#what’s that? do i never tire of being Like This?

[aangelinakii]

BATBOYS + SITTING ON THEIR BACK DURING PUSH-UPS.

note : personally i would love someone to push up w me on their back ,,, and also no damian just becquse i couldn't rhink of a scenario soz aloz

BRUCE WAYNE.

the kids had forced offered bruce a night off, after performing his nightly duties too many months in a row. now, sitting in bed with a book, you found it difficult to concentrate on the printed words as your partner lingered on the floor by his side of the bed, his quick breaths huffing through your shared bedroom. what on earth could he be doing? flipping the corner of your page down to save your place, you folded the book shut and put it down, rolling over the bed to peer over the side... only to find your wonderous bruce wayne... doing push ups?

"what are you doing?" you'd chuckled with a soft shake of your head.

muscles rippling beneath the flesh of his back, bruce brought his body down, and then pushed himself back up again, his triceps straining against skin. with a grunt he glanced back at you, never ceasing movement. "i need to get energy out before i go to bed. mind you, i'm not usually relaxing by this time."

another laugh brushed past your lips. "then that's not tiring you out." but bruce only sent you another glance, more sheepish this time; you couldn't blame him, not being accustomed to how one normally retires for the evening.

before he could reply again, you were slinging a leg over the side of the mattress and landing on the plush carpeting. bruce's exercise ceased in curiosity, his head turning to run his gaze over your legs. "oh, no, don't stop on my behalf," you grinned, carefully tucking one of your shins along his back and lowing the rest of your weight onto him.

but bruce wayne didn't falter a bit.

instead, he took it in his stride, tucking his arms and moving down, and then pushing up even faster than he'd been doing before. but he couldn't hide the crescent of his eyes and lines at the corners of his mouth as they turned up — he could do this all night.

DICK GRAYSON.

bullets of sweat shot to the floor with each punch, his flesh grunting against the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. it never had the chance to swing too far, for he was already hitting it from the other side. although you weren't going as hard at it as your boyfriend, your own limbs were straining from exercise.

with a loud exhale, dick stepped away from the swinging sand bag, holding out a shaking hand to steady it. before it could stop, he was already moving to one of the ready-laid mats.

without a second too long of a break, he was down on his palms, moving up and down, his triceps tensing and bulging in his flesh. the way he kept glancing at you every few moments was making it very difficult to focus on your own workout.

ceasing your movements, you looked over at him with crossed arms. "anything i can help you with?" it was half a joke, expecting him to just grunt a chuckle and shake his head, getting caught red-handed checking you out. instead, he allowed a few seconds' silence, and then hummed.

"yes, actually." his voice was strained against his action, but he'd be damned if he stopped now just to speak. "come here, will you?"

it's not like you're busy or anything. but who were you to deny one dashingly handsome dick grayson your time and energy; especially when that's what you were dating him for.

unable to bite back a smile, you made your way over. "okay... what now?"

"sit on my back."

despite the tension in his throat as he spoke, dick didn't pause his push-ups — and you were supposed to sit on him like this? right...

however strange it may have been to try sit down on a moving man's back, the sheer fact dick could push-up your body weight made it worth it (no matter how many times you fell off before finally sticking it).

JASON TODD.

relaxing days — no work, no appointments, nothing to do — had to be the best days. especially here, as you and jason lay belly-down on the floor, using your glorious free time to complete a puzzle book you'd found at the grocery store the other day.

well... jason was belly-down on the floor; you were belly-down on his back, peering over his shoulder and pointing at the page, giving your contributions.

it got to the point where you were both on the last page, pen marks etched into the paper from where you'd scribbled answers and numbers and words, but you were stumped. with a huff, jason flicked the pen from his fingers, landing with a thump a metre away. "how are they gonna make puzzles you can't even solve? stupid..."

"hey, hey," you chuckled, bringing your fingers to scratch lovingly at his jaw. "i can get us a new one. want to go now?" as the words left your mouth, you moved one leg from where it lay entwined with his, preparing to get ready for an outing.

but jason was too quick, and too stubborn. before you could react, he'd pulled one arm from beneath him and lightly pressed down on your back, keeping you in place. "no, i'm joking," he mumbled. "please, let's just stay."

anything for him.

and so you fell limp against him once more, arms folding beneath your chin so you could rest your head, eyes fluttering closed. silence ran through the apartment, aside from the soft workings of jason's breathing beneath your ear; outside the city buzzed, but, by now, it was more background noise. perhaps a little nap wouldn't hurt—

something was moving beneath you, and your eyes shot open in alarm, arms shooting out from beneath you and clinging to the nearest thing – which happened to be around jason's waist. although you weren't moving, the coffee table beside you was bobbing up and down, and you couldn't possiblt fathom what was happning, until you realised...

"don't want to miss a workout," jason grunted from below, as if reading your mind. no lazy day was truly lazy when you had a jason peter todd to mind.

TIM DRAKE.

"i bet i could do that," tim spoke from the other end of the couch, where his socked feet were prodding your legs, probably in a surreptitious attempt to get them massaged. "no sweat."

you glanced between the tv and him, your lovely boyfriend tim, who would come up in the dictionary if you searched for the word overzealous. on the screen, playing the scene of a bizarre film you'd flipped to, the main love interest was working out when the main character stumbled into the room; there was some fleeting dialogue, and then, before you could find an explanation for it, she was sitting on his back as he continued his workout.

"what, you—" now when you looked over at tim, he had that wide grin on his face, and you knew you were in for something. "you want to try it now?"

without much of an answer, tim was rising to his feet, adjusting the waistband of the linen pyjama pants he wore, and fell to his hands and knees. "i mean, if you insist," he scoffed playfully. "try not to fall in love with me even more."

something about this didn't feel right... tim was certainly muscular, certainly strong — you'd seen him in action — but you didn't have much trust in him this time. regardless of your worries, you shimmied from your seat on the couch and carefully arranged yourself, legs crossed, on tim's back.

he only shook a bit at first, his legs now outstretched behind him, arms firm as logs. but he wasn't moving, just frozen in the plank position.

peering over his shoulder at him, you asked, "what's with the hold-up?"

pink in the cheeks, jaw clenched, tim's voice barely came out through his teeth. "yeah, just... wait—"

carefully – and very slowly – tim lowered himself, and in addition you, down, until his toned chest was millimetres away from the floor, and then, just as slowly, he pushed back against the ground.

once he was back in his starting position, he shifted beneath you, almost toppling you overboard. "okay, okay, i'm done!" he gasped. "my abs are gonna kill me!"

DUKE THOMAS.

being sick for the past week, you'd found it difficult to encourage yourself out of the house to go visit the gym — so, instead, you'd resorted to working out at home.

duke returned home the moment the sun began to dip below darkening clouds, his warmth radiating through the house as he closed the door behind him. he called something into the living room, but it went unheard beneath the instructions playing on the telly.

"oh, you working out?" he hummed as he entered, raking his eyes over your form and the synchronised movements on the tv screen.

mid-movement, you grunted a yeah, and duke edged around you to sit on the couch.

finally, when your break came, you collapsed to your mat and turned to him, grabbing your water bottle on the coffee table. "how was patrol?" you breathed.

the corners of duke's mouth turned up in a grin, clearly bemused by the sheen of sweat along your brow. "yeah, great." his eyes glanced over to the screen — two more minutes of your break, and it looked like you'd be attempting a five-minute plank. "mind if i work in with you?"

you glanced back, sipping at your water, and gave a half-chuckle. "i would've thought you'd be too tired for more exercise."

duke's bottom lip jutted out with a casual shrug. "i've missed you, we can do it together."

unfortunately, you couldn't ignore that little smile, that charm he held like a secret. and so you put your water bottle back on the table and duke joined you, beside your mat.

when the timer was up, you braced yourself for your plank, but duke, also on his knees, caught your attention — some stupid smile lingered on his lips, like he had a cheeky plan. "i don't know if a plank will be difficult enough for me."

"well done," you scoffed playfully. "just because it's easy for you, doesn't mean it's easy for me."

he held out a hand to diffuse any wrong ideas. "no, i just meant i think i know a way to break a sweat."

at this, you eyed him suspiciously, albeit curiously. before you could question him any further, he was on his palms and tip of his toes, gesturing you to sit on his back.

after a few "are you crazy?"s, you found yourself sitting on his back, trying not to touch him too much with your overly-warm limbs, lowering and raising with ease, your youtube workout by now forgotten.

[renthony]

I do really need y'all to get it through your heads that transvestigation is also inherently intersexist, because it's grounded in the idea that sex is a binary and there is no natural sex variation in human bodies.

I'm tired of seeing intersex people get told that they only get affected by these things on "accident" and that it's not "really" intersexism because "it's transphobia." I'm tired of intersex people being told that we aren't affected by things that we are often the primary targets of.

It is intersexism. It is transphobia. It is racism. These things work together to create hostile environments for anyone who doesn't fit the bigoted idea of what people are "supposed" to look like.

Quit acting like intersex people are only affected by these things on accident when we are direct targets. Quit acting like intersex people are some unknown mythical creature that medical science has never heard of, when the truth is that if you haven't heard of us, it's because we have been actively erased and abused into silence.

Bigots don't stop harassing us when they find out we're intersex. They don't accept us. They don't think we're natural or normal. They think we're freaks. They think we should be forcibly operated on to make us "normal." They kill us, they assault us, they want us to stop being born at all.

The idea that transphobic bigots are okay with intersex people because we're born this way is false, and people have got to quit pretending that transphobia is the only factor at play.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. my sincerest apologies for not putting this in the warnings at first. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. sorry bubs. swearing. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4k

Chapter 1 Master List

“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. It’s only a few blocks.” You tell Max as you press into his side, shivering against the cold breeze of the Monaco night. It had been warm when you left the apartment earlier that evening but now the air held a chill that had you wishing you had taken Carles up on his offer to drive you back home. 

Around you, the city buzzes, a hive of activity on a Friday night but the extent of your world consists of only you and Max. 

“Of course I did. It’s late and cold and there was no way you were walking home alone.” 

“Max, we live in Monaco, I’m perfectly safe.” You joke but secretly, you’re glad Max had offered to walk you home. 

You’d never admit it but you liked being around him, his demeanor had always been calming to you and tonight, your nerves were frayed more than usual. It was probably thanks to the whispers you had heard at the gallery, asking not so quietly where Lando was as you walked around and spoke to the guests. He had never showed up and while you were disappointed he hadn’t showed, you weren’t quite surprised either. There had been something in his tone when you left that evening that had anxiety curling your gut before you even stepped out of the apartment. You hated to even think it, but you somewhat suspected he had never planned on showing up to the show at all that night but you wouldn’t ever put a voice to those thoughts.   

“Fine then.” Max huffs, but there’s no venom in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, okay? I feel like we never see each other anymore.” Max lets the unsaid end of that sentence hang in the air: ‘Because you’re with Lando now.’  

Your heart aches at the truth of his words. A lot of your friendships had taken a hit over the last three years. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but your circle had shrunk significantly since you had started dating Lando and it shocked you how you never had realized it until now. It had started small, with Lando saying he just wanted to spend the weekend only with you while he had a rare weekend off and then slowly morphed into him only wanting to spend time with his friends so if you wanted to see him you had to spend what little time you got with him with his friends as well. Slowly, your friends stopped calling and inviting you places because the answer was always the same: ‘sorry, Lando has plans this weekend and I’m going to tag along with him!’ Or just a straight up ‘no, not this time.’ 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, biting your lip as guilt creeps up your neck. “It’s been a rough year.” 

Max hates the regret that courses through him. He shouldn’t make you feel like this, shouldn’t voice his opinion of what he sees happening in front of him. He can’t help the frustration that bubbles to the surface when you talk like that though. He knows exactly where it comes from and it kills Max knowing that there is one person solely responsible for dimming that sparkle you’ve always had. 

Max stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few tourists to shout in surprise when they have to dodge the Dutchman’s tall frame. A frown finds itself onto his face as he looks down at you. Your heart stutters to a stop, you’ve seen this look before and it has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. 

“I hate when you do that.” He can’t help himself, he’s kept his peace for far too long but the fact that  Lando missed tonights show has been burning a hole in his chest all night and the embers were about to flare to life. 

Panic squeezes at your chest. Around you, people are shooting glances your way as you both stand in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. You only have a few moments before someone notices it is you and Max Verstappen and start taking pictures. Pictures that will inevitably show up on some gossip instagram account and cause you more trouble than they’re worth. 

“Do what?” Despite your desire to not be seen arguing with Max, you can’t help the question that slips out. 

“When you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship and it’s not you, Dovie.” Max’s words come out more harsher than they intend and he knows he’s approaching a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed tonight. 

You can’t bring your eyes up to meet Max’s heated gaze but you can feel him looking at you. Those blue eyes you used to think you could get lost in when you were younger. Before everything changed. Before you met Lando and he swept you right off your feet. 

“Charles told me about the apartment.” Max confesses. Maybe if you know you have others supporting your decision to leave, it’ll make it easier. He hopes that his support would mean something to you.

Your stomach plummets to your toes, cheeks burning red with shame. “Charles should keep his big mouth shut.” You bite out, fists working themselves into a ball at your sides. 

Max’s eyes narrow at your outburst. There was the fire that you’d been missing. Something in Max heaves a sigh of relief, you’re still in there. You’re on the cusp of getting that fire back and Max can almost see you reach for it deep in the pit of your belly. You’re so close to the edge and Max knows you well enough to know when to back off.  

“I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know that I miss you.” 

Max momentarily wonders if he’s gone too far when he sees tears well up in your eyes. His heart squeezes at the thought of being the one to make you cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sob, no longer caring who sees you or what could possibly make it back to Lando. “I know you’re friends with him and I shouldn’t put you in the middle of our mess.” 

Max’s brows knit together in confusion. The fact that you would question his loyalty to you over Lando simply baffles him. “I’ve been in your life longer than I’ve known Lando and you’ll be in my life long after he’s gone.” Max lets that last sentence hang in the air, the prophecy of his words clinging to your skin. 

“Max.” You whisper, floored by the fierceness of his tone and the sincerity of his words. 

Panic claws at him. He’s gone too far, revealed too much. He can’t do that with you now, not when you’re already so fragile. You don’t need that from him and he knows it. Back off, something in him orders and alarm bells clang to life. 

“All I’m saying is,” Max keeps his tone deliberately light. “If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here. Always.” 

You nod, appreciating how he backed off when he saw you panicking. 

Max takes your elbow before turning you around, pointing you in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?” 

As Max walks you the rest of the way home, Lando is still set up in his gaming room playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. As they begin another raid, Lando notices Max’s stream start to pick up at a much faster pace than it’s been running all evening. He’s been streaming for hours now, since before you left the apartment and while he knows the opening should be wrapping up right about now, he has a hard time caring. Those things are always so boring and he never understands the art, even if it is nice to be photographed out with you and your brothers. 

“What is this link everyone’s spamming chat? You all know if you start spamming, we’re going to mute you.” Max asks, frustration evident in his voice. 

Lando glances over at the chat screen on his second monitor and sees his name flying by along with what looks like an instagram link. He knows he shouldn’t click on dodgy links but curiosity gets the best of him because at the same time the chat starts to explode, so do his notifications from Instagram. “The fuck?” He mumbles, ignoring Max who is reading the chat as they come in. 

“First Verstappen steals your championship, now he’s stealing your girl? Chat, what the fuck are you all on about?” 

Lando can feel the heat rising in his face and he’s instantly thankful that he’s got his video off. He mutes himself quickly too before texting Max, who is desperately trying to regain control of the chat. The link finally opens and Lando nearly drops his phone. He’s been tagged in a series of photos that show you and Max walking out of the gallery together, then you two stopped in the middle of the sidewalk embracing with you clearly looking upset, and then a final one showing you two walking away together. 

Anger flares bright and sharp in his chest as he looks at the photos. You’re making him look like a fool, galavanting around town with the likes of Max Verstappen late at night, especially after all he went thorough with Max last season. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Alright, chat I think that’s going to be the end of the stream tonight. This is why we can’t have nice things!” 

Max ends the stream without a second thought, knowing that Lando is going to be incandescent with rage after seeing those photos and reading all the comments. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source First he steals the championship, now it looks like Max Verstappen is making a play for @/lando's girl. Uh ooooooh... user9928 I mean, she looked pretty upset in the other pictures I saw leaving the gallery. Lando didn't show to support her so... user298 paddock bunnies gonna bunny >>>user223 she's literally known Max almost her entire life??? user110 this isn't a thing...her and Max have been friends for YEARS. Leave the poor girl alone user1008 lando's loss, she's amazing. user918 idk but if my girl got caught getting a kiss from another guy, I'd go scorched earth >>>user028 SERIOUSLY I am floored by the people defending her??? Like??? >>>user928 maybe if Lando showed up for his girlfriend, Max wouldn't have had to step in and comfort her...?

As Lando struggles to come to grips with what he just saw, you and Max are standing in the lobby of your apartment as you desperately search for your keys. “Fuck, I think I forgot my keys upstairs.” 

“Just give Lando a call, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

You shrug, cheeks heating. “He sometimes gets tunnel vision when he’s streaming and forgets to check his phone.” You admit, not wanting to go more into detail because you know how bad it’ll sound if you have to tell Max that sometimes Lando will completely ignore you while he’s streaming. What you also don’t tell him is that this has happened to you before and all three times, you’d had to spend the night at either Jade or Charles’ house because he had been on stream so late you had nearly fallen asleep in the hallway. 

Max levels a glare at you, unable to believe what you’re saying. “Well, lets both go up then and maybe we can get his attention by knocking.” 

Anxiety ripples through you as Max starts off towards the elevators, giving you no other choice but to follow him. It’s a quiet ride up to your floor as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, unable to even attempt to make small talk with Max. You know the facade of your entire relationship is about to be lifted right in front of one of your oldest friends and you don’t quite know how to make it stop. 

When you raise your hand to knock, your heart hammers in your chest so wildly you momentarily worry Max is going to be concerned for your health. Much to your surprise, it only takes a few short moments for the door to swing open so fast you nearly stumble back. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Lando spits when his eyes land on Max. The venom in his voice is so shocking you need to take a step away, unintentionally stepping closer to Max, which seems to set Lando off even more. Rage flares in his eyes at your proximity to his on-track rival. 

“That’s a wild way to say ‘hey man, thanks for walking my girlfriend home in the dark because I couldn’t be bothered to show up to her art show’ but you’re welcome.” Max grits out, taking one step closer to you as if he might need to get between you and Lando. 

Tension hangs thick between the three of you as Lando seethes where he stands in the door. 

“Max, it’s okay.” You whisper, shame lighting a painful spark of fire deep in your chest. This was going to get out of control so quickly. 

“No, it’s not and you know it.” Max turns back to Lando now, eyes blazing with a level of anger that is miles more intense than the look Lando is giving you. “And why the fuck are you coming at her so hot? All I did was walk her home.” 

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because this was just posted by almost a dozen gossip accounts and was being spammed all over Fewtrell’s chat while we were streaming.” 

You take the phone Lando is brandishing in your face and go pale. The carousel of photos in the new post are pretty damning, you have to admit but you would have thought that your boyfriend of all people would know better than to blindly believe a series of grainy photos above trusting his own girlfriend. 

“Lando…” You sooth, arm reaching out to touch his elbow. You wince when he pulls away from you. “You of all people should know how those things are twisted. Max was just walking me home and we were talking, that’s it.” 

“But why was he hugging you?” He shows you the third picture of Max hugging you after you had started crying out on the street. You had to admit you were kind of impressed with how fast those photos got out, but it was Monaco after all and you hand’t exactly been discreet when you were upset with Max. 

“Because she was upset you didn’t show up for her. Again!” Max shouts and you flinch.

 The words slice a fresh wound across your heart. The fact that Max knew that this wasn’t the first time upsets you more than you think it should. You’re not entirely sure why Max’s opinion of you matters so much but you’re not quite willing to examine those feelings yet. 

