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saintobio · 1 year ago

Text

sincerely yours. (9)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, usage of alcohol, mentions of cheating, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, explicit smut

series masterlist -> episode ten

Satoru had a major problem.

And it was his self-control. His lack of self-control was the reason he had engaged himself in an adulterous relationship back when he was married. His lack of self-control was the reason why you had become the recipient of his unreasonable anger in the early stages of your marriage. His lack of self-control was the reason why, out of all the women in the world, he was now sleeping with a friend of yours. For God’s sake, his lack of self-control was probably the reason why you were also pushed to your limits, choosing to cut your marital ties with him and leaving only the scraps of his role as a parent to Sachiro.

Back when he was attending his weekly therapy sessions, his therapist told him that part of what he needed to learn was to control his impulses, resist temptations, and actively exercise his willpower. They were easier to achieve then than now, since he was the loneliest man at the time with no friends, no wife, no son, and no bustling company to run. His decisions remained untainted, his temptations unchallenged, his emotions uninfluenced—a solitary journey at its finest. He was all by himself. How come? It was because he was sent by his mom to Osaka to temporarily seclude him from his harrowing memories in Tokyo, compelling him to sever ties with the outside world and immerse solely in personal convalescence. Reflecting now, it felt no different than being sent to a psychiatric hospital.

He could say it worked at the time. He learned how to keep his emotions at bay. He learned how to control his thoughts, throwing away the bad and keeping only the good. He was a new man by the time he returned to Tokyo, prepared as ever to take on his role as the Chairman of the Gojou Group, ready to once again try and live a normal life. But the moment news had spread about his ex-wife's marriage to his business rival, all the self-control he had painstakingly cultivated seemed to have evaporated in an instant.

Everything also went downhill after that.

He wasn’t going to list down all of the things that happened nor the impact it had on him since you yourself were a witness to them. But if he was going to look at the way your return has changed the trajectory of his life 3 years after you first left, he would still at a hundred percent put all the blame on his shoulders. None of this domino effect would end up like this if he had been a faithful and loving husband in the first place. The pressure from his father was not the only root of all this, the branches also extended to his corporate greed which ultimately ruined his chance at a fruitful marriage with you.

But at least, the chaos should have settled by now. You chose to move forward and he decided to respect your decision by finding his way to another. This should free you both from the emotional torture that had you imprisoned in each other's cage for the longest time. He would still be there for you as the father of your child, but otherwise, he was happy that you had Toji Zen’in by your side to fill in the marital gaps that he had failed to complete.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. The warm water fell on his body in rivulets, soaking him completely so early in the morning as he decided to take a long shower. For how long? He couldn’t tell. He could stay there for hours if need be. He had to let his mind wander on its own, with a hand pressed against the wall, and another stroking his white hair back. Despite accepting the fact that Toji now owned your love and affection… well, wasn’t that son of a gun too lucky? Did he even realize that the woman he would marry was once Satoru’s entire universe?

Ah, but who cares? Satoru scoffed inwardly, leaning his head back to let the water hit his face. He had Akemi, so why did it matter if you had Toji? He wasn’t bitter. He was just trying to reason with himself that you deserved to be with someone you really, truthfully loved. And he deserved that, too. Maybe not now, but at the perfect time, he could relive the life of a married man after learning from his mistakes the hard way. A much better one. A married man who would never in his life betray, hurt, or ruin his partner. A doting husband who would offer his whole life just to make her happy. He promised to himself that Akemi should have that kind of man from him.

Though, he could ask himself, how far was he from achieving that? He did practice his self-control last night when joined you in the pool—his face, inches away from you. Hand gripping your hip. Eye-to-eye. Skin-to-skin. Your warm breath fanning his cheek. Just another step forward and your lips would touch. But he didn’t let that happen. He mustered all of his power to pull back from the gravity that was drawing him closer to you. Still, he couldn’t deny that you looked absolutely gorgeous last night. As the moonlight illuminated your face, he could swear that the stars also sparkled on your eyes. They must be from the tears you were desperately holding back, but either way, you were still so goddamn beautiful. He almost couldn’t keep his eyes off you last night and had to distract himself from looking at your lips, your collarbone, your chest, your curves…

“Fuck.”

Talk about self-control.

Satoru had none of that right now. His body reacted involuntarily to the thought of you last night. The sensual thought of you. The what-ifs.

What if he had wrapped your legs around his waist and enveloped your lips into a passionate kiss?

He took a deep breath, still holding onto the wall as his other hand traveled to his growing member.

What if he had carried you all the way into the living room and laid you naked on the couch?

Closing his eyes, his hand started moving on its own, stroking his hardened cock and feeling every ridge as he pleasured himself.

What if you had let him devour you? Let him roll his tongue on your entrance and taste your sweet, sweet flesh?

Gojou let out a moan. A quiet yet desperate moan when he continued to jerk himself off faster and rougher. Damn it. He had to keep it low and he better not be heard committing such a sin in the bathroom. Although, he was confident that you were still sound asleep next to Sachiro in your bedroom, so he didn't think you would hear the noise he was making.

After all, it was shameless to know what was driving his feral thoughts right now. Thoughts of you letting him slide his tip along your entrance. Thoughts of him ramming his cock inside your tight cunt, being squeezed by your soft, velvet walls. Thoughts of your breasts bouncing wildly as he continued to hit your most sensitive spot. Fuck. Faster. He would have taken you on all fours, too. He would have let you ride his hardened shaft. He would have pressed you against the sofa and put your legs above his shoulders, letting you milk his cock with the tightness of your cunt. Satoru would release his warm seed into you in every position. He would shoot every drop of his cum straight to your womb, no doubt impregnating you for the second time around. He would absolutely love that. He would love seeing the residues of his wanton desire for you seeping out of your pussy. He would be at bliss watching your belly grow a few months after that, knowing that he had created yet another beautiful life inside of you.

“Y/N…”

Awakened by his senses, Satoru opened his eyes and saw the sticky white mess on his hand and on the wall. What the hell did he just do? More importantly, what the hell was he thinking of?

No one should know about that. Not you, not even Akemi. He didn’t cheat on her, no. He didn’t do anything with you. That shouldn’t be counted as cheating. He didn’t even touch you. And he wasn't even officially dating Akemi.

No, no…

Absolutely not.

Drowning into a pool of guilt, the first thing he did after that sinful shower session was to contact his supposed girlfriend not-girlfiend. And to make things even more awkward, you entered the kitchen in silence at the right time, carrying a sleepy Sachiro in your arms, unaware of the dilemma that was sending your ex-lover into a spiral.

“Morning,” he greeted almost inaudibly, clearing his throat and taking a sip of coffee afterwards. He had to think straight.

“Morning,” was your simple and oblivious reply as you went about your daily morning routine.

Gojou, on the other hand, was typing on his phone because Akemi wasn’t answering his FaceTime calls. He had completely forgotten to update her all day because he had been a little bit too occupied the moment he landed in America. She must be overthinking why he hadn’t reached out to her until now, and he felt extremely awful and responsible for that, but she couldn’t be fast asleep that early, right? It was 7:00 a.m. in New York, so that meant it was only 9:00 p.m. back home.

He nervously rang her number once more, mumbling a ‘please answer’ as he watched her caller ID appear on the screen.

“Dada,” called Sachiro, looking at him as his mother sat him on the high chair to prepare his breakfast.

Still holding his phone, Satoru walked to his son and placed a gentle kiss on his tiny forehead. “Morning, Sachi. Did you sleep well?”

The toddler nodded at him, drinking milk from the baby bottle that he was holding with both hands. His eyes were wide and blue—quite the same hues of blue that would remind you of a clear sky. Satoru couldn’t help but pinch his adorable son’s cheeks.

And while you were busy picking out food from the pantry, Akemi finally answered his call after the fourth attempt and showed her beautiful, soft features on the screen. His eyes immediately lit up at the sight of her. “Hey, how are you?”

He could tell she was still a bit distant and upset because of what happened two weeks ago, when she claimed to have heard him say your name during his sleep. He already made an excuse for it as he also didn’t know why he even did it in the first place, but Akemi was still understandably hurt. He couldn’t blame her.

“I’m fine, how are you?” she tiredly asked, seemingly heading towards her bed. “I just got home from work, that's why I wasn’t answering.”

He could see, in the corner of his eyes, that you were glancing at him but he didn’t return it. All of his focus was on Akemi, feeling bad that he hadn’t exactly been a good partner for her lately. Especially after the shit he just did in the shower this morning, but that was a secret that was meant to be buried. “Alright, did you have dinner already? It’s morning here so I’m having breakfast.”

She offered a small smile albeit the visible exhaustion on her eyes. “I did. How’s Sachiro doing?”

“You wanna see him?” He walked closer to his son, showing him on the screen as his big blue eyes stared at the woman on the other end of the line. “Sachi, say hi to Auntie ‘Kemi.”

“Hiii~” Sachiro happily greeted Akemi, while the latter cooed at the sight of his son. She spoke to him with a gentle and motherly tone, weaving warmth and love into her words. It made his heart full knowing that Akemi would wholeheartedly treat his child as her own, because if there was a slight possibility that she wouldn’t, she knew that Satoru would rather let her go. His child was still more important than any other woman. And so if his future partner couldn’t accept the fact that he had a child with his ex-wife, then they shouldn’t be in his life after all. The case was different with Akemi because she was already your friend and she had the chance to see Sachiro grow up before Gojou even knew his son existed at all. It was a bit complicated, but things turned out to be easier on the part of acceptance.

The only problem was you.

Because by the time the call ended, Satoru could tell that you weren’t in the best mood as you ate breakfast next to Sachiro in complete silence. Your eyebrows were curled into annoyance, and yet your eyes held sadness in them, an expression that had become difficult for him to fathom. Were you jealous of Akemi? He assumed you would say no, but your expressions showed otherwise.

“Y/N,” he called for your attention, hoping that you would look into his eyes for a little bit. Yet, not a chance did you do. “What’s our agenda for today?”

You seemed irritated, if anything. You refused to look at him as you gave a curt reply. “I communicated everything you needed to know via email. You should have checked it instead of letting Miwa do everything for you.”

Jeez. You were definitely angry. “Okay.” He cleared his throat once more. “I just asked in case there was a last minute change.”

“There isn’t. I would have said so if there is.”

“Right.”

Satoru didn’t know how to act in front of his ex-wife anymore. Now that he had seemed to ignite your pique, he chose not to say anything else further as you two finished your meals and cleaned up after yourselves. The only time he spoke again was when he offered to bathe Sachiro so that you could focus on yourself.

You agreed.

And he did his part.

It was simple give-and-take. A transactional relationship, if you must. Nothing else would blossom from that except your responsibilities as parents for Sachiro.

——

The New York trip was already as awkward as it was. And it only just started.

To be fair, it wouldn’t have been as uncomfortable if only Gojou had not decided to make it so. He was the one that made the atmosphere unpleasant by trying to savor every inch of closeness he could get to your skin, only to pull away as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t care about how it made you feel. He even had the audacity to lecture you on how to go about being good parents and setting a good example to Sachiro. Then suddenly, the next morning, he would act like such a loyal and caring partner to Akemi.

The thought of his loyalty made you scoff on the inside. He should be the absolute last one to be saying that. He should be the last one to profess how much of a loyal man he was trying to be to his new girl.

