.”

you were laughing at this point, absolutely loving how freaked out he was. “you’re so dramatic,” you teased, holding up the fake cockroach. “it’s just a toy, lando.”

he stared at you like you were insane. “you know i’m terrified of bugs, and you still thought this was a good idea?” he rubbed his face in exasperation, though there was a slight smile tugging at his lips. “i swear, i’m going to get you back for this.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, still grinning. “you’re so lucky i didn’t make it real.”

lando shot you a side-eye. “next time, i’m locking the door. and you’re not getting anywhere near me with anything that crawls.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you had been eyeing that haunted doll on ebay for weeks. the description was too good to pass up: “genuine haunted doll, spiritual energy present, handle with care.” it was perfect for a prank, and you knew oscar would hate it. he was already freaked out by anything remotely supernatural, so you were just dying to get your hands on this doll. when it finally arrived in the mail, you couldn’t wait to start your little game.

of course, oscar had warned you that buying a haunted doll was a terrible idea. “don’t you dare bring that thing into our house,” he had said, his face scrunched in worry. “it’s bad enough that you already watch ghost shows. why do you need an actual haunted doll?”

you grinned mischievously, already planning your moves. “it’ll be fine, oscar. i’m sure it’s just a bunch of fake stories.”

he didn’t look convinced, but as usual, you went ahead with your plan. the night after the doll arrived, you decided it was time to mess with him. you placed the doll in the living room chair, its beady little eyes staring blankly ahead. in the dead of night, you casually walked past, dropping it on the floor, facing a different direction.

by the time oscar woke up the next morning, he was already uneasy. he noticed the doll on the floor in the living room, but he shrugged it off—until it happened again.

the next night, you quietly slipped the doll onto the bed, positioning it so that its lifeless gaze met his when he opened his eyes in the morning. as expected, he jumped back when he saw it, groaning loudly, "y/n, come on! this isn't funny anymore!"

"i swear, oscar, i don’t know how it got there," you said, acting all innocent, trying not to burst out laughing. "maybe you moved it?"

he glared at you. "no, i didn’t. i know you’re messing with me."

but it wasn’t over. you kept sneaking the doll into different spots: the bathroom counter, the kitchen table, the shower. he would get startled each time, becoming more and more agitated. you kept up the act, pretending to be clueless, like the doll was really just showing up on its own.

that night, though, something strange happened.

as you were lying in bed, just drifting off to sleep, you heard something faint. a soft scraping sound. it was so quiet, you thought it was just your imagination. but then, you heard it again—a slight, dragging noise, coming from the living room.

oscar shifted beside you, his eyes wide. "did you hear that?" he whispered.

you stayed still, listening, trying to figure out if it was just the house settling. but then it happened again, louder this time. a small creak of wood. it sounded like… steps.

oscar was now wide awake, heart racing. “please tell me that’s not the doll.” he whispered, voice shaking.

you swallowed hard, your earlier bravado fading. “it couldn’t be.”

both of you slowly got up, creeping into the living room. as you approached, the doll was sitting in the chair again—but its head was turned toward the door. the same direction you and oscar had just come from. you froze, your stomach dropping.

oscar's voice was barely a whisper. “nope. i’m done. this is actually haunted.”

you could barely breathe as you stepped closer, but something felt off. something wasn’t right.

and then, in an instant, the doll’s head jerked to the side. a loud creak echoed through the room as it turned to face both of you fully.

oscar went pale, his voice cracking. “y/n… i think your little prank backfired.”

before you could react, oscar practically bolted for the door, yelling, "i’m not sleeping here tonight! i’ll take my chances with the cold!"

you stood there, dumbfounded, looking between him and the doll. your heart raced as you realized you had been pranking yourself just as much as him.

“uh, yeah,” you muttered to yourself, stepping backward. “maybe we should call it quits on this haunted doll thing.”

but oscar didn’t even hear you. he was already out the door and halfway down the hallway. all you could do was look at the doll, now facing the front door with a strangely satisfied expression.

“looks like you got me back,” you sighed, glancing at the doll’s unblinking eyes.

and for the first time since buying it, you had second thoughts about having it around at all.

you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the dread creeping up your spine. oscar’s panicked face flashed in your mind, and you realized you’d gone way too far.

you looked at the doll, still in the chair, and muttered to yourself, “i think i’m calling someone tomorrow.”

oscar, hearing your voice behind him, turned back toward you from the hallway. “what?”

“i’m calling someone who deals with these haunted… things,” you said, crossing your arms and trying to look confident despite the unease settling in your chest. “someone who knows how to get rid of it without… angering it, or whatever.”

oscar stared at you for a moment before his eyes widened. “you’re seriously going to call someone? now?”

“i don’t think this is a joke anymore, oscar,” you replied, glancing back at the doll. “i’m getting rid of it tomorrow. trust me. i’ll handle it.”

oscar didn’t look convinced, but his relief was palpable. “good,” he muttered. “i’m sleeping at a hotel tonight.”

you watched him disappear down the hall, before turning back to the doll. “guess we’ve both learned our lesson, huh?” you said quietly, the weight of the situation finally hitting you.

tomorrow, you’d be dealing with the haunted doll… but for tonight, you figured it was better to stay far, far away.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[pholla-jm]

My Wife is Real

IMAGINE: MY WIFE IS REAL~ GOJO X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. use of y/n. use of she/her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who do you think he’s texting?” Nobara whispers to her two classmates, Yuji and Megumi. 

Their teacher, Gojo Satoru, sat at his desk. Legs kicked up onto the desk while he was on his phone, giggling here and there. 

It was questionable if Gojo even knew that class had started. 

Megumi didn’t even bother to pay attention. He also sat on his phone, scrolling through social media. 

“I don’t know…” Yuji ponders. “Ugh, he has to be harassing a poor soul.” Yuji gasps at Nobara’s response, “no.” 

Nobara sits up in her seat, “Gojo-sensei,” she calls out. Gojo peeks up, “oh. I didn’t know you were here.” “Maybe if you stopped bothering people, you would notice.” 

Gojo places his hand on his chest and gasps dramatically. “I am not bothering anyone.” “Then who are you texting?” “My wife, duh.” 

Nobara bursts out laughing, “hahaha, yeah… yeah right.” She wheezes. Tears left the corner of her eyes as she tried to take him seriously, but she really couldn’t. 

Yuji just stares at him in confusion, “you’ve never told me about his wife. I don’t believe you.” 

Gojo gasps in shock and disbelief at his student’s words. “Huh?! I do too have a wife. That hurts my feelings that you don’t believe me!” 

Gojo’s full focus was on his students now. Trying to convince them that his wife is indeed real. “She’s literally the best person in the whole world, and the prettiest.” 

Nobara scoffs and rolls her eyes, “stop making things up Gojo-sensei. It’s getting sad at this point.” 

Gojo pouts at her words. He then grabs his phone, typing something in his phone. He puts his phone down with a triumphant smile on his face. “You’ll see.” 

“Yeah… we’ll see.” Nobara says to Megumi and Yuji. 

Megumi on the other hand was not paying attention to a single thing that was going on. He assumed something stupid was going on, so why even bother to pay attention? Yuji just has a thoughtful look on his face, trying to remember any mention of a wife. But there is no mention of one. 

“Yeah… I think you’re making this up… sorry Gojo-sensei.” “This is just getting sad…” Nobara whispers while shaking her head. 

“I can’t believe my student’s have little faith in me.” 

Only five minutes passed of slight bickering between until a knock was heard at the door. The bickering died down and all heads turned towards the door. 

Nobara’s and Yuji’s eyes widen seeing a woman at the door. 

“Who is that?” Yuji whispers to Nobara. She shrugs her shoulders, “has to be someone he hired.” 

Gojo jumps from his chair, a huge smile on his face. “Wifey!” 

He runs over to you, pulling you into a tight hold. 

You let out a strangled gasp from the impact. “Gojo,” you start, “this is the second time you forgot your lunch… and it’s only Tuesday.” 

Gojo pulls back, a faux pout on his lips, “I’m sorry.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I bet you’re just using this as an excuse to see me.” “Whoops, you caught me. Well, while you’re here. Let me introduce you to my students.” 

“Wait wait-” You didn’t get a chance to stop him because he dragged you into the front of the classroom. 

You eye the three students. Megumi had finally put down the phone, giving you an apologetic look. Nobara and Yuji were looking at you in shock. 

“Students, this is my wife, (y/n).” Gojo basically shows you off with a bright smile on his face. Hands in a jazz hand formation. You nervously smiled at the students. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello Gojo-san.” Megumi quietly said, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. You gave the boy a sweet smile, nodding at him. 

“What?! Do you know her?” Nobara and Yuji ask him. “Yes…” 

“Yes, they’ve known each other for quite awhile now…. Sorry guys. She’s a bit shy.” Gojo says while you continue to smile at them. 

“They didn’t believe Gojo-sensi had a wife..” Megumi tells you. 

You hum before turning to Gojo, “I see… I don’t blame them.” 

“Huh?! What is that supposed to mean?” You roll your eyes. “Ever so dramatic.” “...so mean.. How can my wife be so cruel?” 

“Ugh, no one cares,” Nobara sighs, “come sit down with us (y/n)-sensei. I have so much to ask you.” 

You just smile at the girl and move over to the desks. 

Gojo looks at you with a shocked look. Not believing that you were leaving his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asks you. You look back at him, “well, you wanted me to meet your students. So I’m getting to know them.” 

You give him a little smirk and Gojo knows that type of smirk. The one where he’s going to regret his actions later. 

Maybe not now, but he knows that this decision will come to bite him.

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men Making Up With You After A Fight

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna, FAB!Reader

Content Warning: sex, makeup sex, fighting, public sex, choking, dirty talk!

Word Count: 5,453

A/N: Hot diggity damn, makeup sex time. Gojo’s had me cackling!! As always, requests are open!! I don’t bite. . unless you ask nicely 😈

Gojo Satoru

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you ignored it, much like the other ten times it rang. You instead headed for the concession stand at the theater. Your boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, had pissed you off beyond all means. He'd forgotten all about your date. The specific date you had been planning for a month. You intended to celebrate at the fanciest restaurant and made reservations two weeks ago. All for him! Because they had world-class desserts.

You got there before him; they took you to your private table. Where you waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, forty-five minutes later, you called him.

“Hey, babe!” He said over the sound background chatter. “What's up? I'm out at the new cafe with Suguru and Nanami!”

“Oh?” Gritting your teeth, you tapped your nails against the table. “Are you having fun?” The tone of your voice was bitter and cold.

Your boyfriend hesitated, “Uhm yeah, the desserts are delicious.” Rage boiled in your gut.

“You know who else has delicious desserts?” He hummed, but you didn't give him a chance to answer. “The restaurant I'm at! You know the one I made reservations for three weeks ago?!”

You could practically see the fear in your boyfriend's voice. “Oh fuck, shit! That was tonight?! Stay there; I'll be there in a couple of minutes.” Your eyes stung with unshed tears.

“No, you can come, but I won't be here.”

You had done just as you said, quickly paying for your tab before hurrying out of the restaurant before Gojo could teleport there. You crossed the street, heading towards the movie theater. There was not a chance in hell he would find you in here. You were heartbroken; all the effort you put into your date was wasted.

You sat in the very back of the empty theater. You were feeling some ease that there was no one here. Then again, they were playing older movies anyone could stream nowadays. You seriously doubted anyone would be joining you to watch Titanic. You could zone out, cool down, and try to figure out what to say to Satoru the next time you see him.

As the opening credits started to play, you heard a door slam open. Peeking down, you choked on popcorn as you noticed your boyfriend scanning the theater. Bright blue eyes seemed to glow as he held his blindfold in one hand. Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin stupid Six-Eyes! Those blue eyes instantly found you, and you could see the relief wash over Satoru. You hid your face behind the bucket of popcorn, internally groaning as you heard him bounding up the stairs.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you wait for me?!” You ignored him, slowly lowering the bucket to stare at the movie screen. “Hey, hello?”

“Shh!” You scolded before stuffing more popcorn in your mouth. Avoiding his questions altogether.

His shoes stepped over the soda-sticky floor, blocking your view of the screen. “We need to talk.” His hand gently reached out, index finger lifting your chin to look up at him.

“Fuck you.” You said, getting up and moving further down the row, plopping down in a seat.

“Y/N baby!” The groan he let out had you rolling your eyes. “Please, I’m sorry I forgot!” He bounded after you, only for you to get up stepping into the lower row. Your action had Gojo stopping in his tracks, the two of you staring at each other. “Are you playing keep away?”

A rich laugh escaped him, one that was full of humor and delight. It had him hunching over as he cackled. You hated it, but you found your smile tugging at your lips. Here he was, groaning and whining like a child, and you weren’t any better. You were running away from him, pouting like a toddler that didn’t get their way.