Lando’s glare swings away from you and back onto Max. “Because I’ve been to a million of them and they’re all the same. Same pretentious people pretending they have taste. Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all.” 

The words that come out of your boyfriend’s mouth have you audibly gasping, hand flying to your throat. “Lando.” You whisper, pain and shock coursing through your voice. 

You swear you feel a brush of fingertips on the small of your back but the touch is so light and so quick you think you’ve imagined it. 

Something flickers behind your boyfriend’s eyes then and it’s almost like he realizes he’s gone a step too far. His shoulders sag and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry baby.” Lando reaches for you and before you can step away, he pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen in his embrace though and neither does Max. “Please come inside and we can talk about it alone, okay?” He whispers, glaring at Max, clearly dismissing him. 

The way his arms used to feel around you was comforting, you’d seek his affection when you were anxious or upset and he would always take care of you but somewhere along the line, the affection you craved stopped being handed out so easily. Now, you craved it but only because if he was touching you it meant he wasn’t mad at you and maybe this time it would be different. Every time he showed you this kind of affection you hoped that this would be the time he would change. 

It never was. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Max. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” 

Worry lines crease the spot between his brows as he frowns. Everything in his body is screaming to put up a fight and not let you go inside with Lando. He knows if Charles were here and had just witnessed what he had, there was no way Lando would be leaving this building in anything other than a body bag but he wasn’t Charles and he didn’t have any entitlement to you. He wanted to fight but you weren’t his to fight for. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay Dovie?” 

Lando’s arms tighten around you at the nickname. He hates it and Max knows it. “She won’t need to, I’ve got her.” 

“You sure about that, mate?” Max asks, one brow tipping up in question. 

Without waiting for a reply, Max turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. In his pocket, his fingers curl around his phone because the moment he gets out of the building he knows exactly who he’s going to be calling: Charles. 

As soon as Max leaves and your behind closed doors, the mask slips again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, walking home with Max fucking Verstappen? And hugging him?” Lando is pacing the floor of your living room as you stand there, helpless to say anything against his raging. 

It’s usually like this when he gets angry with you and you’ve gotten good at being quiet while he rages. You have to let him work out all the anger and eventually you know he’ll calm down and apologizes for losing his temper. You’ve seen this before and you know exactly what to do, how to humor the angry beast that has surfaced once again. 

“Lando, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” You fight to keep the exasperation out of your voice, knowing that would just set him off even more. “I was alone, my brothers were going in the opposite direction, and Max offered. That’s it! It was completely innocent.” Despite yourself, you try to reason with him.

“You should have just gone home with your brothers then instead of putting yourself in that position.” He snaps and you glare at him. 

“You would have rather me not slept here at home tonight than take an offer from a friend to walk me home? All because you didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do?” 

You know you’re pushing him and Lando doesn’t like to be pushed. Your conversation with Charles two weeks ago flickers through your mind. How you deserve better and it strikes you then that everyone but you can see it. Everyone around you, everyone that loves you can see how bad he is for you, how poorly he treats you and how much you’ve changed since you started dating him. 

You supposed that if you had changed for the better, maybe everyone who loved you wouldn’t have anything to say. Don’t people change for the people they love all the time? You were sure they did but you weren’t sure you liked the change you saw in yourself anymore. You couldn’t fight it, this change that felt like you were wearing shoes that were three sizes too small for your feet. Like you had outgrown yourself in a way that wasn’t okay and you somehow needed to find your way back to who you were before Lando. Before he broke you. 

“And avoid you causing social media chaos that I’m going to be dealing with for weeks now?” Lando sneers, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down his nose at you. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

You laugh, cold and bitter, as you shake your head. “Thats real nice Lan, real nice.” 

“I’m just saying. Now the rumor mills are going to start up again. Whenever you’re at a race, people will be watching to see if you’re with Max again. Or maybe next time it’ll be Lewis. Or maybe you want to go a bit younger? Get a ‘friendly escort home’ from one of the rookies? I’m sure Franco would love to try his hand with you. My girlfriend, the paddock bunny being passed around.” 

The ache in your chest grows as he chooses his words carefully, barbed and sharp as glass, so they hit their intending target, cutting through you like butter and causing mortal damage.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” You whisper. “I’m sorry that the pictures hurt your feelings and were taken out of context but you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Tears threaten to spill and you will them to stop, knowing that will only fuel Lando’s fire. He loves when he upsets you like this, when he gets to tell you what a drama queen you are. Just like your brother, he would say, always whining and crying on the radio about how Carlos wasn’t being a team player and letting him win when he didn’t deserve it. 

“If I’m not the one to give you a reality check, then who will? Your entire family has coddled you for your entire life and you think you deserve some level of respect that you haven’t earned. If you deserved that kind of respect, you would have gone home with your brothers or walked home alone. People who deserve respect don’t put their relationships in jeopardy because they’re afraid to be alone at night.” 

“Put our relationship in jeopardy?” You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the audacity of what Lando is saying. “Lan, you really are being a bit over dramatic here, don’t you think? I’m sure the PR department at McLaren will take care of this by the next race, no big deal.” 

Lando laughs, dark and bitter as he takes a step towards you. You have to fight the urge not to flinch when he gets closer to you. Deep down, you know he’d never raise a hand to you but it’s hard to remember that when he gets in your face like this. “Now you expect McLaren to clean up your mess?” He hisses. “God, you really are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just trying to find a solution to the problem that I seem to have caused.” You snap back, courage flaring in your chest as you stand up a little straighter. Max’s words from earlier play back in your head: ‘anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship’. “What if I come to the next race? If the two of us turn up in the paddock together, that will help quiet the rumors, don’t you think?” 

Lando narrows his eyes, “So you can get more attention from Max? Absolutely not. I’ll have McLaren handle this, okay? Just forget about it.” 

You want to scream at his solution because it was the same exact thing you had literally just suggested and been laughed at. But that was the way Lando was. If it wasn’t his idea, it was the worst thing you could have suggested. As long as it was his idea though, it was brilliant and the perfect solution to everything that was wrong. You should have anticipated this coming but you knew it was useless to fight with him. 

All at once, your body is overcome with this total wash of exhaustion. Total mental and physical exhaustion grips at your throat and you sway on your feet. “I’m going to go to bed.” You choke you. “In the guest room.” You tack on before turning on your heel and walking away from the fight like you do every time. Lando always gets the last word and as he stands there alone in the living room he feels like he’s won this one. He’ll have to call Sophie in the morning to get her to start working on damage control but for now? For now, he’s sure you realize your mistakes and you won’t put a toe out of line like that for a long time. 

Little does he know that all he’d done tonight was push you past your breaking point. 

(Quick note!!! If you want to be added to the tag list, I absolutely will but when you request that, can you pleeeeease let me know if you want to be on my general tag list or just the specific fic you're commenting on. ❤️)

Tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @ilove-tswizzle

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Spite alone is not enough for me.

I can't face the next four years if the best I've got against systemic bullying and dehumanization is the knowledge that my continued existence pisses these bigots off. That's just not enough for me to keep going. It makes me feel like giving up now. I can't resign myself to four years of misery, and I don't think you should, either.

My hope today comes from knowing there's going to be rough shit in the next 4 years, but there's going to be joy, too. There are going to be kids who start hrt for the first time. People will get the gender-affirming surgeries they need and feel comfortable and happy in their body like they never knew they could. Trans people all over this country will come out and finally feel like they can be themselves. This year, there will be nervous trans teenagers wearing rented dresses and tuxedos to prom who will be so scared but it will go perfectly fine. There will be parents who hug their children and tell them that they might not understand yet but they will always, always love them. For every transphobic uncle there will be that kind stranger who makes sure to "sir" or "ma'am" you a bit extra hard. There will be donated binder drives and joyful art posted by a teenager who just learned what "nonbinary" means and people in administrative positions who try to make our lives a bit easier when they can.

I'm terrified of what the next four years will bring. I'm scared of losing my healthcare, I'm scared for trans kids, I'm scared of the rampant dehumanization aimed at us. I'm tired of being used as a political punching bag.

But that's not all these years will bring. For myself and for all my trans siblings in the US, I hope these years bring us joys we haven't even imagined yet and victories we haven't yet considered we could win. And I can try to keep going for that. I hope you do, too.

[kavehscanvas]

Chat I'm gonna ramble

I have multiple hyperfixations that every once in a while I think "oh I'm getting normal about this now I think" and suddenly I'm BLASTED with the knowledge that I'm, in fact, not normal about it AT ALL

So this is a list of things I'm normal about until I'm not normal about, for fun

I spend like from a week to a month being EXACTLY the image above, to the point where even >I< get tired of hearing me talk about something

Danganronpa, unfortunately. Resurfaces at least once a year, and so far it's happened 3 times around my birthday. I don't think I can break the curse and I've stopped trying

Steven Universe, but specifically ALL the Ruby and Sapphire appearances. I can binge ONLY the episodes where they appear and sometimes the ones leading up to it for the full impact. That's why my Kavetham Rupphire crossover exists.

Genshin Impact hasn't gone anywhere since I got into it, I never had the chance to think I was normal about it. But every once in a while I might think I'm normal about Enkanomiya, The Chasm, Perilous Trail or Guizhong and I get SLAPPED by my own insanities

HSR but specifically the Xianzhou Luofu continuances from 2.4 and 2.5. I am ABNORMAL about the Yaoqing Trio, I am ABNORMAL about Lingsha, I am ABNORMAL about the transition from Dan Feng to Dan Heng in the shackling prison

Ordem Paranormal as a whole. Since Natal Macabro released I haven't been able to let go of it. I can't do anything without thinking "what if I inserted the NM cast into this". I binged the ending of Desconjuração this week. I watched two whole episodes in one day, and MIND YOU. THE EPISODES ARE 4 HOURS LONG.

Like two months ago I got beamed with Akame Ga Kill thoughts. Chat. It was so much worse than all the other times. I lost track of how many times I watched this anime since 2017. This time I only intended to watch a couple of the episodes, yk "the fun ones" (where my faves die) and ended up watching THE ENTIRE ANIME. In two days. I did not come out of it with my sanity intact. And this time I absorbed even more plot points that I had missed the other days and I was even more analytical of the characters and chat. Chat I don't think I can recover from this one. The Run thoughts come back to me every time I open my gallery. Ohhhhhh vaguely androgynous blonde man with good intentions but questionable actions who is the normalest person in his group and has angel imagery despite having a LOW ASS V NECK that shows a considerable amount of his chest save meeeee. Save me small pink girl with a gun double her size and trauma that turns into motivation. Save me lady who killed a guy with her bare fists with no power back up while she was dying from several gun wounds and also bit into a guy's blade with her teeth and it was literally so attractive I physically had to stop and gush over it because I'm attracted to beautiful and strong women.

This was not my intention but I think that last point is a very good example. I am, in fact, not normal about it. I literally thought a few hours ago "huh maybe I should delete some of these AGK skins, I don't use them a lot" past me I have news and I think you won't like them ...

[nor-ay]

Our first masquerade ball - (unrequited love story) 

Shadow Milk Cookie thinks that you are... Odd. Different, if you will. It’s in the way you roll your eyes at White Lily Cookie, in the harsh tone that slips out when you find someone annoying, or in the way that you always seem to be out of place. But don’t get him wrong; he certainly enjoys that. He thinks that you have great potential to be his right hand. He just needs to give you a little push on the right path. Sweet talks to you a little until he gets in your good graces and WHAM, controls you like a puppet. It's a win-win situation; he gets to have you on his team and breaks your friend's spirit. 

At least, that is what he initially thought, but that changes when you accept his gift and lie to your supposed friends. You lie to Pure Vanilla Cookie, and that has him clapping and laughing like a king entertained by the best jester there is in his kingdom. He almost can’t believe it! There is no need for him to break your perception of Pure Vanilla Cookie or the nature of Cookies. You already have resentment towards them. 

… 

You think that Shadow Milk Cookie is testing you. That has to be the only explanation for the gifts and fever dream. It’s not like it bothers you, but when you look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, you feel guilt growing and wrapping itself around you. He’s not deserving of this whole situation… Shaking your head, you try to push all these thoughts away. You’re not evil—

Apple Faerie Cookie’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Cookies! Let’s go to the top of the Spire!” 

“I sincerely hope we’ll find what we’re looking for!” You find Wizard Cookie’s reply relatable. You’re tired too. And desperately wanting to get out.

“I bet you will! Now, shall we?” 

“Um…you guys can go ahead, I have to go, I mean, I forgot something.” You hate how your voice sounds so suspicious! Cringing at yourself, you try to smile. 

GingerBrave is looking at you strangely, and Pure Vanilla Cookie is unusually silent. Strawberry Cookie is the one to break the silence. “Really…? Are you sure?” 

“Yeah! I mean, what's wrong? I’m sure you all can live without me for a bit, right?” You try to laugh, but it sounds forced. When did you become so awkward around…your friends? 

Wizard Cookie frowns “Well, the way you—“ 

“All right! [Name] Cookie, I trust you; I’m sure you’re going to do something helpful! Just be careful.” GingerBrave without realizing it, saves you from being interrogated. And again, your lungs fill with guilt. You find it harder to breathe and the smile on your face falters. You’re not evil. 

“Can you not—ugh, never mind.” Wizard Cookie gives up. And you internally thank the witches for it. 

“Right. Thank you. And- please…be careful on your journey.” Ah, this is what you’re doing now. You don’t feel part of them. You never did. Not even with the five ancient heroes. You were always more of a confidant. Hearing Pure Vanilla’s worries, comforting White Lily Cookie after discovering her other half. Playing along with Golden Cheese Cookie, helping out Dark Cacao Cookie and Holyberry Cookie with their tasks. You never felt like you belonged. And so you grew resentful. 

You turn around and go in the opposite direction. Silence is the only thing you hear while going down the stairs, and you have to blink quickly to stop the tears from falling. You were not lying before when you said that you forgot something. When you arrive at the same spot where you woke up hours ago, the doll is still there. Sitting down, you pick up the mini-you and hug it tightly. Closing your eyes, you confess to no one. “I don’t know what to do… I miss when things used to be easy… I don’t want to hurt them. I’m just, so so so sick and tired of the same things over and over again…it’s like I’m trapped in a loop.” 

…

You don’t know how long it’s been since you parted ways with GingerBrave and company. But, unexpectedly, the doll in your arms starts moving on its own. So you let it go, waiting for its next move. 

Clap

A Colombina mask appears in front of you. It’s beautiful. You smile, thinking it’s a bit ironic. Perhaps even mocking that he gives you a mask. Is this his way of telling you that you’re two-faced? 

Nevertheless, you still put on the mask and follow the doll through some large hallways. Arriving at a luxurious ballroom. “How did we not see this?” You ask, completely in awe. The tiles on the floor are so white that you can see yourself reflected on them.

“Well… I had it hidden, of course; did ya forget that you’re in my domain, mhm?” It takes you a second for your brain to register who answered. 

“S-Shadow Milk Cookie!?” 

“Awe…are you really that surprised to see me? Well? Go ahead!” You notice how he’s also wearing a mask similar to yours. 

“Uh…ah-�� You don’t know what to say. Sweat begins to collect on your forehead. You begin to panic. You have to say something!! But, what can you say that he doesn’t know already?

Before you can think of anything to say, you hear Shadow Milk Cookie groan, as if annoyed. “Ughh right, I’m going too fast, this is a masquerade ball, you’re not supposed to know who I am.” 

“O-kay, let's start over!” You watch dumbfounded as he claps twice and the ballroom fills with different puppets who are dancing and talking to each other. 

You watch all this and can’t help but laugh, and, oh, it feels so freeing to be able to be as loud as you want. Everything is so out of the blue that you just can’t help it. Shadow Milk Cookie seems to be interested in what is making you laugh so much. “I’m sorry…this just doesn’t make any sense, and I love it.” 

He smiles, seeming pleased. “Now, THIS is the type of audience that I like! Alrighty! Let's get to it.” He closes the distance and takes your hand. He runs cold, you shiver at the contact.

You feel relaxed, and that should make you worry, but, as Shadow Milk Cookie gives you a twirl and spins you around the ballroom, you can’t. The giggles don’t seem to stop coming out and your eyes are all teary from all the laughter. Your hands are tightly grasping his shoulders and it doesn’t surprise you how agile he’s on his feet. It’s so easy to let him guide you. 

“Awww look at you! You’re enjoying yourself so so so much! Aren’t you going to ask me where are your frieeends?” 

“Well…,” you start—

“Oh, wait, WAIT, don’t tell me! You finally realize that it’s not with them that you belong? Especially that dreadfully, painfully, unbearably Pure Vanilla Cookie?” You can’t fully read the tone in his voice; it seems playful, but the hate he has for them inevitably seeps in. 

“That’s right,” Your smile wavers as you revert to your natural state of being. “It took me a long time, but… I’ve finally understood who I am and what I want.” A sudden bravery fills your heart as you finally ask him- “Please, take me with you!” You surprise yourself by the loudness of your voice.

Have you always been that desperate to escape your life?

“…” His eyes blink several times and it feels like the whole ballroom has grown silent. You start to feel self-conscious and—

His laugh fills the whole ballroom, and in just a second, Shadow Milk Cookie dips your body back dramatically. You grip onto him like a lifesaver and- and you’re out of breath. “Perfect,” you hear him say. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard. “Alright, since you asked so nicely…you’re with me now!” 

“Huh, so…”

“Oops, looks like I have to go, feel free to explore my humble domain, hehe!” 

He’s gone in the blink of an eye. All the puppets that were dancing vanished too, all left behind in the ballroom was the mini-you doll and your racing heart. 

“…Did he lose track of time?”

Okay!! I actually struggled a bit with the dialogue. In my mind, there were so many different things about what Shadow Milk would say in certain situations! But, I’m happy about how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it too!! AND, this is important, the story is going to be on hold until we get episode 8 of Beast-Yeast. It’s not like I can’t improvise, but if I continue, and then they release ep 8, I know that I’ll end up rewriting everything, and I don’t want to do that, to be honest. 

Besides that, I’m already thinking of writing Shadow Milk x reader with a trope that I really enjoy!! Orr some headcanons (maybe nsfw, still unsure about that).

@notboomm @fyodors-belovedxoxo

[theminecraftbee]

Grian sits on the edge of a desert cliff, watching the sunrise. His knuckles are bloody. He's had this dream before, and he's lived this moment before. He's awfully tired of it, honestly. He's not even particularly sad anymore. It's hard to be particularly sad, this long after, this much more between them.

But his knuckles are bloody again. There's someone sitting next to him.

"Joel?" he says, baffled.

"Yeah, hi, really weird bloody dreamscape you've got. Literally and figuratively: bloody hell. Like, Scott, he's got this pretty cottage and all these flowers and the single most terrifying version of Jimmy that I've seen in my life. Which serves him right, since he's a bastard, and I told him that. Or, uh, Pearl. She's normal. She's got dogs and... shit, I don't know--"

"Why are you here?" Grian asks.

"Oh, right, I was tasked with asking you if you regret it," Joel says.

There's a long moment of silence. The wind blows.

"I mean. No?" Grian says.

"Right? That's what I said! Blumin' stupid question, that!" Joel says.

"Wait, you mentioned--are you asking everyone that?" Grian asks.

"Yeah! It was all, oh, you've got a car, you can travel, it'll be all poetic like. You've had a 'character arc'--like I'm some, some fake guy--and grown as a person, everyone else has to, would they do things differently now? And I said, man, that's stupid. That's really stupid. But the glowing purple eyes guys--"

"Wait wait wait wait, the who?" Grian interrupts.

"Sorry, do you not know the glowing purple eyes guys? Martyn was acting like you're all buddies or something. Then I punched him. Because it was funny," Joel says.

"No, I know the--they asked you to do this?" Grian says. He takes a moment to try to imagine it. He has some trouble. Joel and the Watchers don't really belong in the same place at the same time for so many reasons that Grian doesn't know where to begin.

"Apparently, I'm not being serious enough," Joel informs Grian. "I kinda get it, actually. Like, everyone but Cleo has been somewhere like..."