Besides, even before this trip was arranged, you had already made it clear on your mind that the sole purpose of going to New York was for Sachiro's sake. Any interaction outside the need to be there for your son would be unnecessary. He wasn’t someone you still needed in your own personal life nor did he need you in his. Your past relationship no longer mattered in this situation and all that was left was for it to be forgotten. But even with your resistance to be anything more than a parent to your son, Satoru still respected you. He still showed, even in little ways, that he cared about your comfort throughout the trip.

Five days had gone by, and everything you did in New York had been smooth sailing, all thanks to his grand number of connections across the USA. In a short amount of time, Sachiro’s surname had been legally changed, and everything else concerning his birth certificate had been corrected. The only issue left to address was your son’s nationality since Japan doesn’t permit dual citizenship and Sachiro would have to carry a Japanese citizenship and the Gojou name to be able to inherit his father’s assets and multinational conglomerate. You would leave that one up for Satoru to deal with, but everything else had been settled on your end.

Although this trip wasn’t exactly a vacation, Gojou insisted that you two still take Sachiro out to explore the city he grew up in. And you did so by going to Central Park, telling your ex-husband stories of how you used to bring Sachiro there in a stroller when he was still a little baby and that plenty of strangers, both locals or tourists, would coo at him the minute they took a peek at his adorable face. You also took him to the Empire State Building to get the best view of the entire New York City, and Satoru being Satoru couldn’t leave without taking a family photo with you and your son, capturing the beautiful urban cityscape behind you. You could see it in his eyes that even though he was happy to be there, he was also melancholic at the same time. Almost three years of his son’s life were spent in this famous city, without him, and it was as though the bitter memories of those three years for him were haunting him back. Sadness was reflecting off of his crystal blue eyes as he took a minute staring at the view of the city, reminding you that you were the reason why he had missed out on his baby’s first memories.

If guilt could literally eat you alive, you would have been devoured.

“Ready to go, Sachi?” Satoru asked your son, tucking his phone away after having (seemingly) sent Akemi a text message, probably updating her of where he was and what he was doing. In fact, he had been texting and calling her every now and then, as if he was doing his best to reassure her that he wasn’t doing any funny business with you. Has Akemi always been a possessive partner? Even with your years of friendship with her, she had never acted that way in her past relationship. So, was she only like that to Satoru specifically? You wondered if she would go nuts had she heard Satoru tell you how badly he wanted to make more babies with you on your first night here.

Sachiro nodded, clinging to your hand while reaching for his father’s. “Dada, hand pwease!”

Satoru did offer his hand, but mirrored the surprise on your face when your son tried to link your fingers together, urging you to hold each other's hands like a couple. You didn’t want to get too offended by it, but your ex-husband was the first one to pull away. “I, uh, made a reservation for us in Carbone,” he said, unable to exchange eye-contact, “Yuuta will meet us there.”

“Oh, he’s in New York?” you asked, pretending you didn’t notice how he acted allergic to your touch and redirected your attention to your son. “Did you hear that, Sachi? Uncle Yuuta will come and see you.”

Your little one was oblivious to the world, too distracted by the throng of people surrounding the place that he didn’t even notice how his parents were uneasy with each other. To say that you didn’t feel bad for your son was a lie, because it actually broke your heart. Even if you and Satoru were working on co-parenting and making sure Sachiro wouldn’t feel the gravity of a broken household, you knew that when he reached the right age, all of this would still have an effect on him. One day, he would still be asking questions about his parents. Questions about why you separated, why your marriage failed, and why you had to move to New York while his father stayed behind. It hurt. Deep inside, it hurt so much to know that your only son wasn’t given the chance to have a complete family and it felt like a failure on your part as his parent.

You were sure that was what Yuuta thought, too. As you met with him at a fancy restaurant in the city, you could see how his face lightened up seeing his nephew bonding with his parents as if it were a family vacation. He must have known what it was like to have a broken household. In fact, he had lived in a toxic one before, but he still grew up to be a mature and dignified young man who never let the horrors of his family’s actions affect his rational thinking. So if there was anyone in the world who would sympathize the most with Sachiro, it would be Yuuta.

“Sachi,” he spoke to your son fondly, wiping the sauce on the toddler’s chin. Yuuta chuckled as he watched the little boy's grimace after being given a small piece of broccoli. “You don’t like vegetables?”

You fixed the bib on your son’s neck. “He does, but he’s very picky with it,” you tell Yuuta, glancing at Satoru who was busy speaking on the phone with Nanami about what appeared to be matters concerning the company. “Wonder where he got it from.”

“Right.” Yuuta’s eyes turned into moon crescents as he smiled. “I remember nii-san being a little picky.”

“You hear that Sachi?” you teased your son, who looked at you with his cute puppy eyes. You knew that if you had the ability to peak through his toddler mind, it would actually be full of fried chicken. The thought made you laugh. “Don’t be like daddy, okay? Sachi needs to have his veggies so he’ll be strong when he grows up.”

“But…” Sachiro pointed to his father. “Dada is stwong.”

Satoru chimed in at the conversation after having finished the call, “That’s right, Dada’s strong. Mommy could barely even handle me.”

“Do you even know what we’re talking about?” You rolled your eyes, while Yuuta wanted to giggle, but chose to hold it back seeing the awkwardness of the situation.

Satoru shrugged and sat on his chair, eyeing the scrumptious dishes that were served to your table. He was acting like he hadn't been served more expensive meals before. “Have you tried the spicy rigatoni before? I heard it’s famous here.”

You casually answered. “Yes. Toji used to bring me here every time he visited.”

Look, you didn’t mean to overshare nor did you mean to make things even more awkward. You also didn’t mean to slap it in his face about how you were spending your years in New York with Toji. But Satoru, with his pride, took it resentfully.

“Oh, really?” His words were the opposite of his voice. He was mirthless and full of unenthusiasm before changing the topic, redirecting his attention to his step-brother instead. “How’s Harvard?”

Yuuta eased the tension by making small talk, sharing details about his university life, and making sure he didn’t contribute to the growing tension. “I’m really just trying to survive this semester so I can go back home as soon as I graduate.” After taking a sip of his Cabernet Blend, he continued, “Like I promised, I’ll help you with the company.”

You were happy, at least, to know that Satoru and Yuuta had fixed their relationship as step-brothers even after the whole incident with Nana, Eula, and their father. What used to be a relationship full of envy and competition finally became one that was full of mutual trust and support. Yuuta deserved that since he never once wished for his brother’s downfall, while Satoru also deserved to have a family member that had his back and helped him with the business without constantly fighting about inheritance. Because technically, Satoru was the sole heir of the Gojou family, and his dad only made it seem as though he would give it to Yuuta to make his own son comply with his orders. Satoru’s dad was controlling in that sense, and that was what led to all of this.

But the present was more important. Things have changed and mistakes have been learned. It was all up to you on how you were going to manage your new life moving forward.

Only, if only things were a little bit different on his side.

——

You had raised your son all by yourself for the last 3 years, so the presence of his father wasn’t really something you were used to for the longest time. How Sachiro acted around other people was solely a reflection of your teachings, discipline, and guidance as his mother. He didn’t really have a paternal figure up until now, and even if Toji was there to support your journey to motherhood, he never fully meddled with your mother-son relationship nor did he act like a replacement to Sachiro’s biological father. He loved him like his own, but respected the fact that the spot was reserved for Satoru. He knew that. He understood that, because he himself experienced raising a child alone without the presence of a mother. And if you asked him, he, too, would not want Megumi to replace the very love that he was supposed to have for his biological mom. Sure, Megumi could love and respect you, but Toji would still want him to save an unnegotiable spot for his mother in his heart. After all, she had birthed him. And in that same way, you had birthed Sachiro and created him with Satoru during your marriage. If there was anyone Sachiro should look up to, it had to be his father.

And quite frankly, the father himself was doing an excellent job.

But then again, remembering how hands-on Satoru was to you during your pregnancy, you never doubted that he would be a good parent. He may not be a perfect husband, but he loved his child with all of his heart and soul, and he would risk it all just to keep him happy.

It was new to you how, throughout the trip, you didn’t have to take care of Sachiro alone. You and Satoru helped each other harmoniously, attending to your toddler’s needs and making sure he was being prioritized. You were glad. Truly. You were grateful to see that he wasn’t an absent father and that his words weren’t empty when he promised you that he would be a responsible dad to him.

Though, at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he welcomed another child in this world? A child that didn’t come from you? Deep inside, it hurt you to imagine him neglecting Sachiro on the side the minute he welcomed a new baby with Akemi. The reality was, the father would always prioritize the child of the current wife, not the child of the ex-wife. He would still support him, sure. But would he still pay the same level of attention that he was giving Sachiro now? You would probably break in half if Sachiro was thrown to the agonizing realm of feeling like an outsider in his own family because no child deserved that. If Satoru had that experience first-hand, he should not subject his own son to that same feeling.

You would be selfish to say this, but you wanted to seize the opportunity while Sachiro was still his only son. Hiding him from his father was your fault—you had gone through that a million times and you weren’t shy at holding yourself accountable through that mistake. However, you were already doing your best to make amends and make up for the years Sachiro had missed around his father. He was Satoru’s first and only child, and therefore he should never fight for his father’s affection. You weren’t sure what Satoru’s long term plans with Akemi were, but if they were considering having their own children someday, you would never allow your son to be pushed back at the bottom of the family tree.

Sachiro was the true first-born son of Satoru. He should never have to fight for his position in his father's eyes.

And so on the night of your flight back to Japan, when Satoru asked if he could take Sachiro with him for the rest of the week, you had no problems in saying yes. Your only wish right now was for them to spend as much time together as possible.

“Where are you taking him?” you did ask in spite of your leniency to send your son away, waiting inside the car as the pilot and crew prepared the private jet. “Please send me the full address. I need to know where he’s gonna stay and—”

“You’ll get the details from Miwa,” he casually said, rubbing Sachiro’s back as the little boy slept on his chest. He didn’t bother meeting your eyes as he talked. “I’m just taking him to my vacation home in Osaka.”

Osaka…

That was where his mother isolated him from the rest of the world when he was having terrible episodes. Episodes that worsened after he had found out that you ‘terminated’ his child and abandoned him for good. Shoko once said that they felt like Gojou disappeared from their lives while he was there, because nobody else could reach out to him. They couldn’t visit him nor could they contact him for a year or so until he was mentally ready to come back to Tokyo.

You didn’t want to pry on matters that were sensitive to him, so you chose not to say anything concerning his decision to take Sachiro to Osaka. He must have wanted to reflect on his past experiences, allowing him to heal from them as it brought him to the incommutable life he had now—life knowing that Sachiro actually existed after everything that he was made to believe.

“Please take good care of him, okay?” It was only a reminder, nothing else.

Satoru kept a straight face, nodding before he planted a kiss on his son’s forehead. “I got it from here.”

After a minute of silence, you both got out of the car and you watched him carry the peaceful Sachiro in his arms. You left the sleeping toddler a tender kiss on the cheek before parting ways. “I love you, my baby.” Stroking his hair, you kissed his tiny nose. “Mommy will see you soon.”