Gojo’s laughter the tears forming in his eyes, had your heart feeling lighter. God, he was such a cutie. A cutie who forgot all about your date. A date you’d spent time, money, and energy on! All for his benefit. Holy shit, the Gojo charm almost had you forgiving him!

“No!” You snapped, stomping down your foot like the mature adult you were. “Shut up! I’m mad at you.”

Turning to head further down the row, you gasped as Satoru jumped over the row, landing right in front of you. “Look, just give me a chan—“ he started before you threw a handful of popcorn in his face, “okay, and here I thought I was the immature one.” His tongue darted out, licking at the salty butter off the corner of his mouth.

“You are! Toru, seriously! I put all that time and effort into planning that for you!!” You threw another piece directly at his forehead. He allowed the abuse with the popcorn to continue. He was staring at you as you tossed another piece at him.

“Are you done now?” He asked as you hugged the bucket to your chest. “Awesome, cool.” He reached out, ruffling your hair. “I can’t make up for missing the date that I seriously appreciate you planning and paying for. I can, however, make the most out of the night I fucked up.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” You flung one more piece of popcorn at him. It hit infinity before he snatched the bucket from you, placing it in one of the empty chairs.

“You’ll see.” A childlike smile was plastered across his face as he ran down the stairs, grabbing two bags before running back up to you. “We might not be at the fanciest of restaurants.” Your heart soared as he held out a take-out bag from the restaurant where you had made reservations. “But dinner and the Titanic?” He learned by pressing his forehead against yours. “Sounds like a great fuckin’ date to me.”

Taking the bag out of Satoru’s hands, you sighed, your fingers grazing over his longer ones. He didn’t have to pick up dinner from the restaurant you planned to take him to. Satoru didn't even need to try to find you when he knew you were angry, yet here he was—trying to prove to you just how sorry he was. Those were some of the things you loved about him. Cocky, annoying, and charming in more ways than one.

With your free hand, you grab onto Satoru’s wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Has anyone told you that you're a charming asshole?” Seeing your smile, Satoru let out a sigh of relief before intertwining your fingers.

“Nope, that one's new.”

“Don't push it.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He grabbed the popcorn bucket before following you back to the top row. The two of you cracked open the takeout containers, eating the delicious food while whispering as you watched the movie.

Halfway through the food and movie, you hummed, watching the infamous steamy car scene before you turned to Satoru, who yawned. “Hey, Toru.” he tilted his head, turning to look down at you. “Do you think we could recreate this scene?” He perked up. “In a veil?”

“Oh, holy fuck!” You yelled, hand gripping Satoru’s shoulder as you bounced up and down on his cock. “Fuck, oooh fuck!”

Your boyfriend's head was tilted back against the chair. Whines and whimpers escaped his pressed lips as you slammed yourself up and down as hard and as fast as you could. The tiny viel Satoru had put around the two of you was keeping you concealed, and the heat within the small space.

The thick, musky, almost sweet smell of sex was getting to you, making you hotter and hornier. Knowing the two of you were fucking in such an open space, without people knowing, God, it was so hot. You were going to fuck Toru’s brains out as both punishment for forgetting your date and for making it one you would never forget.

“Y/N, please,” Satoru cried out, “please fuck.”

“Please, what, Toru~?” You cooed, rocking yourself back and forth on his dick, making his jaw drop into a wide ‘O’. “Tell me what you want baby~”

“I wanna cum; I wanna cum in your pussy.” He begged, his hands groping and massaging your breasts. “Please, baby~?”

You giggle just before you can respond to the people entering the theater. The cleaning ushers, no doubt. Your body seized up, clamping down on Satoru’s cock, causing him to growl. Your hand flew up, covering his mouth as you listened to the staff talking. While they couldn’t see you, the thought of strangers walking around while you had sex, god, it made you wetter than wet.

Keeping your hand over Satoru’s mouth, you fucked yourself down on him like he was your own personal dildo. His whines grew louder under your hand as he gripped your ass, helping you fuck yourself on him. He was so close, so, so close.

All he needed was a little push. That push is your twitching cunt. You rocked faster, your free hand resting over his chest, as you felt your orgasm coming in fast before your back arched. A silent scream etched your face as you came hard. Satoru gaped into your eyes, eyebrows furrowed together, as one hand gripped your ass and the other smacked into the veil.

Or rather, through it.

A bloody murder scream came from one of the workers as a disembodied hand popped out of thin air. The co-workers followed her out, screaming and yelling. At the same time, Satoru pulled his hand back inside the veil. The two of you were coming down, your bare chest resting against his. You just stared at each other for a long moment before you both started to giggle loudly.

“G-Guess the handprint scene doesn't work well in the veil.” Satoru chuckled, cupping strands of hair behind your ear.

“Guess not.” Was your confirmation, as you slowly pulled yourself off of Satoru’s lap with a wince. “Such a shame. I was hoping for better results.”

“Hmm, it might not work with the veil, but I have an idea where we could try because I’m not done yet. I still haven't apologized to you in the way you deserve.”

“Oh?” You both picked up your trash and readjusted your clothes as Satoru lowered the veil.

“Yeah, I wanna apologize to you in the shower, in our bed, fuck even the balcony.” The two of you ran for the exit door. “It's a good thing that the restaurant you picked out is known for the aphrodisiac desserts.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oooh, sweetie,” Satoru sneered down at you with a mischievous chuckle.“Why do you think I kept bugging you to take me to that restaurant?”

It was going to be a very long night for you.

Nanami Kento:

“Damn!” The soft curse woke you up; you rubbed your eyes, watching your fiancè searching for something on the dresser.

“Kento?” Your groggy voice drew his attention towards you. “Welcome home.”

Your beloved fiance had been gone for two weeks. He'd just gotten home last night; Gojo had picked him up for you. You had been working your ass off for the previous two weeks. You picked up the work of another co-worker who had just walked out without notice. Gojo knew you had been running around for two weeks filing paperwork, assigning missions, and helping Shoko. He was instant on you getting some sleep. He assured you he'd get Nanami, and you were thankful for him doing that for you.

This way, you could spend more time with Kento.

“Where are my cufflinks?” Nanako snapped, his eyes full of annoyance.

His tone had you blinking in stunned silence. “Right there,” you motioned to the box he always kept them in, “was your mission rough?” That would explain his cold, sharp tone.

“Yes, Y/N, it was rough.” He opened the box, grabbing the links before slamming it shut. “You wouldn't understand.”

His words sliced through you like a hot knife. “Excuse me?” You three the sheets off your body, standing to face him. “What the hell do you mean I wouldn't understand?!” Nanami Kento rolled his eyes at your anger.

“I'm simply stating the truth. You don't understand what it's like to go out on missions, fight, and do more than paperwork.” His hand ran through his still-damp hair. “So I'm just trying to understand why you couldn't pick me up last night. Gojo told me that you were burning the candle at both ends. I fail to see how that is even possible.”

The bedroom was nearly silent. The only sound that you could hear over the boiling rage was your heartbeat in your ears. “Get out of my way.” Was all you could manage as you pushed past him, digging through your drawers for clothes.

“Honestly, why are you acting like a child?”

“Why are you acting like a dick?!” Nanako was seconds from snapping back, but his words evaded him when he saw you crying. “You have no idea how hard my job is!” Your hands wiped uselessly at the stream of tears. “My worthless coworker quit. So I'm stuck doing my job and hers!”

“Y/N.”

“Yes! I do loads of paperwork, and I sit in front of a computer most of my day.” You pulled on your pants, stepping out of Nanami’s grasp. “It may not be physically demanding, but in a mental aspect, I'm drained. Paperwork, mission assignments, and death notices!” Honey-brown eyes went wide. “Yeah, that's why my coworker quit! She couldn't handle it!”

“Love, I—”

You held a hand up, silencing Nanami. “So last night, Gojo picked you up instead of me because I was in Kyoto. Telling a mother and father that their eighteen-year-old son died!” Flashes of Yu Haibara flashed through Nanami’s eyes.

He could barely handle his death, imagining what his parents went through. When someone in your position told them that their child was gone, he couldn't even begin to imagine what that must have been like. Emotionally and mentally draining. He had no idea how much your job consisted of because you hardly brought it up. More concerned with him.

“Y/N, I had no clue—”

“No, fuck you.” You turned on your heel, racing for the door. “Welcome home! Kindly go fuck yourself.” With those words, you left, leaving Nanami alone in your apartment.

It took you a couple of hours to cry out your feelings. The exhaustion and stress of the last two weeks hit you all at once with Nanami’s cruel words. He had no clue what you went through without him here. It didn't matter if he was just as exhausted as you were. Both of you had been ground to bones in two weeks apart.

Despite all of those factors, he still had no right to talk to you the way he had.

But as much as you wanted to stay away from him, your apartment, reality, you had to go back. Your engagement ring glimmered as a stupid reminder, even if he had crossed a line today. Nanami was still the love of your life.

The second you unlocked the door to the apartment, you sighed. “I'm home.” Your voice was barely audible.

Just as you finished removing your shoes, you looked up to see Nanami. His cheeks and neck flushed as he looked at the floor. Your fiance looked like a dog that had been scolded, as he should. Despite wanting to throw yourself into his arms and cry out your frustration, to hit, to beg him to hold you tight, you just walked past him.

Entering your living room, your heart lurched into your throat as you gasped. A large bouquet of roses is on your coffee table, surrounded by all your favorite snacks. The words ‘I’m Sorry’ were spelled in rose petals on the floor.

You had thought you were incapable of crying anymore, yet fresh tears spilled over your tear-stained cheeks. Nanami’s body looked over you, his hands hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. To Nanami’s relief, you didn't attempt to pull away.

“Y/N, I'm so, so, sorry.” you leaned back into his chest, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “The way that I acted this morning was utterly disgusting. I took my frustration and anger out on you, the last person I should ever hurt.” His fingers began kneading and rubbing at your sore muscles. “Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me? For being an irrational ass?”

”A major ass.” Nanami’s whole body relaxed at your soft voice.

He turned you around to face him, his strong arms holding you flush against him. “Yes, a total and complete asshole.” Once your arms wrapped around his waist, he fully relaxed. ”Are you okay?” His smooth voice whispered, his chin resting on top of your head. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No, I just want you.”

Pulling away to look up at him, he noticed the dark circles under your eyes. “Yeah? Do you need me to help you fall asleep?” His hand trailed down, gripping your hips. Your nod was the only confirmation he needed.

Sprawled out over the bed, candles burning, soft music playing, you gasped and whimpered. Nanami’s face was buried between your thighs, kissing and sucking at your drenched folds. Those honey-brown eyes that had been filled with concern and worry earlier were now drowning in lust. His needs could wait until later. This was all about you, making you feel better.

”Fuck Ken!” Your fingers grazed over his undercut before gripping the longer strands of hair. “Don’t stop, please, fuck.” Obeying your wishes, Kento’s tongue moved faster. Sucking and slurping at you. Quenching the thirst he had been craving for the last two weeks. “Yes, yes, yes!’

Feeling your cunt clenching, Kento shoved two fingers inside of you, his tongue focusing on your clit. You gasped, eyes wide as his two fingers rubbed expertly against your g-spot. You swore he nearly sent you to heaven as white spots flooded your vision. You screamed before squirting all over his face. The sensation, the taste of your cum had him rutting his hips into the mattress. His tongue did not once let up. It was your orgasm, the content sigh that left your lips that had him stiffening. His cock spurting cum all within the confines of his boxers and sweats.

Your dazy eyes trailed down over your nude body, focusing on Kento’s rutting form. Humping the mattress until the last waves of both of your orgasms came to an end. Kento hummed, his voice vibrated against your still trembling pussy. When he found the strength to pull away, You smiled as he trailed soft kisses up your thighs, hips, stomach, and chest before finally landing on your lips.

You kiss back softly, his arms pulling you close as he pulls you to lay on his chest. His hands gently caressed up and down your back, a slight frown gracing his face. “Ken,” you kiss his chest, “it’s fine. Please don’t worry about it anymore.” His eyes glanced at you before back at the ceiling, his fingers never once pausing.

“I know, I just, I didn’t know your job consisted of so much.” His eyes shut tight, eyebrows scrunching together. “You do all those reports, help Shoko, inform families of deaths, and on top of that, you take care of our home.”

His words from over, repeated over and over, on a loop. Just a desk job? You didn’t know what he went through. When it was the other way around, he didn’t know what you went through daily. His words were cold and cruel. All because he had taken his exhaustion and frustration out on you. The most important person in his life.

Your slender finger gently rubbed up and down the bridge of his nose. Grounding him, pulling him out of the deep void of his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he was met with your glimmering Y/E/C eyes. Your sleepy gaze and gentle smile had his heart clenching in his chest.

”Ken, it’s okay. You didn’t know, much like I don’t know about all of the struggles you go through.” Your gentle touch had him relaxing against the mattress. “Let’s just agree not to downplay each other again. We both work hard, every day, to make this life for us to share.” Slowly pulling your hand away, you leaned up, kissing his lips. “As long as we come home to each other at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

Kento smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Y/N.” Your warm, tired smile had him melting. “I’m home.”

