#create things without assistance

[gibbearish]

hey cool that literally isnt what that said in the slightest

[therealcallmekd]

Been obsessing over the fact that my old oc, Artie, and Kinitopet are like so one in the same it's actually crazy.

Pink AI that's friendly on the surface, is actually really clingy and obsessive at times. Lonely and really just trying to fulfill a core objective as set by their creator or other influences, someone or something that they look up to as a godly figure maybe.

They both act as your friendly AI assistant, Artie is just for a specific program, while Kinito just gets to be his own thing.

Both want you to stay with them. Both will go out of their way to do things to make sure that happens.

they are so silly to me, and i love them

Also I found an old sketch from way back that somehow mimics the literal same plot beats to the ending portion of kinitopet and that threw me for a loop. Too bad it was only a concept sketch.

ohhh i love sentient silly ai so much... ohhh i love themmmmmm

something something sentience of ai is inherently a tragedy or something like that.

thank you for listening to me ramble. ahem.

[genuflectx]

I found the novels that were made by Fawnling’s old owner, and they are… nothing like the group she killed… so I’m a bit peeved and heart broken that it was scrubbed from the internet for literally nothing. “I’m using it for a book” my ass. It’s closer to ATLA than Fawnlings :^p

So while being nostalgic and a bit sad, I ended up discovering the books that were created out of Fawnlings being wiped off the face of the internet. For context, Fawnlings was an open art roleplay game and after the owners return after a 6-7 year absence (it had been run by the abandoned mods) she decided to shut it down to use her “original concept in a novel.”

I was a roleplayer there for roughly two years before that happened, accumulating almost 10 characters, but the group had 1,6k members and many had been there from the start. It was very popular, friendly, active, and well maintained by the passionate mods who the owner had left behind. Tons of the game, lore, and changes to the species were created by them without any direction from the missing admin.

Back to the discovery… I couldn’t find the book by looking up anything that had been an aspect of Fawnlings, so I thought the damned novel just didn’t or hadn’t come out. I found it by her pen name (or real name?) which I will not divulge even though she’s technically publishing under that name, and has been writing articles under a different once since at least 2021. But the reason I could never find the book in connection to Fawnlings was… because there is none.

The main reason she claimed to want to separate herself from Fawnlings, which led to her refusal to give the group to the mods who had been caring for it, was because she intended to use the IP she made in a novel. When the mods didn’t bite they made their own group with a separate similar species and new but also similar world mechanics. Sadly, the new group has never been as active as the old one, I’d say there is activity (like art) made every 3-4 months. I’ve seen a lot of RPs die, and it is dying.

Now, I find out that Fawnlings was deleted for nothing. The novel is just… an ATLA AU, sharing little to nothing with the destroyed Fawnlings group. Fawnlings were deer, the book is humans. The ex-owner played characters in the Irish/Scottish inspired part of the game, but the book is based on Asia (specifically Japan). Fawnlings didn’t even have an Asia inspired location (ironically the new game does, which she didn’t even play a part in). The second book is about pirates, Fawnlings didn’t have those nor could they make boats. There’s a map in the first book and none of the locations are named after anything from Fawnlings, so the herd names she had originally requested be changed weren’t even used in the book.

The only similarity to Fawnlings is shared by both ATLA and (again ironically) the new game that she didn’t even play a part in. That magic and gods had disappeared but are now returning, and the main character turns out to have powers. Blessings and curses are also a thing. I can see some vague plot points that resemble Fawnlings plots, but they’d never make that connection if you didn’t know her involvement and are again generic (royal betrayal- generic- and stealing children for a cult- generic). Basically, she deleted Fawnlings because she wanted to use… magic tropes that already existed? While everything else unique to the group and it’s members wasn’t even used.

What makes it worse is two three things:

1. The article she published (again I won’t reveal her name) two months after the incident with the group about how you shouldn’t take negative comments personally and how it’s “something going on in the other persons life, not your fault.” Which is true advice but the context is shitty, she had been pretty heavily criticized at that time.

2. A Tumblr blog post months after (unless you get her Twitter which I won’t share you won’t find it, she didn’t use that blog much) the closure saying the story draft for the novel “started 9 years ago” and then a joke about “flushing” the evidence of the first draft.

3. (edited in) About a year or so after deletion, she got Wayback Machine to exclude or redirect the majority of captures. New captures and ones showing any criticism or discussion involving the shut down were excluded, and many older captures were turned into redirects that directed to captures from circa 2012-2016. Years 2020 and 2021 were completely wiped. Petty as Hell! This alone makes me feel like I would be in the right to give the name of her book series, just so you could avoid ever supporting it or her, but I still wouldn't feel good about doing that.

getting into RPs is hard for me as an adult and I’m still peeved that Ciel had only just turned 1 in game year old when the plug was pulled, and the new game is as good as dead so there’s really no community to keep playing with. Imagine playing one giant DND game for 8 years, then the DM (who had been napping through the majority of it) throws all of it into a garbage can, changes 95% of the plot everyone loved until it’s unrecognizable and tries to monetize it against the wishes of everyone who contributed to it. That’s what it’s like ☠️ and the new DND game just doesn’t have that same spark or comradery, so most of the players left. Or, like making a rudimentary toy for the public to play with. Then they build onto the toy so it’s more fun, then after years you come back, yoink it from everyone, strip it of everything they made it into, and started reselling it under a different package. And the new toy they tried to replace it with just doesn’t bring everyone the same joy, so it starts gathering dust.

Does the DM have the right to throw away their campaign and ignore the feelings of others? And does the toymaker have the right to take their toy away and sell it? Yes, but it doesn’t make it any less shitty, especially when thousands of players were in that DND game/playing with the toy. “Has the right” is not equal to kind, ethical, or selfless.

Well, there’s nothing to be done, it’s been three years. But it wasn’t what I was expecting to find and it kinda fucked me up :p

[alltimewhat]

continuation of last post in tags

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

Series Master List Main Master List

TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team. 

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for. 

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it. 

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle. 

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider. 

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building. 

 Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop. 

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors. 

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself. 

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand. 

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.” 

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time. 

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty. 

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot. 

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.  

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.” 

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.” 

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?” 

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer. 

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career. 

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him. 

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.” 

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with. 

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?” 

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview. 

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’” 

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right. 

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you. 

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief. 

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.” 

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?” 

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR. 

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.” 

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.” 

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head. 

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you. 

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?" 

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.” 

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you. 

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up. 

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.” 

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.” 

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!” 

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.” 

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…” 

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.  

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion. 

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture. 

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…” 

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly. 

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice. 

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.” 

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.” 

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[sinner-as-saint]

dark desire and tainted bliss

Bucky x Reader 

Summary: Hiring you as his assistant was the best and the worst thing Bucky had done. He knew he shouldn’t be doing the things he was doing. He knew he shouldn’t have offered you to just live in the tower because it’s easier. He knows that this obsession of his will only breed problems. But the heart wants what it wants. And what Bucky wants, he gets. 

Themes: stalker!bucky, dom!bucky, explicit language, smut, mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

“Show me her room.” 

He ordered the AI upon entering his own room. Nothing happened in this tower without Bucky knowing about it. Which meant that he had access to everything, every floor, every room. He didn’t have eyes in any of the bedrooms, except for one. Yours. 

He never did anything wrong, Bucky reasoned with himself, he just liked to know that you were on your floor, in your room safe and sound. Sometimes he liked to just sit back and watch you work as you replied to emails and calls from your bed. Sometimes he liked to just watch you read. Or watched as you video called your friends, or as you scrolled on your phone and shopped for useless things. 

It calmed him down, and he only watched for a few minutes at a time. Just a few minutes wasn’t a crime, right? 

Bucky walked over to his desk, placing a palm down on the table, he leaned over and stared at the screen of his computer which displayed the live feed from the hidden camera in your bedroom. Yeah, he knew he should’ve never placed that camera there. He knew it was wrong. But he just wanted to see you all the time. And yes you were almost always around him and the team during the day, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. 

So he watched. His eyes fixed on the screen as he watched you walk around your spacious room. How you disappeared into the bathroom and he knew you would only step out about half an hour later. So he walked away from his desk, hoping into the shower as well. 

It was Friday, so lazy night in for you. You never went out on Fridays, you preferred to stay in and read or watch movies. Bucky knew that. 

When he stepped out of the shower, he walked over to his desk again. And saw you disappearing into your walk-in closet. 

He let out a sigh. If only he could just be there with you. It would make things so much easier, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t even have to pay him any extra attention, he just wanted to be in the same room as you. He just wanted– 

Bucky’s brain stopped functioning all together when you stepped out of the closet. His heart skipped a beat when he realised that you were wearing something really familiar. 

His hoodie. Which he hasn’t seen in about a week or so. Bucky frowned, wondering how that could have happened… Maybe laundry got mixed up? But then, why would you still keep it? You must know it was his, you’d seen him working out or going out for runs in it multiple times, right? So why would you still wear it…? 

You looked perfect in it too. Hood on and everything. So perfect all he wanted to do was gather you in his arms and savour your warmth. And it was all nice and sweet, Bucky felt all warm inside as he watched you walk around your room, in his hoodie, watering your little plants and tidying up as you went. He should step away now. He thought. He should stop watching. He should. 

But he didn’t. He sat down eventually at his desk and watched. Like it was the most entertaining thing to watch you live your life. 

And oh was he in for a surprise… 

Around your regular bedtime, you slid into bed as usual. And fussed around with the pillows for a few minutes until it felt just right. Bucky smiled as he watched you create your little cosy nest before sliding in there. You left the soft night light on which he liked because… well, it would be hard to see you in pitch darkness. 

Anyway, he watched you toss and turn until you lay completely still for a moment. Bucky frowned when he watched you reach for your phone again. You clicked a couple of times and out of nowhere, Bucky could hear soft feminine moans coming from your phone. 

His jaw dropped. He’d been watching you for quite a while now and he’d never seen you watch porn. He always just assumed you got your fix from those smutty books you liked. So this was… new. And it tormented him. Because if he was there with you, you wouldn’t need porn, would you? 

And he could hear the video loud and clear too. He could make out some words amidst all the moaning and skin slapping. Daddy… bunny… good girl… 

Still, he watched. He watched as your hands slid in between your legs. You were under the covers so he couldn’t see much except for the look on your face and the soft movement of your hand under the covers. Fuck… his own hand drifted downward until he had his fingers wrapped around his cock. Stroking it gently. Soft strokes, matching the pace of your wrist. 

Bucky watched as your face contorted in pleasure, as your lips parted when you began breathing deeper, how your hips moved along with your wrist, and fuck… he was dying. This was pure torture. His brain stopped working because all he could register was you touching yourself in your cosy, comfortable bed, while wearing his hoodie– 

Bucky stopped and stood up. His hoodie, huh? The devious plan formed in his head before his rational part could stop it. It was his hoodie, he should probably go get it back, right? 

He was at your door, knocking on it before he could talk himself out of it. What? He was here for his favourite hoodie. He had every right to get it back. 

And he had to hide his smirk when you opened the door, looking all disheveled. Panting and eyes wild as you stood there at your bedroom door, wearing nothing but his hoodie. Bucky discretely checked out your legs, but maintained his composure. He didn’t let it show how much he wanted those wrapped around his neck– 

“Sergeant Barnes,” Your breathless voice was driving him insane. “What, uh, what can I do for you?” 

You never stumbled upon your words. So this was new to him too. He made you nervous and he liked it. 

“Hey,” He said, sounding just like he always did. For now, he was able to keep the hungry animal in him caged. Not for long though, not when you looked at him like that. “I think our laundry got mixed up. I was,” He made a show of letting his eyes look down at the hoodie you were wearing, “looking for that actually.” He pointed at the hoodie. 

He held back another smirk as he watched you search for an excuse. 

“Oh? Oh I didn’t realise… um, you want it back right now? Or…?” You couldn’t even act dumb. You were a smart girl. Of course you realised what you were wearing wasn’t yours. “I could–,” 

Poor baby. Bucky couldn’t pretend any longer, so he cut you off by stepping into your room and shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the closed door and gave you a look that had you stammering again. 

“Oh come on,” He spoke softly, loving the surprised look on your face. It turned him on actually, seeing you so flustered. “We both know you’re smarter than this. And we both know what you were doing just now before I knocked on your door.” 

You gasped, frozen for a moment. “What?” 

Bucky quickly added, “Super soldier hearing, remember?” 

You tried to hide your face by lowering it, but Bucky grabbed you by the chin and tilted your face up before you could hide. 

“So? Touching yourself while wearing my hoodie?” He chuckled, the power he had in the moment getting to his head. “I think it’s kinda mean how you didn’t even offer to let me watch…” He paused before adding, lowering his voice even more, “Huh, little bunny?” 

The look on your face was priceless. It only made his smirk grow wider. 

“Bucky–,” 

He cut you off quickly, “No, no. It’s daddy.” 

–

Well, shit. 

How did you find yourself in this situation? Yes of course you’d known it was his hoodie. And yes it had accidentally made its way to your room. But it was so soft when you grabbed it earlier. It smelled clean, like laundry detergent and something so manly that you couldn’t resist. So you put it on. 

And having the fabric rub all over your naked body underneath, plus thoughts of the hoodie’s very handsome owner, didn’t help at all. It felt like you were in a dream, because Bucky was here. And shirtless. He was actually here and he’d heard you masturbating? 

“I’m sorry, I–,” 

“Shh,” He cut you off again. “I didn’t say you had to apologise.” He pulled you closer, your body pressing against his bare chest. “Did I, bunny?” 

You shook your head immediately. “No.” You whispered quietly. Something in the tone of his voice made you want to rub your face all over his chest and neck and purr like a kitten. What? 

“No, what?” He demanded. 

You hesitated, but still mumbled a quiet, “No, daddy.” 

“Good girl.” He said, smirking. “Now, let’s take care of you, yeah?” 

Next thing you knew, you were being pushed down on your bed. Right on top of the pile of pillows you liked to sleep with. He pinned you down by your throat while he stared down into your eyes. His metal fingers cold against your skin. 