Satoru knew that you were staying behind. You had informed him of your plans before you even came here to the airport with him, explaining that Toji would be in Miami and that you had made arrangements to meet with your fiancé there. Satoru didn’t say anything much about it either, simply nodding his head at your decision and telling you to ‘do whatever’ because he was no longer a husband you should report your plans to. There was no hint of jealousy in his stance, but you couldn't miss the flicker of bitterness that did appear on his eyes for a millisecond.

You didn’t even say goodbye to each other as you watched them board the plane. And he didn’t even bother looking back at you to tell you to take care of yourself. Not that you expected anything from him, but a quick goodbye would have been nice since you did spend the last couple of days together. Or perhaps, he was upset about the fact that you were staying behind to meet Toji?

Either way, you were on your own now.

It took some time for you to reach Toji in Miami. He had insisted on meeting you at the airport, but because he had to meet with a foreign investor, you headed straight to the hotel he was staying at. Funny enough, you couldn’t help but compare how different it was to stay in the same accommodation as your fiancé vs with your ex-husband and son. With Toji, nothing felt uncomfortable and sharing a room as a couple was as normal as it should be, but things did feel too formal and too forced. With Satoru, it felt awkward to share the same space with him, but since your son was there, it felt like home. It felt strangely close to home, like it was only right. That staying together as a family was what your heart wanted.

Ever since Satoru went back to Japan with Sachiro, you had been feeling a wave of separation anxiety. Your mind was always left wandering towards them; how they were doing, where they were, what they had for dinner. You wondered if Sachiro was giving his father a headache. Smiling at the thought, perhaps he was giving Satoru a hard time changing his diapers.

“Everything okay?” Toji, noticing your trance, put an arm around you as you two sat at the VIP lounge of the Miami Grand Prix. This was Toji’s scene. If Satoru was a fan of horseback riding and polo, Toji preferred big time F1 races. He even personally knew the racers, the type of cars they were driving, and everything a huge fan had to know. You weren’t all that familiar with these things, so it was a little hard to keep up with his lifestyle.

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you stammered, realizing how distracted you had been all this time. “What were you saying?”

He drank from his glass of 30 year-old Macallan, downing the liquor like it was mere water. A cloud of disappointment settled over his features. “Not interesting to you, huh?”

“No, I…” You made an effort to place a hand on his nape, giving him an apologetic peck on the lips. “I’m really sorry for zoning out. I was just… I guess I was just a little tired from New York.”

Toji placed a hand on your knee, sighing. “It’s fine. I was just trying to introduce the guys to you,” he said, scooting closer as he pointed to the racers. “You know that guy? Lewis Hamilton. He’s quite popular with the ladies,” then he moved his finger towards the other drivers, “And we got here for Ferrari, Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc, also fan favorites.”

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of Gojou’s favorite car brand. “Um, how about McLaren? Who drives for them?”

Unsure if Toji caught on or not, he did take a minute before feeding into your curiosity. “Norris and Piastri.”

You wished you had any idea about F1 so that you could be as enthusiastic as Toji was at this event. He was at his happiest right now and you didn’t want to ruin it by being a boring, uncultured fiancé, because frankly, all these women around would have done a better job at entertaining him. Toji was very eye-candy and you couldn’t blame these models from glancing up at him, especially with how manly and suave he was, dressed like a picture perfect example of an old money businessman. The likes of him were the prey of these desperate influencers, willing to sell their bodies in exchange for a night with him. But truth be told, that was their way of living and you could never find it in yourself to insult them. You didn’t want to shame them for attempting to climb the social ladder because that was how they view money and success, or at least a faster ticket to it.

As long as they didn’t try to make moves on your fiancé while you were around, you wouldn’t be so bothered by a few stares here and there.

Neither was Toji. He must have experienced being stared at during these events plenty of times before, and he probably even sent women home crying because of rejection or worse, humiliation. Now that you think of it, how did Megumi feel when his father was being hit on while watching the Grand Prix? Most importantly, why was the teenage son absent at this current event?

“Love, why didn’t you bring Megumi with you?” you inquired out of a sudden curiosity, knowing that Megumi was always present next to his father during F1 events.

Toji took a sip of the hard liquor once more. “He didn’t wanna go. He was giving me the silent treatment before I left for the US.”

Confusion further blanketed your eyes. “Did something happen back home?”

He let out a deep breath, his face signaling that he was deep in dilemma. “The Zen’in elders want to set him up for an arranged marriage,” he revealed, much to your surprise, “They wanna make sure he’s not gonna end up like me, married to someone who wasn’t ‘qualified’ to be my wife.”

At first you were confused if he was referring to you, but you realized that he was describing his late wife. Megumi’s own mother, the only woman Toji had ever loved by a mile. He fought everyone for her, even turned his back on his own family for her, but claimed that he also ultimately led her to her demise because the elders of his family harassed her until the day she died. It was a tragic love, perhaps even more tragic than yours, so you somehow understood why Toji was conflicted about Megumi’s personal life.

But you? You were strongly against it. “I don’t support arranged marriages, you know that,” you told him with conviction, sympathizing for the poor boy, “It’s not gonna end well. You know what happened to me…”

“I know.” Toji’s eyes were filled with regret. “I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it unless Megumi himself tells me he has someone he loves.”

“Did you ask?”

“He’s tight-lipped about it.”

You sighed. “Well, he’s a teenager. They get pretty shy about these things.”

Forcing a marriage was never a good thing. You couldn’t understand why the concept even existed because it didn’t benefit anyone aside from the people around the married couple. That was why they called it a marriage of convenience. They were married for everyone’s sake but themselves; family name, status, business… You have had enough of it. If only you realized it from the very beginning, you never would have subjected yourself to a loveless marriage with Satoru. Even if your love did grow eventually, things still didn’t work out for the best, and now your life was a mess. A divorced couple co-parenting their only son? There was obviously no convenience gained in that false marriage.

Megumi would just be wasting years of his life tied to a person he didn’t love and so you were hoping that Toji would fight for his son’s right. Because if he truly understood you, he would not subject his son to the same suffering you went through.

“I wish my wife was here,” mumbled Toji, forlornly, “She’d know how to handle these things better than I do.”

Were you not there for him? You swallowed your pride, hiding the pain in your voice. “Right…” A smile was all that you could offer. “I’m sure she would.”

——

Something was different about Toji and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

It wasn’t his appearance, and neither was it the way he spoke to you. He was all the same except for one thing; the look in his eyes.

He had told you this before. He said that the eyes carry the most truthful and raw emotion that you can see on someone. The presence of love would be visible in someone’s eyes just as you would see stars on a clear, night sky. The lack, however, would mean that the eyes are blank and empty like the dark void in the expanse of the universe. You didn’t have to be poetic to be able to discern the way his eyes communicated his most solemn feelings in spite of trying to show otherwise.

He must have been tired. Being caught up in your back-and-forths with your ex-husband, having to put up with your pretentious co-parenting situation, and the never ending need to keep an open mind about your situation with the same man who had ruined you. When your heart was in pieces, wasn’t he the one who tried to fix it? Wasn’t he the one who remained by your side during your darkest times?

Whether that may be true, whether he truly ever loved you, you could recognize the stark difference of the Toji that genuinely cared for you to the Toji that was only actively trying to be there for you. What had changed him all of a sudden?

“Toji, you drank a little too much.” A weary sigh escaped your lips, pulling all your might to drag your fiancé to lie comfortably in your shared bed later that night. At least, on the way to the hotel room, you had his bodyguards to thank for. They were there to haul him while he was in his drunken stupor, letting you lead the way, and dumping him carefully to his bed because there was no way you would be able to carry such a muscular man all by yourself. Now that you were alone with him, you decided to care for him the same way you used to do when Gojou was coming home drunk at night. Starting with his shoes that you took off, his shirt that you unbuttoned, his pants that you unzipped. “Come on, love. I’ll get you changed.”

The verdant hues of his eyes weren’t present. They were hiding behind his lids, refusing to meet your gaze. But if anything, he did open his mouth to speak, “...You. You wanna know a secret?”

Drunken words are sober thoughts, you reminded yourself. Of the numerous times Satoru had gotten drunk during the early stages of your marriage, it was how you found out that deep inside him, he did care for you. That in spite of his ill-tempered exterior, he was a man deprived of parental love and support. What would be the case for Toji, then?

“Yeah?” You waited for his answer, slipping his shirt off and revealing his toned body.

The scar on his mouth moved when he displayed a mirthless smile. He was as drunk as an alcoholic would be. “I don’t… think… I can love you the same way I loved my first wife.”

Your heart paused. In fact, every heartbeat became heavy. You knew how he felt, but didn’t expect him to say that out loud. “I-Is that so…?”

“Absolutely,” he mumbled, chuckling inaudibly. He was at a point where he was too far gone to realize the magnitude of the words he was saying to you. “Even if you try your best, she was everything I wanted in life and the only woman I could ever offer my heart to. She’s irreplaceable, and I don’t feel guilty about it... because I know you’re still into Satoru, too.”

“That’s…” You held your breath, holding back the sudden tears that formed in your eyes. “That’s not true.”

Toji wasn’t done yet, however. He still went on with his drunken speech like he was finally pouring out raw, yet hurtful words out of the bottle. “Who knows? You would’ve had him touch you back in New York if you didn’t have me. You would’ve had him impregnate you, have his second child with you, and guess what? He still won’t be loyal to you.”

The pain in your heart increased tenfold. Everything went still and every minute felt like a stab to your soul. Should you say something? Should you get angry at him? No, no you couldn’t. Your chest was tightening and you knew it was smart not to let such negative emotions overpower you. His words were just a little difficult to grasp because Toji never in his life had been callous with his words to you. The tears that fell from your eyes were from the betrayal that you felt after hearing the cruel words he had uttered. And yet, you tried to hold on to that thin string of hope that Toji’s words didn’t come from a place of truth.

“That’s enough, Toji. Go to sleep.” You pulled away, swallowing the bitter taste of weakness in your voice.

He hummed, unaware of the pain he had put you through. “The more I look at you, the more I realize how much I actually don’t want to spend my whole life with you,” he admitted, with little to no regard for your current feelings, “I can’t fill this emptiness by being with another empty soul. And if there’s one thing I’m most grateful for, it’s that I let you run away that day before I fulfilled my vows with you—”

“Enough!” You shot up from bed and wiped the flood of tears on your eyes. “Enough! I’ve heard everything you wanted me to hear, okay?! Enough!” you raised your voice in despair, almost begging for him to stop tearing your heart asunder. “I get it! I fucking get it… so enough. Please, Toji.”

Drunken words are sober thoughts.

A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.

Alcohol is a truth serum.

The revelation of Toji’s true feelings that night was a reminder to you that he was just like any other man. That you should have never put him in such a high regard, thinking that he would be the prince charming that would save the poor damsel in distress. Why? What would he benefit from someone like you? You only deluded yourself into thinking that a man like him would take a single mother so seriously. You were only meant to be a placeholder for his dead wife after all.

A placeholder, certainly. Not even deserving to have the title of a wife.

——

There was a huge contrast between being with you and Sachiro in New York vs being with Akemi and Sachiro in Osaka. The difference? There was no awkward air between Akemi and him. They were free to do things as they will—no restrictions, no certain do’s and don’ts. They were happy to have each other’s company, minus the guilt nor the unease of being by each other’s side. If anything, Satoru bitterly assumed that you were having the time of your life in Miami with Toji. You were so keen to see the man back there before parting ways with your ex-husband and son like you were simply discarding them to the side.