Joel looks out over the cliff. It is tall, and Grian knows he cannot see the ground from the top. He had been able to during the actual games, of course, but these aren't the actual games; these are the memories of what brought him to victory, made manifest.

"So I guess I kinda wondered, since you lot always seem so blumin' sad about it," Joel finishes.

"I'm not really," Grian says.

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, maybe once, but--nah. Not really."

"Cool. That's the last one then," Joel says. "Hear that, weird glowing eyes guys? You act like I'm all weird or whatever but none of them regret it either. Not a single one of them."

Grian looks over the cliff again himself.

"None of us?" he asks, very quietly indeed.

Joel sighs. "All of you asked that too. I'm getting back in the bloody car."

Grian doesn't watch Joel leave. He rubs the blood off his knuckles and watches the sky instead. When he's tired thinking in circles about how he didn't really expect that he would be telling the truth, just then, he starts trying to imagine the trouble Joel might be giving everyone else instead. It's much more fun to think about than the sand that's getting in his socks. He's never able to get sand out of anything, these days, and it leaves him always just a little bit uncomfortable. Oh well; the price of being in a desert. He wouldn't be anywhere else if he had the choice, though, grit in his socks or not.

[osamucide]

⊹ I KNOW

I WILL PRETEND THAT I DON’T KNOW OF YOUR SINS UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO CONFESS . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: 2.1k

cw: gn!reader, implied/referenced dissociation+anxiety+self harm+scars+past suicide attempts, hurt/comfort but it's him so of course it's a little unhinged, mentions of dying and being dead, mentions of kidnapping but it's not serious, minor suicidal ideation but it's romantic i guess? non-sexual nudity/intimacy, showering together, lots of kisses, just unbandaging a fragile Dazai and covering him in kisses

reid: draft i been sittin on. how many times will i do an iteration of unwrap and clean him. idk. a million billion. i love him so bad

He’s looking down at his hands—or his wrists, or his fingers, or the spaces between his fingers; you’re not sure. But he’s looking down, emptily, when you nudge the cracked bathroom door further open.

He’s sitting on the lid of the closed toilet. He has no shirt on. His bandages are unraveling at each end of their respective reaches. It’s long past time they should be changed, long past time the flesh beneath them breathe and be washed.

Changing the bandages is just something that has to be done; he will not give them up, nor will he give up the habit evidenced beneath them, and you’ve been with him long enough to know this is how he survives. The bandages do the holding-together when you’re not there to, which is far more often than he’d like. Ideally, he’d be able to shrink you down and keep you in his pocket for safe-keeping and take you out whenever he needs, like a good luck charm; he’d be able to have you on his arm all day, every day, but that’s not possible when you’re an adult with a job and a life. Like him. Right? Right.  He’d shuck this skin sooner than the habit, anyway, so, like showering, it’s just something that has to be done.

He doesn’t particularly love when you watch him do it, or offer to do it for him, but you certainly drive off the impulses, hazes, and tremors that come with doing it alone. So, he lets you.

He didn’t always; he went out of his way, bent over backwards for a long time to make sure you never could, much less had to. Somewhere deep down, though, beneath that resolve and the facade stilted upon it, he knew he couldn’t hide his ugliness from you forever.

Despite the normality—the domestic intimacy that standing beneath the water with you suggests now, so much that he has to admit it stills the expansion of the ever-growing black hole inside him—he still always fears it’ll be the last time you want to look at it.

“Osamu?” you mumble from the doorframe. 

He does not move, does not look at you over the white noise of the shower running—if he’s noticed you’re here, he doesn't show it. You move to him, slowly, like approaching a skittish cat.

Before you touch him, you bend down—beneath the sink are the rolls of fresh bandages, the clean, new ones that make him look less like a mummy unearthed from Victorian times and more like what he understands himself to be in his purest form: a basket case of the modern era, the worst gift you unwrap every Christmas and birthday and have to pretend to fawn over until it’s safe to be rid of it. You’ll never be rid of him, he thinks regretfully while you shuffle next  to him; he’ll never get by without you now, and it almost makes him wish he never met you in the first place, just so he never could’ve inflicted himself upon you.

But you never send him back. Dazai can’t seem to understand, even with all that sharp intelligence of his, that you don’t ever plan to.

Four rolls. One for each of his legs, one for both of his arms, the rest for miscellaneous spots like around his neck or across his chest or wherever else he decides he needs them this time. That’s how many you set on the counter before you land in front of him, your hands pushing his hair back, your proximity forcing his cheek to lay tired against your stomach while those hands curl around the backs of your legs and pull you closer to stand between his.

You cradle Dazai’s head like you’re some sort of saint. To him, you might as well be.

Thumbs brushing his temple and the base of his skull, you speak again, just as quiet. “Come on, let’s wash.” Or, let me unwrap you and look at all that ugliness. He can’t help that he doesn’t move for a firm fifteen seconds; why would he want to, when you hold him so sweetly like this?

But eventually, he rises.

You don’t feed him formalities or those silly questions anymore when you do this. No more can I? Or, you’re gorgeous, or, is this okay? He doesn’t want those during this, you’ve come to find out; you’ll tell him you love him plenty in a few minutes, when he’s only marginally more ready to receive it, but right now you go to work like a tinker repairing a broken doll. Your touch is objective, but not cold or clinical. You treat him with a tenderness he couldn’t have fathomed until he knew you.

After he steps out of his slacks, you loosen the strips with one hand and twirl them around the other; they accumulate in a graying mass of two or more weeks worth of sweat, and you place them in the trash, softly, like you adore and respect those, too, as he skitters past you toward the water for a sense of cover. He knows you’ll be in right after him, but at least the light behind the shower curtain is dimmer. When he disappears, it’s as if he was never there. 

But he says, “I’m okay,” unprompted, as you step beneath the water. 

He is, really. It’s just jarring when it’s the focus.

The process of becoming accustomed to vulnerability is often more painful than the vulnerability itself, Dazai has learned. While the realization can be sudden, like the flipping of a switch, the vulnerability on its own can actually be quite nice. Peaceful. He knows this because you showed him—continue to show him.

He’s just a man in the shower with his beloved, so, now you’ll talk to him.

“I know,” you say. And you do, really. The hardest part is over, and he’s practically pranced through it this time. You crack a smile. 

And he mirrors your smile, not so bright and smug as under normal circumstances but soft and searching. Dazai reaches for your arms, your waist, and pulls you into him; the water hits your back—hot, how he likes it—and you tuck your head into his shoulder and wrap yourself around his middle, whispering I love yous into his shoulder.

It's peaceful. He sways you ever so subtly.

But in true Dazai fashion, he'll shatter the peace. Ever the disruptor.

“I'm sorry you have to love this part of me, too.”

The ugliness, he means. Not just the marred and keloided skin that maps out his history of self-destruction, but his resignation to it. The scabs that touch the small of your back are freshly healing and peeling. If you didn't have him beneath your watch right now they'd probably be scratched open, raw and bleeding again, but as previously mentioned, your presence staves off the itching need to do so.

The tips of his fingers squeeze you when you pull back to look up at him, sliding your hands up his shoulders and behind his neck to link.

“I love every part of you,” you murmur as his forehead dips to rest against yours. Your stunted slow-dance deepens as he sighs himself back into his body, back into the clearer image of you in his grasp. “Don’t be sorry about it. Wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to.”

The demons snap at his ankles, though. “What if you change your mind one day?”

If he was a hair more insane, he might take you hostage. Keep you to himself forever, and never let you leave. But that would take the peace out of it, he thinks. Your volition makes it all sweeter. You want to be here. You want to love him.

He just doesn’t want that to change.

You hum patiently, although hating when he what ifs. That’s the plague of the ever-moving mind he keeps, you suppose; so intelligent, but so restless. “I don’t think I will.”

You don’t think you will, but that doesn’t settle the insecurity that’s settled in his stomach like a coiled snake. 

You don’t think you will, but you will. He knows you will, because that’s how it’s fated to unfold for him. 

Your short words don’t corral him away from the snake, but the less you treat him like he’s a gaping wound, the better. You see it. You don’t cry or gasp or lament or promise how you could never leave him, will never leave him; you don’t like to make promises that reach beyond your control.

The human existence is so strange and fluid, and while you’re confident you won’t tire of him, well, your reciprocated touches aren’t the only things stitching you together, you know; there’s a world, much larger than both of you, that you live in, and a universe even more incomprehensible and its whims are fickle—but they’re also serendipitous. Everything is a miracle, if you think about it. A big, beautiful mistake. You don’t know how much he buys into this, and you’d rather him not read into it as an excuse not to answer with a resounding I’ll never leave you, my love, so you just do what you always do best: spin it in a direction his troubled mind can find solace in, pair it with kisses that have all your soul for him to inhale, and promise what you can: your hope. 

You start with his lips. The best place, arguably; one of your hands tilts his chin toward yours and you kiss him softly, simply. Dazai responds hesitantly, still holding onto you tight. You kiss him for minutes, until he's humming, until his grip loosens comfortably and his shoulders untense and his palms rest on either of your hips.

You have a habit of kissing him silly, literally. Your lips move against his and he feels high. His head gets light, and his hands get restless, and between the short puffs of air he draws in through his nose he croons at the way your fingers push his hair back, trail down his neck. 

“I’m confident,” you say, sliding across his cheek to beneath his ear while he grabs at you in soft and absent-minded desperation, “that I’ll love you ‘til the end of my days.” 

“But what if the e—”

“I’m certain—” You cut him off, first with speech and then with a kiss before you begin pressing your lips into a necklace around his throat, “—that I want to get old with you.” On one side, you bite softly. “That I want to die with you.” You bite the other. “That I want to be buried next to you.” 

Osamu’s breath catches on the words buried next to you. Of course it’s crossed his mind before that if you were to go before him, he certainly wouldn’t be long after you. The thought that you want to live a full life with him before any of that can happen, however, makes his heart swell almost uncomfortably, like it’s no longer meant to fit inside his chest—like it wants to crawl up his throat and go home to yours. It will one day, you say, when you’re rotting next to each other. He wants to melt at the idea of it. 

“And then… I don’t know what, if anything, will happen after that. But it’s my purest hope—” You traverse from one shoulder, across his collarbones, stopping only above his sternum to finish, “—that I’ll be with you forever,” before making your way to the other. He’s a mistake you’d make again and again, given the opportunity. If reincarnation is real, you’re sure of it, more than anything—you will.

And you know not expect anything but speechlessness from Osamu until after you’ve kissed a circle around that heart of his that’s beating so frantically for you, until after you’ve brought his knuckles to your lips, all twenty-eight of them, until after you’ve made your way back up one arm just to kiss down the other, until you’ve bent to scatter kisses across his stomach, his hips, until you’ve knelt to descend the ladder marking each of his thighs, until you’ve sat at his feet with your arms looped around the backs of his knees with your head pressed against him like he’s the saint this time. You sit at the feet of a sinner and make him taste redemption. It tastes like the shower water that’s touched your skin and the dinner you both ate before wandering into this strange place between his disillusion and his sheer need. You kiss him back into his humanity.

When you stand, level with him again, he smiles that smile you love so much—not the cocky, performative smile nor the uneasy, misgiving one that wants to trust but has forgotten how to but the smile that’s altogether subtle and plain and sad and the most radiant thing you’ve ever known. Every time he falls apart, you just stitch him right back up what he’s always wanted to be: loved, held, loving and holding. 

Osamu touches your lips with his fingertips like you’re not quite real, like you’ve not just reminded every other inch of him that you very much are; he speaks, not a progenitor of pretty promises himself—but he owes you forever, he thinks, as long as it’s what you want. “Thank you.” 

You laugh once, breathy, in no need. “Thank you,” you echo, “for being the most wonderful thing to love.” 

Not the easiest, you both know—but it’s just something that has to be done, and there’s no law forbidding you from reminding him how beautiful he is in the process. Until you can be buried next to him. There’s hardly anything keeping forever from beginning right now. 

He holds you, and you hold him, and he feels clean. 

[pattwtf]

Well, yeah! No drama at all, but now this showed up wanna share something that's been on my mind these days...

This happened to me lately with someone... Loved their blog and I used to like and rb their content (credits in tags and all, I always try to # creators names at least...). Maybe a supportive comment here and there, but that was all.

Haven't interacted in any other way like... ever, so I really don't know what went wrong, I mean it. And I found out they blocked me trying to share one of their posts, already RB by somebody else. If not, I would have thought maybe they took some time off Tumblr or... Yeah, whatever, you feel me.

Spent a couple of days wondering why... I've never had any unpleasant situations with anyone around here... so I did give it some thought. Especially cause I felt terrible thinking that maybe I had made someone uncomfortable to that extent without knowing it at all.🥺

But then I just came to the conclussion that... It's perfectly perfect! If something didn't work for them..... It's totally fine. It just shocked me a bit, since I try really hard to spread love anytime I log in here... (which I don't do so often lately, btw... Been so sick, now I'm tired af and I need to catch up on soooo many things... I feel if I'm not around as much as I did, I'm gonna lose so many of your awesome creations, guys😭)

I still think the talent and content of that account owner are wonderful, in fact, and I feel sorry for not being able to see it anymore and not knowing if I did anything wrong so I could fix it! I promise I try my best to be as respectful, kind and supportive as much as I can and you all deserve, so whatever it was, I can say that I did not do it on purpose, nor was I consciously aware of having done it. I don't intend to get anything out of this post other than to be at peace with myself, not having had the opportunity to discuss the issue directly with this person.🙏

In case any of you ever feel bad about something I post, share, etc. just talk to me! I swear I'm friendly🥹❤️😅

Once I got it out of my system... HAPPY MONDAY! 😜🌹

Sorry for making such a big deal out of a silly thing, but it had to be the first time...!

when you click on the blog of someone who has you blocked and tumblr says “that isn’t anyone” im always like gaggggg that’s right they’re a nobody

[machveil]

continuing my Immune!König post because I love a good zombie apocalypse au🎀✨we get angsty, teehee

Immune!König who fears for your safety and becomes a wreck as days turn into weeks. after finding out he was immune in the first few days, the nasty bite to his forearm disinfected and wrapped, he’s been keeping you locked up. he’s constantly paranoid, skeptical about leaving you alone, stressed over not providing enough for you. while he hasn’t turned he still carries the virus. he fears accidentally hurting you, god forbid, turning you, refusing to let you touch his skin. devastated by his own precautions, eyebrows knit as he watches you from an arm’s length away

Immune!König who curses the virus, who blames himself for being attacked in the first place - he should have seen it coming, should have prevented anything from coming near— if he hadn’t been bitten he could still kiss you, he could still share from the same cup as you, could kiss your scrapes like they’d magically heal. his saliva undoubtedly carries the virus, it eats at him that he can’t feel your lips against his. it eats away at his heart, makes his lungs feel restricted as he sobs. he won’t let you wipe away his tears, fear clawing up his throat that one salty drop will have you thrashing and mindless. he won’t let you hug him, too worried somehow, irrational and angry, you’ll be taken away from him and it’ll be his fault

Immune!König who stresses over kissing through his balaclava and mask a month into the outbreak. nauseous after it happens, sick with regret that, even through two layers of fabric, he’s somehow endangered you because he was selfish. for the first time in months he feels your hands on him, rubbing his back as he curls in on himself. “König, I’m okay— it’s okay.”, hushed words whispered to him as he sniffles and weeps, mourning someone who’s still alive. it was okay, but it still plays on his mind - a different world where it wasn’t, where he infected you and couldn’t do anything. for the first time since his childhood, he truly feels helpless

Immune!König who looks in the mirror and sees a monster. a gurgling, brutish creature hiding beneath his skin, coursing through his veins. what if he isn’t immune? what if he does turn? some days he locks you up in a bedroom, all the food and water he’s collected pushed into a corner, your soft pleading for him to let you out falling on deaf ears. you’re better off confined, trapped with warm blankets and books he’s scavenged. sleepless nights tallying as he stands watching the front door. he could leave. chest tight, he turns to join you in the bedroom because he can’t. for every reason he can make up, his heart can’t handle the pain of leaving you alone. he doesn’t join you in bed, refuses to let you sleep on the floor with him. a beast shouldn’t lay with an engel, his darling little Schatzi

Immune!König who stands next to your sleeping form during the dead of night, tired blue eyes gazing down at you. he’d give anything to cradle you against him, unable to bring himself to even sit down on the edge of the mattress. König stares. he misses holding your hands, his face flush and red with frustration. angry at the world, devastated at his situation, but never upset with you. the thought of being displeased with you has his stomach churn alone, none of this is your fault. no matter how many times he replays the memory in his head, he’d shove you out of danger every time, even if it meant getting bit in the process

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Every Day That You Want

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pregnancy, pre-established relationship, marriage proposal

Summary/Warnings: You have big news for Dean. News you have to tell him, wether he likes it or not. You really hope he likes it, though.

Author's Note: Kind of a prequel to another fic of mine (Still You Want Me), but can be read alone. I just love putting big scary men in normal situations.

Word Count: 2.9k

You can do this. You’ve been to hell and back, you’ve killed angels, you’ve survived at least three apocalypses, and you’ve helped raise the Anti-Christ. This should, comparatively, be easy. 

It’s not. It’s the most daunting and terrifying thing you’ve ever done. It’s just words, but you’re going to choke on them because they could ruin your life. You’ve rehearsed in front of the mirror until your voice didn’t sound like yours anymore and nothing you said seemed real. It had been like repeating the same one word over and over again, until it’s nothing but an odd sound. Until it meant nothing.

But this has to mean something. You have to be able to say this to Dean, and you have to try and not get lost in the possibilities of how he’ll respond. He won’t leave you—Dean would never leave you—but he might tell you he doesn’t want this, and then you’ll have to make a choice. You don’t want to make a choice. You don’t want to hear Dean tell you that, with the lives you lead, this wouldn’t be a good idea. That it doesn’t matter what either of you want, because this isn’t something you get to have.

You want to have this, though. You want to have Dean and the baby. You want to have him as you’ve always had him before—strong and tired, always fighting because it’s all he knows how to do, but resting his head on your chest in the dark and humming against your lips when he kisses you—but you also want to have him in this new way. Where he’d smile for more reasons than just you and Sam and Cas. Where he’d get to direct some of that undying loyalty to someone who’d never be ungrateful, who’d would see him as a hero in a way he might finally believe. 

He’d be so good at it. Dean would spoil the kid, and teach them everything he knew, and care for them more than he’d ever care for himself. It breaks your heart sometimes, how he doesn’t kill himself for Sam, and he doesn’t drink himself to death for Cas, and he tries to get better for you, but he still doesn’t really know how to look in the mirror and not see a shadow.

And this would be the piece of him that’s never been tainted. The piece of him that crawls over you in bed just to hold you, that still watches cartoons and gets excited when he sees a cool car or hears an awesome drumline. The part of him that still cares, against all odds, and cares so much you’ve been worried it would kill him. The part of him that’s so simply made of light and love, crushed under years of his soul being bruised and beaten.

A part of him that won’t break. A part of him you love just as much as the rest of his wreckage, but that you still try to tend to, because you’ll love him the same if it vanishes, but you don’t think he deserves that. Dean deserves to only have that piece of him expand, to have it absorb all the love you throw at him, to grow until he can see it too. Until he can believe it’s there.

You know that it’s all so fucking hard. That Dean will never be all light, but you wouldn’t ever expect him to be. You know that a baby won’t fix him, not by far, but you also know it will show him he can create something. That he doesn’t poison everything he touches. 

That he made something entirely good, with you.

And if he tells you he doesn’t want this, you’ll live with that. You’ve lived with worse.

But you don’t even want to try to live with it. You’ll probably have to, but you’d like to pretend you won’t. 

The most you’re daring to pray for is that he doesn’t freak out. But angels don’t really take your calls anymore. 

So you’ll just have to hope.