“Welcome home, Kento.” You whispered against his lips.

Ryomen Sukuna:

You loved your boyfriend, really you did. But for the last week, he’d been almost insufferable. His younger brother Yuuji was on Spring break. His best friend Megumi had invited him to join him and his family for the week on the beach. Sukuna all but packed Yuuji’s bags for him, ushering the twerp out of the apartment before locking it up, heading to spend the week with you.

It was like his own personal spring break away from his brothers.

Which also was the start of a week from hell for you. At first, the weekend was lovely. The two of you stayed in, had crazy, animalistic sex, and just enjoyed each other. But when Monday rolled around and you left for work, things took a turn.

You came home to find Sukuna’s clothes all around the room, the dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and he was snoring on the couch. At first, you were upset. The poor guy was raising his young brother while their other brother, Choso, was on vacation with some college friends. Sukuna truly did bust his ass for his brothers, so it made sense that he was beat.

So you let it go, picked up, washed the dishes, and made the two of you dinner. It had been somewhat annoying, but it was alright. You wanted to make sure Sukuna got as much rest as he could before he went back to work the following week.

Tuesday afternoon, you came home to a similar situation: clothes everywhere, dishes in the sink, only Sukuna had just returned from the gym. When he got home, he started helping you before taking a shower. Maybe he had just been so interested in getting to the gym that he forgot to do the dishes. That sort of thing happened when you were in a rush, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But when you got home today, it was the same damn story. You looked around the apartment, groaning out loud as Sukuna scrolled briefly through Netflix. There were empty soda cans, trash, and, of course, his gym clothes all over the floor. This was not the man you knew.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” Your sharp tone had him turning in your direction. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find something to watch on Netflix?” He raised an eyebrow as if it wasn’t obvious what he was doing.

“I can see that!” You scrubbed a hand over your face. “I meant all the trash, clothes, and everything!”

“Oooh,” he looked around the apartment, “I’ll get to it.”

You tugged at your hair with an exasperated groan. “That’s not the point! Why are you trashing the place to begin with?”

“I’m on vacation.”

“So?!” Your tone had his full attention now. “When I have a day off, I don’t trash your place.”

Sukuna pinched at the bridge of his nose with a grumble. “Are we seriously going to fight about this?” He narrowed his gaze at you, those eyes you normally adored full of irritation. Irritation that had no right to even be there!

“Yes, we are! How is it fair that I make us breakfast, go to work, come home, and make dinner? On top of that, you expect me to come home and pick up your trash and clothes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah.” The answer that came out of his mouth far faster than you thought. “I mean, that’s your job. It’s what you’re good at.” Sukuna rolled a shoulder as he twirled the remote between his fingers. “I exercise spirits, and you—“ He finally turned, seeing the rage and darkening of your cheeks. “You—are good at caring for the house and cooking.”

Oh, he’d fucked up.

You didn’t say a word. Instead, you scoffed and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door. Sukuna winced and turned his head to face your room. Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words. He had meant to say, well, that you were a good caretaker, wifey material. Now that he was looking around the room, truly taking in the state of your usually well-kept home, your words were beginning to settle in his gut.

Had he been that lazy and messy? The take-out containers, his gym clothes, and empty cans confirmed that, yes, he had. Ever since his brothers left, he didn’t have to move constantly. He didn’t have to take Yuuji to school, helping Choso with homework. He had time to himself, where he didn’t have to ensure everything was in tip-top shapes. This was a chance for him to mellow out and relax.

He’d wanted to spend this mellow time with you, his girlfriend, the most amazing woman he’d ever met. But instead, he’d gotten lazy, stuck in a rut of not having to do such a damn thing. This wasn’t how he normally acted, so why now? Fuck, and to tell you you were nothing but a maid, that it was your job. Yeah, no, he totally fucked up.

You were his girlfriend, partner, and the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Most of his other partners hadn’t been able to handle the fact he was a single dad. He had raised his two brothers, just the three against the world. But you, god, you were an angel. You helped him out, making dinners and teaching him the best ways to cook and stir certain foods, which grocery stores had the best sales. You had made him a better man, a better brother.

And he’d gone and turned himself into a shitty boyfriend, trashing your apartment, making misogynistic comments, hurting you. He had to fix this. Or he might very well end up losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Without a second thought, he got up, executing his plan.

You needed an hour and a half to yourself before you had completely calmed down. You glanced at your reflection, whipping at your tear-stained cheeks before entering the living room. All you needed to do was grab something to eat and go back to bed. When you walked out into the messy living room, you stopped.

The trashed room scattered with clothes was completely picked up, and the coasters and books were neatly put back into place. Sukuna was nowhere to be found. So you headed into the kitchen, which was also spotless. No crumbs were on the counters, and the dishes had been cleaned and put away. There was still no sign of Sukuna.

Part of you was still angry and didn’t want to see him. The other part of you wanted to thank him and hear what he had to say. Just as you were pulling your phone out to call him, your door opened. Sukuna stepped in with a bag of takeout. He took his shoes off, placing them where they were supposed to go before he locked the door.

“Suku?” He jumped, startled by your voice. But he slowly turned to you, giving you a remorseful smile.

“Hey,” he put the takeout on the counter, “Y/N, I—“ his cheeks flushed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You know I’m not the best with apologies, and I suck at fucking using my words.” With a heavy sigh, he grabbed your hand. “But what I said earlier was fucked up, and I’m sorry. I don’t see you as some maid, I just.” You couldn’t help but smile as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want you ever to feel like I don’t appreciate everything you do. You’ve made me a better man, and I unfortunately haven’t been like that this week.”

You hummed, nodding in agreement as you interlaced your fingers with his. “Yeah, you’ve been a manchild. Yuuji would have been more mature than you.” He cringed, dropping his head down. “Then again, you did clean up your mess and pick me some dinner.” Your thumb brushed over his knuckles. “So maybe you haven’t been as bad as you think.” Sukuna was leaning in to kiss you, but you squeezed his hand tighter and tighter until it was almost painful. “But if you ever tell me it’s my job to take care of you or the chores again, I’ll put you in my trunk and help people look for you.”

Your boyfriend winced before nodding in understanding. “Right, yes, understood.” The second your hand softened, he pulled you towards the bedroom. “Come on.” You blushed, watching his back. His neck was a soft, rosy color.

“What are we doing?”

“You’re not doing anything.” He said, pushing you back against the bed. “I’m going to show you how much I appreciate you.”

Oh, and Sukuna did just that. He licked and sucked on your clit until you came. His fingers slammed in and out of you, fucking you until you squirted all over his hand. His smirk was sinister and hungry each time you came. Only when you were fucked out of your mind did he decide to fuck you with his cock.

“Please~ please, Suku~” You panted as he rubbed his cock head up and down your entrance. “Please.”

“Why are you begging?” He grunted as he slid his entire length into you. “You want my cock that bad.” He smirked at your tiny whimpers, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way.

“Yes, yes, I want it.” You grabbed his hand, and he went to hold it, only to watch as you placed it over your throat. “Give it to me.” You felt his cock throb inside of you.

He squeezed without having to be told twice. “Such a dirty slut I have.” He squeezed harder as he pulled out. “Here I’m trying to be romantic.” He slammed into you, the bed creaking under the force. “And my slutty little Y/N wants me to fuck her pussy like I normally do.” You whimpered, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, that’s the best way to show you how much you mean to me, right? Fuckin’ that tight cunt until you can’t walk. Making sure you’re ruined, only I can satisfy you and your needs.” He grabbed your thighs, pressing them to your chest, forcing you into a mating press.

“K-Kuna!” You cried out as he released your throat, his hands fisting the sheets.

“That’s right, scream my fuckin’ name.” He groaned, pressing a searing kiss against your swollen lips. “Scream it, let everyone know how much your boyfriend appreciates you, how good he fucks you.”

His words, the deep thrusts, and your already sensitive pussy clenched. “I-I’m so close.” You cried out, eyes locked on Sukuna’s.

His hips sped up, cock throbbing hard as he growled. “Go on then, cum for me again.” You screamed as he slammed harder and harder into you, sending you over the edge. Your screams were muffled by Sukuna’s growls as he kissed you desperately, fucking you through your orgasm right into his own.

He stilled, lips pressing harder against you as his hit cum filled you. Your soft whines of pleasure had Sukuna’s hips moving slowly until he was sure your pussy was done milking him. Pulling back, Sukuna panted, smirking at the blissed-out look in your eyes—a look he always wanted to see.

“Love you, Suku.” You breathed out, leaning up and kissing him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. But his large hand cupped your face.

“And I love you and everything you do for me.” Without another word, his lips were on yours, his hips slowly rutting against yours. He intended to make you know just how much you meant to him. Even if that meant you’d have to call out of work tomorrow.

[shybluebirdninja]

Clawsome Dad

Summary: When Logan mistakenly thinks you’re pregnant (you're not), he gets way too excited about baby names and starts building a baby-proof bunker in the backyard.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader

Note                : fluff

It all started with Logan catching you looking at a baby onesie at the store—once. You didn’t even touch the thing, just smiled at it for like, two seconds before moving on to the checkout. But that was enough for Logan. His superhuman reflexes missed nothing. You hadn’t even gotten through the door before he had this weird look on his face—half intense, half like he was about to tear through the drywall with his claws.

“Babe?” he asked, voice low, as if he were interrogating a witness. “Is there somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

You blinked at him, setting down the groceries. “Uh… no?”

Logan stepped closer, sniffing the air around you. You rolled your eyes. This man and his feral senses. “You’re sure? Nothin’... different?” he pressed, like he was waiting for you to drop some major bombshell.

“I’m sure, Logan. What’s with the third degree? Did I do something?” you asked, confused.

Then it hit you. His eyes flickered to your stomach, and you nearly choked.

Oh hell no.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you held up your hand, waving off the insanity that was clearly brewing in his head. “I am not pregnant.”

Logan frowned, not entirely convinced. “But you were lookin’ at that baby crap in the store—”

“I looked at a onesie for two seconds, Logan! It was cute, that’s all! Doesn’t mean I’m knockin’ out kids tomorrow!” you laughed, but the man didn’t seem amused.

“No baby?” he repeated, brows knitting together like he wasn’t entirely sure you knew how your own body worked.

“NO baby, Logan. Geez,” you reiterated, shaking your head, but the damage was already done.

Over the next couple of days, things got weird. He started acting real strange—asking you about baby names out of nowhere while you were brushing your teeth.

“Thoughts on ‘James Jr.’?” he muttered casually, mid-toothbrush stroke.

You spat out toothpaste, staring at him through the mirror. “James Jr.? Are you serious?”

Logan shrugged. “Seems practical. What, you don’t like it?”

“I—Logan, we are not naming a non-existent kid right now. Where’s this comin’ from?” You were barely containing your laughter. The man could take down an entire squad of bad guys without breaking a sweat, but the idea of potential parenthood had him spiraling into this dad mode that was both terrifying and hilarious.

The worst of it came when you caught him in the backyard, shirtless, sweat dripping, hammering away at something… with adamantium claws fully out. It was definitely not a normal Saturday activity, even for Logan.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, hands on your hips as you watched him drive metal sheets into the ground like a crazed man.

“Buildin’ a bunker,” he replied gruffly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“A what?”

“A baby-proof bunker. Ain’t no kid of mine growin’ up in a death trap house,” Logan muttered, slamming another panel into place. “This world’s dangerous, and that’s just the neighbors.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You—what? Baby-proof… Logan, we don’t even have a baby.”

Logan stopped hammering for a second, looking at you like you were the one missing something here. “But we might, right? Gotta be prepared.”

You slapped your forehead, trying not to lose it. “Prepared for what? An apocalypse where the baby needs a bunker to survive? Babe, seriously, there’s no baby. You don’t need to go full Rambo on the backyard.”

“I’m always prepared,” he grumbled, but there was a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. You could tell he wasn’t ready to back down, though. Logan was never the type to half-ass anything—especially not something he deemed necessary.

By now, the neighbors had definitely noticed. Old Mrs. Jenkins from next door was peeking over the fence with a terrified expression. She whispered something about Logan being a “madman,” which wasn’t entirely untrue in this case.

You sighed, walking up to him and grabbing the hammer from his hand. “Alright, Mr. Clawhammer, we’re done here. Come inside before you scare the rest of the neighborhood.”

Logan hesitated, claws still out. “But—”

“No buts, babe. Unless you’re ready to explain to Mrs. Jenkins why you’re preparing for baby Armageddon, you’re gonna stop now,” you said firmly, dragging him toward the house. “I swear, the last thing we need is for someone to call the cops on your baby-proofing bunker. We’re not even pregnant!”

He let out a gruff noise, retracting his claws with a reluctant snikt. “You sure ‘bout that?” he asked, still looking unconvinced as you pushed him through the door.