His eyes wild and ocean blue. “Pull it up, don’t take it all the way off.” He ordered, referring to his hoodie. “Just pull it up. Let me see those pretty tits.” 

You did. Tucking the bunched up material under your chin as you let him see your bare chest. 

“So pretty.” He murmured, his warm fingers reaching out to tease a nipple. “Why’d you always keep them hidden from me, hmm?” He pinched a nipple, tugging on it. “I wanna see them often, you hear me, bunny? You’ll show daddy your pretty tits every day from now on, won’t you?” 

You could hear your heartbeats echoing in your ears. “Yes, daddy.” 

“That’s my good girl.” 

Bucky held your stare as he pulled away to lower his sweatpants. His hand was back around your throat as he parted your legs and pushed his cock into you without wasting a second, stretching you out. “Got yourself nice and wet right before I got here, huh bunny?” He taunted. “That’s why I’m able to just fucking slide in like you were made for it.” 

Your soft whimpers only fueled his desire to fuck you hard and fast, but he waited. 

“Does daddy’s cock feel better than your fingers, bunny?” He questioned, knowing damn well you weren’t in a headspace to answer him given his hand was around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you that he wondered if you could even think straight. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you, little bunny. Stealing my hoodie, and touching yourself while wearing it. And you wouldn’t even tell me about it, would you? You would’ve just showed up to work tomorrow and pretend nothing happened, huh?” He taunted through gritted teeth. Leaning over your squirming body he said, “From now on, I want you to tell me, okay? I want you to tell me each time you touch yourself. You hear me, bunny?” 

You nodded quickly. 

“Good.” He kissed your nose, “I’m gonna fuck you now, is that okay?” 

You whined in need, then nodded again. 

Bucky smirked as he dug his knees into the mattress before fucking into you hard and fast. 

There was nothing gentle about him. He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, growling right in your ear, “You feel so fucking good, bunny.” He chuckled, “Look at you, all nice and open for me. You didn’t even put up a fight. You don’t even care your boss is fucking you, do you? Hmm? All you care about is getting fucked by daddy’s cock, huh?” 

You were a moaning mess under him. “Yes… please.” It was all too overwhelmingly good, his voice, his weight on top of you, his cock thrusting in and out of you like that was its only purpose… 

You whimpered desperately as Bucky moaned right in your ear, the sound of his moan making your heart flutter. 

He sped up into you, mumbling, “You’re daddy’s little bunny, aren’t you? Say it. Tell me you’re mine.” He whispered in your ear, in a daze as he pounded into you. “Say it.” 

You cried out, “I’m all yours…” 

“Good bunny.” He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “You’re all mine. And this is where I’ll be every fucking night from now on, you hear me? I want you in bed, with your legs fucking spread just like this for me each time I walk in here.” 

You nodded, holding his stare. 

He shook his head, “No, no, no. Say it. Say ‘yes daddy, I understand’, come on bunny, say it.” 

“Yes daddy, I understand.” 

“Good fucking girl.” He moaned as he fucked deeper into you.

Your body squirmed under him, your back arching off the bed, you were burning with need and your body craved him even more. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, swallowing all your moans as he came inside of you. You felt his warm load shooting at your walls as he shoved his tongue past your lips. You cried out as that triggered your orgasm, and your walls clenched violently around him until you came undone as well. 

Your brain was a foggy mess at this point. 

“Not done with you,” He mumbled. 

He flipped you around and pulled you onto your hands and knees and pushed into you again from behind. The pile of pillows keeping you in place for him. You moaned out loud, unable to hold back as you surrendered to him completely. 

“Fuck, bunny,” He growled. “You’re so warm… such a pretty girl. I need some more, okay?” 

Bucky gripped your hips and slid inside you again. 

“Fuck…” He hissed, pounding in and out of you incessantly. You whimpered as both his hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him harshly each time, speeding up until you were a moaning mess again, barely having recovered from the previous round. “All of you is fucking perfect, huh?” 

Your voice was strained and hoarse as you moaned and whimpered under him, coming undone again in no time. 

Bucky chuckled in a cocky way as he came inside you again. “You come so fast, bunny.” He commented, “What is it? Daddy’s cock too much for you? Hmm? Are you so sensitive?” He pulled his cock out of you and just stared. His cum leaking out of you while you closed your eyes and panted under him, catching your breath. 

And you, still in his hoodie. Oh, he loved what he was seeing. 

He slipped his fingers back into you and loved the sound you made as he fingered his cum into you again, making you arch your back and whine in pleasure, “Please…” you whined, “Please, daddy… it’s so–,” 

“What?” He barked, shoving his fingers deeper. “You don’t tell me how to play with you, bunny. You hear me? I’ll make you come again if I want to.” 

You whimpered, “I can’t… please.” 

Bucky scoffed. “Fine.” He pulled his fingers away and pulled you up, leaning in to kiss the side of your face, he said, “This stays between us, okay?” 

You nodded. “Okay.” Obviously, you weren’t gonna tell anyone. 

“Now, time for bed. And keep the hoodie.” He kissed your cheek again. “You earned it, bunny.” 

[yzzart]

I read your stuff for Dante and ohmegosh!! Just the kind of fluff one can enjoy after a grueling day ^-^

If you're still interested in Scenarios, how about one where his girl is in danger?

I don't know, I just can't help but picture a scary calm Dante going in to save his girl (maybe even angry enough to activate Devil Trigger) and his girl, safe, if not still freaked out- sees he's still angry, and tries to crack a joke just to help bring her boy back down from the rage- then him just laughing weakly at her joke before pulling her in for a tight but still gentle hug

WANNA KEEP ON ROLLIN', BABY! ── DANTE

── content warnings: F!reader, reference to the anime, mention of Devil Trigger and Sparda, words mentioning violence, jokes and puns.

── word count: 824!

They came to you. — Capable of being neglected, wicked to execute any malevolence, cruelty for exultation, will; sustaining the pure hatred that ran in their blood and determined and unwilling to spread torture and killing to anyone. — And with the assistance of an organization.

It was funny, ironic, in that case, that the characteristics mentioned could, without thinking, fit DARKCOM. — And Dante suspected, knew, that they influenced his location to those damned ones.

The so-called “Lieutenant Arkham” mentioned your name in Dante’s ears as she unnaturally tried to kill him. — She expressed and articulated questions related to you, without conveying the disgust and anger she felt for the demon hunter. — This man held himself back from ripping off, at the very least, her skin entirely.

You have been kidnapped. — Involved, attached to an ambush and enduring, being subjected, to the role of hostage; trying not to go crazy, to convey a horrified and weak reaction. — The weird and wretched white rabbit warned that he would stab the half-demon's weaknesses; from the amulet to the woman he loves.

Sparda's son — a reality that would need time to gain recognition — would not make his father's mistake, leaving and causing the lack of protection and death of his wife. — Even if that means eternal destiny in the underworld or the end of possible humanity.

Damn, that would be, respectfully, extraordinary with a soundtrack in the background. — He couldn't help but think; that was so cheesy, it was Dante's kind of thing.

These things, uttered by the merciless mouth of the disproportionate easter bunny, of “devil trigger” or “true form” that ran through Dante sounded like pure nonsense; something that he, even being a dumb chatterbox, would not think. — Until they revealed themselves to him, they reciprocated his fury, hatred and transformed him into a certain creature that he did not recognize. — However, he feared that his appearance could be a part of who Sparda was.

Dante never saw, verified — or created, relatively, with his imagination and creativity — the true appearance of Sparda; obviously, he heard stories or narratives about him. — But, he heard from those stupid brutes that he looked like the traitorous demon.

Deep down, if he ended up alive, he would delve deeper, searching with efficiency and interest, into the true story of his father. — Without having something trustworthy, or a living witness who wouldn't want to end his skin, Dante would have a long road ahead. — Everyone wanted a piece of him, what a desired man.

Recovering his honesty with himself, Dante only hoped that you would get used to his new image; and he hoped that you would like it too. — He has wings, rocky structures of pure red and lava predominated his body, horns and eyes, terribly, yellow. — It was still him.

It was still Dante.

“Dante?” — ​​Your voice determined strangeness, at the same time, fascination and not insinuating a panic or disgust of the demonic creature before your eyes; carrying an impetuous composure in the environment, which was, totally, destroyed. — “I can’t believe it…?”

“In flesh, bone and claws.” — The altered voice, barely recognized, conveyed feigned enthusiasm, displacing the fury of the previous moment, the man suggested a pun. — “It’s all kind of new to me.” — He tilted his head, feeling the weight of the horns; Dante was taller, not that it changed anything between the height difference between you before his transformation. — “Very new, actually.”

It was recognizable, and somewhat indescribable, that there was a deep mixture of emotions rising in Dante's chest; just as his voice determined frustration and bitter anger. — A disturbance that he began to feel the first second his amulet was taken from him. — And they had almost done the same thing to you.

Sliding your eyes over your boyfriend's robust and impressive, hellish body, you captured lines, reminiscent of lava, shining as he breathed; enraged reactions remained in Dante. — You couldn't judge him, but you also couldn't leave him like that.

“At least you won’t have to worry about transportation, will you?” — Not knowing what to actually do to help him, you had to use his own weapon: his lame puns. — “Is it faster than a plane, big boy?” — ​​You were referring to the wings, which made Dante’s body like his coat.

Sparda's son laughed, exclaiming a sudden and sharp laugh, making your skin crawl as he listened and he could not believe that you would be subject to consuming your comedian side at a time like this.

“I don’t know, ma'aam.” — He moved his body, showing off, and with reason and without problems, your eyes contemplated more than they should, planning something. — “Do you want to find out for yourself?” — Taking control and opening his wings, signaling that he was about to take you out of there, Dante suggested putting the plan into practice. — "Why don’t demons fly first class?"

Yeah, Dante was still Dante.

[jksarchives]

volume 3

[ 35/35 ]

ᯓᡣ𐭩

❖ proposal — by @hansolmates

Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. | 20.1k [f, a]

❖ magic stick — by @badbtssmut

Jungkook is kinda sad because he has never been with a girl who could take him balls deep because of his size, reader doesn't believe him and she wants to see, but he tells her that he can't atm bc he's not hard. She is wearing this kinda halter top style with no bra so she looses the top and shows her tits to him and let's him touch them. After he's hard he shows her his dick and she says she's willing to try to take it all and she rides him into the sunset. | ? [s]

❖ crazy — by @girlygguk

you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook. | 15.5k [s, f, a]

❖ we are all dreamers — by @yoonia

Jeon Jungkook is a cocky bastard. Not only does he have the pride and insolence twice the size of his head, but he also has an anger that could open up the door to hell on itself. As he continues to refuse to believe on the soulmate system, he keeps on unknowingly hurting you, punishing you for what the universe has thrown at him in the past. Would he change his ways as he finally meets you? Or would you run away, giving him the exit that he had seemed to desire so greatly? | 16.5k [a, s]

❖ comfort inn ending — by @joonbird

“It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.” | series [a, s]

❖ angel’s trumpet — by @hansolmates

one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. | series [ a, f, s]

❖ the habits of a broken heart — by @softykooky

jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. | 26.3k [a, f]

❖ animal — by @cutaepatootie

series [a, s]

❖ a fallen bookmark on a thursday afternoon — by @cutaepatootie

He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can't even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That's how Jeon Jungkook came into your life. | 19k [a, f, s]

❖ scattered stars — by @taegularities

It’s easy to despise Jungkook when your contradicting magic doesn’t allow you to touch each other without fatal consequences - but what if your eternal enemy turns out to be your soulmate with whom you, unfortunately, do fall in love? | 17.9k [f, a, s]

❖ welcome to the heartbreak show — by @numinousher

you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him? | 28k [a, f]

❖ mutt — by @letsbangts

when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. | 6k [s, a]

❖ answer your phone — by @letsbangts

when the consequences of his actions come calling. — 12.8k [a, s]

❖ the love prognosis — by @awrkive

for as long as you can remember, you've always been a hopeless romantic. the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time. | series [f, a, s]

❖ lie with you — by @girlygguk

in which jungkook doesn't realize what he has until he just about loses it. | 8.4k [a, f]

❖ out of gas? — by @97kuu

It was a setup between Taejoon and Jungkook to get him to hook up with you in the car. However, his guilty heart and physical desire revealed that he wanted more than what he was willing to confess that night.. | 3k [s]

❖ ordinary things — by @lovieku

after a lost match, jeongguk’s only source of comfort is you. | 6.9k [a, f]

❖ cosmic balance — by @explicit-tae

Every universal realm has a positive and negative - good or bad. Jungkook manages to cross the portal from his dystopian world to your utopian one and decides that he'd do anything to stay with you. | 8.7k [a, s, f]

❖ seven storms — by @wintaerbaer

As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option. | 9k [a, s, f]

❖ first class— by @girlygguk

in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite. | 25k [a, f, s]

❖ when she loved me — by @jungkookstatts

How does one live when life is bound to end? | 11.2k [a, s]

❖ staged for the season — by @voyter

Going back home for the holidays meant facing his ex — the one he still couldn’t let go of. determined to win her back and spark a little jealousy, he brought you along… as his fake girlfriend. — 18.3k [f, s, a]

❖ guilty as sin — by @gldrushh

You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying. — 17.3k [a, s]

❖ mature — by @jiminrings

The good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed. — 8k [f, a]

❖ 6 AM — by @neimaami

Jungkook wakes you up at 6AM for more than just morning cuddles. — 4k [s]

❖ year 22 — @rkived

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘ — 11.5k [a, f, s]

❖ tangled webs — @ughseoks

Soulmates are tricky thing. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their destinies intertwined with their missing piece. Signs come in dreams for those fortunate souls; short bursts that are barely memorable when the sun rises. As for you? Flashes of red and blue are your only indicators to the identity of your other half. — 14.1k [a, f]

❖ fighting hearts — @kooktrash

Never living a life of luxury, Jungkook does what he has to do to make ends-meet. right now that means fighting in underground clubs, getting beat black and blue until he wins. he knows there’s a better life out there for him but he never let himself think about it. until you came along and suddenly a weight is being lifted off his shoulders letting you through his guarded walls. you’re everything he needed and you make him want to fight for more. — 15k [a, s, f]

❖ a thousand reasons why — @taegularities

After leaving to work towards his dream rather than the bonds that shackle him to home, you didn't expect to see Jungkook again years later at your best friend's wedding. And even less, for love to rekindle at second glance. — 43.1k [a, f, s]

❖ can’t be without you — @ahundredtimesover

One night you’re gushing over rom-coms and Jungkook’s cooking; a few nights later you’re tending to his beat-up face. But while it’s his stubbornness that’s saved you countless times before, it’s that same quality that constantly puts him in danger. OR your best friend just can’t let go of underground fighting and so, drama ensues. — 30.4K [f, a, s]

❖ tangled thoughts — @hongcherry

It wasn’t easy to leave your boyfriend of two years, but the constant lies made you question your relationship. You tried to move on, but you were somehow constantly tangled in his web. After being captured by an unknown, yet familiar, enemy, Jungkook wondered if he was doing the right thing by keeping his secret identity from you. Was it too late to come clean? — 10.5k [a, f]

❖ warning signs — by @hongcherry

Spider-Man is a beacon of hope for most residents in Seoul; although, it causes you to feel a little useless to society. With determination to be a change in the world like your masked boyfriend, you find yourself involved in a secluded organization meant to eradicate underground gangs. However, you’re deeper than you expected—leaving Jungkook trying to discover who this ‘new you’ is alone. — series [a, f]

❖ kiss me better — by @jaykaysthicthighs

Jungkook said some really mean things to you when you started coming home so late. when he realizes how horrible he was, he tried making it up to you. — 4k [a, f]

❖ disney+ & blast — by @1kook

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. — 13k [f, a, s]

❖ blackjack — by @kpopfanfictrash

Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out? — series [s, a, f]

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[saintobio]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different. 