You’ve set this up perfectly. There’s a pie in the oven that you will not let burn. There’s bacon and pancakes on a plate waiting for him when he finally gets his ass up. You have the whole bunker to yourself, because Sam’s off to see Eileen.

You’re not allowed to tell Dean that—Sam says he gets annoying—but you will in order to get him in a better mood. Sam’s fatal mistake was believing that you wouldn’t do anything to make Dean happy. So this is really on Sam. He’s the one that introduced you to Dean in the first place. Just because you were his friend first doesn’t mean he didn’t lose your automatic allegiance the moment he said this is my brother and his brother was the hottest man you’d ever seen. 

Sam should’ve known better. His big head should’ve understood that letting you anywhere near Dean—let enough so close that you’d be allowed to fall in love with him—would have always resulted in you using his secrets against him to make Dean happy, so you could slip in the fact that you were pregnant with Dean’s baby as easily as possible. 

Like any sane person would.

Although you have been up for hours, after only sleeping two. And you might be losing your mind. But anyone would lose their mind in a situation like this. Waiting for their dumb boyfriend to wake up so they can change his life forever. 

But Dean’s still asleep. You’re starting to get worried. He usually sleeps in late, especially after hunts, but not this late. Not past noon, long enough for you to stress eat half of his pie, then make a whole second one. Not long enough for the coffee to go cold three times.

You’re about to go check on him when he appears in the kitchen door. Bleary eyes and mussed hair, his glazed eyes focusing slightly when they land on you.

He starts to shuffle towards you, and you forget everything you’d rehearsed. He looks sleepy and adorable, and you’ve seen him like this before but you’d like to see it a million times more. You’d like Dean to always drop his head on your shoulder and wrap his arms around your torso, to always slump over you with a low hum. To always kiss the crook of your neck and let out a long breath when your hands snake around his neck and your fingers tangle in his soft hair.

You could have him like this forever. 

You just have to tell him. 

“Dean-“

“Why’re you up.” He speaks against your skin, his voice slurring slightly, tugging you a little closer. “’S early.”

“It’s 3pm, baby.” You draw back to smile at him, and he just blinks at you. “You’ve been knocked out for fourteen hours.”

He shakes his head, pouting slightly as he takes your hand in his. “Nah. Doesn’t feel it. C’mon.”

Dean starts to walk away, taking you with him, and you’re snapped out of the daze.

“Wait,” You pull on his grip, and he turns with a frown. “Where are you going?”

“We’re goin’ back to bed.”

You give him an amused look, your affection briefly overpowering your panic. “We?”

He nods, tugging your hand in his until you’re pressed right against his chest. “Only up ‘cause you weren’t there. Need to get my girl back to bed, you need sleep too-“

You do need sleep, but until you tell Dean, you might as well be injecting caffeine right into your bloodstream.

“But I made you bacon-“

“Course you did.” He grins, pressing a light kiss to your nose. “You’re awesome, baby.” 

You feel your stomach flutter, and at this stage it has to only be nerves, but that doesn’t make anything easier. “Can we please eat?”

Dean hums, scanning carefully over your face. “You eat already?”

“I had some applesauce-“

“Then we’re good.” He starts to move again, and now you’re attached to him like a magnet. You couldn’t move away if you tried. “Bed.”

You’re frayed and wired and on edge, trying so hard to find the will to insist he stay and eat, but Dean’s so warm and suddenly you’re drunk on him. He’s sturdy and soft in all the right places, herding you back to bed with hands on your shoulders and mumbled praise about being his dream girl, making him bacon for breakfast and lovin’ him more than he deserves, and you wish you had enough backbone to just shout at him that he does deserve your love. He deserves whatever you can give him, including a baby that he needs to know about now before you explode.

But he gets you back into bed, splaying his body over yours and pinning you down.

“Didn’t see Sammy,” his head is buried in your chest, his voice muffled against your skin. “Where’dhe go?”

“Eileen’s.” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, though.”

Dean chuckles, his hands drawing slow circles on your hips. “You’re a little backstabber, sweetheart. I’m never tellin’ you anything again.”

“I’m backstabbing Sam for you.” You shrug, smiling at the air. “I’d never backstab you.”

“’S exactly what a backstabber would say.”

You giggle. “You’re tired, Dean. Your brain’s not working right. Maybe if we get up-“

“Not getting up.” He grunts, squeezing your body. “Not until you get your own fourteen hours.”

“I’m okay, Dean-“

“No. Sleep.”

You sigh, squirming slightly under him. “You know, it’s bad for you to sleep in. It’ll mess up your circadian rhythm-“ 

Dean tilts his head up, frowning at you. “What’s going on with you?”

“I, um-“ You swallow, your whole body suddenly far too warm. “Huh?”

“You always make me sleep extra after hunts.” His voice is a little stronger, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why’re you suddenly trying to get me up?”

“Nothing’s going on-“

“No.” Dean’s sitting up now, rolling onto his back and pulling you over his lap, his gaze stern. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong either-“

He says your name, squeezing your waist as he rubs his jaw. “Please just tell me. If it’s a body we can hide it, but I need to know if it’s a monster body or person body-“

“Why the hell would it be a person body-“

“I dunno, but if it is you gotta tell me, so I can grab the salt.” He cups your cheek, offering you on his charming, downright boyish grins. “I’m not letting any ghosts haunt your hot ass, babygirl.”

“Thank you.” You mumble, dropping your brow to his. “But it’s not a body.”

“So there is something.”

“Yeah.” You whisper. “But I… I’m not-“

“Hey,” Dean leans back, holding your gaze as he tucks some hair behind your ear. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. I’m helping you.”

You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, like it’s simple. Like this will really be that easy. “For you? Always.”

It takes deep breathes, and hands curled in Dean’s t-shirt—gripping him hard, making sure he won’t fly away or vanish into the air when you speak—but you do it. You run over your entire rehearsal one last time and let it all go, because Dean’s right here, in front of you, and you just need to-

“I’m pregnant.”

You say it, and he doesn’t vanish into nothing. Dean just stares at you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them, and whispers, “With a baby?”

“Yeah, Dean.” You offer him a small smile. “A baby.”

“My- my baby?” 

You open your mouth with a slight frown, and Dean’s hand flies to cover your mouth before you can speak.

“Wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just-“ He groans, his eyes seeming to drive right into your soul as his voice because hoarse. “You’re sure? That you’re… growing one?”

You wish you could read him better right now. You’d laugh at him saying growing one.

Instead you just nod, and it’s like something flips in Dean. He grins—wide and toothy and unrestrained—and you barely have time for the relief to hit when he’s kissing you. Long and deep and passionate, until you’re dizzy and grinding down onto him, falling over his chest and clinging to his shoulders.

“Dean,” you gasp as he dives down to kiss a line over your collarbone. “Shouldn’t we, shit-“ He starts suck on a soft spot behind your ear, and all your exhaustion is starting to catch back up with you, so everything is really just a haze. “Don’t we need to talk-“

“No,” he mutters, rutting slightly up into you and chuckling against your skin when you whine. “Just need you, baby, need to- son of a bitch!”

Dean’s yanks himself up and twists to his bedside table—his hand on your hips holding you steadily against him—scrambling around the drawers as he mutters low words you can’t hear.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your hand fisting in his shirt once more. “I mean, I know you might have doubts about-“

You’re cut off as Dean surges back up to kiss you again, this one shorter and soft, but still firm. 

“No doubts, sweetheart.” He mutters against your lips. “And I’m better than okay. I’m fucking amazing.”

“Good.” You sigh, pulling back to scan over his face. “What was that, then?”

Dean smiles at you, and it’s… nervous. He’s almost never really, truly nervous, but this smile has no edge, no carefully designed charm. It’s just Dean, purely him, smiling at you like you’re holding his heart in your body.

You kind of are.

“I know I, uh, I don’t say it enough. You know I’m not good at saying it. But I do love you,” Dean says your name, and you blink at him. This sounds like a speech. “I love you so much it drives me insane. And I’d never want this, want a baby, with anyone but you. But, I, uh, I want all of this. Whole stupid, apple pie thing, just with you.” He takes a long breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “Marry me.”

You gape at him. “What?”

“Marry- shit, wait-“ Dean reaches slightly behind him, grabbing a small box, and pops it open with his thumb. There’s a diamond ring inside, and it looks like a real one. Not the ones you’d use on cases, that would give you a rash for a week after. This looks… carefully made.

Made for you.

“Dean-“

“Marry me?” Dean looks between your slack jaw and the box, his voice almost nervous. “Please?”

“I-“ This is going better than you could’ve ever even imagined. You’re not sure how to handle it. “I don’t want you to marry me just because you knocked me up-“

“Baby, I didn’t pull this ring out of my ass.” He drawls, his voice a little firmer. “I’ve been getting ready to ask you for months. I was going to kick Sammy out next week, make a picnic in the library-“

“Really?”

“Yeah, I-“ He frowns. “Why’d you think I was poking about your ring size?”

“I don’t, um, I don’t remember you doing that.”

Dean laughs, shaking his head slightly. “That’s good. I was worried I ruined it. I, um-“ he glances down at the ring, his face falling back to the nerves, and you realize you haven’t actually answered him yet. “I haven’t-“

It’s your turn to kiss Dean, and these words aren’t difficult to say at all. “Yes,” you whisper, pressing another, smaller kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll marry you.”

“Awesome.” He grins, and the ring is barely on your finger when he’s diving back into you, kissing you until you can’t ever remember anything has been difficult in your life. 

You yawn right as Dean pulls away, and he chuckles. 

“You alright, sweetheart?”

You hum, nodding. “I’m good. So good. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Dean says your name in your ear, and it’s quiet and gentle. Not like a secret, but a promise. “How’s a day in bed sound? We can try and get you pregnant again.”

“That’s not how it works, babe.” You giggle, folding a little deeper into his hold. “I’m gonna have to buy you some books.”

“I’ll read them.” Dean kisses the top of your head, and you can feel his smile on your skin. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

“Course.” He sighs, squeezing your body slightly. “We’re having a fucking baby.”

“Yeah.” You smile, and there’s that piece of him, shining on the surface. All joy and wonder for something that’s really just good. “We are.”

End Note: Dean Winchester in my head this is indeed the life you live every day. Season 15 isn't real it can't hurt me.

Title from Waste by Foster the People

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101

@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful

[mononijikayu]

toxic till the end — fushiguro toji.

“You can’t fix everything. You should know that.” you replied, your words trembling as they left your lips. “I don’t know if I can ever forget that.” He nodded slowly, his expression one of deep regret. “I know.” Silence grew once more between the two of you.  You could feel the tears pricking your eyes harshly. And you could tell that he was noticing as much as you.

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, smut, making out, biting, scratching, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, fingering (female receiving), creampie, pet names (babe, etc....), age gap (reader is late 20s, toji is mid 30s) love, humor, light-hearted, long-term relationship, secret relationship, cheating, break-up, falling out of love, toxic relationship, drama, depression, grief, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of naked bodies, depiction of cheating, depiction of grief, depiction of depression, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, actor! toji, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 15k words

NOTE: i know i disappeared for almost a week and im really sorry,,,,,i just wasn't feeling well and in the middle of that - i was also busy. i genuinely wanted to publish something but there were things that came up - including me finishing a commission. and also worrying about uni stuff. its a really long one, i still have stuff to edit for bonus cuts for that. i am really sorry but i come back with a fury with toji!!! anyway, i hope my absence didnt make yall leave. enjoy and i love yall :']

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if you want to, tip!

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YOU NEVER LIKED BEING PERCEIVED. Even if you were an actor, you didn’t want to be. You absolutely hated the attention, you hated having to be known to people you didn’t know on the street.

He knew that. Which is why you never allowed yourself to go on dates with him in that local restaurant. Or ever allow yourself to be comfortable kissing him, knowing paparazzis were following you both. 

But he was loud about his love for you. He always has been. It was obvious when he looked at you during press tours. It was obvious when he heard the sound of your name and smiled like it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

He was never good at hiding the fact that he was in love. That’s just how it was with loving a man so magnetic and passionate as him. He tried to convince you that he wanted the world to know. 

Yet, you weren’t prepared to do that. You weren’t prepared for the world to know, for the world to be in your bed. You didn’t want everyone to know that you were his, because you were scared. You were scared of what could happen.

You’ve gone through the trauma of it before, your own ex–boyfriend announcing the break–up before you even knew about the break up. And all the people that hated you, for making him sad. For all those fantasies in their head of all the things you did wrong. You were frightful that it would repeat all over again.

Perhaps he got tired of that. Perhaps he got tired of waiting. Maybe he got tired of you. And you were scared of that. You were scared that this was the case.

You were horrified that he would do the same thing like that ex-boyfriend you loved before. You didn’t want to manifest it. But you also didn’t make a move. You were right. He would get tired of you. You made it this way. You let this happen.

The apartment was eerily silent, the kind of silence that pressed down on you, making every breath feel heavier. You stood in the living room, arms crossed, heart racing as you waited for Toji to come home. He had a late night shoot, he told you. They’d extended the shoot, because of the weather. That’s what he said in the next text. He won’t be home until today.

But as you waited home, all that plagued your mind was the conversation with your friend this morning. You felt sick as the words repeated over the phone.

It won’t go away, not even when you want it to. It remained ever so present, still echoing, hammering deep in your mind. It was as if the weight of her words settled deep in your chest like a knife would. 

"I saw Toji last night." she had said, her voice hesitant. "He was with someone else."

“What….what do you mean by that?” You muttered back at her, still reeling from the words that slipped from her mouth. “Surely it was just another cast member—”

“They were kissing, babes.” She told you earnestly, yet you could tell she was having a hard time with it. She knew that everything she’s saying was breaking your heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“No…no, thank you for telling me.”

You hung up after that. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you have said that could have made it any better? You couldn’t think of anything. All that remained were the years of memories together, now scattered across that empty space where love should be. 

The betrayal, the doubt, and the fear had been building in that space where you should feel your love for him. A place where it is still there, that love, bleeding and tattered by all that grief that comes with mourning the relationship. And now, standing here in the place you both called home, it felt like you were about to explode.

The door clicked open just around lunch time. You had remembered you had given Toji a separate key for your house. Just as you had a key for his. You didn’t want to see him just yet. Not right now. Fushiguro Toji stepped in, face covered by the levelling of his cap. His usual confident demeanor clouded by an unease you hadn’t seen before. He looked at you, the tension in the air immediately palpable.

Babe, didn’t know you’d be awake." he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"You said you’d never do that to me." you replied, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. “You said you wouldn’t be like him.”

He nodded, closing the door behind him. "Alright. What’s going on?"

"I know you were with someone else last night, and you kissed her. My friend saw you." you spat, your voice breaking with the anger and pain you kept hidden. "How could you do this? How could you betray me like that?"

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked caught off guard. Then his expression hardened. "It’s not what you think."

"Not what I think?" you repeated, your voice rising. "Then explain it to me, Toji. Explain why you were out with someone else while I was here, thinking everything was fine."

"I was tired, okay?" he snapped back, his voice louder now, the frustration evident. "Tired of feeling like I’m not enough, like I’m just waiting for you to trust me."

“How long has it been?” You asked him. “How long have you and your lover been going behind my back?”

“Babe—”

“How long?”

He looked away, the contorting guilt bellowing all over his face. This was a look you had seen time and time again. “A few months.”

"A few months." You repeated.

“Yes, but it was casual hook ups and she has a boyfriend too—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. "You think that’s going to fix anything?"

"I didn’t plan for it to happen." he said, his voice softening, but the damage was done. "I was just... I felt alone."

"You felt alone?" you repeated, the hurt in your voice cutting through the air. "What about me, Toji? Do you have any idea how alone I’ve felt, wondering if you’d get tired of me, if you’d leave me like everyone else has?"

He took a step closer, his expression filled with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did." you whispered, the fight leaving your body as the weight of it all pressed down on you. "God, I just….is it my fault? Is it because I have a busy schedule? Or is it just because I haven’t allowed the world to know about you? And you were desperate to be seen with someone?”

He shook his head. “That’s not the case.”

“It seems to look like it.” You laughed to yourself, almost mad in the thought of your grief. “You did say she had a boyfriend. I doubt that would have changed much, if she knew that you belonged to someone.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours, filled with a regret that almost made your heart ache. His voice, usually so steady, trembled with sincerity. "Please, let’s talk about this. I can make this right."

The words hung in the air, heavy and bittersweet. You wanted to believe him, to let those words soothe the rawness inside you. But they felt too late, like a balm for wounds already too deep. You shook your head, the fight draining from your body as the weight of it all pressed down on you.

"You cheated on me. So brazenly." you whispered, your voice barely audible, laced with pain. "Just like he has. Just like every other man I’ve ever let into my life." The admission stung, the truth of it settling in your chest like a stone. 

“Babe…..”

"Maybe you were just another number, another ex."

His face twisted in anguish, his hands clenching at his sides. "Babe, please, listen to me—"

“I’ve listened to you long enough.” Your voice was soft but firm, carrying the finality of a decision made. Tears blurred your vision, hot and relentless, streaking down your cheeks. “Just... leave your keys. I’m going. I can’t stand to look at you or stay with you here.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Toji's gaze faltered, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, to plead, to explain. But no words came. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the keys that once symbolized shared moments, shared spaces, and placed them gently on the table.

“I’m sorry.” he said, his voice barely a whisper, a final echo of the love that had once been so vibrant between you.

You didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say. You turned, each step feeling heavier than the last as you walked away, leaving behind the remnants of a relationship that had once held so much promise. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound resonating like a chapter closing.

After that, he took all his stuff from your place and left. Even the keys. And you were glad he did. You were glad he wasn’t there. You blocked his number, you told your friends to stop relaying any messages from him he sent. You even cancelled any appearances with him for work, especially those for the Japanese leg of the press tour for Jujutsu Kaisen. 

And then you disappeared, as though you didn’t exist.

You moved apartments, you didn’t tell anyone where you were. Only your manager knew, just so you could make it easier for her to pick you up for work schedules when you start doing them again. And changed phones and deleted your social media presence. You just wanted to be alone. You wanted to process the death of a seven year relationship. 

Over half a year later, they start to see you again. The last they had seen you, you were still red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. You had explained that you dealt with some personal loss, which wasn’t untrue. People had speculations, they always have. But you didn’t want to admit to anything. You just let them have their fun and you let yourself have your grief. 

The mirror had become a stranger for a while, reflecting someone you barely recognized, a shadow of the person you once were with Toji. The truest you had been yourself was with him. And now you have lost that. You had lost the version of yourself you had loved so dearly. And you hated how that too had revolved around him. Your most beloved life was him.

You hadn't planned on disappearing, not really. But each day felt heavier, each step harder to take, until retreating into the quiet solace of your loneliness and grief became the only thing you could manage.

And everyone in your agency was understanding of that. You haven’t truly taken a break in your entire career. And with that burn out, as much as the heartache, you had to have your time to yourself.

Little by little, you started to pick yourself up from the ruins of the failed relationship. Little by little you found yourself able to breathe again, even though you were still against the crashing waves of pain. At the very least there was some progress. At least you were getting somewhere.

Though, you couldn’t escape him. How could you, when he was so beloved by the world? Every corner of your world seemed to echo with the ghost of him. His face, smiling and confident, stared down at you from every billboard, a constant reminder of what you had lost years of your life to. Years you were the prettiest to yourself.

His voice filled the airwaves, every interview a cruel twist of fate, his laughter a haunting melody that played on repeat in your mind. Fushiguro Toji. His name was a bittersweet whisper, both a comfort and a curse, lingering in the recesses of your heart.

No one else knew that you had broken up. It was a secret you held close, it was a grief that belonged to you and only you. It was a wound too fresh and raw to expose to the world.

You hadn’t found the courage to say anything, convinced that speaking it aloud would make it all too real. Besides, you believed you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Your pain was yours alone, a private storm that no one else could weather.

As you walked through the winding streets of Tokyo, the city lights blurred against your vision, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. The vibrant energy of the city felt distant, a stark contrast to the numbness that enveloped you. The world moved on, oblivious to the turmoil within you.