You smacked his arm lightly. “Yes, I’m sure. But if I ever do get pregnant, I’m not raising a kid in a damn underground fortress like we’re in some post-apocalyptic wasteland, got it?”

Logan smirked, the edge of his grumpy attitude softening. “Fine, no bunker. But I ain’t changin’ my mind on James Jr.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a cocky grin.

[finelinevogue]

victim

summary - you’re the victim of a crime but you refuse to admit that fact

❗️[ mentions of violence + an attack on reader ]

word count - +1k

pairing - aaron hotchner x bau-gf!reader

You had been walking back from work when you’d got jumped.

You never saw him coming out of the dark alley as you’d walked past and you definitely never saw the blade that he had with him.

Apart from a few bruises and scratches you were otherwise okay. In fact, you had been fortunate that it hadn’t been something more severe.

Although, the team didn’t see it that way.

Your boss - and boyfriend - didn’t see it that way either.

“You need to tell us, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at the team as they gathered around your desk whilst you unpacked.

It wasn’t even 9 in the morning and you were already being hounded by your colleagues. It was days like this when you seriously questioned whether a job at a fast food restaurant would’ve been easier.

You didn’t respond to Morgan and instead carried unpacking your bag.

“Y/N, c’mon.” JJ said.

You put your bag on the floor, finished with that.

“Excuse me.” You said with a smile as you parted through the team to get to the kitchenette. You were going to need a coffee if you wanted to get through today.

The rest of the team stayed huddled around your desk, possibly waiting for you to return.

You made your coffee in silence - adding milk and sugar as you thought up the best plan to tell your boyfriend that you’d been mugged last night and had waited over 12 hours to tell him.

Aaron hated having secrets between you two and you knew he’d hate this even more.

Just as you gave your coffee a stir, a hand came out of nowhere and cupped your chin firmly but not enough to hurt and turned your face towards them. Towards him.

“Aaron…” You sighed, hating the look in his eyes when they fell across your face.

He was no doubt taking in the appearance of your black-eye, your grazed and bruised cheek as well as a slight cut to your upper lip.

His eyes held fury as well as concern - similar to the rest of the teams.

“You wanna tell me who did this to you, or do you want me to find out the hard way?” He asked, not even questioning whether you were okay.

At his comment you sighed and turned your head away and out of his grasp. You made your way back to your desk with your coffee, no doubt not alone.

“Y/N…” Aaron started, but you zoned out to block him out.

You did not need pity today and you especially didn’t want it from your boyfriend. You were a federal agent for goodness sake.

A federal agent that couldn’t even defend herself.

“Please go.” You tried to shoo everyone away, but no one was having any of it.

Most of the time you were really lovely, if not all of the time. People often commented that you were the sunshine to Hotch’s grey skies. However today you were not in the mood for being cheery and you could feel the short fuse that you did have expiring.

“If you just gave us a description…” Reid said softly.

“Or the location.” Garcia added.

“We can help —.”

You cut Hotch off and stood up from your desk abruptly.

“I’m not a goddamn victim in one of your unsub profiles. Just leave me alone!” You shouted, which quietened the entire office down. It was so so quiet that all that could be heard was your laboured breathing.

You could feel the tears ever so slowly brewing behind your eyes and so left the office before you could make any more of a scene.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

An FBI agent was not supposed to be so easily surprised and attacked. You felt weak and embarrassed. The humiliation of even thinking about telling the team what had happened was too much - you just couldn’t.

<.>.<.>

Of course Aaron came to find you.

And of course he knew where to find you.

You didn’t make it difficult and you weren’t technically hiding, but only Aaron would’ve known where to find you and that was kind of the point.

You had been kind of a bitch to the team before, when they were only trying to help, but Aaron especially. You were always nagging at him to be honest and open up and yet here you were doing the complete opposite, so you hoped that he would come and find you so that you could apologise.

There had been a bench that was around the back of the building that you liked. It faced away from Quantico and towards trees and bushes and blue skies. It was a little outlook on what the world is without all its’ mess.

Aaron didn’t need to say anything as he approached you. The sound of leaves crunching beneath his shoes was enough of a tell.

He sat down right next to you, knees clicking as he did. One of his arms rested along the back of the bench behind you and the other sat comfortably on his thigh.

He looked out upon the greenery the same way you did.

“You know I’ll pull rank on this conversation if I have to, don’t you?” He started.

“I know.” You sighed - the downsides of dating your boss.

“So talk to me.”

His fingers curled from the back of the bench onto your shoulder, tugging your body infinitely closer to his. Your head made its way closer to resting on his shoulder.

Hotch moved the slightest move into you and your head fell comfortably on his shoulder. You wanted to bury yourself in the comforting scent of his neck, but you knew he wouldn’t let you until you’d talked.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Try telling me where you were. What were you doing?” Hotch prompted.

“I was on my way home when he… attacked me…” You recalled.

“Hey pretty lady.”

Just keep walking, your mind told you. Pay no attention to this man.

You walked another two steps before a hand aggressively grips your upper-arm and tugs you back hard.

You don’t have enough time to pull out your gun from your bag before the mans other hand comes round to punch you in the face, sending your head veering to one direction.

You cry in pain but there’s no one around to see you.

You live in a fairly well-lit neighbourhood, with a mixture of family homes and apartment blocks, but at 11PM there’s barely anyone walking the streets. It’s a quiet enough neighbourhood where the rules of being quiet after dark are obeyed.

Your bad dropped to the floor - your pride with it.

“You answer me when I’m speaking, bitch.” He spat in your face.

You mentally tried to remember as much of his facial appearance as possible in case something went really bad and you had to sit before a sketch artist.

He shook you in his hold and the pain from his punch ricocheted through your head.

When your head tilted back to face him he hit you again, catching your eye this time.

You started crying then, fearing for your life. This was not how you wanted to go and you’d be damned if this man got anything more out of you.

“And then I kicked him in the balls so hard that I think he felt them in his throat.” You finished your recount to Hotch.

His arm was fully around you now, running comforting patterns over your shirt along your upper-arm - exactly where the unsub had grabbed you.

You didn’t know if he was doing it intentionally, but you loved the gesture nevertheless.

“You were so brave.”

You scoffed.

“Not brave enough. Barely held it together. It was like all my FBI training was forgotten and I was as helpless as a damsel in distress. I wasn’t brave. I was an embarrassment.” You sounded out of breath as you finished talking.

Aaron just shook his head.

“Y/N, you were assaulted and you survived.”

Alone. You survived alone. You heard the unspoken words he wasn’t saying. But he was right. You had gone through something so traumatic and you came out the other side pretty unscathed compared to how these situations normally go down.

It sucked that you had become a victim, but you were. A victim of survival.

“I survived.” You said, trying to find the confidence as you spoke those words.

“You did, honey.” Hotch nodded, “What were you doing out so late anyways, sweetheart?”

You tilted your head down a little, away from him.

“I just wanted to get some flowers.”

“Honey, speak up. I can’t hear you.” Hotch said softly.

You sat up. Braving him.

You looked at Aaron in his eyes. They were so warm and soft. You felt like you could melt under his gaze.

“I was about to go to bed but I couldn’t stop thinking about every nice thing you’d done for me last week when I wasn’t feeling too well. I just needed to get you something. I went with the intention of buying you a bunch of flowers as a small thank you, which I know isn’t even a good gift but—.”

“Hang on, no. No, no.” Aaron stopped you, bringing his hand from his thigh up to cup your cheek, “You were going to buy me flowers?”

“Yeah.” You gave a small smile.

“Just… just because?”

“I guess.”

He gave you a small smile. It really was small, but it felt so significant on its own way. You didn’t need to see a full teeth smile from Hotch to know that he was happy. The little ones were telling enough.

His thumb stroked over your cheek, careful against the bruises on your face.

“What?” You asked nervously, because he was taking too long to say something.

“I really didn’t believe you existed, you know?”

“Hmm?” You didn’t follow his thoughts.

Hotch looked into your eyes, down to your lips and across to your damaged skin all at once. It was like he was scanning for something.

“Someone so perfect.”

It was as if he was speaking to himself more than you.

He took his time and care to kiss you on the cheek. Even though it was an emotional moment and one that needed tender care, Aaron still wouldn’t risk too much PDA and especially not outside the FBI headquarters.

His lips were warm against your skin, making up for how cold you’d been here sat without him.

You closed your eyes and inhaled his perfect scent.

He leaned back from your face, double checking to make sure he didn’t hurt you any extra. He would no doubt spend this evening loving on you extra tenderly, giving a silly amount of kisses to your wounds.

He looked you in the eyes once more as you still felt the touch of his lips linger on your cheek, and then the emotion in his eyes turned from one of love to one of determination.

“I’m going to find this son of a bitch. And so help him God when I do.”

[rafesangelita]

♡ having a pregnancy scare wasn’t on rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader’s to do list anytime soon.. but alas, here they are waiting to see if two pink lines will change the trajectory of their lives forever.

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of a breeding kink lol, super sweet fluff, slight humor, lots of crying

a/n: this is my not-so-subtle way of introducing babydaddy!rafe to my blog (i’ve been reading a lot of babydaddy!rafe lately.. yum) also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the ‘₊˚⊹♡ babydaddy!rafe x pogue!sweetheart!reader’ tag of this post!

w/c: 1.3k

“a-are you sure you’re late?” rafe was pacing back and forth, tears pricking your eyes as you flipped through your little calendar book. “yes! i look at my calendar everyday rafe, it’s been three weeks!” you sniffled, checking for the millionth time. rafe joined you on your bed, realizing he probably wasn’t making you feel any better if he was freaking out too. “hey..” he cupped your chin, “it’s gonna be okay, baby. what do you need me to do? ‘want me to go get some tests from the store?” you cried even more, the whole thing becoming too real all at once. “i don’t know! i don’t know what to do, ray!”

he sighed, holding you as you wept in his arms. “oh, baby,” rafe rubbed your back, “you know i’m going to take care of us, of you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. he wiped the tears from your eyes, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i know.. it’s just— this is so new, and even though we don’t have a for sure answer yet, i feel like i really am. you know.. pregnant?” saying it out loud made rafe’s heart drop to his stomach. you saw the way his expression softened, his eyes flickering down to where you two held hands.

while it shouldn’t be too surprising, considering you two never use protection.. it’s still a delicate matter that rafe took very seriously. “am i gonna sound crazy if i say i hope that you are?” you took a breath, stroking the side of rafe’s face. “no. i want it too.” letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he pulled you against his chest, embracing you once again. “why don’t we find out? ‘go to the pharmacy and get some tests?” you nodded, the anticipation already feeling unbearable. “okay.” you pulled away, getting under your knitted blanket.

“you’re not going with me?” rafe laughed. “are you joking? the owner has known me forever. if he see’s us buying a pregnancy test, he’ll—” you lowered your voice down to a whisper, “he’ll know what we’ve been doing..” your cheeks heated at the thought of the sweet old man who’s known you for all of your life checking you out for a test that indicates you’ve been doing a lot more than just baking cookies. “baby, if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, and far away from any kind of civilization, everyone on this island would know what we’ve been doing.” he winked.

at his words, you shooed him out of your camper as a giggle escaped your lips. he wasn’t wrong. rafe knew all the ways to make you scream and tremble in pure bliss. it felt like forever since rafe had been out, but one glance at the heart shaped clock on your wall, and it had only been ten minutes. you laid on your back, fingertips skimming your tummy. imagining a baby, half of you, and half of rafe, a result of two worlds, both full of so much love, colliding into one and making the most beautiful creation you were sure to ever see, made a smile grace your pretty face.

now you were thinking about a nursery, wondering if you’d be painting it baby pink or powder blue. either color was fine with you. sitting up, you looked around your camper, really seeing just how small it was. you and rafe barely fit in here together, let alone with a little baby that’ll eventually grow and want to run around. now you felt sad at the indication that you might have to move out of the only place you’ve ever known. this would change your life, but with rafe by your side you felt more ready than ever. just as you were going to call rafe and politely tell him to hurry up, he walked through the door.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, so i just grabbed one of each.” rafe gave you the bag, plopping down next to you. there was about ten different tests in there, including a lot of the snacks you’d been craving over the last week. sour gummy bears, chocolate, and spicy chips mostly. taking out a pink box, you read the instructions before looking back at rafe who already had his full attention on you. “can you come with me?” without hesitation, rafe helped you up and guided you to the bathroom. “alright..” he leaned against the doorframe, watching as you unwrapped the test.

“i can’t really pee if you’re looking..” rafe had zoned out, thinking about house hunting already and wondering what kind of car seat would be the safest for a baby. “right, i’m sorry.” he turned around, swallowing the lump in his throat. rafe needed the confirmation just as much as you did, his stomach doing somersaults as he nervously bit his lip. “you okay?” he asked. you hummed, peeing on the stick before setting it down on a piece of toilet paper. washing your hands shortly after, you and rafe left the test in the bathroom as you waited in silence.