If so be it, then fine. Satoru had all the right to have his son all to himself while you were gone. Besides, Akemi was just one call away and she was everything he could ever ask for. She cared for Sachiro as if she was his own mother and Satoru couldn’t be more grateful that he didn’t need to work on building a bond between her and his son.

In fact, Akemi very much knew how to win Sachiro’s heart. As they took his adorable son to Universal Studios that day, she was nothing short of a caring mother. She had acted as a guardian to his son throughout the rides, letting the toddler enjoy his time at all the wonderful attractions that the theme park had to offer. Not once did his son cry too, so that only meant that they were doing a great job at taking care of him.

Of course, it was a different story in the afternoon. After having spent all of his energy during the day, Sachiro had become tired and hungry by dinner time. But he wasn’t such a difficult kid to tend to, so Satoru was proud that his son still wasn’t throwing a tantrum even after a whole day of not having you around.

“We’re gonna get Sachi fried chicken,” he enticed the pouting toddler, kissing his forehead while Akemi carried him in her arms. “Is that what you want?”

Sachiro nodded and wrapped his little arms around his auntie’s neck. “Chicken, dada.”

Akemi smiled at the child’s gesture, tempting her to also place a kiss on his cheek. “You’re so cute and well-behaved, Sachi.”

“—Satoru?”

At the familiar voice, all three of them turned to the woman standing behind like a deer caught in the headlines. She was tall for a woman, slender, and had long, auburn hair, rosy cheeks, and ivory skin. Next to her was a tattooed man with salmon pink hair, a piercing on his ear, and a very defensive stance. Ah… How timely.

Sera and Sukuna.

Satoru wasn’t sure if he should openly greet them, after all, they weren’t acquaintances. And it was only recent that he got his memories back, triggered by Sera's presence at the expo. Other than that, he had no business with the two of them. Sukuna wasn’t a business partner of his, so him and Satoru had no formal connection towards each other. As for Sera, she might be his ex-girlfriend, but they didn’t exactly have the healthiest relationship to begin with, so…

“Of all the places,” she mumbled, almost gaping at the sight of him. Her eyes then trailed off to Akemi and Sachiro, with which her expressions shifted to guilt. Did she recognize his son? Did she remember the horrible attempt she did to harm his child during his ex-wife’s pregnancy? The memory was flooding Satoru’s brain like a tsunami. Yeah, in that case, Sera should definitely be filled with guilt. She tried to kill this harmless child.

He cleared his throat, now becoming protective over his son at the presence of his ex. “We gotta go—”

“I guess it’s true,” Sera spoke again, this time redirecting her attention to Akemi. “The rumors, I mean. It’s all just surprising to me considering how obsessive Satoru was to Y/N.” She paused, seemingly wanting to comment at her ex-boyfriend’s current relationship in a mocking way. She kept her eyes on Akemi only, while Satoru was left wondering why Sera was acting hostile towards her. What was her deal now? She wasn't in the position to be acting all entitled to Gojou anymore, but here she was, talking to Akemi like she had met her before. “Did you know? He sacrificed everything for her. No one else made him beg on his knees the same way Y/N did.”

He couldn’t even tell how Akemi felt while Sera was clearly taunting her with her words, but she still managed to smile and excuse herself, keeping Sachiro away from an environment that should only be between adults. It was ridiculous, surely. What was Sera thinking trying to subject his son around that kind of hostility? Balling his fists, Satoru turned to Sukuna and spoke to him man-to-man. “You’d better keep your woman entertained so she’ll stop meddling into other people’s business.”

Sukuna, however, found the situation equally humorous. “Don’t worry. We both are entertained.”

Making a spectacle of Satoru’s personal life? No wonder they ended up together. They were both pieces of shit.

Before Satoru turned on his heels to follow Akemi, Sera still had one last thing to say to him. This time, she was more calm and less malicious—her eyes following Akemi’s trail before looking back at him, “Satoru, if you have truly grown as a man, you won’t do this to Y/N.”

——

Sachiro was fast asleep when they returned to the Gojou clan's vacation home.

Meanwhile, since the night was young for the two adults in that house, Akemi and Satoru shared a passionate session in the living room downstairs, letting her ride him as he placed soft kisses on her collarbone. They tried to keep quiet, obviously, and all the lights were turned off, leaving only the moonlight illuminating their view. After a few more minutes into their lovemaking, they eventually met their climax and tried to catch each other’s breath, embracing her in his arms as she fell limp against him.

“Satoru, I missed you a lot while you were gone.”

“...Same.”

Silence engulfed them for some time until she let out an exasperated sigh. It was clear in her facial expressions alone that she was pondering about the whole scene with Sera earlier. “That girl earlier, Sera, she—”

“Don’t mind her.” Gojou closed his eyes and leaned his head against the backrest. He knew he had to clear things up straightforwardly, leaving no room for any misunderstandings. “She just loves riling people up. It’s ironic she’s coming at Y/N’s defense now like she didn’t torment her back then. She’s not worth paying attention to.”

“Okay.” Akemi pulled away, cupping his face and stroking his cheek. She also offered him an angelic smile while doing so. “But you don’t feel that way anymore, right? For Y/N?”

Satoru took a deep breath, but steadied the movements of his chest. He felt defensive all of a sudden. “No.”

Her smile grew more relaxed as she pressed a light peck on his lips. “Right.” And for a while, they both stayed silent. His thoughts ran straight to you, while hers was quite on a different route. “Earlier when I put Sachiro to bed, he called me his mama.”

His eyes widened. “Oh… he did?”

She answered with a nod. “I don’t know if he’s just half asleep calling for his real mommy, but… At that moment, it made me realize how much I want to have my own,” she hinted at him, wistfully staring at his blue eyes with her shining ones, “with you.”

——

You didn’t take the flight back to Tokyo.

What you took was an immediate flight straight to Osaka where you knew your son and your ex-husband would be. You weren’t sure if it was due to the height of your emotions, but you surely let your impulse win the best of you this time.

You just wanted to escape. It was for the first time in your life where you were dying to set yourself free from Toji’s presence, the very same person who you once likened to a buoy in an open sea. Now he was no longer that. He was far from that. He was an anchor pulling you down at the deepest part of the ocean. Needless to say, the pain was still fresh from your heart when you took the earliest flight back home after his drunken confession to you.

Despite the many missed calls and texts and emails he had sent you, none of them were returned. None of them were seen, or read, or had been replied to.

All you wanted to do was get to your son. Your son. Your only comfort from all the painful things that the world has thrown at you. If not for Sachiro, you would have long ended yourself. But because he was born in this world, because he relied on his mother for love and guidance, you had to be strong and you had to seek the comfort in your heart from him.

They could all turn their backs on you, but never will your son do.

And so, after a few back-and-forth emails with Miwa to confirm the address of Satoru’s residence in Osaka, you ignored the jetlag that was hitting your body and traveled straight to his place without a wink of decent sleep. Sachiro. Sachiro was all you ever thought of when you asked your driver to drop you off the park nearby the Gojou clan's residence as soon as you spotted your son's mop of white hair, him running across the small bridge and pointing towards a fish in the pond. Your son was happily calling all the fishes, gushing about them to Satoru who stood next to him.

You didn’t even care at how you looked during that moment. You just wanted to get to your son and embrace him in your arms. He had been away from you for way too long and you had already grown pale and sick from the separation anxiety that engulfed your heart and mind.

You had to have your son. You had to hold him.

“Sachi!” you called out, a smile present on your face as you made your desperate way towards the bridge. Your son looked at you the moment he had heard your voice, and was already skipping towards you with a bright smile on his face. “My baby!”

Satoru’s face, on the other hand, turned pallid. His eyes were full of surprise, unable to believe that you were actually right in front of him. It was like he had seen a ghost. No, worse than a ghost. Why? Did he not expect you to come when he had let Miwa send the address to you? Were you not welcome to visit your own son?

“Mamaaa!” Sachiro hugged you tightly, allowing you to attack his cute face with kisses all over.

“Mommy missed you so much, my baby.” You could almost cry. As young as he was, he had no idea how much comfort he was bringing into your heart. Just to be able to see him, hold him, kiss him was enough for you to feel complete again. It was at your brokenness did you realize how much Sachiro could fix you whole.

“Y/N, I thought you…” Satoru paused, confusion seemed to be settling on his features as you looked up at him. “You’re supposed to be back by Monday.”

For a moment, you were reminded of the reason you came home earlier than intended and it stung your heart to think about. “Change of plans.”

A small scoff left his lips. “Don’t tell me you left Toji back there.”

I did, you wanted to say. Satoru had no single idea how true his words were, but that was none of his business and you had no plans of confiding in him about what had happened. You may be angry with Toji now, but you still respected him enough not to do terrible things behind his back.

“I had to see my son,” you lied, although it wasn’t exactly one, and got up while holding your toddler’s hand. “Are you ready to go home with mommy, Sachi?”

Reluctance clouded your son’s face, and he became more resolute at shaking his head the moment a woman’s voice called for him from afar. A woman, a very, painfully familiar woman came into view a few meters away from you. Standing there was your best friend, Akemi Hirai, looking at you with wide, mortified eyes as soon as she saw your presence.

And in a snap, Sachiro ran to her. Your son ran straight to her, joyfully and excitedly as if she was his real mother.

How many more heartbreaks do you have to go through?

How many more tears do you have to hold back?

“I…” Your hands were shaking. Your entire body was on the verge of breaking down. All this time, your son had been in this vacation home living like a happy little family with your ex-husband and best friend.

Now, he even refused to go home with you.

Gojou scanned through the look on your eyes as though he was reading your emotions, but you showed none of it. Not a single emotion could be seen on your face. Not an ounce of pain shown, despite seeing how your son immediately forgot about you and headed straight to another woman. How excited he was to spend more time with his dad and his new girlfriend. How, much to your discomfort, he refused to go back to Tokyo with you. You saw the future family Sachiro was about to have without you in the picture, and damn did it hit you like a truck.

Why, why did everyone in your life choose others before you?

“I’m sorry. I’ll bring him to your house Monday morning,” said your ex-husband in a soft, delicate voice, almost as if he was being careful with you. “We’ll take care of him.”

You could simply nod, avoiding eye-contact with anyone in the vicinity except for Satoru. “Okay...” you struggled with words. Your entire body was shaking. The last thing you wanted was to sound like a selfish mother, but frankly, you were about to self-destruct. “Just keep him happy… that's all I ask.”

Behind your mask of indifference, Satoru knew what right words had to be said. You needed reassurance, and that was exactly what he gave you. “I won’t ever take him away from you, Y/N. I promise.”

You watched them walk away, leaving you alone with a look of sympathy that you didn’t need. Sympathy that you despised having received. This should serve as a wake up call to you that no one in this world would ever love you. That even your own child would, one day, abandon you.

As tears fell from your eyes, you felt a certain pang on your chest that hurt worse than every other pain combined. “You know you’re not so good with promises, Satoru.”

#series: sincerely yours #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo angst #jjk angst #gojo satoru angst #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x yn

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yenhan · 2 months ago

Text

"Study session with the Lads"

Thoughts on TF141 & International student neighbor

Part One - Next - Masterlist

a/n: f!reader

Synopsis: You'll ace the next exam, hopefully.