No one understood what you felt. No one probably ever would. It wasn’t just the loss of a relationship; it was the loss of a dream, a shared future that had unraveled before your eyes. The quiet moments, the laughter, the unspoken promises. They were all gone, leaving behind an emptiness that you didn’t know how to fill.

You kept walking, the sounds of the city fading into the background, your mind a whirlwind of memories and emotions. The ache in your chest was a constant reminder of what once was, and what could never be again. But even in the midst of the pain, you knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. Life was waiting, and somehow, you had to find a way to live it again.

The door to your apartment closed behind you with a soft click, but the silence inside felt deafening. You slipped off your shoes and let your bag fall to the floor, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. The familiar surroundings felt foreign now, as if the air itself had shifted, carrying the remnants of memories you weren’t ready to face.

You wandered through the small space, your eyes scanning the room aimlessly. You knew you should do something, anything to distract yourself. So you started cleaning, hoping the mundane task would occupy your mind. You wiped down the counters, straightened the cushions, and folded the laundry. But every movement felt mechanical, your thoughts drifting back to him.

Then you saw it—his jacket. Your mouth went agape at the sight of it. It hung innocuously by the door, just as it always had when he would visit your apartment. You didn’t know you still had it, from the move. You didn’t know the movers packed it too. He didn’t take it with him when he left the house. 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. It was the same jacket he had worn countless times, the one that carried his scent, a mixture of cologne and something uniquely him. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers grazing the fabric.

The moment you touched it, the floodgates opened. The tears came fast and uncontrollable, pouring down your face as you clutched the jacket to your chest. You sank to the floor, the weight of your sorrow too much to bear.

The scent of him enveloped you, bringing back a rush of memories. His arms around you, his laugh, the way he would kiss your forehead when you were feeling down.

You cried for everything you had lost. For the love you had poured into a man who could never fully be yours. A man older, with a life that always seemed just out of reach. A man who cherished his independence, who was never truly tethered to you in the way you had hoped. You had given him your prettiest years, the best of yourself, only to be left with the pieces of a broken heart.

Tomorrow was the shoot, and you knew you had to pull yourself together. The contract was signed long before the breakup, back when you thought working together would be another way to share your dreams, your passions, your lives. Now, it was the weight pulling you into a reality you weren’t ready to face.

Tonight, the pain was too fresh, too overwhelming. How could you stop crying when every corner of your life was a reminder of him? When his presence still lingered in the smallest things, like a ghost haunting the spaces you once shared?

You stayed there, curled on the floor, clutching the jacket as the tears continued to fall. It wasn’t just about losing him. It was about losing the future you had imagined, the dreams you had built together.

And as the night stretched on, you let yourself grieve, knowing that somehow, you had to find the strength to face tomorrow. But for now, all you could do was cry.

══════════════════

MORNING ALWAYS DOES COME. And when it does, you try to make the effort to still stand on your own two toes. When the morning came, exhausted and numb, there you were facing the inevitable.

You bowed to everyone, greeting them with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. You smiled as though there was no problem at all. Chattered and sat there on the make–up chair like nothing had happened. As if there was nothing at all that shattered you to nothing. 

The studio lights felt harsher than you remembered, their unforgiving brightness illuminating every inch of the set—and every crack in your heart. It was as if they knew, as if they were exposing the rawness inside you, the pain you had tried so hard to bury. The bustling crew moved around you, adjusting cameras, checking props, but their chatter seemed distant, muffled by the storm in your mind.

You couldn’t help but feel nervous, your hands trembling ever so slightly. It felt strange, almost surreal, like this was your first time stepping in front of the camera. You had done this a hundred times before, but today was different. 

Today, you were a different person. The warmth of reassurance that once came from a simple touch, his hand brushing against yours, his quiet, steady presence—was gone. You were on your own now, and the weight of that reality pressed down on you like a heavy cloak.

You swallowed hard, the bile rising in your throat as the familiar sting of tears threatened to break free. Your muscles tensed, contorting as you fought the overwhelming urge to let go, to release the tears that had been building up inside you. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You couldn’t let yourself fall apart here, not now.

Not now, you repeat to yourself, a mantra you clung to with every ounce of strength you had left. You didn’t want it. You didn’t want the tears, the loneliness, the pain. You didn’t need it. You had told yourself this over and over again. You didn’t need to feel this, not here, not under the glaring scrutiny of the studio lights and the watchful eyes of everyone around you.

Your breaths came in shallow, shaky gulps as you forced yourself to focus, to channel everything into the character you were about to portray. The lines blurred between the role you played and the person you were, but you clung to that thin line of separation, hoping it would hold. This was your sanctuary, your escape. If you could just hold on a little longer, maybe the pain wouldn’t consume you.

You could do this, you told yourself.

You could survive this, you know you could.

It’s only for a few weeks of this misery.

But as you lifted your eyes, you saw him again.

And all that resolve dissolved almost instantly.

Fushiguro Toji stood across the room, talking to the director, his usual charm evident in the way his shoulders shook with laughter. The sound of it, rich and familiar, carried across the set, drawing the attention of those nearby. He looked relaxed, his posture loose, his smile easy. He seemed to be in happy spirits, more than the last time you saw him.

It was a sharp contrast to the last memory you had of him—tense, conflicted, the weight of your shared history etched into every line of his face. But now, he seemed lighter, as if the burden of your breakup had lifted from his shoulders. The sight of him like this stirred a mix of emotions within you. Jealousy, sadness, and an aching longing you tried to suppress.

You watched from a distance, your gaze lingering longer than you intended. It was painful, seeing him so carefree, as if nothing had changed, as if the past weeks hadn’t unraveled you both. But there he was, moving through the room with an ease that seemed effortless, while you struggled to keep your composure.

The director clapped him on the back, and Toji’s laugh echoed again, brighter this time. You quickly averted your eyes, pretending to busy yourself with your script, but the image of him remained imprinted in your mind. It was harder than you thought it would be, being in the same space, breathing the same air, while feeling worlds apart.

For a moment, you wondered if he had truly moved on, or if this was just a façade, a mask to hide whatever he might still be feeling. But you pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. What mattered now was surviving this day, this scene, and the countless others that would follow. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable interaction. You had to face him eventually.

The director’s voice cut through the low hum of the studio, calling for everyone to take their places. “Alright, let’s get started! Everyone, introduce yourselves before we begin.”

You took a deep breath, forcing your shoulders to relax as you stepped forward with the rest of the cast. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on your chest, but you reminded yourself to stay calm, to keep it together. 

Your eyes, however, betrayed you, flickering towards Toji for the briefest second before you snapped them away, focusing instead on a point somewhere beyond him. You were a professional. You had done this countless times before. You had been through worse—or so you told yourself. You could do this. You had to do this. 

As the introductions began, your turn loomed closer. Each name and face passed by in a blur until the spotlight shifted to you. You bowed to each and every one, smiling at them as best you could even though you couldn’t process it all just yet. 

“Hello, nice to meet you all!” you said, introducing yourself. Your voice is steady despite the storm within. “It’s great to be working with everyone.”

Your words were polite, professional, and utterly detached. At least you notice it. But the others didn’t seem to. You could see the blur in all their smiles towards you, shining in a way you couldn’t recognize. You barely registered the murmured responses of the others, your focus pinned on keeping your composure. Then it was Toji’s turn.

He stepped forward, his presence commanding as always. “Fushiguro Toji.” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. There was a familiar warmth in his tone, one that made your heart clench. “Looking forward to working with all of you.”

His blue–green eyes flicked to you, just for a moment, but it was enough to send a ripple of tension through your body. You held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than you intended, before quickly looking away, pretending to be engrossed in the script in your hands.

The director clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, let’s dive into it! Remember, the first scene is a heavy scene, so take your time and feel it out. Call for a cut any time you want to. So let’s start, like we rehearsed.”

You nodded at the director. Everyone moved to their places, and you found yourself standing just a few feet away from Toji. The air between you felt charged, the unspoken history hanging like a shadow over the set. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost cautious.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. “Yeah.” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the floor.

Toji hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but the director called for action, and just like that, you were thrust into the scene. The lines between fiction and reality blurred once again, and all you could do was hold on and hope you made it through without falling apart.

As the cameras rolled and the scene began, you pushed everything else aside, locking the pain away in a corner of your heart. The studio lights continued to shine, harsh and unrelenting, but you stood your ground. You didn’t need your tears. You didn’t need your loneliness. All you needed was to make it through this moment. And somehow, you would.

The first scene couldn’t have been more ironic if the universe had written it itself. A husband and wife, embroiled in a bitter argument, their marriage on the brink of collapse. Every word in the script seemed like a cruel reflection of your own reality. The dialogue cut too close, each line a dagger, the emotions too raw to ignore.

You had told yourself you could handle it, that you could compartmentalize the character’s turmoil from your own. But as the words spilled from your lips, it felt as if the character had seized control of your body, dragging all your buried feelings to the surface, laying them bare for everyone to see.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you shouted, your voice cracking with the weight of suppressed emotion. The accusation wasn’t just a line; it was a scream from your heart. “You’re always so wrapped up in your own world! What about us? What about me?”

The tears that pricked your eyes weren’t from the script. They were your own, threatening to fall, the pain of the breakup echoing in every syllable. Across from you, Toji’s eyes darkened, his expression hardening as he stepped into his character. His voice, sharp and filled with a familiar bitterness, mirrored your own anguish.

“Don’t act like I’m the only one who made mistakes!” he shot back, his tone rising, the frustration palpable. “You think it’s easy, carrying the weight of everything? Maybe if you tried to understand instead of blame—”

“Understand?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. The sting in your eyes blurred your vision, but you pressed on. “I’ve tried! I’ve given everything, and it’s never enough for you!”

The room felt electric, the tension between you both so thick it was as if the air itself might shatter under the weight of it. Each word hung in the air, resonating with a truth neither of you could ignore.

The director’s voice called out, “Cut! Let’s take a moment.”

The tension didn’t dissipate with the end of the scene. It lingered, heavy and suffocating, as if the raw emotions couldn’t be contained by the simple call for a break. You stood there, your chest heaving with the effort of keeping your tears at bay, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

Toji remained across from you, his jaw tight, his eyes still locked onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, as if frozen in the aftermath of the words that had been exchanged—not just between the characters, but between the two of you.

You stood frozen, your chest heaving as the emotions coursed through you. Toji turned to face you, his expression unreadable. You saw him take a step toward you, and panic clawed at your chest, but you forced yourself to stay put. Running away wouldn’t solve anything. You had to face this, face him.

“Hey.” Toji said softly, his voice gentler than it had been during the scene. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your body betrayed you with a slight tremble. “Yeah. Just… caught me off guard, that’s all.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge how much of the scene was acting and how much was real. “It felt real.” he admitted, his tone cautious. “Too real.”

“Yeah.” You murmured, not looking at him. You didn’t want to. You didn’t know if you were prepared to just yet. 

The tension between you and Toji was palpable, thick like fog, clouding every inch of the set. You stood there, heart pounding, as the reality of the situation settled deeper into your bones. This was not just a fleeting moment; this was going to be every day, side by side, pretending like everything was fine when it was far from it.

Toji shifted on his feet, his usual confidence seemingly faltering as he took in your guarded expression. “I didn’t think you’d come today.” he admitted, his voice lower, more vulnerable than you remembered. “Thought you’d call in sick.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I have a job to do.” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Besides….you showed up too.”

Silence befell the two of you after those words. You started fidgeting with your fingers, something you would do when you were nervous. As you feel your throat closed up, you purse your lips into a flat line. You thought it was time to walk away, to take your time away from him before the next take.

Finally, Toji broke the silence, stepping closer, his voice lower but no less intense. “It was just acting.” he said, his tone softer, almost vulnerable. “I’m sorry for my tone.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting. “So was I.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. 

The tears you had been holding back now threatened to spill over, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. Toji’s gaze grew softer as he looked at you, the anger from the take earlier melting into something more akin to sorrow. Something you think you were more familiar with.

“I didn’t want things to end that way.” He admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Can we not talk about it—”

“But I want to.” He tells you in his retort, abruptly cutting you off. “I need to. I want to fix everything.”

“You can’t fix everything. You should know that.” you replied, your words trembling as they left your lips. “I don’t know if I can ever forget that.”

He nodded slowly, his expression one of deep regret. “I know.”

Silence grew once more between the two of you. 

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes harshly.

And you could tell that he was noticing as much as you.

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again. “I’m glad you’re here….at least.” he said quietly, sincerity lacing his words. “I know it’s hard, but maybe… maybe we can find a way to make this work.”

You almost laughed, the irony of it all hitting you. “Make this work?” you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief. “You mean like how we were supposed to make us work?”

Toji winced, the pain in your words cutting through him. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.” he said softly. “Look, I….I know I hurt you. I know things didn’t go the way we wanted. But this project… it’s important to both of us. Can we at least try to be civil? For the sake of the work?”

You bit your lip, torn between the urge to lash out and the need to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “Civil.” you echoed, testing the word on your tongue. “I guess we can try.”

He offered a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you.”

A tense silence settled again before he spoke once more. “Look, I don’t want to make things harder than they already are. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. Just... don’t shut me out completely.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you forced yourself to stay composed. “Space would be good.” you agreed, your voice firmer now. “Let’s just focus on the work. That’s all we need to do.”

Toji nodded, accepting your terms. “Okay. Work it is.”

The director called for everyone to reset for the next take, but the two of you remained locked in place, the world around you fading into the background. It was a moment of unspoken understanding, a shared pain that neither of you could fully articulate. As the crew moved around you, preparing for the next shot, Toji took a step back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. 

“Let’s get through this.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that spoke of more than just the scene ahead. “We owe it to ourselves.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and turned away. Your assistant handed you the script once again and you found yourself trying to focus on the script in your hands. The show had to go on, but the lines between fiction and reality had never felt so blurred.

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. This was your new reality. It probably always will, when people like your chemistry together. 

You are going to be stuck working side by side with the man who broke your heart. But as you watched him go, you realized something: you weren’t the same person you were before. You had been broken, yes, but you were also stronger now.

You knew that. And maybe, just maybe, that strength would see you through this. You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. The day had only just begun. But you were praying that he doesn’t look at you with that look in his eyes again. 

══════════════════

DAYS ON SET BECAME A NEW STANDARD OF LIVING. You haven’t been sure you were used to it yet after a long time away, but you were sure about to get there. At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

As the days turned into weeks, the rhythm of the shoot became oddly familiar. Early morning calls, practice for heavy scenes, dress rehearsal, the chaos of set preparation, and the god awful long night to morning shoots. 

This was the relentless cycle of takes transformed into your new daily standard routine. You and Toji fell into an unspoken pattern between the two of you, though. But you had to be, if you wanted to keep your jobs. It was a strange thing to witness, if one was being honest. It took a lot of effort to memorize the dance. And every bit of that was equal parts effortless and exhausting. 

On the surface, you were professionals—co-workers delivering lines, executing roles, keeping up appearances. Especially him, he was your senpai too. He was good at maintaining that mask on him more than you were. 

But beneath the polished veneer, tension simmered, weaving itself into every glance, every exchange, every shared silence. You could tell just by looking at his eyes. No one else but you could do that, after all.

The studio became your shared battlefield, its walls echoing with unspoken words. You threw yourself into the work, burying raw emotions beneath layers of performance day after day.

But when the director yelled for the cut, you knew that the veil dropped most instantaneously. And that always leaves you vulnerable to the presence of the man who had once been your everything. 

Fushiguro Toji was close enough to touch yet felt a world away from you. And you were certain that he felt the same way about you too. After all, you had a wall he couldn’t reach. You wouldn’t let him reach it. There was no way for him to know what to do with you. 

But this doesn’t stop you from looking. Nor did it stop him from doing the same thing. You had noticed everything about him and what he does. It was obvious how hard it is to be exes on set. It was even harder when you were soulmates. 

There was the slight hesitation in his laugh, the way his smile sometimes faltered at the edges. He was both familiar and foreign, a stranger wearing a face you had loved. Everything about him was something you knew and everything about him was something that was a mystery. It was a really intriguing thing. And that was the worst thing of all. You were intrigued about the man you loved and hated all at once.

Conversations were sparse at first, clinical and focused on the work. You both clung to professionalism like a lifeline, avoiding anything that might hint at the depth of your shared history. The lines were clear: scenes, blocking, timing, delivery. Anything beyond that was dangerous territory.

You were determined to keep things professional, to relegate your relationship to the sterile confines of work. But no matter how hard you tried, the walls you’d built between yourselves began to splinter under the weight of the unspoken.

The first crack came during a late-night shoot. The two of you stood under the harsh glow of the heavy set lights, running through lines while the crew adjusted the framing. Toji, leaning casually against a prop table, smirked at a mistake you made while stumbling over a particularly convoluted line.

“That’s the third time now.” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. There was a teasing edge to it, but it was softer than you remembered.

You shot him a sharp look. “Thanks for keeping count.” you replied, your tone clipped, though your lips twitched against your will.

His smirk widened, but there was no malice in it, just a faint warmth. “You’re welcome. I thought I’d help out since you seem… preoccupied.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing him off. “Preoccupied with carrying this scene, maybe.”

The banter was fleeting, but it lingered in the air long after the cameras rolled again. Once again, you did the best you could and continued to bring your spirits up. As the night progressed, the director started to feel a little bit more satisfied with one or two shots. And that had at least allowed you the hope of going to sleep soon.

Later, during one of the scene changes, you caught him watching you as you adjusted your new  costume. He didn’t look away quickly enough, and your eyes met. For a moment, the distance between you felt less insurmountable, the years of hurt and silence shrinking into the space of a single glance. That glance was the longest moment of your life, you were sure.

“What?” you asked, a touch defensive, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, as if debating whether to respond, then shrugged. “Nothing. You just… remind me of something.”

You wanted to press him, to ask what he meant, but the vulnerability in his expression stopped you. His eyes, usually so guarded, were uncharacteristically soft, as if he was on the verge of saying something he couldn’t quite bring himself to voice.

Instead of pushing, you turned back to the mirror, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered, tracing the reflection of your face as though searching for something. It was recognition, understanding, forgiveness.

But then you caught yourself. The silence was becoming unbearable, the air between you thick with things neither of you dared to say. You cleared your throat, the sound breaking the tension like a sharp crack in the stillness. 

“We should start rehearsing.” you said, your voice steady, though your heart was racing. “For the scene.”

For a moment, Toji didn’t respond. He seemed to weigh your words, as though deciding whether to challenge the sudden shift or let it go. Finally, he tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in quiet disbelief.

“...Are you comfortable doing that with me?” he asked, his tone careful, hesitant. It wasn’t the confident Toji you remembered, the one who always seemed so sure of himself, even when everything around him was chaotic. This was different—softer, almost unsure.

You hesitated, the question throwing you off balance. There was a part of you that wanted to lash out, to let him know how much his presence still affected you, how rehearsing with him wasn’t just work. But you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to focus on the here and now.

“Yeah, why not?” you replied, shrugging as though it didn’t matter. Your tone was light, almost dismissive, but the tension in your voice betrayed you.

Toji’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but not entirely neutral either. “Why not, huh….” he echoed softly, more to himself than to you. He took a step closer, crossing into your personal space but stopping just short of overstepping. 

“Okay.” he said finally, his voice steady now, though his eyes still carried that flicker of something unresolved. “Let’s rehearse.”

You nodded, turning away from the mirror and moving toward the small table where the script sat. You busied yourself with flipping through the pages, anything to avoid looking at him directly. But you knew, you could feel it — he was looking at you and only you.

As you both settled into the familiar rhythm of line-reading, the tension between you didn’t fade entirely, but it softened, shaped by the shared focus on the work. There were moments, brief but poignant, where you caught glimpses of the man you had once known in the way he delivered a line or the way he watched you deliver yours. 

Yet you knew when you said these things, you knew it would be bad. You knew they would hit too close to home, too personal. And that was what happened. When the two of you were finally shooting the emotional scene, it was more real than your practice and perhaps, that’s what fueled your acting. 