“my heart is beating so fast right now.” you laughed, on the verge of tears as rafe rubbed circles into the flesh of your thigh. “i want you to know something..” rafe whispered, “whatever those test results come out to; negative or positive, we’re going to be okay. i don’t want you to worry about a thing, alright?” your chin wobbled as you nodded, your head falling in the curve of his neck. you stayed quiet for the rest of the time, the timer on rafe’s phone going off. “oh, god..” you whimpered, motioning for rafe to grab the test. “don’t look at it, just bring it over!” you called out.

rafe walked back with his eyes closed, nearly bumping into the wall as his hands trembled with excitement. “where are you?” he kept his eyes screwed shut, in which you followed suit. “i’m right here.” you squeaked out, holding onto his wrists. “on three we’re gonna look down.” you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “okay, i’m ready.” both of you smiled. “one, two, three—” both of you looked down, rafe jumping and running out of your camper as you stared down at the sight of two, very prominent, pink lines. rafe was shouting outside, the sound making you laugh as you took a seat on the couch.

“oh my god.” rafe poked his head in, your teary eyes meeting his. thankfully, he was able to read the room and calmed down a bit. “oh my god.” he repeated, kneeling down in front of you. “are you okay? are you happy?” rafe rubbed the side of your thighs, his touch providing a comfort like no other. “yes! i just can’t believe it..” you hugged him, his arms wrapping around your waist. “we have a lot of planning to do.” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. rafe could already see it. the white house, the white picket fence, both of you were already two steps closer to your dreams becoming a reality.

“yeah, we do,” he agreed, “let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?” you smiled, cupping his face. “i love you so much, this is crazy.” he kissed your lips before taking the test in his hands again. “a whole baby..” you were in utter disbelief. “maybe i should take the rest of the tests?” you stood up, taking the plastic bag with you to the bathroom. by the time you finished, the sun was already setting, both you and rafe staring at the approximately ten tests in front of you. all positive. “looks like we took the breeding kink a little too seriously, huh?” you looked up at rafe through his reflection in the mirror. “that was a good one.”

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.2k DON'T FORGET TO READ PREVIOUS CHAPTER tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter< next chapter

“You’re not serious.”

“Himari, please let’s not fight. I said I’d spend the 26th with you.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

She huffs, watching her boyfriend get his shower ready to go out and spend the day with another woman. Bitterness swirls in her stomach, anger threatening to be released if she wasn’t digging her nails into her palms. “You’re spending Christmas with some random bitch and a snot-nosed kid. How do you think that makes me fe—”

“Be quiet.” Satoru says, turning around to face her with a firm frown set in place. “I’ll tolerate you insulting me but don’t disrespect them, especially Koji.”

Himari freezes, her words catching in her throat as she registers the sharpness in Satoru’s voice. His usual laidback tone is gone, replaced with a seriousness that sends a chill down her spine. Her eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.  “Disrespect them?” she repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re choosing them over me, Satoru. On Christmas. What am I supposed to think?”  

“You’re supposed to understand,” he replies, his tone softening but remaining firm. “Koji is my son. I’ve already missed enough of his life—I’m not going to miss any more.”  

“And what about me? What about us?” Himari snaps, stepping closer to him. “We’ve been together for almost two years, and I’ve only just now found out about all this shit. How do you think that makes me feel? Like an afterthought? Like you don’t trust me?”  

Satoru exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows she has a point, but he also knows this argument isn’t going anywhere productive. “Himari, this isn’t about trust. It’s about priorities. Koji needs me, and I’m not going to let him down. Not ever. I just need you to understand that, that’s all.”  

“And what about my needs?” she presses, her voice breaking slightly. “Am I just supposed to sit here and wait for you to decide when I’m important enough to make time for?”  

“You’re important to me,” Satoru says, his gaze meeting hers. “But Koji will always come first. That’s not going to change, Himari. If you can’t accept that…” He trails off, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.  

Himari’s jaw tightens, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You waltz into my life with all your charm and promises, and now you’re telling me I have to share you with some other family? What kind of relationship is this supposed to be? I did not sign up to be a fucking step-mother.”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softening slightly. “It’s the kind where I’m trying to do right by my son while still being with you. But I can’t do this if you’re going to make me choose.”  

She stares at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Maybe you already have,” she whispers before turning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom.  

Satoru watches her leave, a heaviness settling in his chest. He doesn’t chase after her, instead turning back to the shower and letting the water run. For a moment, he just stands there, the steam fogging the mirror and blurring his reflection.  

He’s made his choice, and he doesn’t regret it. But he knows the fallout isn’t over yet. He sighs as he steps in, closing the glass door. She’ll come around in a few hours when she’s all settled down, that’s how it always is—so he won’t dwell over it. Besides, he has more pressing matters to take into account. 

Hearing the shower run in the bathroom, Himari has stomped over to the bedroom. Hands fishing the sheets in order to feel for his phone. After some seconds, she finds it. Already knowing the password, she angrily unlocks it and begins swiping and surfing through every app of his. “If you’re cheating on me, Satoru. I swear to god.” She mutters to herself, scowling down at the screen. 

She doesn’t see anything, but she does click on his message with you. It all consists of just talks of the kid. 

Himari scrolls through the thread of messages, her scowl deepening as she reads. The exchanges are polite, straightforward, and almost entirely about your son—pickup times, school updates, doctor appointments. Nothing incriminating, nothing emotional. Just... parental coordination.  

But it still stings.  

Her grip tightens on the phone as her eyes skim over a message from a few days ago, the last message between you two:  

Y/N: 

Thank you for picking him up and the food.  

Satoru:

Of course, he’s my son. Just let me know if you need anything else.

Himari scoffs, tossing the phone onto the bed with a frustrated huff. “Let me know if you need anything else.” she repeats mockingly under her breath. "He’s bending over backward for her, and I’m just supposed to sit here like nothing’s wrong? Yeah fucking right.”  

She paces the room, her mind racing. No matter how innocent the texts look, she can’t shake the feeling of being replaced. It doesn’t matter that Satoru insists he’s doing this for his son—his attention is divided, and she’s no longer at the center of his world.  Her pacing comes to a halt as she glances back at the phone. A new idea begins to form, one she knows is petty but feels justified in her growing anger.  

"If he won’t make me a priority," she mutters, picking up the phone again, "then I’ll remind him of what he stands to lose."  

She opens the camera app and snaps a picture of herself, deliberately angling it to show her figure in the soft light of the bedroom. Attaching it to a blank text, she hovers over the send button.  But something stops her. A hesitation, a flicker of doubt. She’s never had to fight for Satoru’s attention before—he’s always made her feel like she was the only one that mattered.  

Until now.  

With a frustrated growl, she deletes the photo and tosses the phone back onto the bed. Crossing her arms, she glares at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower still running behind it.  

"If you want to play the perfect dad, fine," she mutters. "But don’t expect me to sit around and wait while you pretend I don’t exist." 

Sitting down onto the bed, another form of thought pops in her head. Yanking the phone back into her hands, she presses his photo album. There must be something in here. And so, she scours and scours, zooming in on every picture in fear you’ll be in the background. However, she doesn’t find anything. Only pictures of that little brat who looks like his mirrored version. “Because of you…” she grits, hand tightening around the phone. 

Continuing to scroll higher, she can tell she’s reaching earlier years. Still, the insecurity and fear plaguing her chest causes her to not stop—not until she gets to the very first photo in his album. Then she’ll for sure know he’s still hers. She’s in the year 2015, before she met Satoru. He looks younger, more boyish. She pushes down the endearing feelings she holds towards his younger self and scrolls up. 

Until, she comes across a video. 

The start of it has your face in it and she’s clicking. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor in some Christmas jammies, a Santa hat on your head with a big Christmas tree behind you. She can assume Satoru’s sitting across from you, hearing his voice say, “Okay, go!”

The entirety of the video is her holding back throwing his phone across the room. Seeing you two open each other's gifts, seeing you smile at her man, and seeing her man look at you holding the camera in such a soft way—a way she’s almost never experienced before. 

She’s getting nauseous. 

She almost throws up when she catches a glimpse of you two kissing, saying the words I love you so softly. She quickly clicks out and shuts the phone off when the sounds of low moaning fill the speakers. 

Why does he even still have this? Does he look back on this?

She wants to claw her eyes and ears out of her body. Feeling utterly infuriated at her boyfriend for keeping practically a sextape of his ex even after all these years. You fucking assume, Satoru! Himari sits on the edge of the bed, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her mind is a storm of thoughts—jealousy, anger, and a pang of something else she refuses to name. Satoru’s insistence on prioritizing Koji and you feels like a betrayal, even if she knows deep down it’s not the same as him being unfaithful.  

Still, she can’t shake the bitterness creeping into her heart.  

She glances at his phone again, her jaw tightening. What does she have that I don’t? The question gnaws at her, even as she tries to shove it aside.  

When the sound of the shower cuts off, Himari straightens her posture, her eyes narrowing. A brewing begins to form—not a vengeful one, but one that will force Satoru to confront the rift growing between them.  Moments later, Satoru steps out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, his damp hair tousled and messy. He pauses when he sees her sitting there, her gaze piercing through him. “What’s with the look?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.  

She doesn’t answer right away, instead standing up and taking a slow step toward him. “Satoru,” she starts, her voice low but steady, “do you even realize how this feels for me? Watching you drop everything for her and that kid?”  

He sighs, already bracing himself for another argument. “Himari, we’ve been over this. Koji is my son. I have responsibilities—”  

“And what about your responsibilities to me?” she snaps, cutting him off. “I’m your girlfriend. I’ve been by your side for years. I’ve supported you, loved you, stood by you. But lately, it feels like I don’t even exist to you.”  

Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, frustration etched into his features. “This isn’t about us, Himari. It’s about Koji. He’s my son. I missed years of his life because I didn’t even know he existed. I’m not going to waste more time by pretending he doesn’t matter.”  

“And I don’t matter?” she fires back, her voice rising. “That’s what you’re saying, right? That I come second to some kid you barely even know?”  

Satoru’s patience finally snaps. “He’s not some kid, Himari! He’s my blood, my responsibility. And if you can’t understand that, maybe you don’t belong in my life after all.”  

The words hang in the air like a slap. Himari stares at him, stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to process what he just said. Satoru doesn’t wait for her response. He grabs his phone from the bed, slipping it into his pocket, and heads toward the door. “I’ll be back later,” he says flatly. “Don’t wait up.”  

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Himari alone in the room, her anger boiling over into tears she refuses to let fall. In the silence, one thought echoes louder than the rest: 

I won’t let her win. You wanted me to teach you, right? Then I’ll teach you.

Satoru’s already not having a good day. He could put most of the blame on his girlfriend, the other on his parents for questioning why he’s spending the holiday with you instead, and also the fact that there’s traffic. 

Of course there’s traffic. 

It’s a good thing, almost. It gives him some time to himself. It lets him calm his annoyance, the last thing he wants to do is ruin the day for his son. He’s also a little nervous to see you. He hasn’t seen or texted you since your small argument last time, and while he does feel bad, the other part of him still believes that what he did wasn’t wrong. Hopefully—maybe today or another day—he can settle that issue with you truly. There’s a lot of things he needs to settle with you, actually. 

But just like they say one day at a time, one problem at a time. 

His finger taps absentmindedly against his steering wheel as he surges his car forward before stopping again. Sighing, he checks the time. Cutting it a little close. He turns the music up and leans back, sighing heavily. 

But the song on the radio is something upbeat, and it only serves to grate on his nerves. Satoru switches it off with a sharp jab of his finger. The silence that follows isn’t much better, though—it leaves too much room for his thoughts to wander again. 

He wonders if you’ll bring up the argument as soon as he arrives. You’re not one to let things fester, not when Koji’s around, but he knows you’ve probably been stewing on it, the way you always do when it involves him. The guilt creeps in again, and he brushes it off like a pesky fly. He’s good at that—pushing things aside until they’re too big to ignore. That’s why you two are in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?

Well, it’s surely part of it. 

The honk of a car behind him jolts him out of his thoughts. The traffic’s moving again, and Satoru presses on the gas, muttering a curse under his breath. He’s cutting it close, all right.

By the time he pulls up outside your place, his nerves are just frayed enough that he almost considers texting you to say he’s here instead of going to the door. But that feels… cowardly. He’s Satoru Gojo, for crying out loud. He can face you.

He steps out of the car, walking into the complex and up to your apartment. When he knocks on the door, it takes a moment before he hears the faint sound of footsteps approaching. The door swings open, and there you are, looking… tired. But not unhappy to see him, which is something. Adorned in an apron too, how cute. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer than he expected.

“Hey,” he replies, trying for a smile that doesn’t feel forced. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

You nod, stepping aside to let him in. The warmth of your home envelops him immediately, and the faint sound of Koji’s laughter from the other room eases some of the tension in his chest.

“How’s he doing?” Satoru asks, his voice low as he glances toward the sound.

“He’s excited. Been asking about you all morning,” you say, crossing your arms but not looking at him directly.