C’mon over tomorrow, we’ll help you prep for that exam. P.S. You can’t refuse, Captain’s orders.

Most people would think Johnny gave you his number first, being the hopeless flirt he was. But no, it was Kyle. Unlike his fellow former sergeant, Gaz was subtler, able to hide his true intentions behind easy smiles and clever banter. No less effective, mind you.

Then again, the whole 'old men adopting a stranded student' relationship was weird. A detail for your therapist next session, surely. Were you supposed to be worried? Get your head checked? Probably. Creating a found family with three British men and a hyperactive Scot wasn’t exactly listed under “Common Expat Experiences.”

Back to the present: you left Kyle’s message on read for half a second before sending a slightly-too-eager—

Of course!

You imagined a light revision, a few exercises, a cup of tea brewed by Simon just the way you liked, perhaps Soap dramatically imitating phonetic symbols to distract you from spiraling over your performance anxiety.

Certainly not this.

At exactly 1700 hours, you knocked on their door clutching your battered copy of Teaching English as a Foreign Language for Dummies and a highlighter that had lost the will to live halfway through your last grammar workshop.

“Highlight only the important parts,” your brother used to say. Sure. But what if everything was important?

The living room looked like a war zone… but not a gross, sock-strewn bachelor disaster. No, this was tactical mayhem. Soap’s footprints crisscrossed the carpet in suspicious patterns.

Your study notes had been printed, laminated, and tacked onto a corkboard. Snacks were stacked on the coffee table like sandbags. A flipchart had been set up beside the telly. Someone had written across it in bold, underlined red: OPERATION: ACE THE PAST PERFECT.

Price looked up from the kitchen, a mug in hand. “No pressure, kiddo. Just your entire teaching career.”

Ghost, leaning against the wall, nodded solemnly. “We’ve got biscuits.” Was that supposed to help?

Gaz shuffled a stack of index cards, color-coded with terrifying precision. “Who’s quizzing her first on the difference between the present simple and the present perfect?”

“Define the unlawful killing of a human being without malice!” Soap barked like a drill sergeant. You gaped at him. Why was he wearing a peaked military cap? It was even worse than John's boonie hat.

“Wrong subject, Johnny,” Price called from the kitchen. “We’re not teaching criminal interrogation tactics, it’s English grammar.”

“Aye, but keeps her sharp, doesnae it?”

You sat gingerly on the couch between Gaz and a mountain of flashcards. “I... appreciate the effort, truly. But, uh, how did you get my notes?”

And was that your favorite set of pastel pens peeking out of John’s pocket?

“Found them last week. Binder fell down the stairs. Took the liberty of reorganizin’ ‘em by theme.” Ghost’s voice came from somewhere dark and ominous.

“You color-coded grammar topics?” You squeaked.

“Course I did. I’m not a monster. Stuck to your precious Pinterest palette, too.”

Well… You couldn’t exactly argue with that.

The first twenty minutes went smoothly.

Gaz walked you through the major language acquisition theories — Krashen, Vygotsky, yada yada — with flashcards that had doodles of confused stick-figure students on the back. Price explained different classroom management styles like he was giving a battlefield briefing: “Adapt to your environment. Don’t lose command of the room.”

You nodded dutifully, and sometimes got rewarded with a brief, proud head pat.

Then Soap made his move.

“Right! I’ve built a memory palace,” he announced.

“A what.”

“Memory technique! Visualization! Top-tier stuff!” He dragged you into the hallway, where he had drawn on the walls with dry-erase markers. You weren’t hallucinating.

“See here?” He pointed at a doodle of a dragon labeled ‘Past Tense Pete’.

“This beastie guards all irregular verbs. Ye’ve gotta slay him with correct conjugations!”

“What is happening?!” You shrieked, staring in horror at the doodle of an adverbial goblin. John, your knight in shining mutton chops, came to your rescue.

“She asked for help revising!” Soap protested.

“I asked for basic revision, not a full Dungeons and Dragons campaign!”

You pointed dramatically at Johnny, ready to throw him under the bus called ‘Captain Price.’

While Price and Soap bickered about the ethical limits of creative teaching aids, Gaz slipped a flashcard into your hand... CONDITIONALS: First vs. Second – Remember: If I win the lottery, I will freak out. If I won the lottery, I would freak out.

Genius? Madness? Hard to tell.

Then Ghost, quietly but ruthlessly, dragged a chair into the center of the room.

“Quiz time. No fluff. Answer fast, or you owe me a push-up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I am not doing push-ups over auxiliary verbs.”

“Then don’t get them wrong.”

And he began rapid-firing questions: “What’s the communicative approach? How many types of conditional sentences? Example of a weak modal verb?”

You answered, getting most of them right. You were still terrified.

And then, from the kitchen: “QUIZ TIME’S OVER, I MADE A POWERPOINT!” The Scot roared.

—

At some point, you were cross-legged on the carpet, biscuit crumbs on your notes, explaining the importance of student talking time versus teacher talking time while they all nodded proudly like awkward but loving uncles.

“You’ll smash it,” The captain finally said, clapping a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“If not,” Soap winked, “we’ll sneak into the university database and ‘fix’ it.”

“Please don’t,” you whimpered.

As you packed your things, Ghost quietly handed you a neat stack of flashcards. “Keep these. I made extra copies.”

You flipped through them: clear, minimalist, perfect. You smiled. “Thanks, Batman.”

His eyes crinkled behind the mask. “You’re welcome, Robin.”

Your notes had never been clearer. Your brain, however, felt flash-banged by a PowerPoint titled “How to Conquer the Passive Voice Like a Spartan.”

You would never forget the dragon guarding irregular verbs.

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f1byjessie · 11 months ago

Text

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81. [REWRITE]

he may not be a london boy, but you love him all the same, and you’re about to learn the hard way that loving someone can be a wild ride.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part one.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, daltonsargeant, and 61,816 others

yourusername me and london boy have made so many memories here together and i’ll cherish them forever ❤️. i love this sport and i love the people i've met in this sport. i'll always love it and them, but sometimes you have to take a step back and set your sights on new horizons. that said, neither of us will be competing in any events this year— endurance or otherwise. london boy will stay in richmond and continue to receive the best care possible from people who have grown to love him as much as i do, and in the meantime, i'll start looking to those other horizons.

view all 1,761 comments

user wishing you the best of luck!! we’ll miss seeing you and london boy, but we know this decision wasn’t made lightly and we hope whatever you do will make you just as happy as riding does!!

user london boy lives a more luxurious life than i could ever hope

↳ user real like why am i jealous of a horse 😭😭

↳ user knowing how well these horses are treated? we should all be jealous

↳ user some of these horses have rain coats that cost more than my entire wardrobe combined… the day i learned that was not a fun day… 😔

user honestly only ever tuned in to watch you both

user the events won’t be the same without you!!!

user I’LL MISS YOU LONDON BOY

user take all the time you need to explore other options! you can love something and still get burnt out on it. sometimes taking that step away can be the decision that allows us to continue loving something instead of growing resentful towards it. do what you need to do to be happy! 🫶

↳ user this is such a good way to put it!!

↳ user THIS. i did competitive jumping for ten years and towards the end of that time i started seeing it more as a chore than the sport i used to be so passionate about. you absolutely CAN love something and still get burnt out on it. taking breaks is so important.

user i’m sure london boy will miss you but you do you girliepop! take a trip or go on an adventure!

user oh to be a girl riding her horse across the beach at sunrise 🥲

↳ user IKR?!? talk about dream life, she’s literally living out scenes that i’ve only ever seen in movies

↳ user it’s london boy’s world and we’re all just living in it

user wait does this mean no more horse content???

↳ user i mean she’s not getting rid of her horse or even outright retiring, she just won’t be riding competitively for 2023

user is she leaving the uk or smth?? bc she said other ppl will be looking after london boy?? i know nothing about horses guys i’m sorry

↳ user london boy will be staying at the stables as per her caption! he will be looked after by many trained professionals who will ensure he is properly fed, watered, exercised, and groomed each day! it’s actually very common for people to board their horses at a stable since horses often need large fields to graze and exercise in, and not a lot of people have big enough backyards or own property to be able to provide that themselves. whether she’s leaving the uk or not, we don’t know, but it definitely sounds like her training with london boy will be put on hold for the time being!

user miss girl we’ll always remember you and london boy as the greatest duo in endurance racing history

↳ user REAL REAL REAL

user does this have to do with her falling off a few months back??

↳ user it could, she did mention the encounter leaving her pretty shaken

↳ user yeah but the possibility of something like this happening is so high that a lot of riders have accepted it as an inevitable occurrence in their career

↳ user even still, that doesn’t change the fact that she could very well be traumatized or experiencing lingering side effects

↳ user guys!! speculation will do us no good!! if she wants to tell us, she will!!

user YOU KNOW I LOVE A LONDON BOY 🗣🗣🗣

logansargeant wanna trade one paddock for another?

There’s a sort of terrifying uncertainty that comes with breaking a long-standing routine.

It’s like a fucked-up sort of package deal— you stop following the methodized schedule you’ve meticulously upheld for years, and in exchange, you receive more time than you know what to do with and an overwhelming responsibility to fill it.

The only question is: with what?

The muscle memory lingers, and you suspect that it’ll take some time for your body to un-familiarize itself with a sleep schedule that you’ve religiously held on to for years, but there’s no demands to maintain any of it and that makes any sort of attempt at continuing to run through the motions feel entirely obsolete. You may instinctively wake up at the ass crack of dawn, but without the necessity of a horse relying on your punctuality to get him fed, watered, and turned out to the paddock, there’s nothing you can do beyond filling the morning with something until your internal clock catches the memo and decides to let you sleep in for once.

“You know, when I invited you to tag along with me,” Logan begins in lieu of a greeting when he opens the front door and sees you standing on the stoep of his apartment, clad in athletic wear and a pair of well-worn running shoes, “I was under the impression that we both understood that to mean the traveling to races part and not necessarily the pre-season training.”

“‘My dearest sister,’” you sarcastically quip back in a mockingly deep voice, feigning heartfelt sincerity and pressing your hand melodramatically to your chest. “‘How good it is to see you after so long! I would be absolutely delighted if you joined me on my morning run today.’”

Your twin brother shakes his head in exasperation, but through the facade of annoyance, you can recognize the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Honestly, Logie,” You pretend to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye and add in a sniffle for extra flair, “you're too sweet. What would I ever do without you?”

“We saw each other a week ago at brunch,” he grumbles, reluctantly taking a step back from the door and allowing you to pass over the threshold into the warmth of the apartment and out of the winter’s frigid morning air.

“When?”

“Last Wednesday—”

“—did I ask? Oh! Boom! Gotcha!” You whoop out an exclamation of victory as you continue down the hall. “Gosh, I am four for four now. You gotta step up your game, Logie-bear, or this is gonna end in a miserable shut out for you.”

He heaves out a heavy sigh that carries with it twenty-two years of suppressed brotherly rage and the exhaustion that can only come from being reminded at every chance that he is, and always will be, a minute younger than you. “You're the bane of my existence, and I do sincerely hope you know this.”

“Aw, I love you too!”