The dialogue was heavy, charged with the kind of raw emotion that mirrored your real-life tension a little too closely. It was a confrontation scene this time around—a breaking point between two lovers teetering on the edge of collapse. As you delivered the lines you had practiced, the words felt too personal, too sharp, cutting into wounds that hadn’t fully healed. And you hated it.

“That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” your character accused, the anger in your voice reverberating through the silent set. “You push people away the second they get too close. You think it’s easier to walk away than to face what you’ve done.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you, the weight of the moment pressing down like a vice. But your focus was on Toji.

He stood across from you, his character’s guilt written across his face, but there was something else there—something unspoken that made your chest tighten. Somehow, it was his real face. Somehow, it was his truest blossom of regret.

The director called for a break, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. The crew scattered, murmuring amongst themselves, but the energy in the room remained electric, charged with the kind of intensity that couldn’t simply be switched off.

You turned away quickly, grabbing a water bottle from the craft table. Your hands were trembling slightly, your pulse still racing. You focused on the coolness of the bottle against your skin, anything to ground yourself, to pull you out of the emotional spiral the scene had sent you into.

“You okay?” Toji’s voice came from behind you, quiet but insistent.

You stiffened, refusing to turn around. “I’m fine. Just… in the scene.”

“Right.” he said, but there was a note of skepticism in his voice. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Something in his tone made you snap. You spun around to face him, your eyes blazing. “Why? Do you think I’m talking about you?”

Toji’s jaw tightened, his posture rigid. For a moment, his mask of calm slipped, and the vulnerability beneath it was laid bare. “I don’t know.” he said, his voice low and even. “Are you?”

The question hung between you, the weight of it almost unbearable. His gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there, raw and exposed.

“What if I was?” you shot back, your voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “Would it even matter?”

His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, neither of you willing to back down, yet both too afraid to fully engage. Before either of you could break the impasse, a crew member approached, clipboard in hand. 

“We’re resetting for the next take.” they announced, oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “Five minutes.”

You tore your gaze away from Toji, nodding curtly at the crew member and quietly thanked them before turning on your heel and walking away. Your footsteps echoed in the cavernous studio, each one feeling heavier than the last.

As you retreated to the corner of the set, you could feel Toji’s eyes on you, his presence lingering like a ghost. Even as the crew busied themselves with preparations and the director barked instructions, the tension between you remained, an invisible thread pulling tauter with every passing moment.

You leaned against a prop, exhaling shakily, trying to center yourself. The scene was over, but the emotions it had stirred up were still thrumming through your veins. And as much as you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you knew this wasn’t just about the script. This was about the two of you—about all the things you’d left unsaid and all the wounds that still refused to heal.

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T READ THE NEXT PART OF THE SCRIPT YET. You had been too emotionally exhausted about what you had been doing for work that you had put off reading the script. Which was fine, you were able to memorize things easily when you see it long enough. That’s why you have this sort of career in the first place.

So the next morning, you arrived on set early with your manager. You greeted everyone as you were clutching your script tightly in your hands. Your manager quickly greeted everyone and went to you, before telling you that he’ll get you both coffee from the coffee truck. You nodded at her, telling her that you’ll just be sitting on the trailer.

It had become a habit, one you told yourself was about preparation — ‘it will work out’; but deep down you knew it was also a way to mentally brace yourself for whatever the day might bring. You have told yourself that phrase for years now, but perhaps, it  didn’t hit as hard as it has now. Much more because you were working with the man you were in a relationship with for quite a lot of years. 

Working with Fushiguro Toji was a constant balancing act, teetering on the edge of professionalism and the unresolved tension that hung between you like a storm cloud storming away with its raging thunder and its hurling battering rains. That was just what it was, when you were working with someone you still had unresolved issues with. 

You settled into your usual corner, flipping through the script for the day’s scenes. You moved to take the pen from your bag, and started highlighting things you wanted to work on and things you wanted to ask for feedback from the director. As you skimmed the pages, your eyes caught on a block of stage directions that made your stomach drop. A part you hadn’t seen just yet.

Hiruka steps closer to Suzaku, their faces just barely inches apart. The tension between them is palpable, one that pushes them together like gravity and after a beat, they kiss.

Your mouth went agape at what you had just read. This was not what you expected. You clutched your heart, feeling how it skipped a beat. For a moment, you just stared at the words, as if doing so would somehow make them disappear. But they didn’t. The scene was there, in black and white, unavoidable.

"Everything okay?" a voice broke through your thoughts. One of the assistant directors, passing by with a clipboard, glanced at you with mild concern. 

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Just going over the script.”

She nodded, already distracted by another crew member waving her down, and you exhaled slowly, your mind racing. You haven't kissed Toji since… well, since before everything had fallen apart. 

The idea of doing it now, even in character, felt like reopening a wound you’d barely managed to scab over. Even though it had been six, seven months since the breakup, the thought still wasn’t something you had gotten used to. The memories of what had been lingered like a ghost, haunting the edges of your mind whenever you let your guard down.

But then again, no one knew you were dating. To everyone else, you were just friends. Friends and co-workers. That was the story they had always known, the one you had carefully curated and protected. It wasn’t their fault—they didn’t see the quiet moments shared off-set, the way his hand used to linger on yours, the stolen kisses behind closed doors, the whispered promises of something that had felt so certain at the time.

You… you weren’t ready to tell anyone. The idea of opening up that part of your life to the world had felt too vulnerable, too risky. So you had kept it quiet, only sharing the truth with a handful of people you trusted—close friends who had sworn to keep your secret. Back then, it had felt like the right choice, like something sacred and yours to guard.

Now, though, it felt like a double-edged sword. No one on set knew about the history between you and Toji, which meant no one understood how charged this scene truly was. They didn’t know how much it would take to get through it without letting the weight of the past seep into every glance, every word, every touch. To them, it was just another part of the job.

But to you? To you, it was a reckoning.

You rubbed your temples, trying to shake the thought away, but it clung to you stubbornly. You were here to work, to act, to tell a story. You had gotten through every other scene with Toji, no matter how tense or emotionally taxing it had been. You could get through this one too.

Couldn’t you?

Your internal spiral was interrupted when Fushiguro Toji walked onto the set, his usual calm demeanor in place. He spotted you almost immediately and gave a slight nod in greeting, but his expression shifted when he noticed the look on your face.

“Something wrong?” he asked as he approached, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You hesitated, holding up the script instead of answering. “Have you read today’s scenes?”

He frowned slightly, taking the script from your hand and flipping through it. You watched his blue–green eyes scan the page one after another, his expression shifting from neutral to surprised and then to something you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh.” he said simply, his voice unreadable.

“Yeah.” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh.”

Toji closed the script, handing it back to you. “Well….” he began, his tone measured. “It’s part of the job, right?”

His casual response made your irritation flare. “Don’t act like this is nothing.” you shot back, keeping your voice low but firm. “You know it’s not. Not with us.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying it’s nothing. I’m saying we’ve done this before. We’re professionals for a reason. We’ll handle it.”

The word professionals felt like a jab, as if he was reminding you that whatever was between you didn’t matter anymore. You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself, biting back the words. Instead, you took a step back, putting more space between you.

“I just... wasn’t expecting it.” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I guess I should do more reading on the script before I say yes. But then again, we were together before this. I would have thought differently if we were….”

You stopped yourself from saying anything. You sighed as you took the script back from him, not looking at him. You fumble through the script once again, stopping at where you were reading earlier. For a moment, Toji didn’t respond. He simply watched you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded. 

“Neither was I. But maybe it’s a good thing.”

You frowned. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

“Because….” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “If we can get through this, we can get through anything else this job throws at us.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond to him whatsoever. There was a sincerity in his tone that caught you off guard, a reminder of the man you used to know, a man you once loved—the one who could somehow say the exact thing you needed to hear, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“Let’s just get it over with.” you muttered finally, turning away to avoid meeting his gaze. You hoped the words would end the conversation, but Toji, ever persistent, wasn’t ready to let it drop. “As soon as possible.”

“Are we going to rehearse—”

“We are not going to rehearse kissing.” you interrupted sharply, spinning back toward him with a pointed glare before he could finish the thought.

He blinked, momentarily startled by your tone, then raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. No rehearsing. he said, his voice calm but edged with a hint of amusement. “I wasn’t going to push it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical. “I mean it. We know how to kiss for work. It’s technical, not personal. We’ll hit our marks, make it look convincing, and that’s it.”

“Got it.” he replied, his tone unreadable. But the faint twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth betrayed him, and it made your chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something far more complicated.

“I’m serious, Toji.” you added, folding your arms across your chest. “This doesn’t have to be a thing. Let’s just focus on the scene and move on.”

He tilted his head, his gaze softening just slightly. “I know. I’m not trying to make it a thing, I promise.” he said quietly. “But it’s not like we can pretend it doesn’t feel... different.”

You froze, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Different. Of course, it felt different. How could it not? You had kissed him before, really kissed him. Many countless times in another life, when things had been simpler, when you weren’t standing on opposite sides of an invisible wall you’d both helped build.

But you couldn’t let yourself dwell on that now. Shaking your head, you turned back toward the set. “It doesn’t matter.” you said, more to yourself than to him. “It’s just a scene, Toji. That’s all it is.”

You didn’t wait for his response as you walked away, but you felt the weight of his gaze on your back, heavy and lingering. And as much as you tried to push it down, you couldn’t shake the sense that, for Toji, it might not be just a scene after all. You looked for your manager. 

You needed to get that coffee from her as soon as possible. 

And perhaps, a donut. You need enough sugar to get through the day.

And so you let hours pass by, trying to get the idea of the kiss off your mind. You were not going to think about it until you had to. That’s what you tell yourself. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How will it happen? How will you end up lasting with how he would touch you? How could you keep this professional? You shook your head. You hated how much you were getting too into this.

When you finally make it off to set once again, you find yourself overwhelmed already. After going through the worst of thoughts while on the makeup chair, you couldn’t help but feel even worse here.

The set was quiet as the crew adjusted the lights and cameras for the upcoming scene. You stood off to the side, arms crossed, your script clutched tightly in one hand. The weight of what was about to happen pressed on you like a physical force, making it hard to breathe.

Toji was across the room, leaning casually against a prop table as the makeup artist gave him a last touch-up. He looked calm. Too calm, like this was just another day, another scene. Like there was nothing to freak out about. It irritated you. How could he be so composed when every nerve in your body felt like it was on edge?

Soon enough, the director called for everyone to take their places. You moved to your mark, heart pounding. Fushiguro Toji approached, his steps measured, his expression unreadable. The tension between you thickened as the cameras rolled into position, and the director gave the signal to begin.

The scene started smoothly enough. The dialogue flowed naturally, your voices blending together in a rhythm you had mastered over weeks of working together. But as the emotional intensity of the scene built, you felt the lines between acting and reality begin to blur.

“That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” you said, your voice trembling with both your character’s anger and something far more personal. “You push people away the second they get too close. You think it’s easier to walk away than to face what you’ve done.”

Toji stepped closer, his character’s frustration mirroring something unspoken in his own eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” he shot back, his voice low, dangerous. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry this kind of weight.”

“I don’t know?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know, because I was there. I was always there.”

The director hadn’t called the cut, so you kept going, even though your hands were trembling and your breath was coming faster than it should have been. Toji’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might break character. But then he stepped even closer, closing the gap between you.

And then it happened as naturally as breathing —the kiss.

It started the way it was supposed to, his hands lightly brushing against your arms as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with the perfect mix of tension and tenderness. But as the seconds ticked by, something shifted. The scene was supposed to end with a brief, restrained kiss. I twas just enough to convey the characters’ unresolved feelings. But Toji didn’t pull back, and neither did you.

Instead, the kiss deepened even more, the intensity between you igniting like a spark meeting gasoline. Fire blossoming in the spark of that gasoline, over and over as you both push and pull.

His hand moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that felt far too familiar, far too real. Your hands, which were meant to stay at your sides, found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if you were anchoring yourself to him.

The room around you faded from your reality. The set, the cameras, the crew—it all disappeared as the kiss pulled you under, dredging up emotions you thought you’d buried. Pain, longing, regret. All of it crashed over you in an overwhelming wave, pushing and pulling you towards him.

“Cut!” the director finally called, his voice sharp enough to break through the haze.

You and Toji  finally let loose and separated abruptly, both of you breathing hard. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the equipment and the muffled sounds of crew members shuffling around. No one said anything, but the charged atmosphere was impossible to ignore.

The director, who had been watching the monitors intently, clapped his hands together. “That was… intense.” he said, nodding approvingly. “Let’s reset and do one more take.”

You couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze, least of all Toji’s, as you stepped back to your mark. Your lips still tingled, and your heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of your chest. As the crew moved around you, resetting for the next take, 

Toji leaned in close, his voice low so only you could hear. “You okay?”

You nodded stiffly, refusing to look at him. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t. And as you prepared to shoot the scene again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had just happened wasn’t just acting—it was something far more dangerous. Many things were pushing through your mind over and over again. Things you shouldn’t think about. People you shouldn’t think about. 

You touch your lips, before stopping and closing your eyes to take a breath. Toji was still looking at you, as though trying to make sure you were alright. But you couldn’t be coherent, you couldn’t think straight. Not when his lips tasted like forbidden fruit, from paradise, from heaven.

The moment the director called for another take, you felt your chest constrict. You couldn’t do it again—not right away, not with how raw everything felt. Your hands were trembling, your head spinning, and your heart still hadn’t slowed from the intensity of the scene—or the kiss.

“I need a break, director.” you muttered, barely audible, before turning and walking off set without waiting for a response. “Please….I…”

You started to move before you could register it. You ignored the crew members and assistants milling about, their curious glances following you as you navigated through the maze of equipment and props.

You didn’t stop until you found a quiet corner near the back of the lot, where the noise of the set faded into a distant hum. Leaning against a wall, you exhaled shakily, pressing your hands against your temples as you tried to steady yourself.

You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt his presence before he spoke.

“Hey.” Toji’s voice was soft but steady, cutting through the silence.

You stiffened, not turning around. “I just need a minute.”

“I know that.” he replied, his tone careful, as though he were trying not to spook you. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You scoffed, your laugh bitter and hollow. “Why do you care if I’m okay?”

His footsteps grew closer until he was standing just a few feet away. “Because I do.” he said simply. “I always have. You know that.”

You spun around to face him, your frustration bubbling over. “You don’t get to do that, Toji. You don’t get to pretend like everything’s fine, like you care, after everything—”

“I’m not pretending!” he interrupted, his voice rising just enough to cut you off. His jaw was tight, his expression pained. “You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted any of this to happen?”

“You walked away, Toji.” you shot back, your voice shaking. “You made your choice. And now you’re acting like—like—”

“Like what?” he challenged, stepping closer. “Like I regret it? Because I do. I regret everything, alright? But I can’t change the past. I can’t undo what I did. All I can do is try to…” He trailed off, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Try to do what?” you demanded, your own anger simmering beneath the surface. “Make yourself feel better? Redeem yourself? Because that’s not how it works, Toji. You don’t just get to show up and act like we can fix this with one stupid kiss!”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” he said, his voice softening, though the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. “I just… I miss you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to look away from him, but you can’t. How could you, when he was looking at you like that? Like he still sees you to be the only one for him. Like he still loves you most in this world.

“Toji…” you started, but your voice cracked, and you couldn’t finish the sentence.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression torn. “Tell me to stop.” he murmured, taking another step forward. “If you don’t want this, just say the word, and I’ll walk away.”

You wanted to say it. No, you wanted to scream at him. You wanted to push him away and shove him and be angry with him, to tell him that you were done, that the past was the past and there was no going back. That you do not love him anymore. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, when he closed the distance between you, cupping your face with his hands, you didn’t pull away. His lips found yours, and the kiss was nothing like the one on set. It was desperate and unguarded, filled with all the things neither of you had been able to say.

Your hands clung to the fabric of his shirt, almost as if you needed the physical contact to ground yourself. The kiss deepened as your body pressed against his, the tension between you both crackling in the space that had once been filled with affection and now was choked with pain and unresolved emotion. His lips were insistent, hungry in a way that told you just how long he had been holding this back. The rawness of it, the desperation, sent a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your hair as if he were afraid you’d slip away again. When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, both of you stood there, forehead to forehead, your breaths heavy and unsteady. The world around you was a distant blur, and all that mattered was the way his chest rose and fell against yours.

The silence was suffocating, yet neither of you moved to speak. You couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him again. He, too, seemed frozen in the moment, as if this brief touch of something real had left him equally shaken. But then, before you could fully collect yourself, he pulled you even closer. His body heat, his scent, enveloping you in the tight space between you.

Your eyes met once more. This time, there was no confusion, no uncertainty. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored your own, and for just a heartbeat, you both let the walls crumble just enough to see each other for what you were—people who had been broken, but still searching for something to hold on to.

And then, his lips were on yours again, more forceful this time, as though he couldn’t hold back any longer, as though the weight of everything between you was too much to bear in silence. You didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. 

The emotions inside you were tangled, each one vying for dominance. Hurt, longing, anger, and something deeper. A desperate need to feel something other than the emptiness that had been haunting you both for months.

His hands slid lower, tracing the line of your back, and you gasped against his mouth as your body pressed into his more firmly. It felt dangerous, reckless, but in that moment, you didn’t care. There was something that felt like freedom in this chaotic, emotional storm that you both had been trying so hard to avoid.

But it wasn’t just about the kiss. It was about everything that led to this point. The unfinished conversations, the words you both kept swallowing, the feelings you couldn’t express. His lips softened against yours for just a moment before he pulled back slightly, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know how to fix this.” he murmured, his voice rough, laden with frustration. "But I need you to know... I never stopped caring."

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat ringing in your ears. You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "Then why did you leave?" you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady.

His eyes darkened, his face tightening with regret. “Because I was scared,” he said, the words slow, deliberate. “I thought I could push it all down, but it just… it just made everything worse.”

You could feel his hands trembling against your back, his words raw with honesty. And for a moment, you let the weight of that honesty sink in.

“I don’t know what this is,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you fought the lump in your throat. “But I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Toji’s thumb brushed over your cheek, and you could feel the conflict in him—he wanted to comfort you, to make things right, but you both knew there were no easy fixes, no simple words that could undo the damage done.

“I know,” he said softly, his voice full of sorrow. “I know, but I’ll be here. I’ll be here until you decide if you want to give me a chance to make it right.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you rested your forehead against his, the exhaustion of the emotional rollercoaster threatening to overtake you. You weren’t sure what this meant, what the future held, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to feel it. 

The rawness, the tension, the connection. The kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was a fragile promise, a silent acknowledgment that, despite everything, there was still something worth fighting for between you.

But you both knew that this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning of something uncertain, something that would require more than a kiss to fix. But for now, you didn’t need answers. You just needed this. This seesaw game. 

The more you were on this seesaw, the more you got to him. The more he’s here with you, locked in this cage of your own toxic desires. His touch, his presence, and the understanding that, for the first time in a long while, maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought.

“This doesn’t change anything.” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

“I know.” he said softly. “But it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the rush of emotions flooding through you, but it was no use. Whatever had just happened, whatever this was. It wasn’t over. And you weren’t sure if that terrified you or gave you hope. Because it means you were no better. Your resolve crumbled so easily. How could you, when it was him? 

“We have to go back to the set.” You whispered to him. 

“Let them wait.” He whispers back to you, his breath hot against you.

That’s how you ended up back in his trailer, under him just like you had been six months ago. You had all but abandoned everything outside the door. From your mic packs left on that corner wall a few meters away, to the costume clothes left on the fridges of the trailer door. 

Your lips echoed loud moaning ripples that could embarrass you had you cared enough for it at that moment. But you didn’t. All you cared about was the pleasure of being underneath him, being choked by his figure pressed against you as you squirm over and over again with the breath you didn’t have against his firm grasp. 