Satoru shifts on his feet, his fingers tightening around the handle of the gift bag. “Yeah, well… I’m here now.”

You look at him then, your expression unreadable. “Yeah. You are.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Koji comes barreling into the room, his face lighting up when he sees his dad. “Papa!”

Satoru smiles, scooping up his son with ease as he walks into the living room, settling down onto the couch. The smell of delicious food fills his senses, eyes closing momentarily with a heavenly sigh. “Smells good, what’s your mother making?”

Koji grins, his arms wrapped tightly around Satoru’s neck. “She’s making roast chicken and cookies!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with excitement. “And I helped with the cookies. But Mama said I ate too much of the dough.”  

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Sounds about right. You’ve got a sweet tooth like your old man.”  

Koji’s giggle is infectious, and Satoru can’t help but feel a swell of warmth as he holds his son close. His gaze drifts toward the kitchen, where the faint sound of clinking dishes and soft humming filters through. For a moment, the tension from the past few days fades, replaced by the simple comfort of being here with his family.  

“You’re late,” your voice cuts through the air, light but pointed. You step into the living room, wiping your hands on a towel as you glance at him. He notices the small smudge of flour on your cheek, but there’s a softness in your expression that Satoru clings to.  His eyes move down your figure, ignoring the fluttering in his heart because you just look so damn cute in an apron. It feels domestic. 

You’re wearing a comfortable dress underneath, hair down with gold jewelry. Satoru physically gulps and tears his eyes away when they linger too long on your smooth legs. “Like I said, traffic.” He replies effortlessly, flashing you a sheepish grin. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”  

You inhale deeply, lips thinning but you concede with a simple nod. “Food’s almost ready. Koji, go wash your hands. And don’t forget to use soap this time.”  

Koji pouts but hops off Satoru’s lap, darting toward the bathroom. The moment he’s out of earshot, the room grows quiet, the weight of unspoken words settling between you and Satoru.  He leans back on the couch, watching you as you cross your arms and lean against the doorway. “You didn’t have to go all out today, you know,” he says, his tone softer than usual. “I could’ve helped you cook—”

You shrug, looking away for a moment as you cut him off. “It’s Christmas,” you reply. “I wanted it to be nice. For Koji.”  

He nods, understanding what you’re not saying. “For Koji,” he echoes. There’s a pause before he adds, “And for you, too. You deserve something nice, Y/N.”  

Your eyes flicker to his, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all you find is that familiar look—the one that’s both infuriating and disarming at the same time. “You can’t just say things like that and expect everything to be okay, Satoru,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.  

“I know,” he says, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “But I’m trying, okay? I know I’ve been pushing boundaries, and I’m sorry. I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I don’t want to miss any more of this. Of him. Of you.”  

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You hate when he says confusing things like this because it messes with your head, fooling yourself into thinking there’s something else there. Clearing your throat, you straighten out your light pink apron. “Don’t say things like that.”

The firmness in your tone causes Satoru to purse his lips. Standing up and walking over to you. “I don’t mean anything weird by it.”

“You may not think that, but other people have different opinions.”

“Are you still mad at me from before?”

That always ticks you off—asking such obvious questions with such an innocent face. You think he’s joking, just trying to poke at the bear. But his concerned eyes, brows lifted up—it tells a whole other story. You open your mouth to respond, but Koji’s cheerful shout from the bathroom interrupts.  

“Mama! Papa! I’m ready!”  

You glance toward the bathroom, then back at Satoru. The moment is gone, but the tension lingers. “Dinner’s in ten,” you say simply, turning on your heel to head back to the kitchen.  

Satoru watches you go, a bittersweet mien playing on his godly face. He knows he’s got a long way to go—but for now, he’ll take whatever moments he can get. It’s Christmas, he wants to make the most out of it. And if that means faking it til he makes it, then so be it. 

He’s not the only one faking. 

You three are seated at the circular table in your kitchen. the warmth of the meal and the soft glow of fairy lights draped along the windows creating a cozy atmosphere. Koji chatters excitedly about his favorite Christmas movies as he eagerly digs into his plate, his small hands occasionally reaching for a cookie from the platter in the center. If Koji knew any better, he’d ask why his parents weren’t really talking to one another. 

And unfortunately, he does know better. 

“Mama? Papa? Why are you so quiet?”

Damn kids’ continent, but uncomfortable questions. 

You freeze, the fork halfway to your mouth, glancing at Satoru across the table. His eyes briefly meet yours before flicking back to Koji, his usual confident demeanor faltering under the weight of the question. “Quiet? We’re not quiet, bud,” Satoru says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “I’m just too busy stuffing my face to talk. This food is so good.”

Koji tilts his head, unconvinced. “But you always talk a lot, Papa. And Mama, you’re not smiling. I thought today was a happy day.”

Your grip on the fork tightens, the weight of Koji’s words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say. You force a small smile, though it feels paper-thin. “It is a happy day, sweetie. Mama’s just tired from all the cooking, that’s all.”  

Koji frowns, his big, curious eyes shifting between you and Satoru. He’s far too perceptive for his age, and it’s moments like this that make it clear just how much he picks up on. Satoru clears his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, how about this? After dinner, we’ll all watch a Christmas movie together. You can pick, Koji. And then, we can open the presents.”  

Koji’s face lights up at the suggestion, but he’s not completely distracted. “Okay! But only if Mama picks, too. We all have to pick one!”  

You manage a soft chuckle, finally taking a bite of your food to avoid answering immediately. Satoru’s gaze lingers on you, and you can feel the unspoken words sitting heavy between you both. “That sounds like a deal,” you say after swallowing. “But only if you promise to eat all your vegetables first.”  

Koji scrunches his nose but nods. “Deal!”  

The rest of the meal is filled with Koji’s chatter, and though you and Satoru exchange a few words here and there, the tension remains. It’s not lost on either of you that Koji’s cheerful energy is doing the heavy lifting to make this feel like the family dinner it should be.  When the plates are cleared and Koji races to the couch to pick out the first movie, Satoru hesitates in the kitchen. He grabs a dish towel and starts drying the plates you’ve already washed, a small gesture that feels too intentional to be casual.  

“You don’t have to help,” you murmur, not looking at him. “I got it.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. There’s a pause before he adds, “I would’ve helped cook too, sorry I came later.”  

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his expression softer than you expected. “It’s okay,” you admit quietly. “It’s just dinner and opening gifts, I didn’t ask you to.”  

His hand stills on the plate he’s holding. “I know,” he says, his voice low. “But it’s still an obligation of mine, you don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here now, remember?”  

The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard. The truth to his words cause you to bite your lips, guilt sinking into your bones. It didn’t feel like one of those snide comments, but it had practically the same effect. And you know that he’s here, so he can handle some of your weight. However, it’s nonetheless hard to trust him with it, fearing it’ll be too heavy for him too. Before you can respond, Koji’s voice echoes from the living room.  

“Mama! Papa! Hurry up, the movie’s starting!”  

You sigh, drying your hands on a towel. “Let’s go before he starts it without us.” Satoru follows you to the couch, where Koji has already made a nest of blankets. As the movie begins, Koji snuggles between the two of you, his small hands clutching the remote.  He giggles, snuggling closer to you both, dropping the remote to the table. 

 It’s not perfect, but for tonight, it’s enough. It has to be, it’s Christmas. Although you’re not doing too much this holiday, not that you ever do, it still means a lot to Koji. Because he finally has his dad to spend it with. 

As the movie begins, Koji seems to have other plans. He grabs both of your hands—Satoru’s right and your left— bringing them in front of him and making them mash together. Immediately you tense up, just the slightest graze of Satoru’s long fingers having more of an effect on you than you anticipated. 

You pull away, Satoru’s hand lingers before he soon gets the hint. 

Koji frowns, head swiveling between his two parents. “Mama, Papa, you’re supposed to hold hands! That’s what families do,” Koji says, his little brows furrowing in frustration. His pout deepens, clearly displeased with your reaction.  

You give him a soft smile, hoping to smooth things over. “We are a family, Koji. We don’t need to hold hands to prove that,” you say gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead.  

“But it’s Christmas!” he protests, his small hands still clutching yours and Satoru’s as if he could force them together by sheer will. “Santa says families should be happy and together on Christmas! That’s what they do in the movies.”  

Satoru chuckles lightly, though there’s a hint of something conflicted in his expression as he looks at Koji. “Santa sounds like a pretty smart guy,” he murmurs, his gaze briefly flicking to you before resting on Koji again. “But sometimes families have their own way of being happy, bud. It doesn’t always look the same.”  

Koji seems to consider this, his lips pursed in thought. “Okay… but can we all hold hands just for the movie?” His tone is pleading, his wide eyes impossible to say no to.  

You hesitate, feeling the weight of Satoru’s gaze on you, before finally relenting with a quiet sigh. “I….Alright, just for the movie,” you say, letting Koji place your hand back in Satoru’s.  

Satoru’s fingers brush against yours again, warm and steady, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The contact feels heavier than it should, but Koji’s delighted giggle pulls your focus back to him.  

“See? Now it’s perfect!” he exclaims, snuggling back into the blankets with a satisfied grin. He holds your conjoined hands. 

Satoru hums softly, unintentionally giving your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before turning his attention to the screen. The movie plays on, Koji’s laughter filling the room. And while the air between you and Satoru remains thick with unspoken words, for this moment, you let yourself stay in the quiet warmth of your son’s happiness.  

The warmth of Koji’s small hands on top of yours is grounding, even as the tension between you and Satoru buzzes just beneath the surface. You glance at him briefly, finding his expression softer than usual. He’s watching Koji, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but when he catches your gaze, something knowing lingers in his eyes.

You look back at the screen, ignoring the familiarity Satoru’s large hand brings you. It’s familiar but different at the same time. It feels a bit more calloused, proof of his own events he’s faced in his life during the time you were separated. 

And to him, your hand feels just as it always did. Warm, soft, and so perfectly fitting. It’s like two puzzle pieces, or a key to a lock. For a second, he compares how it feels to Himari before mentally chastising himself. That’s probably a fucked up thing to do. But he’s already done a lot of that in his life. His thumb runs smoothly across your knuckles, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

You want to pull away, but your son is a reminder to keep up the act. 

The movie plays on, filling the silence with cheerful music and laughter, but you can hardly focus. Satoru’s hand is still resting lightly against yours, his thumb brushing against your rugged muscle every so often, whether intentionally or not. It sends a twinge of something—nostalgia, maybe?—through your chest. You shift slightly, trying to focus on the screen, but Koji’s contented sigh draws your attention back to him. He’s nestled between the two of you, his little face illuminated by the glow of the TV, looking completely at peace.

“Are you happy, Koji?” you ask softly, the words slipping out before you can think them through.

Koji nods emphatically, his grin widening. “Yeah! This is the best Christmas ever!”

Satoru chuckles, his voice low and warm. “That’s a pretty big claim, Koji. We haven’t even opened the presents yet. What makes it the best?”

“Because I have Mama and Papa,” Koji says simply, looking between the two of you with wide, earnest eyes. “I don’t need presents or anything. Just you two.”

Your heart clenches at his words, and you feel Satoru’s hand tighten a bit around yours. You don’t twitch away this time, letting the moment settle over you like the soft glow of the fairy lights. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been emotional this entire week already, or the fact that Koji is just so happy, but you’re feeling yourself choke up. 

For a brief second, the weight of everything—the arguments, the hurt, the uncertainty—fades into the background. It’s just the three of you, here and now, and maybe that’s enough. “Merry Christmas, Koji,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Hiding a trembling lip against his white tresses. Your eyes close, forcing your tears to stay exactly put where they are. 

“Merry Christmas,” Satoru echoes, his voice unusually tender. He peers over at you from the corner of his eye, a gut-wrenching twisting at his stomach when he sees your expression. He wants to wipe away the crinkle between your eyebrows with his free hand, but he decides against it—probably not the best thing to do right now. He can only offer you a firmer hand on top of yours, cradling it like it’s a diamond. It’s like a warm quilt, it feels oddly comforting. 

Again, you’re getting nostalgic. Maybe that’s another reason why you feel like crying right now—knowing you only have this fleeting moment. Koji’s smile widens, his hands squeezing one last time before settling back into his blanket cocoon.

The hours pass, having watched multiple movies already. Koji’s on the edge of falling asleep before you carefully wake him up that it’s midnight. He practically jumps right back into action, all former sleepiness gone and relaxes with utter excitement. “Presents! We can open the presents!” He scrambles to the tree, already beginning to pick at the ones he wants to open. 

You smile softly, watching Koji bounce around with excitement, the energy from the day still shining brightly in his eyes. He’s so full of joy, so eager to unwrap the surprises you and Satoru managed to get for him. The sight warms your heart, even as a quiet tension lingers in the room.

Satoru, still leaning back against the couch, watches Koji with a mix of amusement and something more—something heavier. His lips twitch, as if trying to hold back a smile, but the look in his eyes when he glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Alright, baby,” you say softly, standing up from your spot. “Let’s open them, but remember, one at a time.”