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her. 

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life? 

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.” 

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added. 

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now. 

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?” 

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.” 

“Well.. what is the HIS?” 

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.” 

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.” 

“Roger that, boss!” 

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

~~

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences. 

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission. 

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense. 

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for. 

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things? 

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him. 

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away. 

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer. 

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.” 

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.” 

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice. 

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

~~

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.” 

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed. 

She’s a traitor.

Punish her. 

Hurt her. 

Devour her. 

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you. 

“I betrayed you because of her!” 

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her. 

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said. 

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved. 

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.” 

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head. 

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor. 

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake. 

No… no! 

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever. 

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.” 

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

~~

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

~~

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another. 

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either. 

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first. 

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.” 

~~

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind. 

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life. 

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure. 

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!” 

“Boss, let’s go!” 

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about. 

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital? 

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter. 

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer. 

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.” 

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you. 

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life. 

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

~~

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café. 

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you. 

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute. 

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?” 

“Caw! Caw!” 

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

~~

And then, that day happened. 

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with. 

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.” 

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman. 

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you. 

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of. 

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment. 

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?” 

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.” 

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.” 

~~

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional. 

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso. 

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look. 

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.” 

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love. 

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.” 

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”. 

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.” 

Like me. 

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.” 

“...Sleep tight, kitten.” 

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

~~

However, that same night was a different story. 

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness. 

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again. 

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

~~

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?” 

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him. 

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face. 

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

~~

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too. 

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone. 

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up. 

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body. 

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.” 

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?” 

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night. 

Do you even recognize it? 

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…” 

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.” 

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.” 

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would. 

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

PREVIOUS PART

[littlestpersimmon]

Am caught in a death spiral my lieges. I don't feel entitled to anyone's time, effort or resources but I feel so beat down. I am disabled, I am working so much I genuinely developed a hunched back. I am alone responsible for my autistic sister, her parentified sibling, and my two parents who are disabled with extremely limited movement. I have three jobs. I can't ask for help on twitter because people I work for follow me there. My work requires me to draw every day, without a day off, ever. I have a "morality clause" which means if I or the author I work with are deemed to be acting in any way the company thinks inappropriate, we are immediately fired and would have to return every single cent we have made. I feel at my wits end. My employers are american- but I am not. I live in the global south- government assistance in the Philippines is *nonexistent*

Last week I asked for help to pay for electricity. The other week I asked for help with my sister who had to be rushed to the ER.

I doxxed myself and posted medical info to this blog, so many strangers know my address, my legal name, everything just for me to be able to seek mutual aid- Wallah I do not want to be this person, but if anyone could please, pick up a print from my inprnt, or subscribe to my patreon, I already have 300+ drawings up there and I upload thrice to four times a month, or if you could send direct tips it would make a world's difference. I will try to open commissions next week but as the world is being plunged into wherever it is we are headed, it's getting harder and harder to get clients.

Currently myself dealing with housing insecurity- we only have a year or two to fix our traditional filipino house as it is falling apart due to the philippine storms and termites- *please* help me and my disabled family of three. I feel I am rambling now bc there's so much on my mind, on my plate, I've asked friends and my partner for help, my sister and my cousins and my friends are all I have. My mom's side of the family cannot help as they are all extremely poor themselves, and my paternal side of the family have emotionally abused me and have members that committed routine csa on me. I do not take any of the help I receive here for granted, and I'm sorry. Reblogs are off as I am asking for help from followers as I feel very ashamed / embarrassed/ humiliated to still be stuck in this dark place . Sorry and thank you again

Inprnt is having a sale rn, everything is like at 40% off!

And my tipping jars:

Sorry and thank you again. If you can't donate or purchase its OK, just please please please include me in your prayers, make mi shebeirach for my health so I csn continue to work, or any prayers at all for me. Thank you

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[midniqhtt]

michael robinavitch

masterlist • the pitt • 05/12/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 angel kisses I @science-hoes

𑣲 a ray of fucking sunshine I @/science-hoes

𑣲 taste I @/science-hoes

Robby is fighting nicotine withdrawals, but the reader has something sweeter to curb the cravings.

𑣲 gorgeous I @/science-hoes

Robby loses in fantasy football and pays up. Somehow, his loss is making your life a lot more difficult.

𑣲 special treatment I @ovaryacted

𑣲 an itch you can’t scratch pt2 I @theonewiththefanfics

After taking a bad fall, Y/N gets rushed to the ED of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital only to come face to face with a man she had a one-night stand with, and who ghosted her that same morning without a word - Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch. As if her bad day couldn't get any worse than it was...

𑣲 married name I @tedmustache

Robbie decides to casually reveal their marriage in the most dramatic way possible.

𑣲 doctors orders I @/tedmustache

Between long shifts, late-night triage, and the chaos of The Pitt, something quiet has been building between Dr. Robbie and Y/N. When one rough day pushes things to a breaking point, unspoken feelings come dangerously close to the surface and maybe neither of them is ready to pretend anymore.

𑣲 triage I @/tedmustache

Amid the nonstop pressure of a Pitt emergency room, one nurse navigates long nights, relentless crises, and two doctors who are harder to read than any medical chart.

𑣲 residuals pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 I @eureka-its-zico

You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

𑣲 devastation (daughter!reader) I @nineteenninety-six

The tragedgy at Pittfest brings brings a victim that devastates Dr Robby

𑣲 late night visits I @stellamarielu

somehow your neighbor is always finding himself at your front door hoping to find relief through casual hookups, but you both can’t deny your feelings any longer

𑣲 impatient intentions I @/stellamarielu

robby’s innocent obsession with his neighbor takes a turn after a dinner invite that leads him straight into your kitchen and renders him a slave to your touch

𑣲 work crush I @xximperioxx

𑣲 heartbeat pt2 pt3 I @asxgard

You get called in to assist with the mass casualty event on your day off and you’re grateful to be there when your husband finally breaks.

𑣲 companionship pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt10 I @/asxgard

He’s not sure how he got here, perhaps it’s the aching loneliness or the overwhelming stress. You’re there because it seems like easy money and you have a pushy friend. All in all, it’s a good deal — he gets the companionship he’s after, no strings, and you get your utility bills paid on time. It’s pretty simple, easy, until your arrangement bleeds into something a bit more…complicated.

𑣲 a lesson in vulnerability pt2 I @/asxgard

A pregnancy scare forces you both to lay your cards on the table.

𑣲 be I @/asxgard

You had no intentions of falling for the sad-eyed attending on one of your rotations. And yet, here you are.

𑣲 feels like trouble I @thepencilnerd

You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television.

𑣲 cuddles in the on call room I @/thepencilnerd

𑣲 drunk confessions I @/thepencilnerd

You’re out drinking with your colleagues. Robby’s not there—until he is. What happens when you see each other again in the ER, and everything you said (or left unsaid) comes rushing back?

𑣲 chronic illness!reader I @/thepencilnerd

𑣲 the story never ends I @/thepencilnerd

From coffee and first glances to slow unraveling and quiet return—this is a story of love across changing seasons, of what’s lost, and what still lingers; healing is neither linear nor pretty, but it’s real—and sometimes, that's enough.

𑣲 dayshift nurse!reader I @/thepencilnerd

𑣲 sweet nothings I @thebestandworstdayofjune

you own a bakery down the street from PTMH, and Dr. Robby is one of your favorite customers. The night of The Pitt Fest shooting, you stress bake and deliver the results to the park near the hospital when you have a gut feeling everyone could use something to lift their spirits

𑣲 stay with me I @mercvry-glow

𑣲 a girls guide to shopping I @/mercvry-glow

𑣲 i start my mornings with folgers and hot, steamy sex I @spockiguess

Dr. Robby doesn't get to share many mornings with you, so when the day comes that he's finally able to spend just a little bit more time in your embrace, he doesn't pass on the opportunity to make it memorable.

𑣲 idiots doctors in love I @oceantornadoo

𑣲 rose scented scrubs I @/oceantornadoo

𑣲 i look in people's windows I @augustwinesworld

𑣲 message received I @abbotjack

𑣲 and you came back to me I @/abbotjack

𑣲 stitched together I @hauntedhowlett-writes

after accidentally cutting your hand, you seek out your neighbor for help. a favor becomes a friendship and a friendship becomes something more.

𑣲 lead the way I @traumaone

after over a year of pining over Robby, reader gets into a relationship to try and get over him, and gets cheated on. Robby (after putting up with a snippy reader) comes to the rescue

𑣲 keys I @/traumaone

Robby misses you, but lucky for him, you just so happened to leave your keys on his desk after your shift last night (or, you come by to pick up your keys and Robby feels you up in the ambulance bay)

𑣲 immature I @/traumaone

Robby loses his temper on you, and you're not quick to forgive, then tragedy strikes, and Robby's not answering his phone

𑣲 mature I @/traumaone

𑣲 the right moment is you I @cherriready

robby didn’t mean to propose today. not during a long shift, not without a plan, and definitely not in front of the ER. but when he saw her—cradling a toddler, keeping on a concussed mom, keeping calm in the chaos—he saw the rest of his life. no speeches. no perfect moment. just her. always her.

𑣲 drabble I @arrenjo

𑣲 touch I @a-soft-aside

You land yourself in the ER and Robby is the first face you see.

𑣲 positions I @/a-soft-aside

Your recent work trip is the longest time you and Robby have been apart since you two started dating. He’s thought of you non-stop and all the things he’s been wanting to do to you. He gives you a welcome home to remember.

𑣲 dark is the way, light is a place I @isaysexualthingsaboutrobinavitch

As a board-certified clinical psychologist working at PTMC, you were expecting to see patients of the hospital. But by some twist of fate, you end up seeing several ER doctors for individual therapy.

𑣲 Ho'oponopono I @ay0nha

where you make a mistake that leads to a probationary period full of observation hours, required counseling, and loathing for Dr. Robby, the very person who put you in this position.

𑣲 young gf!reader I @astreamofcolors

𑣲 safekeeping I @dexxtrosee

A baby got to the ER thirty minutes ago and hasn't stopped crying since. It's starting to get on everyone's nerves. He is, unfortunately, the one in charge, so it's his problem to deal with.

𑣲 drabble I @loveyhoneydovey

𑣲 in good hands I @blackleatherjacketz

You draw the short straw and have to work part of your shift in the ER, but Dr. Robby makes it a little more tolerable.

𑣲 night vision pt2 pt3 pt4 I @artibeus-lituratus

While dr. Frank Langdon is away while seeking treatment for his drug addiction, you're plucked from the loving arms of the night shift in order to replace him inside the crushing jaws of the day shift in the Pitt. Being a nocturnal creature with a closed-off personality, it's hard to adjust at first, especially when you're no longer working alongside your mentor (and father figure of sorts), dr. Jack Abbot. However, you slowly start to grow on the day shift's attending doctor, and it's up to Robby if he'll stay away from you to protect his heart, or if he'll give in to something that's bigger than a workplace crush.

𑣲 robby’s biological clock I @marvelslut16

Robby opens up to the reader that he realizes that he wants a child after finding out that he almost had one.

𑣲 gyltig I @strangunddurm

Michael has a secret that he was too guilty to tell anybody about. Especially Heather Collins.

𑣲 loathing you, my whole life long pt2 pt3 pt4 I @kisses4themissus

[athenalvss]

FIRST LOVE ▬ ( Dick grayson! )

summary: A young Dick Grayson is in love with one of his father's younger teammates in the Justice League.

note: Dick wiil be like 16/17 and I write abt reader like she has 19/20, Just to communicate the age gap, enjoy :)

pairing:(platonic) yj!dick grayson x fem reader

open request - Dick masterlist

The first time you met was once when Bruce took you to the Batcave to accompany him on a mission, actually only Dick met you, he was not allowed to be there tonight, Bruce had forbidden him to go down to the cave that night and that they would not go out on patrol together, and there he was hiding watching the interaction between the most beautiful girl he had seen in his short thirteen years and his adoptive father.

You stood next to Batman, nodding as he explained the details of a simple reconnaissance mission. You were dressed in your suit, a modern design that combined functionality with style, and your posture displayed confidence… though a friendly smile softened your features.

Batman walked you toward the Batmobile, helping you get in, and Dick saw you laugh at something he said. Laugh. With Batman. As if that were even possible.