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to where the sweat and the drool mixed onto you over and over again. With every tug to pull him closer, you found yourself being pummeled with his member deeper over and over again — taking away the dry spell that had kept your resolve for the past six months.

You could feel him burn you inside, searing you whole with the sheer size of him, taking over every inch of your crevices as though it belonged there. As though all of you were made for all of him.

You couldn’t help but release another moan, feeling your insides close against him, as your inner thighs quivered against the side of his waist repeatedly. The force of his thrusts were so strong that you were sure the bed was going to break.

His fingerprints were being engraved against your thighs with the way he pushes against your flesh, keeping you intertwined in this vicious downfall with him. Toji couldn’t help but laugh as he pressed closer against your body, the build of his cock sliding through your tummy and he could feel it. He felt proud of it. No one knew how to make you feel this electrifying feeling of being alive the way he could. No one else. And you knew that too well. 

Calluses started to form on your reddening skin, pelted with golden sweat as he pulled in and out of you with the speed of a thunderstrike. One moment he’s into the point you could feel him down your throat choking and the next, it felt like you were freed from the vestiges of being full of everything heavy, only to feel so empty that you long for him to choke you whole with his cock. 

And he does. Repeatedly. Over and over again, until you are on the verge of tears you know you shed because of the pleasure you succumb to, to your shame. To your love, to your desires. To him. No, for him.

Because you knew, no one else can love you like this. No one else can make a mess of you like this. No one else can make you feel so whole and broken all at once that it breaks you into many pieces.

You found yourself clawing at his back, successive moans with your breaking tone sounding like music to his ears. He hums in acceptance of the pain, trying to keep his composure as your nails bring blood streaming down his back. You move slowly to bite his shoulder, deep and whole and raw. You find him grunting slowly at the pain of it. You dug so deep that you knew you also drew blood there too.

You find him accepting it knowing that this is your love. This is the love that you have for him. And it will never change anymore. You wanted to love him and love him to the point he hurts. You want him to hurt. You want him to cry. You want him to bleed. Because how dare he make love to you, knowing you didn’t want to be hurt by loving him?

“I hate you.” You cry to him, his blood metallic in your tongue. You cry again, in between your incoherent moans. “I hate you more than anything in the world.”

“I love you.” He whispers to you over and over again, digging deeper into you that he has carved a home in you. “I love you. More than anything. More than life itself.”

You cry at his words. Because you knew they were true. You knew that he does love you. And yet you don’t want to be with him. You don’t want to let him back in. But he is here, with you. He is you, in you. He was everything that encompasses you. He was your first love. He was your first everything. And you can’t take it back. You can’t unlove him, even for your own good. Not even if the heavens wanted you to.

Toji couldn’t help but snarl as he pushes deeper and deeper, his sound animalistic and raw. He was close. You know this too well, once he stops talking. He devotes himself to the task. He pushes through over and over, the beckoning of his thrusts growing more erratic as he nears his peak.

But you knew him too well. He never comes inside of you without making sure you get your fill first. His long fingers reach down to where you're joined, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles that send jolts of electricity shooting up your spine.

“T–toji!” You cry out loud, arching deeper into his touch as the pleasure coiling on your belly echoing over and over. You could feel his fingers work you perfectly, expertly as he pushes through over and over as he pushes his masterful fingers and his thrusting hips. “I….I’m….I’m close!”

"That's it, baby. Come for me too." he coaxes, his voice a low rasp in your ear. "Let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze the cum out of me."

He only gets this way when he finds himself close, his words disappearing into the reality of pleasure with you. You push against him, throwing your head back against the pillows. You shatter with a keening moan, your walls clamping down around Toji’s shaft as ecstasy crashes over you in waves.

He follows moments later with a guttural groan, pumping you full of his hot seed. You were shaking as you cling to him tightly, mewling softly against his shoulder blades. You could feel his body heavier against you as you both rode out the aftershocks, still gasping and twitching with the intensity of your shared climax.

As the fog of passion clears, you slowly come back to yourself, awareness returning in increments. You purse your lips as he presses kisses against your neck and then your jaw and then your cheeks. The warmth of his seed seeping off you as your hands loosen their hold on his body.

“We can’t do this again.” You whisper to him exhaustedly.

“I know.” He whispers back to you, his eyes shot with the look of love. Or was it lust? You could not tell. “I know.”

But you knew you were both lying to yourselves. 

He was going to come back again and again.

And you would let him in, just as you had now.

══════════════════

YOU HAD SAID YOU DIDN’T WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN ANY PRESS TOURS. It had taken a while before you had even budged to the demands of the director. But you knew that you couldn’t admit that to be a resolve without the act. All Toji had to do was ask you, in his own way and you knew you would say yes. And you hated that it was the case. 

As the lights of the red carpet flickered around you, you smiled, the cameras flashing as you and Fushiguro Toji posed side by side. His presence, tall and imposing, was the perfect foil to your poised elegance, but inside, you felt something altogether different. It was truly a quiet storm of conflicting emotions that you could barely contain.

The interviewer, enthusiastic and bright-eyed, approached you both with a microphone. “You two are the talk of the town! After months of speculation, you’ve finally confirmed your relationship with that press announcement. How does it feel to have it all out in the open?”

You met the interviewer’s gaze, your smile steady, though you could feel the weight of the question pressing against your chest. You exchanged a brief glance with Toji, his expression unreadable. He gave a small nod, as if reassuring you to continue, but you knew the truth—there was nothing to reassure, nothing to calm.

“We’re happy to finally share our truth, really.” you said, your voice smooth, practiced, like you were reading from a script. "It's been an incredible journey, and we're excited for what's next, both in our professional and personal lives."

The interviewer’s smile widened, practically giddy with excitement. “It’s clear that you two are truly in love! Your chemistry on and off-screen is undeniable. Toji, how does it feel to have such an amazing partner by your side?”

Toji’s lips quivered into a half-smile, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “It feels like a new chapter, honestly. I’ve always admired her strength, her talent. She’s someone who challenges me, changes me, in ways I didn’t expect. I think that’s what makes it work.”

The words were kind, but you heard the undertone. You knew what it was. It was the unspoken acknowledgment of the past. The past you’d both tried to bury under layers of public appearances, press releases, and carefully crafted smiles. The past you had come to hate  with all your hatred.

What had started as something deeply painful had morphed into something else entirely, something you didn’t quite understand but couldn’t escape. This was a gilded cage that you had allowed him to trap you in.

One that you couldn’t escape. That’s why you were here, standing next to him, because you couldn’t tear yourself away. You couldn’t fly away. Even when you hated him. Even when you knew better.

You felt the interviewer’s eyes shift back to you, awaiting a response, her curiosity piqued. "And for you, how does it feel to have him by your side now, after everything you've been through?"

Your chest tightened. The words to explain your truth were there, just beneath the surface, but they never quite made it to your lips. You gave another practiced smile, masking the turmoil that churned inside you. 

"It’s complicated, yeah." you said carefully, choosing your words with precision. "We’ve both had our struggles, but that’s part of growth. That’s a lot of work, to make it all go smoothly. We’ve learned a lot from each other. And we’re both better for it."

The words hung in the air, a soft veil of politeness that couldn’t hide the undercurrent of something darker. The toxic bond, the cycle of love and hate, of pain and yearning. You hated that you were still here. You hated that you could never quite leave him, no matter how much you should. And yet, there was no escaping the pull. Not now. Not after everything.

The interviewer beamed, satisfied with your answer, but all you could do was nod politely, your gaze flickering to Toji again. The smile he gave you was the same one you had seen countless times before, the one that made your heart ache, the one that made you question everything about who you were, about who you were becoming.

You knew you should’ve been stronger. You knew you should’ve walked away a long time ago. But here you were, caught in the web you had spun and truly hated it. You hated him, but you still stayed. You knew, deep down, that this was your reality now. 

Your love for him would never be pure. It would never be something that anyone deserves to have. It was not worth living a life of destitution and desperation. And yet, it was what you had. It would never be easy, it would never be anything other than toxic.. It would always be tangled up in mistakes, in forgiveness, in betrayal, in passion.

And so you stayed.

Because even if he would hurt you, even if you would hurt him, this was the life you had chosen. You had crossed that line long ago, and now, there was no going back. There was no way to escape the chaotic love you shared. It would make you happy. It would make you miserable. It would always be the same, because it had always been this way, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

For better or for worse.

For the horrid to the frigid.

You both were toxic till the end.

The moment you stepped inside the theater, the noise of the red carpet event faded into a dull hum, replaced by the quiet buzz of the room. The lights overhead gleamed off the polished surfaces, casting long shadows over the seats where the audience had yet to arrive. 

Fushiguro Toji walked beside you, his presence commanding and strong, but the usual ease between you felt heavier now, charged with a tension neither of you had addressed since the interview. Since you were now a couple in the public hemisphere. And he was too aware of it all. 

As you made your way toward the dressing room, you felt the weight of his blue–green gaze on you, sharp and searching, as if he was trying to decipher something in your posture, in the way you carried yourself. You ignored it, pretending to focus on the steps ahead, the noise of your heels clicking against the floor, the rhythm of your breath.

When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, the cold handle beneath your fingers reminding you of the distance that had always existed between you and Toji, even when you were close, even when you thought you understood each other. Even when you were now stuck in this disturbed romance.

The room was empty except for the faint scent of makeup and old costumes, a reminder of the countless times you’d shared similar spaces before everything had unraveled. Toji followed you inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His footsteps were quieter now, the usual swagger in his walk subdued, but his presence still loomed larger than life.

You didn’t turn to face him immediately, choosing instead to adjust your dress in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at you seemed almost foreign—perfectly poised, with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. Not fully. And you didn’t know when that would ever happen again.

“You okay?” Toji’s voice was low, cautious, as though he wasn’t sure whether to press you or give you space.

You met his gaze in the mirror, seeing the uncertainty there. It made something inside you tighten, but you refused to show it. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” you said, though the words felt empty as they left your mouth. “It’s just... another night, another show.”

Toji stepped closer, his reflection merging with yours in the glass. “You don’t have to pretend, you know.” he said softly, his tone edging with a familiar vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “You don’t have to say everything’s fine when it’s not, babe.”

For a moment, you thought you might turn to him, reach out for him, let the rawness of it all spill over. But then you remembered the cameras, the words you’d both spoken on the carpet. The image you were meant to present. The lies you’d wrapped yourselves in, hoping no one would see the truth beneath.

“I’m not pretending.” you replied, a little too quickly. You broke your gaze with the mirror and turned to face him now, your eyes narrowing as if daring him to say something more. “What’s the point? Everyone’s watching, Toji. Everyone’s waiting to see if we’re going to fall apart, if we’re going to crack under the weight of it all. So why give them the satisfaction?”

Toji didn’t flinch at your sharp words. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes softening, his voice quieter. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending too. Maybe I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

You shook your head, stepping back from him, though your heart thundered in your chest. “It’s too late for that. It’s too late for us, for anything real. We’ve already made our choices, Toji. This….whatever this is—this is just for show. This is what we have now. This is what we’re stuck with. And you know what the root cause was.”

For a brief moment, silence hung in the air, thick and oppressive, before Toji took a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your wrist, stopping you from retreating further. His touch was steady, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, something that you could feel without needing to see it.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you. I know I did, but I swear, I’m trying to fix it. I’m trying to fix us.”

You looked at his hand on your wrist, the heat of it seeping into your skin, and for a moment, you wondered if you could believe him. But then reality crashed back in, the weight of everything you’d been through. His betrayal, your own resentment, the lies you told yourselves about what you were.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again, Toji.” you whispered, your voice shaky, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be before. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He watches as you halted, taking a moment to gather yourself. Before you looked at him again. “But god, we are just miserable with and without each other. Nothing changes. And yet here we are.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if pleading for you to see something, anything, in him that might make a difference. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can earn that trust back. If you’ll let me.”

The words hung in the air, suspended between you, as the unspoken tension between you both remained unresolved. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him, that wanted to give in, to fall into the comfort of what you once had. But there was another part of you, the part that had learned from the mistakes, the hurt, that knew better.

“I don’t know.” you said quietly, pulling your wrist free from his grasp. “But I’m not the person I was before, and neither are you. So maybe we just need to accept that.”

Toji’s eyes dropped for a moment, the weight of your words clearly sinking in. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to change your mind. Instead, he nodded, as if acknowledging the truth you both shared, no matter how painful it was.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

But this time, there was no more fight left in you to give. 

The words hung between you both, unresolved. 

And for the first time, you wondered if you ever could let him go.

You wondered if you both would ever be free from each other.

Yet you knew that was wishful thinking, you knew that was a dream.

“You don’t have to worry.” You whispered back to him. “I’m not going anywhere….But you already knew that. Didn’t you?”

[deadsetobsessions]

‘Was I that small?’

The waterlogged Red Hood had stopped dead in the streets, helmeted head frozen in place by the sight of a young boy lifting tires from an older (newer?) version of a car he knew by heart. Water dripped off of his jacket, the steady and quiet plops of water cracked like gun shots in between the sudden silence.

Blue eyes widened, darted down to assess his threat levels (high, screamed the guns in his holsters. Run, screamed the plated armor covering his entire body), and the boy stiffened.

Red Hood knew the boy as well as he knew himself, because the boy is him, and lunged before the little shit made a break for it, knocking the tire iron out of the kid’s hands as he does.

“No!” The boy- himself, a younger Jason Todd- screamed. Desperate and terrified, he flailed in the air as Jason lifted him up and out by the back of his sweatshirt. “No! Fuck you, you boob!”

Jason put his hand over the kid’s mouth and, in a move made with only stupidity in mind, dashed towards an alley. The kid kicked harder. Jason approved of mini Jason’s actions, even if it made it that much harder to escape without Batman being alerted. Never let them take you to a secondary location. Jason did, and look where it got him. Killed within years of becoming a child soldier. Good thing for his younger self- Jay, Jason decided arbitrarily and definitely without input- Jason’s about to save him the same fate.

“Listen kid, I need you to-” that is a child, do not tell a child to shut the fuck up “-quiet down, or Bat’s gonna get both of us.”

“Fuck you!”

Jason sighed. “Yeah, alright. Look.” Jason took off his helmet, yanking off the domino underneath with an impressive feat of acrobatics.

Jay went limp in his hand, mouth agape.

Jason grappled up to a roof and set the kid down cautiously. He waited.

And waited.

And-

“Are you another older brother?” There it- wait, what?

“Huh?” He grunted, baffled. Then he gagged a bit. That sounded like B. Ew.

“Y’know, like Danny?”

And oh, he hadn’t thought about Danny since forever. The brother that joined a gang to support them only to die. Jason felt a bit like a piece of shit.

But it made for a good cover. Jason barely managed to keep the grimace off his face.

“Yep.” What was it Alfred said? In for a penny, in for a pound? Jason already changed the future by snatching the kid before B could, even if he was half confused from his trip into the bay and apparently through time. “Yeah. The old man slept around.”

Bruce really did sleep around some. Fuck if he remembered anything about Willis though.

“Of course he did.” Jay grumbled, looking less wary but still ready to dip. “So, uh, what’s with the get up? You some kind of… criminal knockoff of Batman?”

Jason looked down. Right.

“Thought it’d be funny to steal his symbol,” Jason replied shortly. It rankled, but he didn’t have any other explanation that wasn’t a defensive ‘the symbol is mine by right.’ He sighed. Jason couldn’t believe he was already missing the old man. He’s not in his timeline though, clearly, and Jason’s been through enough bullshit to know he had a lot of work to do to get back to his time. For now…

“Name’s Peter. Peter Jason Todd.”

Jay wrinkled his nose. “We pretty much have the same name, gross.”

Jason, no, Peter, snorted. Jay didn’t know the half of it. “Never said our parents were creative, kid. Now, how about we get some burgers? I’m starving.”

“… Ya gonna go like that? People looking atcha can tell you’re a threat. Ain’t no way I’m bringing you back to my bolt with you looking like that. Ms. Rand’s gonna have a heart attack.”

Peter rolled his eyes, making sure his counterpart could see it. “Be right back. Don’t move.” He pointed sternly at the kid’s forehead.

“Where the hell am I gonna go, over the edge?” Jay snarked back.

——

Jason’s heart was still thrumming in his throat. If you told him he’d be sitting with another older brother in a burger joint two hours ago, he woulda hit you with a tire iron. But shit, he would have appreciated the heads up.

Coming face to face with an unknown Bat built like a brick shit house and packing enough heat to mow down the Alley’s mobs was terrifying enough, considering he was actively robbing another Bat of his tires.

Then, confirmation that Willis slept around? Great. Perfect. At least the chances of this ‘Peter Todd’ killing him went way down.

“Damn, how are you putting away more food than me?” Jason watched as Peter all but unhinged his jaw to inhale the burgers he bought. Jason’s own burger was sitting in front of him.

“These muscles don’t maintain themselves, shrimp.”

Jason scowled, taking a bite of his burger before promptly inhaling it too.

“Slow down. Your stomach’s not used to that much food in one go. Give it time to adjust or else you’ll end up puking.” Peter advised. And yeah, Jason can tell what kind of life Peter’s lived before he became… whatever he is now. The man looked suspiciously unsuspicious in sweats and a t-shirt. Where he procured those, Jason didn’t know. Nevertheless, Jason begrudgingly slowed down. Jason’s gonna interrogate this new brother of his, and then he’ll decide if he needs to ditch or keep.

The image of Peter’s gear and obvious competency in beating the shit out of people flashed through his head. He’ll decide to ditch if Peter lets him ditch, Jason amended. There’s no way he’ll be able to run if Peter doesn’t let him.

——

Jason: I need a fake name

Also Jason: Peter Jason Todd

Jason, trying to calm his younger self: quick! Brag about yourself!

Baby!Jason: ew what a dork *relaxes*

Baby!Jason is all judgmental sass and zero fucks.

Little Jay has a run in with an unknown bat on that fateful night

Day 1 for @jasontoddweek2025 prompt for “time travel” and “the Batmobile tires”

[plethorawrites]

So we’ve seen all of the batbros as cats but what about the reader? What would happen if they were turned into a cat?

This took forever, sorry! But yes, I totally can!

Bruce: Weary and worried.

• Before all else, he's concerned with making sure you're alright. He calls Zatanna immediately to ensure it's not permanent and then after he knows it's not, he can relax enough to try to comfort you.

• He was never a cat person, only ever owning dogs, so he really has no clue how to take care of a cat. Let alone a cat who's really the love of his life. He tries, though. He gets Alfred to make you dinner, something that's fresh and not gross Tuna or Salmon from a can. He gives you your choice of every throw pillow in the manor to tear up when he sees you get antsy, your claws flicking in and out in stress. And of course, everything poisonous to cats like the peace lilies in the living room are moved far away.

• Bruce still has to go to work, unfortunately and with no idea how to keep you entertained, puts on those "Soothing cat videos" on the big TV in his bedroom for you to watch. A six hour loop of a fishtank is less than ideal but seems to work well enough.

• You're in the same place as when he left you, so he assumes you didn't mind too much. He notices you grooming yourself, not because you want to, but out of some strange instinct you've developed and he can tell you're grossed out by your own actions, so he does his best to clean your fur himself. You might be a cat, but you seem to like water so he puts you in the bathtub and scrubs your fur with your normal soap which makes you pur.

• Until he takes you out of the warm water and you're absolutely freezing, shivering from the cold. He wraps you in a towel and holds you to his chest until you're mostly dry, then, despite the dampness of your fur, let's you curl up under the covers since you're still a bit chilly. It makes his own skin wet, but he doesn't mind since at least you seem a bit happier.

---

Dick: Amused and empathetic.

• He tries not to laugh. He really does. It's just...so much harder than it should be. You look so small, so adorable, so fuzzy. You have a tail, for God's sake. How could it not be hilarious? He only stops chuckling when you swat your paw at him, catching him with sharp claws, cutting him. He doesn't get upset since he knows he deserved it.