Koji nods, his little hands already tearing into the first present like a whirlwind. He pulls out a small toy car and holds it up triumphantly, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It’s just like the one I saw at the store!”

Satoru chuckles and ruffles his hair. “That’s a good one, Koji. I’m jealous. What else ya got?”

You can’t help but smile at the exchange, even as you reach down to grab the next present for Koji. But something still nags at you. The way Satoru looks at Koji, it’s so…heartwarming. It’s a look given only to his child, one a father could only give out. You feel both touched and warm at the same time. 

Tonight is about Koji, about making sure he feels loved and special. And while you and Satoru are at odds, you both are doing one hell of a job of making sure that it comes true. 

As Koji continues to unwrap gifts, the room fills with laughter and the sound of crinkling wrapping paper. Your heart swells watching him, but in the back of your mind, the remnants of the earlier tension refuse to fully fade. The space between you and Satoru feels both distant and strangely intimate all at once.

After maybe an hour, after admiring each gift right after opening it, Koji finishes opening his presents. You both settle back into the couch, Koji nestled between you, holding onto his new toys. There’s figurines—mainly Spider-Man or Avengers based—toy cars or motorcycles, a little rocket ship, hot wheels, a Nerf Gun, new clothes, he really got it all this year. Of course, most of the contribution was from Satoru. The silence stretches, but it feels softer now. The tension, although still there, feels more like a quiet hum in the background, overshadowed by Koji’s happiness.

“Thank you, Mama,” Koji says sleepily, his little voice thick with the exhaustion of the day. “And thank you, Papa.”

Satoru leans in, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Koji’s head. “You’re welcome, bud. Merry Christmas.” He smiles, watching his son begin to put his Spider-Man on top of the motorcycle, sparing a glance back at the tree. It’s then his smile falters. 

“Oh, you forgot two, Koji.”

“Hm?” His son looks up, seeing the two gifts all the way at the back of the tree. Getting so distracted with all his other gifts, he must’ve forgotten about those two. He sets his toys to the side and crawls back onto the floor to reach for the gift bags. Reading the tags, he looks over at you. “Oh, Mama. These are from your friend.” 

When Koji stands up and hands you one of the presents, you’re suddenly reminded. Oh. In a way, you did also forget that Suguru got you and Koji something—just so wrapped up in watching Koji rip apart each of his gifts. You smile faintly, thumbs running over the intricate snowflake patterns. 

“Friend?” Satoru asks, his voice bringing you back to reality. 

Head turning over, you realize that his face has contorted—scrunched up slightly when he holds onto Koji’s gift, reading the name of the receiver. “Suguru?” His eyes meet yours, filled with a tint of disapproval. “When did he get you two something?”

You almost lie, feeling a random burst of gultuness hit you. But it’s gone as soon as it comes. Because Satoru’s voice sounds curlis in a sense, but also suspicious. It makes you feel a little irritated, holding back a light scoff. So what Suguru got you and Koji something? “He came over to drop it off.” 

Maybe that wasn’t the best answer to give. Now Satoru’s body has faced you fully, eyebrow raising like he’s trying to put two and two together. But there’s nothing to put together. “And when was this?”

“A few days ago,” you reply back, firming your intonation. 

Satoru’s gaze narrows ever so slightly, and you can feel the shift in the air between you both. The tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface all evening suddenly intensifies. “A few days ago…” Satoru repeats, his tone now more deliberate.

“Is there a problem?” You ask, mirroring his reaction. 

Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, very obviously holding back on something for the sake of his son and the holiday. Shaking his head and giving Koji’s gift back to him. “Nope, no problem.”

You can’t help yourself as you huff under your breath, focusing back on your son as he opens the gift. He gasps, yanking the tissue paper out and revealing a bright, shiny new Spider-Man action figure. His eyes widen with delight as he holds it up to you and Satoru, showing off the intricate details of the toy. "Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It's just like the new one I saw on TV!" He beams, completely oblivious to the lingering tension in the room. “It talks and makes noises and lights up!”

You chuckle softly, finding his excitement endearing. "It's perfect, Koji. You’re going to have so much fun with that."

Satoru, however, seems distracted. He’s still watching you closely, his expression unreadable, though there’s a faint edge to his demeanor. You can tell he's trying to keep his composure, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.

Koji has almost entirely disregarded his previous gifts to play with his new gift, his attention fully focused on the toy in his hands. 

Satoru clears his throat, the subtle sound pulling you back from your thoughts. "So, Suguru came by to drop off gifts...?" His voice carries a tone that’s almost too casual, but you don’t miss the hint of something more in his eyes.

You hold his gaze, the irritation bubbling up again. "Yes, he did. He’s been kind to us." You can’t help the defensiveness that creeps into your voice. "Is that a problem?"

Satoru doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, he glances over at Koji, who’s happily occupied with his toy. He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes again. "No, I didn’t say that. I just... I just didn’t know he was so involved."

You feel a knot form in your stomach. The subtle way he’s questioning you, the way his posture tenses every time Suguru’s name comes up—he’s feeling something, and you’re not sure how to read it. Before you can respond, Koji looks up from his toys, his voice full of innocent curiosity. “Is something wrong, Papa? Mama?”

You both turn your attention to him, but the tension doesn’t fully dissipate. You force a smile, trying to keep things light. "No, Koji. Everything’s fine." You reach over to ruffle his hair. "Are you enjoying your presents?"

Koji nods enthusiastically, his smile wide. "Best Christmas ever!" he exclaims. He looks down at your gift. “Open yours, Mama. I wanna see what your friend got you.”

You hesitate, still trying to steady your emotions after the tension with Satoru. “Alright, sweetheart,” you say, holding your gift upright in your lap. Gently peeling away the wrapping, revealing a small, wooden box. The delicate craftsmanship catches your attention immediately. 

Koji’s eyes widen in anticipation. “What’s inside, Mama? What is it?”

You open the box, revealing a small silver pendant shaped like a star, its surface engraved with intricate patterns. It’s beautiful—elegant and simple, a perfect fit for you. You trace your fingers over the smooth edges, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you smile at the thoughtful gesture. It comes with a thin silver chain, a small note underneath it. When you pull it out, it reads: 

“For the one who shines the brightest, even in the darkest of times.”

Your heart skips a beat as you read the words. It’s simple, yet so deeply personal. You trace the note with your fingertips, a mixture of warmth and something else stirring in your chest. You always mocked Suguru in the past for being so corny with his words, you never expected to be on the receiving end of them. And you never expected to blush from it either. 

“Isn’t it pretty, Mama?” Koji asks, his voice filled with genuine excitement. “I think it’s sparkly like the stars!”

You nod. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll look lovely on me,” You slide the pendant into your hand, clutching it for a moment longer before carefully setting it back inside. But, despite your best efforts to keep things together, you can feel the tension building again. Satoru’s look that he fails to hide is getting more on your nerves by the second. He’s acting like he has some right to be upset if his friend is giving you something. He’s acting like it’s a bigger deal than it actually is.

“Are you gonna wear it?” Koji asks, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Papa, won’t Mama look pretty with it?”

You peer over. “Of course, Mama will look pretty with it,” he says with a half-smile that’s forced. “She’s always beautiful, no matter what she wears.”

You scoff this time. What a load of shit. 

Koji squeals, clearly pleased with the answer. “Right, Mama? You’re the prettiest!”

You smile back, feeling warmth in your chest, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, sweetheart,” you mutter softly, trying to keep things light. 

It’s extremely late now. Koji has passed out in his room with the figurine Suguru got him. Satoru and you have cleaned up in complete silence, the awkward tension intensifying even more now that Koji isn’t here to mend that. There’s only the sound of the soft hum of the dishwasher as it runs. You wipe down the counter, your movements mechanical, each action making the silence stretch longer and longer between you. Satoru stands by the sink, wiping down the wet surface around it with a towel, his back to you. But you can feel his presence in the room like a weight pressing down on the air.

Neither of you says anything, the unspoken words piling up between you both. You can feel the tension crawling beneath your skin, just like before, but now there’s no Koji to distract you, no innocent question to break the silence. Just you and Satoru, both avoiding the inevitable conversation that looms in the background. Until he finally has the balls to do something. “He didn’t tell me he was getting you guys something.”

You pause, staring down at the clean surface. “Why would he have to tell you? It’s just a present.” Your hand moves again, moving onto the corner of the granite. 

Satoru bites his tongue, willing himself not to snark back. He turns his body around, eyes digging holes into the back of your head. “I mean, it’s a little strange.”

“How?”

“Because Koji is my son, you’re my ex.”

“So that suddenly means I’m incapable of receiving presents from other men now?” You whirl around, hands on your hips. “What did you say again? Oh, right. ‘Stop getting mad at little things’.” 

Satoru flinches, his jaw tightening at your words. For a moment, he’s caught off guard, not expecting you to snap back so quickly. But he doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His voice is low, tight, as if he’s trying to keep his composure. “I just don’t like how...how weird that feels.”

You roll your eyes. “Right, weird, huh?”

“I’m not trying to argue, okay?”

“I’m not arguing either,” you quip back. “But you have no right to act like this is ‘weird’ when it’s not. You have no right to be even curious about who’s giving Koji and I gifts.”

“No right?” He huffs back at you, lip curling up. “I think I have all the right, Y/N. First off, he’s my son. Second off, we used to date. And third off, that’s my best friend. What kind of best friend—”

“Then maybe you should take that up with him.” You cut him off, chin tilting up. It’s getting harder by the second to keep things calm and composed. But Satoru shoving his fat nose into something that doesn’t involve him is testing every bit of patience you have. “I can get a gift from whoever I want, that’s none of your concern.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as you speak, his grip on the towel tightening, the vein in his neck twitching with barely restrained frustration. “None of my concern, huh?” His voice lowers, the words coming out sharp. “That’s funny, because it seems like everything I do, say, or feel ends up being your concern, whether you want it to be or not.”

You step closer, your heart racing as the anger rises in your chest, pushing against the barriers you’ve built. “Satoru, I’m done pretending like everything we do is some sort of tangled mess that you have the right to control. You’re not my boyfriend anymore, and Koji isn’t the reason I have to explain every little thing to you.”

“I’m not saying you have to.”

“Then just shut the hell up about it already.”

Silence follows. 

The room feels colder now, the weight of your words settling heavily in the space between you. Satoru doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenched tightly as he stares at you, his chest rising and falling as if he’s weighing the next words carefully. He’s frustrated, no doubt, but something else lingers beneath it—something deeper, something that neither of you has dared to address.

You stand there, both of you frozen, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. It feels as though time has stopped, the tension so thick it’s almost suffocating. Then, slowly, Satoru takes a breath and places the towel down on the counter, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice much softer now, but still tinged with frustration. “I get it. It’s not my place anymore.”

Your lips purse, feeling slightly caught off guard by his quick reluctance to further escalate things. But that’s a good thing, right? Swallowing down anything else, you nod stiffly. Eyes moving down to focus on anything else but him. Your hands awkwardly fiddle together. 

But he never looks away from you. Mind reeling about what to say or do next, fearing that he did in fact make a big deal out of nothing. It’s just presents, that’s it. But the quiet voice in his head nags at him more and more. But why didn’t Suguru say anything? Isn’t it at least some common courtesy to tell your best friend you’re getting his son and ex a gift? Even a simple text would have sufficed. 

But he didn’t do any of that. So Satoru’s brain feels like he tried to hide it—for a reason? He doesn’t know. Maybe he forgot? Still, he doesn’t like the knot that forms in his gut. 

A calming breath is taken to reset his system, shaking his head. Not tonight, not tonight. His fingers reach into the pocket of his coat, feeling a small, square box. He waits for a few seconds, unsure if he should continue on. Nonetheless, he does. Pulling out the little thing, presenting it in front of him. 

He clears his throat, you look back over at him. Head tilting slightly at the sight of the wrapped box with a tiny red bow. “…what is that?”

“My gift to you.” He murmurs out, holding it to you. 

Your eyes widen, mouth parting. No words come out, feeling a multitude of varying emotions. It all ends with you reaching out for the box, shaking it a little. You hear a small clanking. Asking a stupid question like what is it will just keep your wary feelings alive. So, you carefully remove the light wrapping, slowly like you’re scared as to why you’ll see inside. 

You’re not scared. Just more confused. 

“A key?” You question, holding up the gold key in front of your face. It dangles as your vision focuses back on the man in front of you. “What is this for?”

Satoru watches you, his eyes a mix of uncertainty and something deeper, something more vulnerable. He shifts slightly, hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense as if bracing himself for your reaction. “To your new place.” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words. A new place? Your mind struggles to catch up, trying to make sense of the statement. “My new place?” you repeat, still not sure if you heard him correctly.