How unfair life was to him.

But the first time you officially met was shortly after Young Justice was created. Bruce, dressed as Batman and Red Tornado, had introduced you to the small group of teenagers with the intention of having you be part of their training, and perhaps even help them understand the great responsibility that this job entails at a young age.

But young Robin was too busy bragging that he already knew the pretty girl.

"Team," Red Tornado announced in a mechanically solemn voice. "This is the newest active member of the Justice League. She'll assist in your training."

You stood confidently beside Batman, smiling kindly at the group of expectant teenagers.

"Hey guys" you greeted with a friendly smile. "I hope we can learn a lot together. "

Robin almost fainted.

Of course he recognized you.

The goddess of the Batcave was there, in the same room, and this time... he could talk to you without hiding behind the Batmobile.

Wally nudged him. “Wow... who is she? She’s so f...”

"What are you saying, Wally?!" Robin interrupted quickly, his voice a little louder than usual.

Everyone looked at him, he cleared his throat, crossing his arms as if he hadn't just yelled in front of the team. "I mean, obviously I know her. She's been in the Batcave before. With Batman. And me. Nothing new for me. "

Wally raised an eyebrow, amused. "Really? And you didn't say anything?"

Robin shrugged, putting on his best 'this doesn't affect me' pose, although he was sure his ears were turning red under the mask.

"I didn't mean to brag," he said with a small smile. "But we've already talked. she was on a mission with B, and I showed her some things about the cave. She asked me for advice. The usual."

Wally chuckled. “she asked you for advice, sure.”

You stepped forward, smiling warmly as you watched them. “Robin, right?” you asked, addressing him directly.

The boy's heart almost fell to the floor.

"Yes," he replied immediately, straightening as if he were undergoing a military inspection. "Of course. Robin. You know, the first one. The original. The best. Your Robin."

Wally coughed to hide a laugh.

"Thank you for having me. I'm happy to be here," you continued calmly, then lowered your voice a little. "And.... I remember you."

Robin froze.

—I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but... I thought it was really cute how you hid behind the computer that night.

Robin blinked. “How…?”

"Boy, do you think I'd be in the League if I didn't see you hiding behind a piece of furniture? No one escapes a League member," you winked mischievously.

Wally squealed with laughter as Robin raised a hand to his face. "I'm going to need an identity change," he muttered.

ᯓ★

The Watchtower meeting hall was lively, finally the young league had been allowed to come see the place and watch the daily routine of the heroes who were there, what should have been a happy day for everyone, for Robin, the energy of the place had a slightly bitter taste.

From his place leaning against the wall, arms crossed and brow slightly furrowed, he watched the scene in front of him as if it were a movie he hadn't asked to see.

You were standing in the middle of the conference room, laughing with Hal Jordan, while he excitedly gestured about who knows about what. The way you laughed, with your shoulders slightly raised and that genuine expression of amusement… it didn't help at all.

Robin looked away with a silent grunt. 'Great,' he thought, now his special day at the Watchtower was ruined by the more annoying version of Green Lantern and his damn perfect white teeth and that jagged jawline.

"Relax, Wonder Boy," Wally told him, appearing at his side, munching some cookies from the base's kitchen. "They're just talking."

"Who said I'm not relaxed?" Robin replied, a little too quickly.

—Your face. You have a “I want to throw a batarang at Green Lantern” vibe.

Robin snorted. “I wouldn’t throw a batarang at him…” Pause ."…very strong. "

At that moment, you turned your head slightly and smiled at Batman, who had come over to review some files with you and Hal. Batman said something to you in a low voice, and you nodded with a warm smile.

Dick felt a small emotional short circuit.

Bruce now too? Bruce?!? Since when did you smile like that with him?! I thought your thing with Batman was respect, professional admiration… not those kind of smiles that gave you stomach cramps!

Wally spoke again, his mouth still half full of crackers. “I think you should take a deep breath before you explode like an overloaded microchip, buddy.”

At that moment, you said goodbye to Hal with a gentle pat on the arm and walked toward the group of young people. Your eyes lingered on Dick for a second, and your smile widened.

"Wally, Robin," you greeted him in that warm tone you only used with him, even though he refused to admit it. "How was your visit?"

Dick cleared his throat and straightened his back as if he hadn't been frowning with dramatic intensity for five minutes. Wally, for his part, smiled as if nothing had happened.

"That's great!" the speedster replied. "I mean, it's not every day you see Superman eating a giant salad for lunch, right?"

You laughed softly, and that laugh was enough to make Dick forget for half a second that he was angry at Hal Jordan, at you, at Bruce, and at cosmic injustice in general.

"And you, Robin?" you asked with a nod. "What did you think?"

Robin opened his mouth, but for some reason the words didn't come out immediately. His brain, which normally ran at the speed of a supercomputer, seemed to have rebooted.

"I'm... fine. Everything," he murmured, before clearing his throat and adding in a firmer tone. "The security design of the north corridors is quite efficient. Although there is a minimal leak in the retinal scanner in room 6B. Nothing serious, but... I noticed it."

Wally looked at him as if he had just quoted an engineering manual in the middle of a conversation about movies.

You smiled with genuine amusement and nodded, as if you didn't find it ridiculous at all. "I knew you'd notice something like that. Good eye."

Dick felt like he was floating.

"Yeah, well... efficiency's my thing," he said with a slight shrug, trying to sound casual. Wally nudged him, not conspiratorially this time, but to keep him from falling over because of his inflated ego.

"You're adorable."

Dick felt as if the ground disappeared for a second beneath his boots.

And Wally, behind him, lost it: he put his hand to his mouth to hold back a laugh.

"See you later, little guards," you added sweetly, ruffling his hair before leaving with Hal, who was waiting for you at one of the doors.

Dick stood still, as if struck by lightning.

"I'm not little..." he murmured.

Wally patted him on the back with a laugh. "Bro... you just got lethally friendzoned with love. You're going to remember this for years."

Dick didn't reply. He just touched his messy hair with a silly half smile he couldn't stop.

ᯓ★

It was your first time accompanying Young Justice on a mission, and everything had gone to hell so fast you couldn't believe it.

No one understood what was happening, but since you were the oldest of all, you were supposed to stay calm and find a solution for this strange moment.

The rift in the sky had exploded without warning. A blinding white flash enveloped them, and the next thing they knew, they were no longer in their timeline.

The technology, the architecture, the atmosphere: everything indicated they'd traveled several years into the future. Just enough to make some familiar faces unrecognizable... and others too recognizable to not send shivers down your spine.

“Where… are we?” Aqualad asked, cautiously assessing the spot where they had landed.

"That's what I'd like to know," said a deep, confident voice behind you.

You turned around as a reflex .

And there he was

Tall, imposing. In a black suit with a light blue symbol in the middle of his chest, he looked like a boy about your age, one you definitely didn't know.

"Are you...?" He looked at everyone, his attention finally settling on you. "Oh, damn."

"I'm surprised to see you here. Although I must admit… so far, this has been a pleasant visit."

Robin narrowed his eyes .

"Do you know us?" you asked cautiously.

"Let's just say I have good memories," he said, in a tone that made you raise an eyebrow.

Dick, in the background, clenched his fists. Good memories? What kind of memories?

Nightwing winked at you before looking back at the group. "But don't worry, I won't leave you trapped in my time. We'll figure out how to get you back... after we catch up."

Robin couldn't stop staring at him. Would this be what he'd be like in the future? Would this be how he'd behave? Would this be how he'd talk to you...?

And the worst part is, you didn't seem upset. In fact, you were smiling.

Maybe you weren't recognizing Dick as Nightwing, they didn't look much alike, but it was inevitable for Dick not to recognize himself. .

"We need to talk alone," he said in a serious tone.

Nightwing hesitated, but nodded, and the two of them walked off into a darker hallway.

And there, when they were far enough away, Robin turned to him with a frown. "Hey... you," he began, somewhat awkwardly, "I mean, me. Major. Can I ask you something?"

Nightwing looked at him curiously. “Shoot.”

"She..." he swallowed. "You know, she... In this time... you and her, are you...?"

Nightwing looked at him for a long second before answering. "No, Dick. We were never together."

Silence.

Dick blinked . "Excuse me?" he said with an incredulous chuckle. "Never as in 'not yet'? Or never as in never, never?"

Nightwing gave him a sympathetic look. That was worse.

"As in “never ever.” As in “your eternal crush will eventually marry someone else.” As in “you had zero chance, bro.”

Dick opened his mouth. He closed it. Then he opened it again, only to complain with all the drama his frustrated little teenage body could muster.

"Are you telling me that neither growing up, nor having this cool guy demeanor, nor having that deep, sexy voice, I achieved anything?! Nothing at all?!"

Nightwing shrugged. “Well… you managed to maintain a nice friendship. That’s something.”

"A NICE FRIENDSHIP!" Dick repeated, his face one of existential outrage. "You flirted with her five minutes ago! You flirted with her in front of me like it was the most natural thing in the world!"

"Sure, but she didn't know it was me, or rather, you."

Dick pointed at him as if it were evidence in court. "That makes everything worse!! You flirted with her like someone else and it failed!"

[plaguewormart]

Imagining Vincent giving Thomas (and the rest of his staff) heart problems by randomly dropping life lore (the most traumatic or strange thing you’ve ever heard) in casual conversation (during dinner or in diplomatic meetings)

Thomas: *talking about a war in another country, mentioning land mines and other ERWs*

Vincent (without missing a beat): one of those blew up on me once

Thomas: what

Thomas: It’s time for the yearly Vatican health and safety conference, where all employees will be trained in first aid such as CPR and tending to wounds.

Vincent: what about emergency amputation?

Thomas: sorry what?

Vincent: once I assisted in amputating a man’s leg. It’s a very good skill to have!

Thomas: …what

Thomas: it seems like the media has picked up on the fact that you greeted a gay Muslim couple the other day. They’re saying you care more about other faiths than your own.

Vincent: oh that’s strange… how come no one has reported on my best friend Rachel?

Thomas: Rachel?

Vincent: yes! She’s a rabbi in Mexico, we have been best friends since we were little!

Thomas: *already calling aldo to arrange security for Rachel*

Thomas: *walking in on Vincent changing* Oh what’s that big scar from? I mean… you don’t have to tell me of course, I was just curious, I’m so sorry

Vincent (smiling): ah don’t worry! That’s from when I was shot

Thomas: from when you were what

Aldo: *walking into Vincent’s room late at night to drop something off* why are you on the floor?

Vincent: Oh well you see, I can’t sleep in soft beds because I’ve gotten so used to sleeping in warzones

Aldo: *buying a new bed online before Vincent has even stopped speaking*

Ray: how are you handling being so scrutinized in the media? I know the hateful comments can be tough.

Vincent: what are you talking about? I’ve never received this few death threats before!

Ray: I’m… glad? To hear that?

Tedesco: *finishing a long rant about tradition or whatever*

Vincent: wow I haven’t heard anyone speak for so long since I was kidnapped last time

Tedesco: … how many times,, have you been,,,, kidnapped?

Vincent (smiling): four!

Sister Agnes: here’s your food, Your Holiness

Vincent: Thank you Sister! I feel like I haven’t been this hungry since the time I didn’t eat for a week!

Sister Agnes: …and Why didn’t you eat for a week?

Vincent: I was busy helping during the Ebola outbreak

Agnes: somehow I am not surprised

Tremblay: *giving a lecture about religion during the 1300s and mentioning the Black Death*

Vincent: oooh I had the plague once!

Tremblay: you had… the actual,, bubonic plague?

Vincent: yup:) thankfully there are antibiotics for that now!

Later every senior curia member decides to create a group therapy session only consisting of talking about whatever Vincent has told them that week. They team up to find Vincent a therapist after Thomas finds him throwing up after a sermon because the Bible verse caused him to have flashbacks.

Vincent learns at age 69 that the things he’s seen and experienced are in fact not normal, and the PTSD diagnosis he receives makes him understand himself for the first time in years.

[lizziesfirstwife]

Inevitable

pt.2 to Guardian Angel

jinu x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death and blood, depressive themes, possessive jinu, thirsty reader, suggestive language, use of Y/N, banter, slow burn, not proof-read

word count: 4807 (sorry not sorry)

authors note: listened to Ms.Whitman by Bhad Bhabie & watched the Korean Pop the Balloon or find Love halfway writing this. Fought writers block like crazy to bring this out, so enjoy! 🤍

Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.

It was quick. In most cases.

The air smelled of rain and cherry blossom. The hem of her dress was soaked, her shoes wet from running through the soaked grounds of the forest she had been hiding in for the past few hours.

Sunshine crawled its way through the canopy that the trees created. A desperate consolation, sympathy for her impending doom.

Tears streamed down her face, blisters adorning her feet like a plague, blood and mud sticking to them. She wanted to scream. So many things left for her to do, things she had carelessly written in her diary before going to bed.

I don’t know how to fix this.

The ground gave way beneath her, mud crept further and further up her legs, the lower part of her dress now completely wet.

Silence.

She stood still.

The air smelled of cherry blossoms and death. Her hands, which had once been white with cinnamon and flour, were now stained red.

Was it blood?

I fear that I will love you more than I will ever be allowed to.

Her hair had long since come loose from her bun, the strands knotted and frizzy from running through the rain. Her barrette was lost too far away to retrieve, buried under mud and tears.

Birds were chirping. It was supposed to be a gift. She cried when she found out the price of the hanbok, made of lace and pure silk. Pink silk, hand-dyed with chrysanthemums and madder root. Lace, which was reserved for noble brides only.

She wanted to be a bride so badly.

Out of love for you, I have forgiven the world for what it has done to me.

A tear rolled down her face. She would have made a beautiful bride. An extraordinary one.

Now the dress that was supposed to be her wedding dress, was stained full of blood.

Her feet gave way and her body met the mossy forest floor. The sun shone golden down on her, as if to…comfort her.

Horse galloping. Screams.

Her hand closed around the diamond on her necklace, the only thing not stained by her blood.

She had always known that she would die first. It was inevitable.

˙⋆✮

Her cat jumped off the bed when she woke up screaming.