You step into the small kitchen at the end of the hall. With the exception of a little potted cactus sitting on the windowsill— a housewarming gift from you— it looks nearly identical to how it was the last time you visited.

A month ago.

When he moved in.

There's a woven mat on the floor in front of the sink, an ashy green that contrasts nicely with the off-white cream color of the cabinets and laminate countertops. You can't really tell if Logan actually bought the mat, or if it came with the place, but it's cute nonetheless and serves as one of the few pops of color in the otherwise monochromatically beige apartment.

“I see that my cactus continues to reign supreme as the only individuality in this place,” you comment, glancing over your shoulder in time to see him appear in the doorway.

He shrugs at your words. “Yeah, well, you'd be surprised how busy you can get when you're preparing for everything you've ever dreamed about. No biggie.”

“Logan,” you turn to face him, “you'll do great. There are two other rookies on the grid—”

“And I'll be in the worst car out of all of them.”

“You don't know that,” you chide gently.

This side of Logan isn't unfamiliar to you— the anxiety and fear of failure. It's always existed, and you've known about it since the morning of his first kart race when he confided in you that he was so nervous he felt like he was going to be sick.

The insecurities surrounding his own skills have persisted and thrived with every new track, every new team, and every new series, and as you've grown alongside him you've found ways to challenge his self-doubt, but you've also learned to accept that there's only so much you alone can do.

You can debate it and challenge the self-deprecating thoughts all you want, but the voice in his head will always be there, no matter how quiet it occasionally becomes.

So you choose to drop the topic for now.

It's too early in the morning for an impromptu therapy session anyway.

You turn back around and scan the countertops until your eyes latch onto the container of pre-workout tucked away in the corner, nearly hidden amidst the mountain of vitamin and nutrient supplements.

“I thought it was part of Benny’s job to make sure you didn't have to use all this shit,” you comment, picking through the jars and eyeing them each with unapologetic distaste.

Logan reaches over your shoulder and plucks a packet of vitamin C tablets from your hand, “Sometimes these just work better.”

“Yeah, maybe if you don’t have a nutritionist being paid to quite literally curate a diet specifically to ensure that you don’t need to use these,” you gesture widely to the assembled mass of supplements. “But, last I checked, dear brother of mine, you do have a nutritionist— and a very good one at that— who would be horrified to learn you’re substituting real fruit for…” you squint down at the nutritional label of another one of the jars, but there’s very little that you recognize amidst the scientific jargon and long, five-syllable words, “little gummies that taste like fruit.”

He huffs, “Get your pre-workout or I'm leaving without you.”

“You wouldn't dare leave without me,” you grumble.

“I've done it before and I'll do it again,” he snipes, giving a brief yank on your ponytail and cackling when you swat behind yourself in futility.

There’s more he isn’t saying— there always is, nowadays— but you recognize the deflection for what it is. You want to claw him apart with questions and demand answers that bare every inch of his soul so you understand what he isn’t telling you and why he feels the need to keep it locked away even from you, but you know better than to keep pushing at something Logan clearly doesn’t want to talk about.

It makes you nostalgic for a time in your life when he’d sneak down from the top of the bunk bed after your parents had tucked you away for the night and slip under the covers with you, a well-loved stuffed bear hugged to his chest. He’d curl up beside you and you’d pull the blankets up to your chin and watch him with big, curious eyes until he’d whisper out into the darkness of your shared bedroom what he was worrying about.

More often than not it was a byproduct of a hyperactive imagination still plagued by the fears of childhood. Something about the space beneath your bed and— “What if there’s something down there? And the only way you can see it is by its glowing eyes? But what if it knows when someone is gonna look under the bed, so it closes its eyes so you can’t see the glow?” Or the curtains and— “You have to make sure they cover the whole window because what if you don’t and then something looks inside and it knows I’m not asleep and then it comes inside? I always hold really still and pretend to be asleep even when I’m not if the curtains aren’t closed.”

But sometimes it was about anything and everything else like the fox sitting in the bushes by the bus stop on the way home from school and whether or not it had water to keep it cool in the Florida heat, or the purple glitter pen Mrs. Moore used to grade his spelling test and how the girl sitting next to him had gotten her test graded with the green glitter pen, or— “I forgot my coat in Mr. Garrison’s class yesterday, and you went and got it for me and brought it to the car with you, and I didn’t say thank you, but I always feel bad when I leave my coat behind because what if it has feelings and felt really bad because it thought I was abandoning it, so thank you for getting my coat so it didn’t feel abandoned.”

But that was then and this is now.

You’re both adults, and you live in different apartments on different ends of the city, and you work different jobs that separate you by half the globe at times. There’s no more talk of foxes by bus stops or glitter pens, and certainly no more sentient coats with fears of abandonment.

When you look at Logan now, he isn’t wasting away, and really you owe it to him after you announced out of the blue a week ago that you weren’t just taking a break from competitive riding, but rather taking a break from riding as a whole. He didn’t press you on it then— still hasn’t pressed you on it despite having every right to do so. The least you can do now in return is respect the boundary he’s trying to set.

You mutter a few curses beneath your breath— words your mother would throw a fit over if she could hear you— and feign a scowl, but some of the tension in Logan’s shoulders has released and that's all you can ask for.

“If you leave me behind, I’ll leak a picture of your pathetic kitchen to the tabloids and let everyone tear apart your design choices,” you threaten, digging your knuckles into the tender spot of his arm where bicep meets shoulder and taking pride when he squirms away and beyond reach.

He flips you off. “You’re just jealous I have a cool cactus and you don’t.”

“Hey!” You give a lazy kick in his direction, but he sidesteps it easily with a laugh. “I gave you that cactus!”

“Tomato, tom-ah-to.” He flippantly waves his hand in your direction, laughing again at the indignant squawk you make. “Just hurry up and make your damn drink.”

As he makes his way out of the kitchen, presumably to grab his shoes, you unscrew the lid from the container and reach for the scoop.

Only to find it entirely empty.

“You asshole! There's nothing in here!”

Logan’s cackle echoes from another room.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, daltonsargeant, and 42,451 others

yourusername day 14 without london boy and i have officially succumbed to the boredom and willingly subjected myself to the presence of my arch nemesis (love you logie 🫶)

view all 1,382 comments

logansargeant in my defense, you just showed up

user you could not PAY me to go out in this weather

user as a florida girlie myself, this is my nightmare

↳ user REAL

↳ user genuinely seeing this makes me so glad i live in a place where there’s no snow cuz yea, the view is pretty and all, but not even a gorgeous sunrise would make up for me freezing my ass off and having to wear seven layers just to keep the feeling in my fingers and toes

user i wish the most stressful part of my day was going for a morning run 😔

user calling logan her nemesis is so real i just know that man is a menace

↳ user the f2 clips of him and liam are proof enough

↳ user logan sargeant was a menace back in f3 💀 have you SEEN the prema videos with oscar and fred? bro is diabolical when he wants to be

↳ user i'm so excited for the chaos he'll bring to the grid this year

user the snow man is so cute!!

user “14 days without london boy” OH I AM ILL 😭😭😭

user ok but that view is gorgeousness

↳ user ikr?! winter sunrises are genuinely so pretty

user i’m still so confused as to why she isn’t riding anymore?? can someone pls explain

↳ user to be entirely honest, i’m not sure really what there is to explain. first and foremost, we aren’t owed any sort of explanation as to why she’s decided to take a step back from riding. it could be a personal decision, a career decision, or something else, but whatever it is we aren’t automatically entitled to it just because y/n has previously been very open and vocal about her and london boy’s training. second, she never actually said that she isn’t riding anymore. she said she’s taking a step back from competitive riding to focus on other things, and the “without london boy” part of her caption implies that she hasn’t seen him, but she could just be taking a prolonged break, or she could be focusing on something else that has prevented her from going to see him. but again, none of it is our business and she doesn’t owe us any further explanation to what she meant.

↳ user THIS THIS THIS!! as sad as i am to not have london boy on my feed, y/n is a grown adult with her own private life and we have to respect her decisions!! if or when she chooses to come forward about the specifics of her future plans and goals, then that’s great and i’ll continue to support her endeavors, but for the time being we all just have to be patient

user the selfie logan posted with you on his story was so cute!! 🥰

user she’s a runner she’s a track star

user i’ve missed the twin content!

↳ user me too!! i really hope that her taking a break from competitions (as much as i love london boy) will mean we get to see her actually going to more of logan’s races, especially now that he’ll be in formula 1!!

oscarpiastri if the rumours are to be believed, i look forward to getting to catch up at the races this year

━━ tags: @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @awritingtree @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel @lewisvinga @81vas @maih23 @thatoneembarrasingmoment @elz-xo @the-navistar-carol

━━ a/n: surprise! i've been working on this for a little while now (i got my wisdom teeth removed yesterday, so the time i've spent recovering has been spent polishing up the last few details for this first part) but here she is! as promised, the newly rewritten and revamped 'he likes my american smile'! i feel like i always say it, but the original genuinely holds such a special place in my heart because it was the first work i ever posted here on tumblr, so i'm really happy to take all that i've learned since then and apply it where i can in this new version. i really hope the changes and development is as loved by you all as it is by me, and that you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #social media au

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midnightdevotion · 4 months ago

Text

Not Real (1)

Hi Guys!! I mentioned writing this fic back in august??? anyways sorry for taking so long. I'm trying to have more balance with my creative hobbies and do them more regularly.

Description: Hangman, ever elusive and avoiding commitment finally finds the one. Except she doesn't think love is real anymore. Part 1

Warnings: Depression, Reader loses themselves, Slow burn, and I do use y/n so sue me ig

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female Reader

Readers POV

It's an uncharacteristically rainy day in Southern California. You heave a small sigh at the ever lasting grey clouds. To be completely honest, your life has felt like an everlasting grey cloud recently.

Heart broken one too many times, seemed to take the color out of life. You were someone who looked at fuzzy bumble bee's and grinned. Who felt the wind blow against her skin and let it relax any tension.

Now it was like nothing but grey existed in your mind. You didn't know how to escape the hallow shell you have turned into. It felt like the person you were is so far gone and yet you still vividly remember every thing. Every thing you loved about the version of you, you just can't seem to reach any more.

The easy laughter no longer came, the yellow sunshine your personality was described as now ashes and dull. The worst part of all of it was nobody noticed.

Nobody put together how your entire world was ripped away and nobody saw how it changed you. How you could barely get through the day, crawling back into bed as soon as you get home.

These endless grey days lasted months. A good thing would happen, you got a raise, and cried to yourself later that night. It was good, why didn't anything feel good, why didn't you feel like enough anymore.

------

You could feel the change, not sure when it happened but it felt like it was so slow and then all at once. One day you couldn't imagine being happy ever again, and suddenly, one day you had your spark back.

You'd never wish on your worst enemy the 8 months you had just lived through, the thoughts that haunted you now just painful memories you can push to the side and leave behind.

You found friends you genuinely feel happy to know. Who have your back in every scenario. It started with meeting Phoenix, or rather Natasha. You first met Natasha after forcing yourself to go to the gym regularly. Hoping the endorphins that release from exercise would help your depression.