• Goes to the pet store with you, letting you sit in the cart and pick out your own things, which, he can tell you dislike but reluctantly comply—otherwise he'd buy you a rat themed toy instead of the feather one you wanted. You gurgle and growl repeatedly when he picks up those stupid cat costumes, but he still buys them anyway.

• And yes, he does force you to wear them. You resisted, at first, of course, but eventually gave up when he gave you those puppy dog eyes. If you thought being a cat was humiliating, you couldn't have prepared for being a cat wearing a sombrero and poncho. "Those are our Christmas cards this year," he tells you, kissing the top of your head while you meow in protest.

• Despite that, he's still sweet to you, apologizing for you having to go through this and swearing he'll fix it. In the meantime, just try to stay positive. He'll say you can rip up the drapes if it makes you feel better. You do and it does. You always hated them and he refused to get rid of them, but now there was a valid reason to.

• He sits on the floor with you, swinging the feather toy around as you chase it, gaining a good amount of height the longer you play. His arm gets tired but you're clearly not, so he sits there until you eventually get sick of it and he sets it down while you crawl into his lap for a nap. He was going to make something to eat, but he supposes he can wait.

---

Jason: Paranoid and terrified.

• His initial response is to reassure you that you'll be fine. He'll do whatever it takes you turn you back into a human, no matter what. His second response, is to freak out. He has no idea how to take care of a cat, let alone his partner who's a cat! What if he hurts you? What if he can't fix it?

• Being a cat, you, unbeknownst to him, sense him apprehension and almost immediately start rubbing against his legs until he hesitantly picks you up, cradling you in his arms as gently as possible. You rub your head against his jaw, trying to soothe him and he takes a few deep breaths, relaxing and nuzzling your fur.

• It takes him a while, and a lot of trial and error to figure out how to take care of you, be it buying food you don't like, to accidentally leaving the window open and panicking that you escaped (you were under the bed, because it was warm and safe) but he eventually calms down once the day is finally over.

• Cuddling with you on the couch, he can barely even feel your claws kneeding on his arms because there's so much scar tissue it's too hard to scratch and hurt. Your purring is what calms him down the most though, after an extremely long, stressful day. You sitting on his lap, his hand resting on your back as he slowly and accidentally falls asleep.

• When he wakes up, you're still a cat, still sleeping on him. He picks you up carefully, taking you to the bedroom so he can sleep in his bed and you aren't left alone in the living room. He has a feeling you'll be yourself soon enough, even if he doesn't know exactly when. He'll keep you safe until then.

---

Tim: Shocked and Frantic

• He immediately starts to panic. You're a cat. A freaking cat. How? Why? What does he need to do to fix it? He has a million questions and no answers. But his stress only adds to your own and he quickly tries to calm down before soothing you: "No, no, no. It's fine. You're gonna be fine. I swear."

• Still, the second he gets you out of the room, convincing you that you'd be more comfortable in the living room than in the batcave, he starts to pace and freak out again. It's actually Damian, of all people, who gets him to snap out of it, literally slapping him across the face and telling him to be there for you instead of worrying about the details.

• He listens, to an extent, going back upstairs to where you were chewing on the fern in the living room, ripping a leaf apart. Pulling you away from it as you meow in protest, he cradles you in his arms, apologizing for fretting and promising he won't leave again.

• And he doesn't. He does, however, keep working on a way to fix you. He tries to be annoyed when you start knocking things off his desk, pushing stuff into a water bowl, jumping into his bottom drawer, laying on his papers, but he can't do it. You're just acting too cute to genuinely be mad. Eventually, he takes a break, closing the drawer you were sitting in and hauling you to his bed.

• He'll admit, he threw you with a little less caution than he probably should have, but you didn't mind, crawling onto him the moment he laid down, eager to close your eyes after being awake for far too long. Aka 5 straight hours, which, for a cat, was a lot. He didn't quite realize that, but notices almost immediately how fast you fall asleep once you lay down, curling into a ball, tucking your nose under your tail to keep it warm.

---

Damian: Is both fascinated and prepared.

• He has over a dozen pets, so when you're turned into a cat, he already knows everything there is to know and gets you anything you could possibly need. A nice cat bed, toys to keep you entertained, a post to scratch so you don't ruin any furniture.

• His others pets want to play or chase you, but he scoops you up before any of them can get even close to you. And he insists you stay close to him and not wander off, because you could get lost, kidnapped, or hurt.

• You always knew his knowledge of animals was extensive but didn't realize how much so until he was petting you, explaining how the hair follicles on cats work, which is why they never like to be pet in certain areas.

• Despite having an extremely nice bed, you'd really rather prefer his and he allows it, reminding you not to scratch the pillows or the sheets. "They're Egyptian silk. Don't ruin them." Still, when he catches you clawing at them in your sleep, unaware you were doing it, he doesn't stop you.

• In the morning, he switches feeds you breakfast, in a human bowl so it's not so degrading and takes you with him while he works on a way to fix you. He quickly gets distracted, though, by how you're looking around at everything like it's the most interesting thing ever.

[bbyseok]

the final conclusion of this post, where your boyfriend gojo satoru always starts floating because of his powers whenever you kiss him…

some time in your second or third year, satoru got ahold of his powers and no longer floats up into the air after you bestow him a kiss on the lips. it’s a funny endeavor that you’ll miss, but it did make your make out sessions a whole lot easier.

it’s years later.

he’s older now—you both are; your seemingly carefree high school days are long behind you now, but the two of you still find yourselves at jujutsu high as teachers.

gojo satoru couldn’t ask for a better partner than you to help him navigate his dream in supporting a new generation of sorcerers, and he gets along with his students very well (so he says).

your life is far from perfect… plagued by dangerous curses, riddled with the higher ups’ stupidity, getting through every day not knowing what could happen next—but it’s enough for you, especially with satoru at your side.

but it seems like it’s not quite enough for satoru.

it’s some time past midnight.

even after all this time, gojo still craves those stupid, overly sweet candies and late night snack runs. old habits die hard apparently.

he claims that it keeps your love life spontaneous, and who are you to deny him?

“‘toru…” you groan, rubbing at your eyes groggily as he tugs you along.

you’re clad in one of gojo’s hoodies that thrown over you in his haste, and it’s much too big on you with your hands that are drowning in the arm sleeves. (but for the record, you look like the epitome of perfection in your boyfriend’s eyes like this.)

but the snowy-haired man pays little attention to your weak protests, his boyish laugh being carried on the evening breeze.

it’s a fond sound you’ll never tire of as he says, “come on, sweetheart! i promise i’ll get you whatever you want.”

he always does.

and after you’ve secured snacks and whatever gojo had been craving for, you’re back outside. but you only take a few steps when it strikes you that this place seems somewhat… familiar.

the artificial light glows strongly from the convenience store, paired with the glistening moonlight pouring down from the night sky. it’s simple and pretty, but you’re distracted by the way it highlights satoru’s eyes.

this is the very same place where you and satoru had your first kiss.

it’s been a while since you’ve both been here—life is like that. the lights and windows have been altered in appearance, and the building itself has aged… but it’s obvious that it’s still the same place.

“satoru?” you sputter out, surprised.

he merely grins at you, his head tilting to the side bashfully with his snowy bangs falling over his eyes. “i never forgot about this store,” he confesses, glancing at it briefly.

your gaze softens, following his gaze. “me either.”

gojo grabs ahold of one of your hands, his thumb gently tracing over the lines of your knuckles as he meets your stare again. “you know, i think i fell in love with you that night you kissed me here,” he tells you, followed by a quiet chuckle.

his words cause a flurry of butterflies to erupt in your stomach. he always manages to do that, even after all this time. “yeah?” you hum softly.

satoru nods. “mhm.” after a moment, he continues. “so i… i think it’s rather fitting that i do this here too.”

you blink at him. “..do what?”

with his free hand, gojo digs into his jacket pocket for something. there’s a permanent smile sketched onto his lips as he finds it, and then—

he slowly sinks down on to one knee.

there’s a ring held delicately in his fingers, glistening in the dark. your breath catches.

you hadn’t expected for him to propose to you like this—way past your bedtime next to the convenience store with a grocery bag full of candies in your hands but now that you think about it… it’s very gojo satoru for you.

at the look of bewilderment painted over your face, satoru laughs.

“well…” and he utters your name with a tenderness that you and only you know, “will you marry me?”

a wobbly laugh leaves you then, your heart caught in your throat. “—!? yes! yes, satoru, i’ll marry you.”

gojo slips the ring onto your finger with ease, like it had always belonged there. you immediately pull him up to his feet as the two of you eye how the gemstone glimmers against your skin.

when your eyes meet his crystalline blue ones, it feels like the stars are under your feet, meeting him halfway in a passionate kiss.

you’ve kissed him probably more than millions of times in this lifetime—through the good and the bad; some are somber, some are silly.

and tonight?

you’re— oh, you’re floating.

sure enough, satoru’s feet are off the floor due to his powers for old times’ sake, dragging you up with him in his arms, and it makes you giggle against his lips.

“‘toru?!!”

but gojo seems just as surprised and amused by this circumstance just as you are. you can feel the puff of his laughter, the kind of laughter that makes his shoulders shake.

“guess you still sweep me off my feet,” satoru cheekily remarks.

to which you only respond with a fond roll of your eyes—and another kiss that steals his breath away and keeps you both in the air.

oh, well—soon, he’ll be your husband that occasionally floats when you kiss him.

[bluem1lls]

Hi! Could you do a fluff Se-mi one shot? Unfortunately I don’t really have any prompt to give you but I think a out of squid game AU would be pretty cool! Like it could be when they first met, or first date sm like that!

I would really appreciate it if you write it, but if not that’s absolutely fine! I hope you have an amazing day! <3

headcanons gf! se-mi

✦ synopsis: never let your annoying best friends to stop you from finding your girlfriend!

tw: a bit of nsfw

authors note: hiii im sorry for the no update, work is killing me but here's this! i hope u like it💓 tysm for the requests!

-> se-mi, who you've met because of a close friends hangout.

"would it be okay if i bring se-mi?" min su asked as i passed the joint to thanos.

"is she cute?" nam gyu asked.

"she's a lesbian" min-su answered with a chuckle.

"oh?" i said as i pay more attention to the conversation.

"she's probably not your type tho, you're so picky" min su said rolling his eyes as i scoffed.

-> se-mi, who was totally your type.

when you two met, you bonded immediately, laughing and smoking together as the other three were sitting on the couch staring.

"what about us man? when it's our turn?" nam-gyu said, watching as she said something that made you blush.

thanos and min su shook their head as they kept smoking.

"i bet i can drink more than you" she said as you laughed. "wanna bet?" she said with a smirk. "if i win, i get your number"

no need. two shots in and you were giving her your number no matter what.

-> se-mi, who texted you while you were passed out on nam gyu's bed as he was sprawled on the floor with thanos's arm around him.

you tried to find your phone, lowering the brightness as you grabbed it while your head throbbed.

pretty girl w the piercings: hi

pretty girl w the piercings: maybe its too soon but would you like to have dinner tonight? we can do something chill :)

-> se-mi, who has you waking up thanos and nam gyu with screams of happiness.

"who died?!" nam-gyu opened his eyes wide.

"min-su?! my boy?" thanos asks, alarmed

"se-mi texted me! she wants to hang out tonight! it's a date!" i said getting up the bed to quickly shower.

"this can't happen anymore bro. she needs to stop getting drunk and sleeping in your room" thanos says to nam gyu as he throws himself into his bed and covers himself with the blankets.

nam gyu blinks. two people already slept in his bed, none of those being him. he sighs as he goes into thanos's room to sleep some more.

"for fucks sakes" he mumbles.

-> se-mi, who's soon arriving to your house.

"i need you two idiots out of here tonight" you said, putting your earrings on and brushing your hair as they stared.

thanos winked as he grabbed his phone to call someone. "we're on our way" i could hear min-su over the phone screaming to thanos, alarmed, because he was on a family reunion. "we're your family too boy! be there in 20" he said, hanging up.

well. they're min-su's problem now.

-> se-mi, who stood there in all back, as she played with her lip piercing, smirking and looking up and down as you open the door.

"hi!"

"hey pretty" she said, as you moved aside, letting her in.

"we're just leaving" she got in as the guys got out, giving a quick head nod to her.

"get laid" thanos shouted from outside.

"she needs it" nam-gyu followed him.

of course you stood there all blushy as she chuckled.

you'll kill them later.

-> se-mi, who brought everything you told her you liked! a horror movie, your favorite snacks, diet coke and ice cream as dessert.

"it's this is okay? maybe i should've bought more things. now i'm nervous maybe it's time for a smoke break-" she rambles too much. you don't give her time to think as you cup her face and kiss her. her eyes widen in surprise but she quickly melts into it.

-> se-mi, who's quickly stopping the makeout sesh to turn on some 'cigarettes after sex' on the speaker.

-> se-mi, who starts hanging out more with the boys and talks a lot about you.

-like a lot. nam-gyu is tired. he has to see you at home and now hear about you??

-> se-mi, who loves chill dates with you, like staying at home and watching some movie.

-> se-mi, who has to get used to the guys because half of the dates probably include them bc they feel left out:(

its like you two are mothers going out with three kids. three very dumb kids (26 year old adults). but you love them and se-mi learns to love them too .. kind of. give her time.

-> se-mi, who not even two months in she's decoring your room with your favorite flowers and a sign that says 'would you let me be your girlfriend?' you kiss her until your lips go numb.

-> gf!se-mi who doesn't know how to keep her hands out of you. her hands on your hips, hugging you from behind, circles on your waist, underneath your shirt.

-> gf!se-mi who loves playing video games. she's SO happy when she finds out you don't actually like playing but you like watching. she buys all your favorite games and plays them all for you

"BABY, TURN RIGHT. I'VE WATCHED THIS 20 TIMES, GO RIGHT" you shout at her.

"do you wANNA PLAY?" she replies, getting exasperated trying to follow your indications.

you pout as you shook your head.

she loves this. wouldn't trade it for the world.

-> gf!se-mi who loves taking you shopping to the mall. clearly for the lingerie stores. probably ends up fingering you in there.

she buys anything you like, baby is poor but she tries SO hard for her girl:(

you're pointing at a plushie?? it's yours.

clothes u like? she knows your size, it's yours.

-> gf!se-mi who discovered your music tastes are so different that she can't believe she's listening to taylor swift and olivia rodrigo songs to learn them for you. she's incredibly down bad.

-> gf!se-mi who gets you a necklace with her initial

"for: baby

it's not because i own you, but because i really know you :)"

-> gf!se-mi who gets SO nervous when you wanna introduce her to ur parents. and she's so happy when they approved her.

-> gf!se-mi that is SOO smart, everytime she helps u study you're moaning.

-> gf!se-mi that's not studying for now, just working. but you are.

and when she sees you burned out? oh she's the first one to be there helping.

"baby, you've been studying for hours, let's take a break"

"i can't sem. my parents-"

"okay okay, let's go through the flashcards again and we'll take a nap, how does that sound?"

-> gf!se-mi that is there when you get a 87 and not a 100. and you're crying about what your parents are going to say while she caress your hair and kisses you.

"we'll start again in a bit if you want to, but for now let it out princess" she kisses your temple.

-> gf!se-mi who everyone stares when she takes you to campus. but she has no idea, she's just looking at you.

-> gf!se-mi who's a fuckgirl in recovery tho..

like the idea of cheating does not cross her mind. but sometimes she smiles. too much.

and maybe some girl is winking at her because god you have a HOT girlfriend.

and she just turns to you, smirking.

"did u see that babe? i haven't lost my charm ;)" she says as you scoff in disbelief. you two end up making out until her brain is too fuzzy to remember what she told you.

"just wanted her to see that you're mine" you say as you clean up any of your messed up lipstick.

her boxers are wet. sticky and wet.

and if someone you know is frequently flirting with her? next time they'll see her, she has three big bruised spots on her neck, and she's SO happy.

one time she had a little admirer at her job who went to see her like three times a week.

baby: she's here!!!!!!!!!!!

me: who???

me: wait.. stalker??

baby: mhm.

and when you leave her on seen, she frowns. she scans everything this girl is taking as she feels her phone vibrating. she checks her messages and oh! it's you!

two photos. one of you in her favorite red lingerie and the second one, you moving aside those pretty panties to send your bare pussy.

she's drooling. and her brain is pretty much broken.

"i-m-m sorry" she stutters to the girl in front of her, who frowns. "min-su cover for me! i'll stay tomorrow" se-mi screams at him and smiles at the girl who looks like her heart got crushed.

-> gf!se-mi who also gets jealous easily. match made in heaven!

give her two seconds before she's eyeing up and down with a cold stare to anyone who's talking to you. her hands grip your waist as they start to roam over your body, she leaves a wet neck kiss as she gets close to your ear.

"bathroom. right now. or you wanna show them you're only my whore? because i'll fuck you right here and i'll make them watch" she whispers on your ear while you're talking, making you shiver.

yeah forget the chat, it wasn't that interesting anyways.

-> gf!se-mi that spends every sundays with you

lazy days, laying in bed hugging and kissing eachother, picking two books out of your book shelf to read for a while. if it's raining?? movie, take out food and a nap.

she just wants to be with you, does not care about anything else.

-> gf!se-mi that if you're into romantic stuff, she's doing her best for her girl. sometimes she forgets tbh but there it is min-su to remind her!

se-mi: 😭 she's mad at me

min-su: it's flower day. according to tik tok, girl's wanna receive a yellow bouquet

se-mi: you're my second favorite person.

and she's at your door 30 minutes after you got mad with a yellow bouquet, smiling behind it.

she really tries.

-> gf!se-mi who knows how to draw so well, she actually draws a bouquet of ur favorite flowers to give u every month.

-> gf!se-mi who finds tik toks about kitties and sends them to you.

you open tik tok once again as you see a new video sent by your girlfriend. is a black cat licking a white cat with a pink bow

semisucks: das us:)

-> gf!se-mi who loves when you do skincare on her but she already has a pretty spotless face. although she uses hand soup to wash her face

-> gf!se-mi who never stopped flirting with you, she has to keep her girl

" you look so good tonight, you're lucky i have a wife or ill be taking you to bed real fast" she says winking as you roll your eyes.

-> gf!se-mi that after two years of dating, wants to move with you.

"you didnt ask for our consent" thanos says, shooking his head no as you both tell them the news.

"you steal our best friend and now you want her to move? that's not happening" nam gyu agrees with him.

you stare at the three of them who are fighting about you like little kids.

"well, i guess its time to bring the second choice" i say to se-mi as she places her head on the table as she mumbles 'fuck'

"she moves here" i say, staring at those two as they stare at eachother.

"fine. but no moaning" thanos says as nam gyu nods.

-> gf!se-mi who hates her birthday, except this year, when you throw her a mini surprise party with nam-gyu, thanos and min-su.

-> gf!se-mi who can't cook... please don't make her.

-> gf!se-mi who protects you and puts you on top of anything.

you're her girl after all.

nsfw hc!

-> gf!se-mi who has an obsession with your tits, when youre riding her? shes having a blast seeing your tits bounce

-> gf!se-mi who fucks u in public places. 100%

-> gf!se-mi who has a broken brain when she sees you with a new lingerie set.

-> gf!se-mi who has a black strap. and god she knows how to use it

-> gf!se-mi who didn't do it right if you're not crying and trembling by the end of the night.

-> gf!se-mi who loves quickies. everytime you two are about to go out you're suddenly 15 minutes late because you just looked so cute in that oufit, that she had to eat you out.

-> gf!se-mi who quiets her whimpers everytime you're eating her out while she's playing with the guys.

"are you okay? focus dip shit" nam-gyu says to her.

she's on her chair, completely flustered and out of breath, biting her lips while you're swirling around her clit.

"i'm- i'm fine" she sttuters as she quickly mutters the mic, her hand grabs your hair. "right there princess"

-> gf!se-mi who loves to hear you while she fucks you. if you're not screaming she's not happy.

-> gf!se-mi that gets extremely frustrated when you tease her in public.

it's okay, she'll make you her slut when you're back home<3