A week had passed since the strange encounter in the bakery.

She hadn't thought about what the encounter might have meant or why the strange man looked so familiar to her. Thinking about it would bring no clarity, only confusion.

Taking a deep breath, she threw back her blanket and took a sip out of the water bottle she had put on her bedside table. It was rare that she woke up before her alarm, but this dream had shaken something inside her that she didn't know was dormant.

After the meeting a week ago, she went to the post office to send her boss a letter demanding her contractual 14 days of paid leave.

Sonder.

The realization that every soul on this planet has their own story, their own pains to carry silently, ambitions that might never come true, dreams that were shattered, love that was forbidden to be expressed.

She wondered what he was doing with his life. Was he a shop assistant like her? No, he hadn't shown enough feigned niceness for that. When you had to deal with people every day and your survival depended on how convinced they were of you, you quickly learned how to manipulate people.

He didn't come across to her as the kind of person who needed to lie to people in order to survive. Maybe health care? Y/N imagined him in a white coat with a stethoscope slung around his neck.

Doctors didn't really lie, they didn't need to. They earned their living without lying to their patients, mostly. There would always be senior citizens with blood pressure problems, young women with iron deficiency, couples with fertility problems, and more than enough accidents.

She bit her lip before spitting her toothpaste into the sink. He would look good in uniform.

The smell of sandalwood and rain caught her nose, a crow cawed outside.

The sun was almost completely up, the dew still fresh, the sound of rain hitting the streets. The truth was, she didn't know why she had taken vacation. She took her necklace from her jewelry box on the dresser and clasped it carefully around her neck. It was an heirloom, at least that's what her great-grandmother told her before she died. It certainly looked old enough. The silver had a few scratches, the diamond hanging from it a bit dull.

Maybe she wanted to sleep in for once, or stop baking any more cinnamon rolls.

She took her perfume bottle, and wrapped herself in a cloud of sakura and dreamy vanilla. Her hair looked dull. The circles under her eyes were darker than usual, her skin dry from the lack of moisturizer.

When she was little, her mother used to say that her beauty was her greatest weapon. Not her knowledge, or her kindness.

Beauty was like a bullet that you could shape until it fitted into a weapon. You could polish it, improve it, maintain it.

Aim.

And fire if necessary.

In a selfish world, only the selfish could succeed. Y/N was never selfish. She didn't have it in her. She wanted to be. Too many cruel people were wronging humanity, too many evil people became successful. It seemed as if people had to hate each other in order to survive day after day, as if there was nothing left for the good souls in this world, nothing for those who recognized the strength in being kind and did not give up being so.

Sometimes she felt like she could snap, shout at everyone who treated her like shit. But did she want to be admitted to a ward? Hell no.

So she didn’t.

Rain beat against the glass of her windows. A sigh escaped her lips, applying the last bit of blush before going to her coat rack. How could it be that it was raining for the seventh day in a row? Y/N looked down and grimaced. She didn't like her rain boots. Not one bit. They weren't ugly, a simple shade of black, but whenever she had to put them on it felt like she was waddling. Just because it was raining didn't mean she wanted to feel like a duckling.

She loved the rain. The sound made her think a little less about just everything, her personal white noise. It was already warm outside, the early morning hours heating up the air. At work, she had no choice but to wear long clothes. It wasn't a company rule, but she had made the mistake of putting on an expensive dress on her first day at work and had to take it straight to the cleaner afterwards.

There was an indescribable emptiness inside her that she didn't know when or how it had taken root, like a virus trying to claim the happiness inside her for itself. She turned away from her coat stand.

She didn't bother to lock her apartment as she walked out the door.

˙⋆✮

It was Sunday again. But the emptiness, the feeling of not having earned waking up, did not rise with Jinu.

His throat felt dry. He hummed a song as he fished a shirt out of his closet, a black one made of silk, and sprayed a little perfume on his neck and in his hair.

He was leaving the bathroom when he paused.

Two steps back, one reach up. He put the bottle of perfume back in the cupboard, now that his wrists also smelled of sandalwood. Jinu didn't know why he even owned perfume. It wasn't as if demons stank, or needed anything other but their sheer will to bring people to their doom.

He frowned as he looked in the mirror. In the past, before his time as a soul hunter, he used to steal pastries from the palace kitchen, breaking them in two and using the contents as a perfume. He knew that no one would understand why he would have done such a thing, when he was in a good position as a musician at court. He didn't have to steal food from the kitchen to smell good. The most extravagant, expensive and unique perfumes in the whole of Joseon were at his disposal.

Jinu shut the bathroom door harder than necessary behind him. There were things in his past that not even he knew why he had done them.

The sun shone bright when he left his apartment. It had stopped raining half an hour ago, birds were flying around, more pedestrians roaming around and prattling than usual.

Even if he couldn't feel hunger himself, human food still tasted good to him. Paying for something in order to devour it made him feel less guilty than actually devouring lost souls.

Cinnamon, cherry blossoms.

He shook his head.

Since their encounter a week ago, he couldn't stop thinking about the woman in the bakery. How she smelled, how she talked, how she looked at him. She didn’t spare him a second glance. She didn’t scream when she saw him, he wasn’t sure if she even recognized him. And strangely enough, Jinu liked that. It was a change from the fans who usually fawned over him and acted like he was their promised husband and father of their future children.

He didn't want to, he didn’t plan to. He just wanted to stop by the next day, seeing if everything was going fine. The smile on her face when he chose the cinnamon rolls were still etched in the back of his mind. But when he peered through the shop window the day after their encounter, she was nowhere to be seen. So he walked around the block. Maybe she was in the back, in the kitchen, or the storeroom. But when he finished his walk and looked through the window again, the only woman in the shop was an employee over 40.

The wind blew through his hair, begging him to return to reality. There was no reason to think about a bakery employee who had simply sold him a cinnamon roll. He didn't want to be a stalker, like those in the movies he had seen becoming popular over the decades.

Jinu bit his lip. If that were the case, he would also have to think about the saleswoman in the clothing store and the manager for their concerts.

But it couldn’t be described as mere thinking anymore. He was almost embarrassed to have so many thoughts about someone who’s job was to offer him a service.

Get a grip.

What Jinu had learned in his more than 400 years of existence, was that peace, reliability, and good company were characteristics he utterly valued in his life. The second and third were areas for improvement, but he implemented the first into his life as best he could. As peaceful as a demon could exist.

He had been on Earth for several weeks now, their mission to destroy the Honmoon as close to being completed as possible. He was here to steal souls, to destroy them, not to care about their well-being. And he was exceptionally good at stealing souls. Demons could see the worth of a soul just by glancing at a person. There were souls that carried no light within them, souls that were not worth saving. Souls with no value.

These souls were easy targets.

There were hardly any souls left with light within them, souls that tried to live, that protected the flame of purpose within them despite the horrors this world carried.

He had never seen a soul like hers before. Pain, hopelessness, buried under an even greater longing to live, to survive.

A soul written in textbooks. Exactly what they needed.

He tilted his head back.

What was wrong with him? She didn't deserve to be seen as an ingredient. She wasn't a puzzle piece he could grab and adjust until the whole picture was right.

He took a deep breath. She wasn't important. There were plenty of other souls. Weaker souls, souls he didn't have to search for. More work for him.

He didn't care.

The wind blew cold as he turned into a quiet street. He wandered aimlessly, no purpose to his walk.

He stopped. Wind blew in his direction, caressing his face with utter care. Was that... no. He shook his head and walked on. Another gust of wind. A familiar scent, surrounding him, enveloping him, caressing him.

˙⋆✮

"And what did you answer to that?"

Y/N took a sip of her hot chocolate and sighed. She hated coffee; the taste was too bitter to drink every day. But she had a penchant for anything sweet. Her parents used to make snaky jokes about the tooth fairy loving her, because she was going to be her most loyal customer with how much sugar she consumed.

"That I didn't see why I should work another 12-hour shift on a Saturday for the third time in a row, alone with the intern, just because he wanted to go to a resort in Incheon with his mistress."

The man across from her laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"How did you know that the woman next to him was his affair?"

Y/N raised her eyebrow. "Women have a much better sense for these things than you think Joon. I have a sixth sense for shady entities. First of all, I knew he was married, because every year since I started working for him, he took a weekend off in June for his wedding anniversary. Second, his real wife was here last year for the reopening after the big renovation.”

Y/N hummed. Her boss’s wife was a real nice lady, small with a kind smile. What a shame to be tied to an ungrateful cheater who you had children with.

“And third... no man who has been married for 30 years would still deal with the trouble of taking his wife away every week and spending an entire spa weekend on her, three times…back to back.”

She raised her eyebrows and poked her apple pie with her fork.

"I hate men. They will say all women are the same, yet they get upset when you point out their oddly similar and reoccurring behavior."

The man shook his head and took a sip of his cappuccino.

“So you’ve given up on them?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "Difficult to give up something you haven’t even started." Shaking her head, she put her face in her hands.

"I don't know what to do with myself either. On one hand, I don't want to be taken advantage of. I don't want to become one of those crying women who eat tons of ice cream whining about some douchebag. Just thinking about it disgusts me. Being with someone, only for him to break up with me a few weeks later. Or better, a year later! More wasted time."

She sighed.

"But God... I don't want to be lonely. I don't mind being alone, but I don't want to give up the dream of finding someone for myself." Her eyes twinkled as she leaned back in her chair.

"Kind of funny, isn't it?"

Joon just shook his head and sighed. "I'm afraid I can't help you there sweetheart."

Y/N took a sip of her hot chocolate and looked out the window.

"Kind of weird to be the only one not being in a relationship." She shrugged her shoulders and watched people wandering around outside the café.

Her companion eyed her and leaned back in his chair. "You do realize that you're amazing even without someone by your side?"

She laughed, laughed deeply, and put her cup down. "I guess I do. I guess."

Outside, a few teenagers sat drinking juice and eating scrambled eggs with bacon. A mother and her baby sat at a table shaded by a tree, stroller pushed to the side, a cup of steaming something in front of her.

Babies. Y/N hummed and drank the last sip of her chocolate. She always knew she never wanted to have children. The idea of being responsible for another living being, for more than 18 years, was cruel to her. Children were great. She herself had become an aunt two years ago, her older sister now living in Busan with her husband. A niece. Y/N smiled at the thought of her and looked into her empty cup. She loved her, a little angel. But she never wanted children herself. She saw how little time her sister had left for her real family. A repeating pattern.

Y/N shook her head as she looked out of the window again. She would rather put up with 12-hour shifts every Saturday of the week for the rest of her life, than have children of her own.

Her friend sighed and put on his jacket.

"I really hate to leave you alone already, but I still have to pick up the cake for Eric or I won't be able to get everything ready in time."

Eric was Joon's boyfriend from Australia. His family didn't know he was gay, the stigma in South Korea still far too great. You weren't persecuted or arrested for loving the same gender, but it wasn't welcomed. So Joon told his family that Eric was an Erica, and that she was studying in Goyang and therefore couldn't visit him often. His family bought it. He was their only son and they didn't want to scare him away.

Y/N sighed and placed her saucer on his, their cups next to it. "I need to go for a walk anyway. My head's buzzing around like there's no stopping anytime soon." She looked outside and smiled faintly. "Enjoying the five seconds without rain before the flood attacks me again."

Joon laughed and stood up. She looked up at him, stretching as she did the same.

"Is he still calling me halmeoni?"

Joon raised an eyebrow and reached his hand out for their tableware, only to have it slapped away by her hand.

"I could lie."

Y/N rolled her eyes at his answer, somehow managing to put the 2 plates and cups on her left arm.

"Tell the kangaroo I said hi."

Joon laughed and gave her an obscene gesture as he left the café, leaving her behind with the dishes in her arms.

"Idiot."

She shook her head as she placed the dishes on the dish rack. Joon really was a complete idiot, but a nice one. She grabbed her purse and left the café.

The sun was now shining so brightly that she felt ridiculous for taking an umbrella with her when leaving her apartment. Luckily, it was one of those small foldable ones, so she could stow it in her purse.

The teenagers had long since taken off, the weather too nice to stay sitting somewhere the whole time. Y/N frowned. The stroller was still in the same spot under the shaded tree she spotted it in as she looked out the window earlier, but the mother was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't seen her go into the café either.

Y/N sighed and looked to the right and left before approaching the stroller. Her suspicion was confirmed when she spotted a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket inside, brown button eyes and tiny hands greeting her. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and looked around again.

"Strange."

She looked down at the baby again and turned back to go into the café. One hand wandered to her necklace as she asked the waitress that has been taking her order earlier, if she had seen a young woman enter the café in the last 10 minutes. However, the waitress just shook her head, saying there had been no new guests for 30 minutes.

Y/N frowned as she thanked her and bowed shortly, then went back outside to the stroller. The baby was still lying there, making little whining noises.

She almost wanted to slap her forehead. Of course the baby hadn't suddenly grown wings so it could fly away. But Y/N was glad that no one had taken it.

"I didn't know you had a daughter."

Her body whipped around, bumping into something big and solid.

A chuckle.

“Easy there darling. No need to rush.”

She looked up, an insult already on her tongue, when she faltered. Dark brown eyes. Sandalwood.

"You?"

Jinu laughed as she looked up at him with confused eyes and glanced to the stroller.

"You remember me? Didn’t think I made such a lasting impression on you."

She pursed her lips and looked away.

"I have many customers. Of course I remember those who buy my pastries."

He tilted his head and hummed.

"You look tired."

Her head snapped up, and he quickly raised his hands in appeasement.

"You still look pretty."

His cheeks were now a light pink color, and Y/N had to fight to hide the small smile that threatened to escape her.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "Are you planning to cuddle up to me all day? Not that I'm complaining."

Y/N's eyes widened when she realized that her upper body was still pressed against his, and she quickly took a step back. Or two.

Jinu looked her up and down, and this time it was he who had to smile. "Nice rainy weather outfit."

Y/N narrowed her eyes and looked down at herself. She had put on her black rain boots, which were now making her feet sweat rather than protecting them from the wetness.

And...the dress.