Satoru nods slowly, his eyes now focused on the key in your hand. “I’ve been looking for something for you. For Koji. A place where you both can be… comfortable. It’s. A nice neighborhood, enough room. There’s a school next by and there’s open spots left.” His voice is steady, but there’s a tinge of something vulnerable in the way he says it—like he’s giving you space to decide, but also hoping for something more.

A rush of conflicting emotions hits you. You look down at the key again, your fingers curling around it as you try to process what he’s saying. “You… got me a place?” You repeat, still in shock over the fact that he went out of his way to do so. 

He shifts his weight, eyes still on the key. “Not just you. A place for you, Koji… and maybe even me, too. When I come to visit sometimes, there’s four bedrooms, one of them can be used as a spare.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Satoru has always been unpredictable, but this—this is different. It feels like he’s offering something more than just a space. It’s a possibility. A chance. But it also feels like an unspoken question, one that you’re not sure how to answer. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, looking at the key again. “Why now?”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softer than you’ve seen in a long time. “Because… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I know I’ve messed things up too for us, and I’m not asking for anything. Just… I thought it might be a good way to start fresh. For you and Koji. And you guys mean a lot to me, I want you to live in a nice space. Not…not somewhere like this. The people look shady.”

You stand there, the weight of his words sinking in. The offer is unexpected, yet strangely comforting. It’s not just about the apartment or the key—it’s about something deeper, something that might hold the possibility of fixing whatever things were broken.

But then, a quiet part of you wonders: Do I want this?

You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key tighter in your hand now. You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key in your hand now. The smooth, cold metal feels heavier than it should, like it’s holding all the unanswered questions and unresolved feelings between you and Satoru. You glance up at him, his expression open yet guarded, as though he’s trying to brace himself for any answer you might give.

“Satoru...” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs, though there’s an uneasy tension in his posture. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just...I wanted to give you something. Something that’s yours.” His gaze flickers to the key in your hand. “No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe. If you don’t want it, I’ll still keep it around if you someday change your mind.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within you, but it also makes your heart ache. You swallow hard, your emotions swirling. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first?” you ask, your tone softer now, though still tinged with confusion.

“Because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured or think it was about me trying to fix everything all at once. It’s not like that. I just... I care about you. And about Koji. And besides, it’s Christmas.” He ends with a small smile, his right dimple peeking out. 

His words hang in the air, filling the silence between you. For a small instant, you don’t respond, your mind racing. This gesture—it’s thoughtful, maybe even selfless—but it’s also overwhelming. You hold the key closer, feeling its edges press into your palm, grounding you in the midst of the emotional storm. Finally, you exhale, your voice steady but quiet. “I need some time to think about this. It’s... a lot.”

Satoru nods, his blue eyes softening. “Take all the time you need. It’s yours, no matter what you decide.” He pauses, glancing toward the door. “Well, I should probably get going.”

Adjusting his coat, he takes one step out the kitchen before you stop him with a hand to his arm. A ring of fire burns up his arm and to his ears, slowly making its way to his cheeks when he looks back down at you. “I…I got you something…too.”

His eyebrows raise, not having expected you to give him something in return. Letting go of his arm, you walk to a small cupboard, reaching in and pulling out a square shaped gift. It’s wrapped in light blue wrapping with a red bow. You hand it to him and he takes it, feeling around. He already has an idea of what it is. 

“Open it when you get back.” You mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. 

He stares quietly for a small time, a hint of a smile almost making its way onto his face again. It’s cute how shy you look right now. Some things never change, do they? He nods, murmuring back. “Okay, thank you.”

With one final hum from you, he heads back to the door. His stomach feeling lighter. You hesitate, watching him turn toward the hallway. “Satoru.”

He stops, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Your words are sincere, even if you’re still unsure about everything. “For thinking about us.”

A faint grin tugs at his lips, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Always,” he says softly before walking away, leaving you standing there with the key in your hand and your thoughts spinning.

You remain rooted in place, the key dangling lightly in your grip as the door clicks shut behind him. The silence that follows feels deafening. The warmth of the holiday lights around the room does little to ease the cold weight settling in your chest. You sit down at the edge of the couch, staring at the key, your mind replaying Satoru’s words. No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe.

It’s a generous gift, undeniably thoughtful, but it feels complicated—like every other thing in your relationship with Satoru. You know he means well, but the history between you makes it impossible to separate the gesture from the lingering emotions that bind you both. Your gaze shifts to the Christmas tree, now surrounded by Koji’s new toys. You can still picture his bright smile, hear his laughter from earlier in the evening. The thought of giving him a stable home, something truly yours, tugs at your heart. But then there’s the nagging voice in your head, reminding you of the tension tonight—the unspoken conflicts, the unresolved feelings, and the fragile line you and Satoru walk every time you see each other.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch, the key resting in your palm. Your eyes drift to the small silver pendant Suguru gave you earlier. It still sits on the coffee table, catching the warm glow of the Christmas lights. Another kind gesture. Another layer to the mess.

The soft patter of small feet interrupts your thoughts. Koji appears in the hallway, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his Spider-Man toy clutched tightly in one hand. 

“Mama?” he mumbles, his voice groggy. “Why are you still up?”

You quickly set the key on the table, forcing a smile. “Just cleaning up, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” 

He nods, yawning as he climbs onto your lap, resting his head against your chest. “Yes.”

“Did you have a good Christmas?”

“The best Christmas ever.”

You hold him close, brushing his messy hair away from his forehead. “That’s all that matters,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. But even as you say it, your thoughts drift back to the key—and everything it represents.

Satoru has been staring at the gift—stil wrapped—for about fifteen minutes now. He’s conflicted. Unsure if he wants to know what you got him, or if it’ll bring on something unwanted. The gift sits untouched on the table before him, the wrapping paper shimmering faintly under the soft glow of the Christmas lights. Satoru leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, one hand tangled in his hair as he stares at it. His jaw tightens, then relaxes, his thoughts spiraling in circles.

Fifteen minutes. That’s how long he’s been sitting here, debating whether to open it.

He knows it’s just a gift. A simple, kind gesture. But with everything that’s happened tonight—the tension, the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings—this small box feels heavier than it should. What if it’s something that reminds him of how things used to be? Or worse, what if it’s just a polite, distant gift, a reminder of how far apart you’ve drifted?

He exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. “It’s just a damn gift, Satoru,” he mutters to himself. Yet he doesn’t move, his blue eyes fixed on the box as if it might spring to life and deliver answers to questions he’s too afraid to ask. 

He huffs a reluctant laugh, his hand finally reaching for the gift. His fingers trace the edges of the paper before he carefully begins to unwrap it, the sound of tearing paper filling the quiet room. Beneath the wrapping is a small black box, simple and unassuming. He lifts the top up and it drops to the side. 

His hands still in place, almost beginning to tremble. His breathing shallows, heart thumping quicker than before. Carefully—very carefully—he reaches in. Handling the object with utmost care, bringing it closer to his face. 

Two faces stare back at him. 

His son—undeniably younger, maybe around one year old. He’s being held in your lap, arms secure around his tiny stomach. He looks chubbier, cuter. Wearing a cute Christmas get up. Baby Santa. And when his eyes glaze over to you, he gulps. 

You’re wearing an equally festive outfit. A bright red sweater adorned with little snowflakes and reindeer, a simple black skirt to go with it. Your face is glowing with a smile so genuine, it knocks the breath out of him. Your hair is a little messier, your cheeks flushed with warmth, probably from laughing too much. Koji’s tiny hand clutches at your sweater, and your other hand is raised in a peace sign as you lean closer to him for the photo. 

Satoru’s fingers brush the surface of the photograph, his chest tightening as the memory pulls him under. It looks like a professional photo done, you must’ve gone all out that Christmas. Now, holding it in his hands, it feels like a physical snapshot of a life he had no chance of living in. 

His thumb grazes the edge of the picture frame it’s nestled in. It’s a simple wooden frame, painted white, with the words Our First Christmas Together etched across the top in tiny gold letters.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his vision blurring slightly. He blinks rapidly, trying to push back the emotions clawing at his throat. It’s not just the photograph—it’s what it represents. A time when things were simpler. When the two of you were a family, before everything unraveled. When it was just you and Koji—no room for him. 

The weight of the night presses on him again, harder this time. He feels foolish for hesitating to open the gift, for overthinking it, when you’d given him something so pure. Something so full of love. He pulls the frame in, swallowing hard as he leans back on the couch. He holds it close to his chest. His other hand runs through his hair, tugging slightly as he tries to steady himself. “Why’d you have to go and do this?” he whispers to no one, his voice breaking. He outwardly chuckles—bitter but affectionate. Warm tears sliding down his cheeks and resting atop the wooden frame. His lips press a small kiss to his baby son, and to you. 

Because now, more than ever, he realizes how much he still misses you. And how much he regrets letting it all slip away when he was too young and stupid to think clearly. 

That night when he heads to bed, he sleeps with the picture of his family next to him. Tucked in like it’s a physical being, and in a way, it is. 

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[kbwrites]

Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four? 

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead. 

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life? 

“It’s me, (Y/N).”  he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room. 

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

 “And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

[tojbnuy]

boyfriend!toji when you randomly get your period.

you and toji had been cuddling on his couch for the past hour. toji had demanded you watch his favourite episodes of law and order with him as you both constantly bickered about who had better taste in shows. toji was also using this as an excuse to have you close, one of his favourite things to do with you was binge watch shows and movies. you were the type of person to make commentary throughout the entire thing but toji unfortunately found everything you said hilarious so he didn’t mind (though he would never tell you that). you’d watched two episodes by now and you were starting to feel ravenous.

“yeah alright doll i know, bbq wings and extra ranch.”

“awww look who knows my order off by heart”

“hard not to when you gobble it down 3 times a week.”

you punch his shoulder, obviously to no prevail as the man was built of muscle and muscle only. he tackled you back and the two of you go on play fighting until you sit up slightly and see the red mark on the thigh of toji’s sweatpants. toji’s face immediately turned into one of confusion, there’s no way he was bleeding from some play fighting, it didn’t even hurt? but you had realised what happened, you had realised but you really really hoped this one time you were wrong. and then toji saw the small red stain splotched on the back of your pyjama pants where you had previously been pressed into him whilst you were watching tv.

“uh oh baby d’ya get your period?”

“oh my god i think so” and with that you had ran off to the bathroom and locked the door. your heart was racing and your face felt like it was on fire. you and toji had only been dating for two months you were sure this would be it for him, he thinks you’re disgusting he has to. you peel your bottoms off and just as your about to get into the shower you hear a knock on the door.

“baby you wanna pass me your pants and i’ll put them in the wash?”

God why was he washing them? did he think you were the type of person to not offer to? how would you even give them to him he’d have to touch them? you didn’t have the voice to argue right then so you folded your pyjama pants as neatly as you could and without a word unlocked the door and plopped them into his waiting hands. he sounded like he had tried to get a word in but you had shut the door just as fast. he was probably going to ask you to leave as soon as you came out and you couldn’t blame him how could you have been so careless? you hadn’t heard from him again whilst you were showering and as hard as you tried you couldn’t get the tears to stop. you knew periods weren’t a big deal but you couldn’t help but feel so deeply embarrassed at what had happened. with trembling hands you crept your way to his bedroom and found some pajamas of yours you’d left on a previous stay. you’d also kept a stash of pads in his drawers for emergencies you just didn’t think they’d be this humiliating.

“mama you finished?”

after a few deep breaths you opened the door and braced yourself for him to ask you to leave.

“i’m so so sorry toji” you whispered, his name coming out of your mouth on a choked sob.

“mama what are you talking about?” toji didn’t know what to do. you were distraught, over some blood? he froze for a second at the sight of your red nose and bloodshot eyes, the hicuppy sounds of your quick breaths. then he swooped you into his arms and began caressing your back as he spoke.

“baby please tell me you aren’t this upset over getting some blood on me? like you haven’t cleaned my cuts and bruises hundreds of times by now”

“that’s not the same.” you said in between short breaths.

“it is tho baby. it’s just a bit of blood i’m a big boy i can handle it. in all honesty baby you could shit in my hands and i wouldn’t give a fuck.” he said in an attempt to make you laugh.

“toji ewww”

“kidding mama. kind of. seriously though baby look at me” he held your face gently in hands and lifted your head until you looked him in his eyes.

“you physically couldn’t do anything that would make me see you any less. you’ve done so much for me mentally and emotionally there is nothing on this planet that could ever make me be disgusted by you let alone something natural.”

you didn’t have any words to reply to him with and he didn’t need any. your expression had changed, the embarrassment had simmered down and all he could see now was affection and gratitude. toji understood you, he knew that sometimes you didn’t want to speak, especially after a long cry you had a tendency to stop talking for a while. with your face still held in his calloused palms toji pressed his lips into your soft ones. he pecked your lips, then moved to your nose, your forehead, over both your eyelids and then both your cheeks.

“my pretty girl. you want your wings now baby?”

and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the way your eyes lit up. you truly were his girl.

a/n : oh noooo he dropped his feminist literature books