In ways they did, like the butterfly effect. You went to the gym, every day for a week and Natasha noticed. She noticed the empty eyes, and came up to you one afternoon. She introduced herself and asked if you wanted to be friends, In her exact words

"I'm sorry if this sounds weird but I work with all dudes and I genuinely need someone to talk to that doesn't rage testosterone, soooo brunch Sunday?"

And it sparked a real laugh out of you, a sound that use to be so common to you now unfamiliar to your own ears.

It's been six months since then, you and Phoenix have grow very close, She has introduces you to a few of her coworkers 'the safe few' she has dubbed them.

It was a usual Thursday night for you when you get a call from her, asking you to come to the hard deck. Which is unusual for her, she usually liked to keep her aviator life separate from her friendship with you.

It didn't bother you, her reasoning of pilots are assholes and your aversion to getting hurt again made it pretty straight forward to take her word for it.

So when you pulled up to the parking lot of the infamous bar she frequents with her navy friends. It feels a little like going into the lions den.

You roll you shoulders and sigh. An old version of you tickling the back of your mind that this is what you should be doing when you're young and single. Not moping because your heart got shattered beyond repair. Or so you believed anyways.

The loud ambiance of the bar was startling slightly, for a Thursday night the bar is packed. A sea of never ending khaki it takes you a few minutes to find your friend.

"y/n!" Rooster calls, one of the few 'safe friends' you have met. He has always been nice to you, and in fact regularly joins your girls nights.

"Hi rooster" you grin at the mustached golden retriever. Giving him a side hug, trying not to feel intimidated by the eyes on you. "nobody told me khaki was the move tonight" you laughed

Rooster shook his head grinning. "I know, it's bad isn't it" and okay it definitely isn't the look for some, but you will definitely attest that rooster and every in this area seems to pull them off well.

"oof" a grunt leaves your lips as you are suddenly hugged from the side, a slightly taller brunette almost taking you down with her on impact.

"Nat what on earth" you laugh.

"I-II knew you would c-come!" She slurred her words and her eyes looked at you unfocused. You furrow your brow and help balance her.

"uh phoenix why did you ask me to come? do you need a ride home?" there was a small part of you that was hoping she would say yes and you could leave the loud crowd, especially feeling like a sore thumb being one of the very few people in denim shorts and a tank top.

"No- No, si-silly. Hangman here said I didn't have any friends, so I bet him I did and that you would come here and prove it." you laughed because Natasha was always betting on things, especially when she gets tipsy. "he owes me fifty bucks now" she grins

"HANGMAN!!" you wince as she shouts in your left ear. You hear a slow drawl that sounds like he's somewhere from the south in reply.

"Yea yea Phe, I will get you cash tomorrow" You turn your head and notice the tall blonde man leaning against the wall. Clearly watching this whole interaction. He gives you a wide grin, one you can tell right away means he gets what he wants and has no problem breaking hearts.

"what I can't figure out is why phoenix has been hiding you all this time" his eyebrow raises when he notice you grimace, his clear attempt to be charming not impressing you.

"probably cause pilots are assholes" is your albeit maybe a little to monotoned reply. It's not that you wanted to be mean. You just had to shut down any attempt at flirting. You don't think any version of your heart could ever love again.

What you didn't expect was for him to cock his head a small smile playing on his lips.

"well Phoenix has always been smart that way" not offended that you basically called him and half the people in this bar an asshole. "I'm Jake though, or as you heard earlier, hangman"

You just nod, finally getting introductions to the rest of the group. Excluding bob and rooster, the only other pilots you had been introduced too.

Despite only being called upon to win fifty dollars (which phoenix is buying brunch for on Sunday) You found yourself enjoying the company and getting to know the people Phoenix spent most of her time with. Finally putting names to faces she has definitely complained about.

At a certain point rooster goes up to the piano, something you had heard he does before coming tonight. You exited the bar for a few minutes to breathe. Thinking about the past and how the old you would be relishing in the socialization, singing along with rooster and the others, no worried and unbroken.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you startle looking to the left and seeing hangman leaning against the wall to the bar.

"Trust me you don't want to spend a penny on those" you laugh, but it feels a little hallow.

"why not, I already spent fifty bucks to prove you existed" that laugh comes a little easier.

"why'd you do that by the way?" you question. he had to have known you were real.

"honestly because phoenix talks about you a lot, and rooster and bob started mentioning you and I was curious"

"curiosity cost the cat fifty dollars apparently" you throw a grin at him, walking out to the sand kicking your sandals to the side to feel the coldness of the sand touch your skin. You weren't surprised when he followed, you kind of expected it.

"it sure did... but I have a gut feeling it was the best money I've every spent" It makes something old and dead flutter inside you, and it scares the shit out of you.

"I don't know you ever spend fifty bucks on pizza when it's just you? cause that's some pretty good self care to me" you can't tell how he takes your evasion of his comment.

"that's pretty good too, but my gut feelings are usually right." in the past maybe heat would've rushed to your cheeks at his comment. Now though, fear rushed to your heart. You turned to look at him. No response on the tip of your tongue, and you were scared how awkward this interaction was going to get.

"well goodnight Darling, hope I see you again soon" and he smiled at you, then turned and walked to his truck. You watched as he pulled out of the parking lot, until his taillights faded. You headed back into the bar to say your goodbyes.

Later that night as you crawled into bed, mind blazing over everything that happened unexpectedly and knowing you'll be in for a tired tomorrow.

You couldn't get the thought of a certain blue eyed pilot out of you mind.

----

Jakes POV

He'd been hearing stories about you for months, Funny, sarcastic, kind, caring, every thing you could imagine in form of stories for months. At first he thought nothing of it, Phoenix having a girl friend is probably good when she deals with him everyday.

Then Bob started talking about you and funny stories with you and Phoenix. Then Rooster added into the group. It was safe to say Jake was feeling severe FOMO.

He had a plan. Get phoenix tipsy and she's pretty suggestible to anything, especially betting. So yes he planned on getting you to the bar, shamelessly flirting with Phoenix's friend and annoying Natasha the next day.

The universe had other plans, because when Jake laid eyes on you, it was like a spotlight was shining on you, he couldn't see anyone else. The bitter rage he felt at roosters hand on your side when you gave him a sheepish hug, burned hot.

So when he hit you with a flirty one liner, and you retorted, usually he wouldn't have given up. He saw it though, in your eyes, the cold dark fear. He became curious, what happened to make you so guarded, and why did he want to solve that so badly?

He sat in that bar and watched you laugh and joke, the smile never really reached your eyes though.

So Jake went home that night, focused on a new goal.

He wants to make you smile-- really smile.

#top gun maverick #top gun #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman x reader

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quitealotofsodapop · 5 months ago

Note

Oh imagine Iron Fan meeting the triplets-

She didn't really believe her husband or her son when they told her that Wukong had three babies because she really can't believe Wukong wouldn't figure out that donating dao= actual babies.

Then the family is released from the scroll of memory by a very concerned Xiaotian and Xiaojiao, Wukong, and three small babies. Thunder, the shyest one, reaches out first to meet his aunt.

Iron Fan hadn't been around during New Years to meet the triplets like her boys had. When her husband rushed home (son in tow) and told her that Sun Wukong had three very young cubs, PIF was intrigued.

Her first question was obvious: Whom was responsible?

DBK, trying not to laugh: "You would not believe me if I told you." PIF, smirking as she sips tea: "I am rarely surprised." DBK: "The Macaque." PIF, teacup rattles slightly: "...I will admit, that is surprising. But I thought Macaque had long since past?" DBK: "It appears that our late brother left behind three pieces of his soul on Flower Fruit Mountain to guard his effects. After his passing, Brother Wukong could not bear parting with the shadows of his mate - and began pouring his own life energy into them." PIF, understanding: "Ah. Supplying the Yang to the Yin. No wonder. I would have done the same if you had left shadows of your own." DBK, chuckling: "He certainly hadn't known that when they formed!" PIF, suppressing a laugh: "Pardon?!"

Red Son supplies photographic proof (shared by Mei) of the shadowy monkey cubs playing with Noodle Boy on the airship, and reuniting with their "Mother" Sun Wukong once freed. Little dark fluffy things with red markings on their faces, and gleaming red-orange eyes.

PIF: "That one in his arms... they are smaller than their siblings." DBK: "Wukong explained that he had not known of the third shadow until the elder two had fully formed. It was still too underdeveloped to separate from him when he had been captured." PIF, sympathetic: "Oh, poor dear... I hope you scolded him for putting himself and his baby in danger!" DBK: "You know I did. Although I had been distracted at the time - the littlest one had chosen that moment to finally break away from his parent and exist in this plane!" PIF, adoring: "Aww."

Having birthed a child with special needs herself, Iron Fan feels a kinship with the smallest of Wukong' children.

She doesn't manage to meet them until her release from the Scroll in S4. The Macaque had apparently been revived, and even under threat of his new master, had ensured his cubs and mate were kept safely together.

(*the Demon Bull Family are released from their Scrolls*) DBK, shuddering: "I did not care for those 500 years under that mountain. But at least I relived falling in love with you all over again." PIF, light blush: "My hopeless romantic." MK, sighs with relief: "Whew! Glad we didn't have to drag you guys out of a memory or anything." Mei, hugging Red Son: "Well except for ol' Red Boy here. He was so cute as a baby!" Red Son, embarrassed: "I was running around naked, setting the countryside ablaze!" DBK & PIF: (*"Aww" as they remember*) Mei: "Case in point; totes adorbs." Red Son: (*grumbling*) Wukong, holding a cub: "I'm just glad all of you are okay. Azure did not make it easy for us." Macaque, carrying the other two cubs: "Especially since the cubs tried to join in the fight." (*baby-talking to the cubs*) "Yes you did! You tried biting Peng's tail feathers off. Yes you did! You wanted to be like your Baba and fight the mean birdie!" Rumble & Savage: (*happily babbling chirps!*) PIF & DBK: (*looks at the scene with a mixture of adoring and sadness*) Thunder: (*silently hops out of Wukong's arms and toddles towards the Princess*) Thunder, holding up arms: "AH!" PIF, stunned: "...pardon?" Wukong, knowing smile: "He means Up. Thunder has been exercising getting farther away from me. He wants you to pick him up so he can properly say Hi." PIF: (*looking down at the cub, she silently lifts him into her arms. The tiny hands reaching up to inspect her horned hairstyle ala Maleficent 2014*) Thunder, amazed: "Ah!" PIF, smile slowly forming: "Hello little one. I've heard much about you." Thunder: (*sniffing her face and nuzzling against her cheek, making happy chirping sounds*) PIF: (*silent tears forming. She would fight Heaven for this baby*)

She about to ask Bull to try for another baby, cus gotdamn Wukong and Macaque's brood make her want at least three more.

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bluecrusadearcade · 2 months ago

Note

Having religious sites in a region does not give your state or your religion ownership over it. By that logic, the Vatican would own half of Europe. The claim that Kashmir “belongs to Hindus” because of Amarnath or Shankaracharya temple is rooted in theocratic ethno-nationalist agenda, not history. Yes, Hindu sites exist in Kashmir because Hindus have historically lived there, just like Muslims, Buddhists, and others. Kashmiris of all faiths have coexisted and contributed to the region’s culture, language, and history for centuries.