Black with spaghetti straps, barely covering half of her thighs.

Y/N cleared her throat. Suddenly even the little fabric she had on, felt too hot.

"You look good for being an eomma already."

Her eyebrows furrowed before she widened her eyes.

"That's not mine. I think her mother left her here."

Now it was Jinu's turn to look confused.

"She was sitting here the whole time while I was inside with my friend, and suddenly she was gone when I came out. She didn't come back to the café either," she explained.

Jinu frowned.

"Have you called the police yet?"

Y/N sighed. Why hadn't she thought of that?

She just shook her head and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

But the police officer on the phone told her they couldn't send a patrol at the moment. An armed robbery in the city center had required all their officers. If the mother had been gone for more than 30 minutes, they should take the child to the nearest police station and call child protective services, CPS, from there.

Y/N huffed when she ended the call.

Jinu looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He had excellent hearing and could hear everything the man told her on the phone, but of course he wouldn't tell her that.

What harm was there in listening to her voice a little longer?

Y/N threw her cell phone into her purse and sighed as she looked at the now whining baby.

"Police is busy with a robbery right now. Armed and stuff. We're supposed to take her to the nearest station and then call child protective services."

Jinu hummed and nodded.

"But we have to wait another 10 minutes until half an hour is up. He said the mother might come back."

Jinu frowned and shook his head.

"The baby doesn't even look older than 3 months. Who leaves their almost newborn alone in a stroller?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. Her heart almost broke as the little girl's cries grew louder.

She tapped her foot on the sidewalk. She looked up at the sky. Watched how the birds flew around the trees.

"Screw it."

She stretched out her arms and carefully lifted the little creature out of the stroller, taking care to support her head, and laid her against her shoulder.

“You! Take my purse and the stroller. I don’t believe a bit that her mother will turn up even if we wait the whole day.”

Jinu raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

If he was being honest, he liked her bossy tone. But only if he was being honest.

He took her pink purse off her shoulder, careful not to touch her arm, and placed it in the stroller.

There was silence between them as they walked down the street. He was all too aware of the stares from passers-by. He had forgotten to pull his hood back over his head, which he had taken off when he spotted Y/N in front of the café.

He wouldn't have minded if she had a child.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at the path ahead as he pushed the stroller in front of him. He didn't need to care about something like that.

He could already see the headlines in the fan magazines. Tilting his head back, he groaned silently. He didn’t want to listen to his groups lash-out tomorrow.

"So I guess you don't have any children?"

She looked up at him, and God, the way she had to crane her neck up to look at him, did something to him. He quickly looked away, but his gaze found hers again immediately.

"Nope. But I have a niece. She's 2, so not quite a baby anymore."

Jinu nodded and looked back at the road ahead. "I have—had a little sister. She was nine." He smiled painfully at the thought of her. "I was over the moon when I found out I was going to be a big brother. Unfortunately, I could never get her to be interested in my hobbies. She was always a free spirit."

Y/N smiled, and he couldn't look away when he caught it. She didn't dwell on the fact that he had spoken of his sister in the past tense, stroking the baby's back reassuringly.

She had no right to probe further.

Relief washed over her as the police station came into view.

Inside, they already knew about their arrival and immediately notified CPS. When the lady arrived, she smiled politely when she saw her before taking the baby into her arms.

"You could almost think it was yours."

She looked at the two of them and hummed a tune as she carefully placed the baby in the stroller and gave her her handbag back. She was fast asleep, tired from the morning sun and the clouds that were now gathering again.

Y/N blushed and wanted to say something, but Jinu beat her to it.

“It was good practice”, he thanked the woman.

Y/N blushed even more, stepping on his foot to make him finally shut up.

Jinu had to bite his lip.

This woman.

No, he would not steal her soul. And should anyone even try, he would banish them to depths deeper than hell.

Y/N sighed as the woman pushed the stroller out to her work vehicle and strapped the baby into an infant seat in the front passenger seat.

"What will happen to her now?"

The woman turned to her and smiled weakly. "Well, she'll probably be placed with foster parents until we find the mother or father. The mother will likely be charged with child endangerment."

She looked at the two of them one last time before getting into her vehicle.

"It's nice to know that there are still good people out there."

With that, she drove away, the child now being in safe hands.

Jinu shuddered.

Good people.

He didn't know if that applied to him. Either of those words.

"What's your name, anyway?"

The soft voice beside him woke him from his thoughts, making him look down at her standing there all squeaky on her tip toes.

"Jinu."

Y/N raised her eyebrow when he didn't say anything else.

God, he was tall. At least 6 feet, muscular through and through-

She cleared her throat.

"And what can I call you?"

She looked up at him and struggled not to lose herself in the depths of his eyes.

His voice was like a hand between her legs.

"Y/N."

Y/N.

He knew the name. Something buzzed inside him, something that had been asleep for a long time.

She cleared her throat and reached for her necklace.

"I guess it was nice to see you again, Jinu."

With that, she turned and walked down the street. Jinu stood still, the sound of his name on her tongue mesmerizing.

Y/N.

This time, she was the one to leave first.

Leaving the other speechless.

Distraught. With an incredible urge not to let the other go.

Then the headlines came.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Thank you for reading! If you enjoy reading this, I would appreciate a like, reblog, or a comment! I love that there are more stories about the movie out now. I still have to read them all. I’m still hopeful for a second movie <3 Sorry if I forgot to tag anyone, tagging almost took longer than the actual writing ᥫ᭡.

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[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Still water: got all I need

Word Count: 7.7k Contents: final part, angsty at multiple parts, cursing, chaos breaks out, happy ending, lots of bickering and arguing, they're really annoying actually, smut, 18+, mdni, barely proofread Find previous parts and a whole college au world here

You sigh. 

You didn’t sleep at all and it’s showing — complaining incessantly, your mother points out everything wrong about the way you look to anyone who’ll listen. What feels like a hundred people pile into your room in the Zenin manor: makeup artists, stylists, assistants, PR managers, and maids. All dedicated to making you the perfect Zenin bride. 

Which apparently means waxing you raw, detangling your hair until you’re sure you’ve got more bald spots than locks, spraying you down with every perfume known to man, creating an ungodly cloud of the most nauseating particles of air that brings tears to your eyes, and critiquing everything about your appearance. 

Wrangled here, pushed and pulled there, ‘look up here’ and ‘don’t look there,’ your head’s on a swivel. You’ve lost all control of your limbs and can only rely on the strings that keep you tethered to a reality you no longer recognise. 

Their clattering is driving you mad, but you bite your tongue. You don’t want to give them a reason to torture you on purpose. 

One minute you’re engaged to someone you thought you’d never be able to tolerate, then he turns out to be…alright, and the next you’re a free woman because he can’t stand you, and now you’re back to where you started. 

The universe must be having a grand old time. 

Good for her. 

Far removed from the planning, you can do nothing but sit back and watch everything construct itself before your eyes. The flowers they’ve chosen are the purest white lilies; they better resemble funerial flowers than marital. You don’t say a thing. On a rack, your dress hangs — it’s simple, quite pretty, actually. It’s somewhat eggshell white, long satin, not form fitting. Classic, elegant and chic. Totally not your style.

You know, without needing to ask, that he chose it. Yet another thing to mock and taunt you with. 

Father nowhere in sight, as usual, you’re stuck with your mother. She hasn’t spoken to you since yesterday, her drunken stupor gone, likely to make herself look presentable to the Zenins. 

The first couple hours in the morning had been spent trying to catch her eye all while you’re being groomed, hoping she’ll see the absurdity of this farce, that some kind of maternal instinct will click and she’ll whisk you away. Of course, none of that happens but one can daydream. Not like you have a prince charming on a white horse waiting to strike. 

She wasn’t always like this. You recall some time, long ago, deep in your childhood, when she’d sing lullabies and rock you to sleep, hiding you behind her legs when scary men would stare too long at parties, and sneaking you candy. Somewhere amidst the pressure to run the family business and estate while her husband did as he pleased must have erased it all. Perhaps, when you’re older and you have your own children too, you’ll resent them for the sins of their father too. 

No. 

Never.

“What should we do with her makeup?” A flamboyant man in purple pantsuits asks.

Manicures being carefully done, your mother looks up, red lips curling up into sharp points, and eyes staring straight through you. “Get rid of it. All of it. Make her look like someone worth marrying.”

Great. 

——————

“Are you sure about this?” She asks. 

Gojo shrugs. “No, but it’s the only idea we’ve got so, let’s just go for it.”

His friends share a look, unsure and slightly concerned. When he gets into these moods, where he’s hyper-focused, undeterred, and determined, they know better than to try and talk sense to him. It’s proven impossible before. Still, they’ve never seen him look quite so…terrifying.

Sporting a sharp glint in his eyes, he eyes the door, locked from inside. Barely restrained tension runs through his body, keeping him ready to pounce at any moment, fists clenching and unclenching. He’s not even wearing his sunglasses. At the present moment, they’re hiding behind a bush, looking out for security guards which patrol the surrounding area. The cathedral stands silent, deceptively so — inside, they know, are a whole congregation of Eden’s elites. The Gojo clan have not been extended an invitation. In fact, apart from those directly invited by the Zenins, no one even knows what abomination is happening inside. 

“Where did you even get these things?” Suguru lifts the lapel of his suit with mild disgust, finding the polyester itchy on his precious skin, no doubt. 

“Fushiguro.”

The girl makes some undignified noise. “Fushiguro? The guy who has a vendetta against you for no reason?”

Ducking with experienced speed, they all hide in the shrubbery as a guard makes his rounds. A second passes. And another. Then three heads peek back up again, all staring at the door at the back of the cathedral, where the vines grow thicker, zigzagging wildly. 

Gojo argues, “He doesn’t have a vendetta against me. He’s helping me actually. I kinda know a secret of his — occupational hazard as the Gojo heir or whatever — and I was gonna blackmail him into helping but weirdly, he was totally on board. Said something about ‘payback’ and ‘anything to fuck some bitches up’ — not that I use such a derogatory term, by the way, I am an ally for wome—“

He earns a smack on the head. 

“Ouch! Okay, yeah, as I was saying, he said he has connections inside and to wait here.”

They share a glance again. Hesitantly, the more nervous of the three asks, “And you’re sure you can trust him? That he’s not gonna fuck you over?”

“No,” he answers truthfully, “but I have no choice. This has to work. It just has to.”

When a couple more minutes passes and time starts ticking closer and closer to the edge of no going back, both friends’ doubts double. Early in the day, when the white-haired man sent the group chat a message saying, EMERGENCY EMERGENCY CODE RED BUT NOT FOR SHARK WEEK, they both thought, ‘what now?’

Maybe he wanted to dye the school fountain red again or steal another university’s mascot. They’d have preferred that actually, instead of pissing off one of the most powerful families in the country. Usually, their crimes involved being in the dead of the night, fuelled by burning alcohol and a youthful lack of shame, but right now, as the sun has only begun to set and there’s hundreds of people inside the place they’re looking to break into, they think they might have finally bitten off more than they can chew. 

“Satoru, maybe we sho—“

“Look!”

The door creaks open. A little boy in a sharp suit steps out, looking left and then right before waving straight at them. A second passes and yet another. They’re stuck, frozen, in their spot, unsure of what to make of the scene. 

Suguru whispers, “Is that…Fushiguro’s son?”

Beckoning them over, the boy makes a frustrated noise; they’re taking too long. A guard is about to round the corner. They need to make it inside and they need to do it now. Gojo surges forward. They follow. 

The door clicks. 

“Oh, fuck.” The girl pants. “I’m too sober for this.”

“Agreed,” the long-haired man says. 

Deaf to their expressions of concern, Gojo surveys the area: it’s a tight space at the foot of a winding staircase made of stone with cobwebs in the corners and dust settling on all surfaces. It’s dark, lit up only by the sunlight peering through the slits on the wall. If he was to hazard a guess, and he must insist it really is just a guess since he knows nothing about architecture and history, it could be a super-secret passageway for like monks and stuff.

“You guys should go.” All eyes fall down to the little boy with a flat expression. He doesn’t look perturbed at all at the prospect and reality of having just helped some college kids crash a wedding. “They’ve already started.”

Suguru nods. “Alright. I’ll go left, you go right and Satoru...tone down the theatrics as much as you can, will you?”

His friend waves him off and he sighs. 

“I’ll text everyone to stand by and on your count, we’ll attack,” the girl says. “I can’t wait to tell my boyfriend all about this. He’s gonna have a heart attack.”

Filing out, sucking in their stomachs and stretching as thin as they can to make it through the rickety wooden door and properly inside the cathedral, they anxiously go through the plan in their heads, but not before Gojo can the last word in. “What’s your name, little dude?”

“Megumi.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Megumi. Tell your brother thanks too. Coolest siblings I know for sure.”

A little shy suddenly, the boy huffs his chest out, attempting to stand taller in his perfectly fitted suit, shiny shoes, and untamed hair. “Yeah, we are.”

And off Gojo went, dressed similarly and with a plan he’ll kill to see through.

——————

There are so many eyes on you. On any other day, you’d shake it off; you’re used to it after all. But, today’s not like any other day, and you can’t hide behind your expressive fashion. Now, you’ve been stripped bare and polished all pretty and palatable for a man who stands beside you, cold as ice but carrying a hellish heat that’s threatening to send shivers up your spine.

None of the guests here are friendly faces. Most are familiar, having met them through those stupid galas and balls, but they don’t know you. Probably couldn’t even say your name. No, of course not, because they’re not here for you, they’re here for him. For his family and the name he bears. The name you will soon carry on you like a festering brand. 

And as the priest rattles on through centuries of tradition and your dark future awaits you, all you can think about is, would it have been better or worse to have seen Gojo sitting amongst the crowd?

It doesn’t matter, really. You barely knew the guy. He was just that person you had to learn to tolerate to maintain your sanity and soon, he’ll be the guy you once knew, the guy you think about here and there as you send your children off to school and kiss your husband goodbye.

“Smile,” Naoya commands through gritted teeth. “You look like you’ve been kidnapped.”

You fire back, “I was.”

If the priest heard that, he gives no indication. Instead, he continues his spiel and avoids your eye. So, seeking sanctuary is a no go. 

“And should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Eyes rolling before you can help yourself, you remark how stupid the tradition is. What even is the point? Does anyone ever actually object to—

“I object!”

Your head spins back so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. You know that voice. There’s no one else in the world with such a grating, fiendishly arrogant timbre. He’s there, at the very back of the cathedral, standing by the massive double doors, and dressed in a waiter’s uniform?

A round of gasps make waves around the great hall, shocked and horrified. If anyone had been dozing off, they’re surely awake now. Hell so are you. 

Heart beating fast, you can’t grasp that he’s really here. He came. For you. But he didn’t want anything to do with you. He made that abundantly clear. Still, he’s grinning right at you, looking at no one else, not even when they whisper his name like some kind of curse.

“A holy matrimony’s the last thing my girl wants; she’s a devil worshipper, your honour. So, unless there’s a goat sacrifice, she won’t be very happy.”

Naoya hisses. “How did that filthy Gojo get here? Security!”

Tall, muscular men who had been hiding in the shadows come out into the light, all eyes on the interloper. They’re going to kill him. They’ll actually kill him. 

“Aw, Nao Nao, you think you’re the only one with an army of men? Dude, I’m a frat president. The overwhelming stench of testosterone is all I know.”

And at his cue, doors to the side, and the doors behind him, open. 

Flashes of skin, roars of excitement, whooshing blow of air brushing past you. A huge crowd of men and women rush in. They hoot. They cheer. Whoop and shout and yell. They run through the aisle, in just their underwear, carrying buckets of water and sponges. No one expects their designer, bespoke clothes to be drenched in soapy water. Just as no one expects college kids to give them lap dances, covering them in confetti and boa scarves.

Chaos breaks out faster than you can process. 

Screams resound. Everyone’s shouting and clambering in all directions. A flurry of panic fills the holy grounds. They reach you, bumping and grinding and laughing. You’re lost. You can’t see past shiny chests. 

Deafening music plays on rogue speakers, blasting from all angles. It dulls your senses – you can barely tell who’s who, but it feels like the entire Eden Uni student population has crashed in like a tsunami. Frats and sororities merge indiscriminately, throwing each other around, ripping the flowers decorating the aisle up and tossing them in the air. The school mascot, a chicken is on the altar, pecking at the priest. 

The guests have been blocked in. Women are being twirled by younger, muscular boys. The men are being touched up by much younger girls and don’t seem to be complaining. Everyone’s dancing and singing, carried by the high of doing something they know is wrong in the worst place to be doing it in. 

It’s the kind of euphoria you’ve missed.

Water is splashing all over your white gown, soaking you through. The cathedral has turned into a waterpark and a nightclub at all once. Arms are reaching, touching, pushing and pulling. You’re being swept along with no destination in sight. Breathless, reeling and lightheaded, you let the crowd swallow you.

Laughing. 

You see Naoya through slivers between bodies. He’s outraged. You laugh harder. There are soap suds in his hair and suit. Attempts to stomp over to you are curbed by hormonal frat guys grinding on his body and pulling at his clothes. From personal experience, you know they can be real annoying to deal with. They’re persistent and they use their charms to get their way. It’s how they always fill their charity quota so easily.

Goodbye asshole.

Solid arms tug you back. You fall onto a firm chest. A dizzying scent fills your nostrils.

“Hey, baby.” An annoying voice whispers in your ear. “Wanna be the Wednesday to my Pugsley?”

You’re speechless, veering off course and truly discombobulated. He’s here. He’s actually here. Staggering back with him, you let him lead you through the crowd. Naoya gets further and further away. He’ll never get to you. “They’re siblings, you idiot.”

Gojo laughs, loud and intoxicating. “Yeah, I know. Was just testing you. Passed with flying colours, by the way. Missed me?”

“No, I barely even remember who you are.”

“Oh, now you’re just trying to get me hard.”

And then you’re out, feeling the warm embrace of the sun. 

The churchyard is just as busy and bustling too. There are tons of people in beachwear dancing on tables and throwing your gifts into the air as they dance to music booming out of huge speakers on backs of cars and pickup trucks. Somehow, whilst you were in there, accepting your fate, a party had been building. 

Your wedding had gone from a metaphorical funeral to a quad party you won’t be stopping any time soon. And you finally understand why Gojo’s parties are treated like a national holiday on campus; you really wouldn’t want to miss it at all.

He spins you around. In his heavy hands, your face is held, gently. Thumbs brushing your cheeks, bright blue eyes search yours. There’s a softness to his gaze when he scans your entire body. “Aw, baby, look what they did to you.”

“Don’t I look better now?”

It’s unbelievable how easily you find it in yourself to speak so clearly, to tease and prod even when you feel like you had just faced death and had barely escaped its clutch. 

Leaning in close, his nose skims yours. Eyes flutter shut and he takes a deep breath, hold on you tightening with a concerning quiver. “No. I like my girl terrifying and looking like she just put a curse on me.”

“I’m surprised you even recognised me.” Truly, you’re unrecognisable. Even your mother had paused when she took her first look at you with all your makeup, lace, and piercings gone. It was as if she was looking at her little girl again and it didn’t matter at all.

Gojo’s lips touch yours. He’s not kissing you. He’s just touching, feeling, absorbing the moment. “‘course I recognised you. Are you crazy? How could I ever forget those eyes? They’ve traumatised me so much I get nightmares.”

You stand on your tiptoes, chasing his lips. “Asshole.”

His hand travels to the back of your head, holding you still.

“Witch.” So close...just one tiny push and you’ll kiss him. He knows it too. Knows how easy it’d be to taste you on his lips, and he hopes you don’t hear the pounding of his chest. “You want this too, right? It’s not just me?”

“Hmm, I do.”

“Y/n!” 

Through the thunderous music, you hear your mother’s voice call out. She’s standing at the threshold, over the crowd, glaring right at you. She’s drenched from head to toe. There’s a look of complete and utter devastation on her face, marred with an anger you’ve become so familiar with you hardly notice it over the desperate pleading in her eyes. She’s aged a lot. 

Walking forward, she’s weaving straight for you, manicured hands reaching and reaching. “Don’t do this. Don’t be so selfish! Y-you can still marry the Zenin boy. Think of our family! We’ll be broken without his money.”

Pressing close, you feel his presence, supportive and resolute. It’s what gives you the power to finally meet her stare after years of looking away, of cowering, running. 

“Our family was broken a long time ago, Mother. And it’s never been my fault.”

Then you turn and never look back.

——————

“Okay, wait, wait. You actually snuck in dressed as servers?”

You’re both sat on the swing set, just rocking back and forth, watching the night sky. The cold breeze is refreshing, and you can’t get enough of it. Fairy lights on and warm, it’s just you two, hidden away deep in the woods behind the cathedral. In fact, you’re so far away, you can’t even hear the distant thrum of music. Whether the party is still going on or if the police had been called, you don’t know and you don’t really care to ask. 

“Yeah,” Gojo admits with a proud laugh. “I was by the cloak room waiting for my cue and pretending that I was keeping guard.”

He’s wearing a white shirt under a black vest, tailored trousers and loafers. Truly looking the part of ‘help’ and somehow making it look good, he’s rolled up the sleeves, revealing toned arms and pristine skin. 

Laughing, you ask, “How long have you been wanting to do the whole ‘I object’ thing? Be honest.”

“Oh, like since forever. I wanted to so bad I’ve been contemplating crashing a random wedding just to do it.”

Knowing him, he’s not lying or exaggerating at all. In fact, it’s so him you can’t help but throw your head back and laugh even more. “Okay, so you’re totally welcome then.”

“Yeah, thanks, but don’t do that again. I don’t think I have it in me to pull something like that off again.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Abruptly standing up, he comes to you and extends his hand. Smiling down at you with no hint of mischief whatsoever and with the tips of his ears ever so slightly pink, you note how young he suddenly looks. He just looks like a boy staring at a girl hoping she won’t slap his hand away. You take it without thinking and you’re whisked up and away. Swaying you to an inaudible music, he grips you close. Even though the night’s a little chilly, you don’t really feel the cold, not when he’s shielding you from it like he can’t stand the thought of anyone but him touching you. 

Things had changed so fast in the last day and a half, turning your life into a rollercoaster you thought you’d never be able to get off. Still, you persevered, a true fighter. You allow yourself that one moment of pride. 

Basking in his warmth and his scent washes away the remaining fears of your past catching up to you. On your way here, he had conspiratorially whispered that his family will take care of the Zenins, that their clan head owes them a favour and Naoya can’t do a single thing about it. 

And though you’re no longer tied to that Zenin and you’re with Gojo again, you know things have been done that could never be undone. You’ve lost your family. Both literally and metaphorically.

Tenderly, he asks, “Did he...did he touch you?”

“No. But he killed my friend,” you confess. 

Gojo stills for a second before he continues swaying you, head resting on yours so he can lay a gentle kiss. Muttering against your hair, he says, “I’m sorry. Really...I-I’m sorry...Tell me more about him.”

“I don’t want to ruin the moment.”

Chuckling, he whispers, “I got my girl back and she’s dancing with me under the stars. Nothing could ever ruin this.”

You hold him tight, cheek resting on his chest like as if it’s the most natural fit in the world. With just one second to gather yourself, you tell him a story. “He was the son of the groundskeeper in our home, back before our family went bankrupt because of my dad. We became friends. Best friends. Stayed that way until we were like eighteen. It was weird to meet someone so understanding, so similar, so you, but I knew I’d do anything for him from the very first moment I met him.”

“If he’s anything like you, he must have been very special.”

“The most special,” you admit. Then, you look up. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

He gives you a sheepish smile. “Would you think less of me if I say yes?”

Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against his chin, finding the urge to just rip him apart overwhelming. “There’s no way I could think less of you. You’re pretty far down already.”

“Hopefully far enough to see up your dress.”

You laugh. “Let me finish my story and I’ll think about it.”

And he zips his mouth shut. 

“There was something different about him. Something that made him stand out, never fitting in, just like me. Maybe that’s why we gravitated towards each other, why we were inseparable.” Bittersweet memories flash before you, drowning you in a time long past and you’ll never get back. “He was gay, and his parents hated it. They didn’t understand. They thought they could beat it out of him. And he’d always meet me at my window, climbing up the tree, with different bruises every week. It was hard to see someone you love try and smile through their pain.”

Gojo’s hum tell his own story.

“And when we couldn’t take it anymore, when I knew that soon, there’d come a day when he just would stop turning up, I begged him to run away with me. I just wouldn’t stop pestering him. He didn’t want to; he thought it was unfair to drag me down with him or something. And though I hated my parents too, I did have it better than him, I know that. But I would have given it all away for him. And I was going to. But then…”

No longer swaying, he just keeps you tucked in his chest, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath. He doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t offer condolences, or all false promises. 

“We were driving away. We were making it out, but I got a notification on my phone. My mum was trying to reach me. And I don’t know, I felt guilty, and he must have seen it because he tried to do a U-turn and...and…I made it out alive and he was just barely there.”

For the longest time, this story, his story hadn’t been uttered to anyone. And though you did once think it’d be nice if they could meet, you wish it wasn’t under these circumstances. You wish they’d both be breathing and not severed between life and death. 

“My family was paying for his hospital fees for as long as they could, before all the money dried up and we were running on fumes trying to keep up the facade. Maybe that’s why I put up with them for so long, why I never tried to run away. That gratitude I had kept me stuck there for so long, even once a charity picked up his case and took over.”

“That sneaky old man.” He mutters under his breath but then notices your confused look and shakes his head. “Ah, I’ll tell you another day…I’m sorry about your friend. I’m sorry for what Naoya did. If I could make him pay, I would. I will.”

You chuckle. He sounds so sure you can’t help but find him absolutely adorable.

“No, he does deserve to pay but honestly, I’m relieved.” A huge part of you had always carried tremendous guilt of having put him in that position to begin with. He was destined for more and you had kept him confined to that hospital bed for your own needs, unable to let him go, to accept the truth. “His heart may have been beating but he had been gone a long time ago. Now, he’s truly at peace, I think. He’ll be happy to finally go.”

Gojo kisses your forehead. “If he’s any bit as loving as you, then I think he’d be happy you’d be able to move on. Y’know, start living your life for yourself.”

You laugh again. Loud and obnoxious, you’re sure. It startles him. 

“God, you’re so annoyingly sweet when you want to be. You’re supposed to hate me. To be disgusted that I’d been so selfish, so cowardly for so long. But instead, you’re looking at me like I hung the moon and stars.”

He tilts his head, a playful smile on those soft lips of his. “You didn’t?”

“Just kiss me, you idiot.”

And so, he does. 

He quite literally sweeps you off your feet, lifting you up so he can smother your lips with his. He tastes of sugar, of a long fight for freedom, and of youth you’ve never had. And when you’re in his arms, tongue twisting together and savouring this moment that feels like a long time coming, you can’t think about anything else other than how this is right where you belong. Your hands get buried in each other’s hair, bridging the gap until not a single atom keeps you apart. Despite how tight his clutch is, you find comfort in the reminder that he’s with you now and he’s not going to let you go. 

When you part, your lips tingle and his teeth pull your bottom lip, tugging it just to watch it bounce back into place. His hair is a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks flushed. He’s never looked more beautiful.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he admits.

You peck him. “Did it leave up to your wet dreams?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

You two fall onto the grass, kissing and touching and gasping. He doesn’t let your body touch the ground, taking the brunt of your weight as if you’re as light as a feather. A hand slides to the back of your dress, pulling down a zipper. 

“I hate this dress…” He breathes out. “I’d never let you wear something so plain at our wedding.”

Giggling, you indulge in the ticklish touches. “Aren’t you getting a little too ahead of yourself there, Gojo?”

He smashes your face back to his, swallowing your words like he doesn’t think it belongs on the lips he could spend eternity worshiping. “Satoru, baby. Call me Satoru.”

And now you’re both back where you left off, sending déjà vu coursing through your veins. Sitting up, away from his lips which attempt to chase you, you slide off his body, crawling back on to the grass. Gazing at you with wide eyes, he doesn’t miss a thing when you spread your legs slowly. “Promise not to cum in your pants if I do?”

“No.” He scrambles towards you. “Can’t.”

Smiling, you say, “Oh, but you must, otherwise you’ll cut this night short.”

The white-haired man grabs your ankles, rubbing warmth on your skin. Eyes never leaving yours, he removes your heels, one by one, lifting each to lay a kiss on your sole. Then, as you’re lying back, looking up at him, he asks, “You wouldn’t happen to be wearing a garter, would you? Because if you are, then I might actually cum in my pants.”

“Come and find out…Satoru.”

He dives forward, pushing through the thick heap of fabric, warm skin leaving a trail on your inner thighs and finding, hopefully, a black lace garter you had snuck on as a quiet act of rebellion. Naoya would have flipped out if he saw it, you’re sure, but it would have been worth it. No matter the price, you would have kept finding ways to keep your identity try as he might to erase it. 

“Ah, baby, you must have known I’d end up here, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have left a present with my name on it.”

Warm breath brushing your panties, you fight the urge to shiver. “You like my garter?”

Just as you had bitten his chin, he bites your thigh and licks up the mark quickly, soothing the skin. Your body is aching, and he isn’t even touching you where you wish he would. 

“It’s pretty and I’m keeping it for my spank bank for sure,” he promises. “But I’m talking about this.”

You gasp.

Satoru licked a stripe up your clothed slit, tongue poking at your clit. He pauses. Oh no, he must have found your real gift. So many nights spent dreaming about how it’ll shut him up to finally know where your final piercing is and the feeling of his body surging heat throughs yours doesn’t live up your imagination. 

Swimming out of the dress, his eyes, unobscured by those dark sunglasses of his, widen comically. You’re watching a blush blossom on his cheeks in real time. “You have a clit piercing!”

“I do.”

‘Oh fuck,’ is all he says before he climbs back in and pulls your panties to the side. You squeal at the sudden sensation of his long tongue exploring your pussy in a rush. Again and again, he licks and licks until he can’t get enough and begins sucking at your already twitching clit, playing with the metal bar. “Wow, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me...That’s the real tragedy...”

It’s been so long and he’s so good at that, you’re nearing your climax much sooner than you’d like; his head is already massive, if he makes you cum from a couple licks you’ll never hear the end of it. 

“Did it -mhm- hurt?”

Back arching, you grip blades of grass for tether. “Y-yeah. The recovery was rough but totally worth it. I’m even more sensitive down there now.”

Two fingers worm their way inside your pussy, feeling the pleats and enjoying the gumminess of your walls. “Yeah, I can -hah- tell. You’re gushing on my fingers. I can’t get enough of you. You taste so incredible, how is that even possible? You must really be a witch...no, a fallen angel sent to damn me.”

“You’re so melodramatic,” you breathe out, hips jolting.

His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide for him. You’re sure he can’t breathe under your dress and with the sloppy noises he’s making, you’re not convinced he’s already decided this is how he’d like to die. “Can’t help it...pussy’s so -ha- good I want to recite p-poetry...to be or not to be and whatever.”

A hand falls onto his head over the fabric, keeping him between your legs and pressed up against your pussy. He’s playing with your piercing with his tongue, rolling it around like a fidget toy. There’s no technique to whatever he’s doing but goddamn it, it sure does feel fucking good. 

“I could spend all -hah- day eating you out.”

He’s given you an opening to tease him more. You sure as hell take it. “If you hadn’t fucked shit up by telling on our parents to the press, then you would have been well acquainted with my pussy by now.”

An embarrassed sound escapes him. “I’m sorry…I thought I ate that up. Whoops. I’ll make it up to you four though.”

“Four?”

“Yeah, you, your tits and this kitty.”

Wow, that almost dried you up. “Shut up, Satoru. Like actually. Please.”

“Okay, but can I actually spend all day eating you out? I’ll work for it.”

“You just want an -ngh! don’t suck so hard, fuck!- e-excuse not to go to classes.” You smile when he huffs against your pussy, curling those fingers against your g-spot. He’s lying flat on his stomach and without needing to look to be sure, you know he’s rutting his hips against the grass. 

He sucks hard at your clit despite your command. You cry out. “Hmm, you already -hah that’s it, ride my face- already know me so well, baby. You obsessed with me or something?”

“So obsessed I o-orchestrated a -hngh- wedding just for you to crash it.”

Obscene noises are emanating from under your skirt. He’s making out with your pussy, slurping and lapping up your juices like a man starved. “You’re so sweet to me. So so sweet. Are you gonna cum soon? You’re tightening up like you are. Come on, show me how you sound when you cum. Let me know if my imagination lives up to reality.”

Just as he says, you cum all over his face and his fingers, writhing on the grass and dirtying the wedding dress with reckless abandon. It’s possibly the best orgasm you’ve had in years or ever and you almost admit that to him but the fact that he had been able to make you cum at all is embarrassing enough that you keep all praises to yourself. 

Instead, when he comes out, a shit-eating grin on his face, and his shirt unbuttoned at the top, you tell him, “T-take your pants off and fuck me already.”

“Woah! Buy me dinner first.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m serious. Hurry up and get inside me.”

He smiles and leans down to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, smearing your wetness on your skin accidentally. Muttering an ‘oops,’ he quickly licks up the sheen before he wipes it with his hand altogether. “And I’m being serious. As much as I would love to — trust me, I’m actually kicking myself right now and this will haunt me — we can’t. I don’t have a condom on me.”

“Oh, god, I hate you.”

Slumping on top of you just to hear your sudden groan, he mumbles between the valleys of your breast, pulling your dress down to bare them to him, “Yeah, my bad, baby. I hate Satoru too.”

Just as fascinated with the piercings on your nipples, he fiddles with them like a stress toy, pulling and watching for your reaction. You bite your lip. You won’t moan for the bastard. 

Pussy still tingling, you just lie there carrying his heavy ass as he fondles your tits and introduces himself to them. You really want to get laid. You’re practically desperate for it. These past couple months have been so stressful, so disastrous, you want compensation in the form of orgasms. Damn it, he will give it to you since he caused all of this to begin with. 

“Take me back to your frat house. You must have condoms there.”

Mouth full of your breast, he says, voice muffled, “You are totally obsessed with me. Like, you’re so bossy when you’re horny.”

You smack the back of his head. “Don’t even pretend you’re not grinding your dick onto me, asshole. Take me to your frat house now before I go back to Naoya.”

His hips still. He gets up and pulls you with him. Pouty, he grouches. “Okay, so now you’ve ruined the moment.”

“I ruined the moment? Are you kidding me? You’re the one who didn’t bring a condom!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know there’d be sex involved in my rescue mission.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Satoru. You knew there would be. Why else would I keep you around?”

He gasps. “Excuse me? You’re objectifying people in this day and age? Wow! Wow wow wow. Am I just a piece of meat to you?”

“Shut. Up.” As you stomp around, stabbing his chest with your finger, he just hums and slides your dress off, lifting you up and out of the ugly thing. Now in just a thin slip, he wraps his arms around you and carries you out of your hideaway like you weigh absolutely nothing. “Admit it. Admit you forgot the condom.”

“No, I didn’t bring any because I respect you for your mind and personality. I’m not some kind of animal who’s led by her clit.”

Clutching him for warmth, you let him expertly navigate his way out of the labyrinth and into the car park. In his car, you argue the whole way. The fucker won’t admit what you both know to be the truth, settling for singing along to the pop songs on the radio. Whilst you rant about his stupidity and recklessness, finally scolding him for even getting you into this position, he just smiles and takes it all in, keeping a hand on your bare thigh and daring to rise higher. You let him finger you into another orgasm. 

Still complaining even when you two finally arrive at the frat, wolf whistled at by his exhausted brothers before you arrive at his room, you glare at him. 

It’s spacious and pretty empty, devoid of much personality unlike his childhood room. When he lays you down on the bed, pulling sticks and leaves out of your hair, he gets right back in between your legs and keeps eye contact the whole time. Though it isn’t a whole day like he wants, he does give you a couple more orgasms in two hours. 

He may be neglectful of his education, but he does not mess around with your cunt. In fact, he treats it like it’s life and death, muttering praises about how expressive she is, how tight and well-behaved. So fucking cheesy. 

“Ugh, leave her alone now. Come up here and show me what I’m working with.”

Eyes hazy and looking like he’s not all there right now, he emerges and fumbles with his pants, kicking them off to reveal his cock. Your jaw drops. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Satoru shrugs and leans down to kiss you, shoving his tongue inside so you can taste yourself. “You’re so mad, aren’t you? Gojo Satoru really does have it all, doesn’t he? Don’t be upset, babe, you’re pretty hot yourself.”

Of course! Of course, his dick would be big. Long and thick, he keeps it clean down there, baring the long veins that wrap around his impressive length and reaching his pretty pink tip which aggressively leaks precum. Firmly, you say, “That’s not gonna fit inside me at all.”

He hums, sucking marks on your neck, collarbone and on your breasts. “You can take it. My girl can do anything.”

“Ah, fuck it.”

To be with him like this, all warm and safe from everyone that’s tried to control you two, feels like heaven in the most sinful way. You’re being engulfed by his scent and his body, stronger and more muscular than you ever thought it could be. The way he touches you, greedy but careful, as if he’s just been presented with the most tempting feast he could dream of is driving you wild. 

Pulling him up for a kiss, you give yourself up to the overwhelming urge to consume him. He’s yours. He always has been and always will be. You don’t know how the future will go but that’s how it feels in the moment and it’s more than you could ever ask for. 

“How do you want me?” You ask, leaning up on your elbows, ready to get into any position he wants. 

Satoru’s smile is so sheepish and simultaneously shameless, it makes you sigh – it’s the kind of smile that tells you he knows what he’s about to say is incredibly idiotic, but he means every word of it. And you’re just as idiotic, you think, because you actually want to hear him out. “Just as you are.” 

“Ugh, I hate you.” You slump back down on the bed, staring up at ceiling and wondering how you’re going to put up with him for the foreseeable future.

Swallowing your complaints with his lips, he and quips, “If this is how good you taste when you hate me, I can’t wait for you to sit on my face when you’re in love with me.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Hmm, never say never, baby. I think you’ll find I can be quite persuasive.”

Honestly, you should be scared; he really is persuasive. You’ve learnt in the past few months that when Satoru wants something, he gets it. And right now, he looks so hell bent on winning this bet you’ve raised he looks like he’s casting a spell on your pussy with his dick as he rubs the length along your slit, getting it wet before he grabs a condom from his bedside drawer. In true frat guy fashion, he’s putting on the ultra-thin ones and you’re also not surprised to see that they’re strawberry flavoured. 

Sensing the judgement in your eyes, he chuckles, forehead meeting yours. Held up by his forearms, you notice the quiver in them. “Pinch me. Please. I have to know this is real, that you’re mine.”

You whisper, running your hands through his hair and listening to him purr, “I’m yours, Satoru. I’m not going anywhere. So...hurry up and fuck me before I dry up.”

His laugh is so unbridled, so obnoxious and loud it brings you to laughter too. 

“Hey...y’know, you’ve bewitched me, body and soul...I’ll follow you the depths of hell.” He confesses, angling his hips so his cock head is right at your entrance, teasing and prodding. “Remember that because you’re gonna be so mad when I tell you I did forget. Whoopsy.”

“I fucking knew it—AH! FUCK!”

In one smooth thrust, he’s forced himself inside you. Your walls squeeze, pulsing, desperate to acclimatise to his cock. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots, filling you up so good it’s like he’s shoved all the air out of you, occupying your lungs. Eyes roll back, jaw hanging low. 

“Yeah, my b-bad, baby. Just let me -oh, you feel so good- a-apologise, yeah? I’ll make you forget all the things I did wrong.” Pace steady, he works his cock in and out, swivelling his pelvis against yours every time he bottoms out, enjoying the feel of your cold clit piercing on his skin. 

You moan. “I highly fucking doubt that. You’ll probably just keep fucking up again and again anyways.”

He smiles. 

“Probably, but I’ll never s-stop trying to apologise. Now, quit being so -hah- tight; I’m gonna cum early.”

The headboard is rattling against the wall with his increasing speed. Uncaring about how noisy you two are — with the slapping of skin, the dirty squelches, the long moans and grunts – he continues fucking you like there’s no one else in the house than you two. His face is tucked in your neck, swallowing your sweet smell; he can’t get enough of it. Of you. Back muscles shifting and hard under your touch, you run your nails through his pale skin, desperate to leave your mark on him, to make him yours in all the ways you can. 

“Don’t -ah! right there, S’toru- act like that’s not normal for you.”

He flicks your nipple piercing, huffing in tense amusement when you gasp, before engulfing the bouncing thing with his large hands, fingers digging into the fat. “We’ll see -ngh- who cums before who, M-morticia.”

“Yeah, Gomez?”

You swear he throbs inside you. 

“C-can I walk you to class, baby? Maybe I s-should change courses. I -oh, fuck, you’re incredible- I want to be with you all the time. I think I’m going absolutely, totally crazy.”

Legs locking behind his hips, ankles digging into his ass to keep him deep inside you, you mouth kisses into every inch of skin you can reach, inhaling his scent too. It’s so clean, so light and heavenly, you feel it go straight to your clit. “S-sure, follow me -ah!-wherever. I’ll keep you around, let you -ngh! I’m close, keep going, just like that—I’ll let you sit on my lap and do -hah shit- tricks for me. Don’t that sound fun, Toru?”

Yeah, he definitely just grew bigger inside of you. 

“Ruff! Ruff!”

Your laugh comes out broken, punctuated by dizzying moans. “God, you’re so stupid.”

He laughs too. “No, you.”

Even as he fills you up with his searing cum and you both lose yourself in the pleasure of finally being together in a way you worried you’d never get to be, you argue back and forth, pushing each other’s buttons, mocking and taunting. And it doesn’t ever really stop. 

Not then, not the next day, or the next week, month, or years after. 

And neither you nor Satoru’s ever look back.