Kashmir doesn’t “belong” to Hindus, Muslims, or any religion — it belongs to its people. The indigenous, regardless of what religion they follow today. Conversion doesn’t erase indigeneity. Cultural belonging is rooted in land, language, and memory — not who you pray to. But that is a concept difficult to grasp for you.

Kashmiri Pandits’ lack of return is not the fault of Kashmiri Muslims. It is the fault of the Indian government, which has used their displacement as a political pawn for decades. The state did nothing for their safe resettlement, didn’t provide real rehabilitation, and still continues to use their pain to fuel communal hate instead of solutions. And fools like you fall for it.

Anyway, free kashmir <3

Wow, it's impressive how much misinformation can fit into a single ask—your understanding of Kashmir's history seems to be as shallow as a puddle in the sun.

lets start, shall we?

“Having religious sites in a region does not give your state or your religion ownership over it.”

In many cases, the very establishment and maintenance of a religious site have been acts of statecraft. For example, the 2008 transfer of 99 acres of forest land to the Amarnath Shrine Board wasn’t just a religious accommodation—it was a political decision by both the Indian Union and the J&K government to assert authority over that part of the Valley. Religious institutions often hold de facto governing power over adjacent land and resources (roads, policing, revenue), effectively exercising territorial control even if they aren’t “sovereign” in name. Religious sites can and do establish historical and even legal ties to a community. The existence of a temple isn’t merely “cultural fluff.” In many pre-modern polities, state authority was deeply bound up with patronage of shrines. The Shankaracharya Temple atop Takht-e-Suleiman, for example, dates back to at least the 9th century and was rebuilt by Hindu and Buddhist rulers—evidence that Kashmir’s sovereign identity was inseparable from its Hindu heritage long before Islam arrived. When princely Jammu & Kashmir acceded to India in 1947, the Instrument of Accession specifically guaranteed protection of all existing religious institutions. That document invokes the region’s plural but historically Hindu-rooted polity, not a blank slate. Kashmir’s dynastic history wasn’t exclusively “multi-faith coexistence.”

From the Karkota dynasty (c. 625–855 CE) through the Lohara kingdom (1003–1320 CE), Kashmir was ruled by Hindu monarchs whose geneses and governance were tied to Shaivism and other Hindu sects. The Rajatarangini (12th century chronicle) records dozens of Hindu kings and their endowments to temples—this isn’t a footnote but the core of Kashmir’s classical statehood. While Buddhists and later Muslims certainly contributed to the rich tapestry, that doesn’t negate the fact that Kashmir’s political structures, coinage, land grants (the Shasana inscriptions), and legal codes were shaped by and for a Hindu-majority ruling class for centuries.

2. “By that logic, the Vatican would own half of Europe.”

This comparison fails on two counts. Firstly, the Vatican is a sovereign city-state under the 1929 Lateran Treaty, with internationally recognized borders and extraterritorial rights over multiple basilicas in Italy. Its legal status is unique and does entail actual political jurisdiction—unlike any Hindu temple in Kashmir, which remains under Indian civil law. Second, equating a tiny city-state’s special treaty guarantees with a religious shrine’s cultural importance ignores centuries of regional power struggles over Kashmir.

3. “The claim that Kashmir ‘belongs to Hindus’ because of Amarnath or Shankaracharya temple is rooted in theocratic ethno-nationalist agenda, not history.”

Historical sources show Shaivism was the dominant faith of the early Kashmiri polity. The 8th-century Rajatarangini chronicles rulers patronizing Shiva worship; Queen Suryamati’s 11th-century gifts to Amarnath are recorded in multiple texts. These aren’t modern “ethno-nationalist” fabrications but genuine markers of an ancient Hindu state in the Valley

4. Conversion does alter a community’s indigenous stake when it’s imposed or incentivized politically. True indigeneity is rooted not only in birthplace but in the uninterrupted practice and institutions of a people. While individual conversions are personal, mass conversions under state patronage (e.g., Mughal land-revenue exemptions for converts) did reshape the demographic and institutional landscape, often at the expense of pre-existing Hindu institutions. Erasing the continuity of a faith community does weaken its claim on the public sphere—look at how many old Hindu shrines in the Valley were repurposed or fell to ruin after the medieval conversions. That loss of visible heritage undercuts your blasphemous idea that “conversion doesn’t erase indigeneity.” The demographic shift from ~6 percent Pandit population pre-1947 to under 1 percent today is no mere footnote—it reflects a transformation in who “belongs” in the Valley.

5. “Kashmiri Pandits’ lack of return is not the fault of Kashmiri Muslims. It is the fault of the Indian government…”

The 1990 exodus of roughly 300,000 Pandits was driven by targeted assassinations and mosque announcements from terrorist groups (JKLF, Hizbul Mujahideen) demanding their departure—actions directly by Kashmiri Muslims, not New Delhi While the Indian state’s resettlement package has been inadequate, you cannot erase the fact that Pandits fled under threat from local Islamist terrorists, nor that property-destruction and intimidation were carried out at the village level by Kashmiri insurgents. Kashmiri Pandits’ exile was driven by militant Islamist violence, not benign state indifference alone. In 1989–1990, Kashmiri Pandits were systematically targeted: homes marked with “P” for “Pandit,” public threats from JKLF and Hizbul Mujahideen, dozens of murders—this is well-documented. While the Indian government certainly botched the security response, the proximate cause of the mass flight was organized communal violence by militant groups, overwhelmingly deriving from the Muslim-majority side. Even today, many Pandits refuse to return precisely because the local power structure remains dominated by the same families and networks that either tacitly supported or actively condoned those 1990 purges. You cannot absolve those actors of responsibility simply by pointing at New Delhi.

6. Blaming only New Delhi for the Kashmiri Pandit displacement ignores the agency of local communities. Local Kashmiri Muslim leaders and civil society had opportunities to shelter and publicly protect Pandit neighbors but largely stayed silent or sided with the terrorists. That collective failure fueled the exodus. True reconciliation requires acknowledging both the state’s failures and the grassroots complicity. Your one-sided “it’s all Delhi’s fault” narrative only deepens the wound.

7. “Free Kashmir <3” “Freeing” any region implies a new sovereignty. But no Kashmir-wide plebiscite has ever been held; two-thirds of the Valley’s voters championed staying with India in the 1951 and 1975 assemblies. Pushing “independence” without democratic mandate simply replaces one form of rule with another-often more violent-and ignores the wishes of millions of Kashmiris who identify as Indian citizens. “Free Kashmir” slogans too often align with Pakistan-backed terrorism, not genuine self-determination. Genuine independence movements prize pluralism; Pakistan’s track record in its own territories (Balochistan, Sindh) and its support for jihadi groups in the Valley make it clear that “Azadi” framed by Islamabad would strip Kashmiri Hindus, Sikhs, even moderate Muslims of basic rights.

Real freedom would be one that guarantees security for every Kashmiri, not just the majority faith. Touting “free Kashmir” without that nuance only signals alignment with forces that intimidated Pandits in 1990—and still do.

The Bottom line is:

Historical sovereignty in Kashmir was deeply tied to Hindu kings and temples.

Demographic change via enforced or incentivized conversion did impact the Hindu community’s stake.

1990’s Pandit exodus was driven first by local Islamist militancy, secondarily compounded by Delhi’s inadequate security.

True Kashmiri freedom must protect minorities—any movement that doesn’t is no ally of pluralism but of the very extremism that drove Pandits out.

It's clear you’re more invested in fueling division than understanding history—maybe try reading up on Kashmir’s actual past before you spout off next time. And i mean some real history, not the version you’ve been fed to suit your narrow agenda.

जनहित में प्रकाशीत, नमो वः 🙏

#kashmir #pahalgam #hindu #hinduism #hindublr #hinduphobia #hindutva #kashmir terror attack #pahalgam terror attack #kashmiri hindus #kashmiri pandit

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corruptedcaps · 6 months ago

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Unwrap Me

The living room glowed softly with the twinkle of Christmas lights as Chloe crept down the stairs, her oversized Christmas sweatshirt hanging loose on her wiry frame. She hesitated at the last step, biting her lip as she glanced back toward the second floor. The house was still silent. Her mother and stepdad Frank were undoubtedly still asleep.

Her eyes flicked to the Christmas tree, its base piled high with neatly wrapped gifts. She adjusted her glasses and shuffled toward it, brushing a stray lock of brown hair from her face. She knelt down and scanned the labels, her fingers trembling slightly.

“Frank always goes all out.” She murmured, her voice soft with a hint of derision. Ever since he had married her mom, he had been trying to mould their family into some sort of rich socialite class, a far cry from the middle class upbringing she had been used to and was comfortable with.

And yet her heart raced as her eyes landed on a particularly elegant box wrapped in shimmering silver paper with a white ribbon. The tag was simple and said ‘Unwrap me.’

“Maybe it’s for me?” She paused, chewing her lip. “Or… maybe I can just take a peek.”

Chloe carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper, her hands shaking slightly. Inside was a sleek black case. She opened it, revealing a thick, golden blonde ponytail coiled neatly inside.

“What the…?” She muttered, her brows knitting in confusion. She lifted it out of the box, the hair silky and unnervingly lifelike. “Frank, what kind of weird gift is this?”

Her fingers brushed the strands, and a sudden jolt of warmth shot through her body, making her gasp and nearly drop it. The sensation was… intoxicating.

“Mmmm… that’s strange.” She murmured, her a desire to try it on suddenly overwhelming her. She held the ponytail up and noticed a small clip at its base. Her hand seemed to move on its own, and before she could second guess herself, she clipped it to the back of her head.

The effect was immediate.

The ponytail came alive, golden tendrils shooting out and burrowing into her thin, lifeless hair.

“No!” Chloe yelped, clawing at it, but her fingers froze as waves of pleasure coursed through her body, overwhelming her. The tendrils wrapped tightly, fusing the ponytail to her scalp.

“What’s… happening?” She gasped, her voice trembling. Her body began to change. Her short, bitten nails lengthened into glossy, pink ovals. Her thin lips tingled, swelling into a perfect pout.

“Ahh… stop!” She cried, but her voice wavered, softening as her waist cinched and her hips widened. Her boobs swelled, straining against her sweatshirt.

“Oh my God,” Chloe whispered, her hands trembling as they hovered over her transformed body. Her reflection in the darkened TV screen showed someone unrecognizable. Beautiful, confident, and utterly mesmerizing.

“No, this isn’t right…” She whimpered weakly, but the pleasure surged again, drowning out her protests. Her mousy brown hair transformed into a cascade of shimmering blonde waves.

With each change, the initial fear faded, replaced by exhilaration. By the time the transformation was complete, Chloe was no longer resisting. She was reveling in it.

“Mmmmore.” She whispered, running her hands through her impossibly thick blonde hair, her lips curling into a slow, wicked smile. Her voice was sultry now, dripping with vanity. “I want more!”

As though responding to her desire, the ponytail pulsed against her scalp, sending another surge of heat through her body.

Her legs trembled, elongating and growing toned. Her thighs became shapely, her calves defined, as though sculpted by years of exercise. A warm glow suffused her skin, smoothing imperfections and giving her a flawless, radiant sheen.

But the changes weren’t only physical. A new, intoxicating confidence flooded her mind, washing away the awkwardness and insecurity she’d carried her whole life. She straightened her posture, her chin lifting as an effortless sense of superiority filled her. Memories of academic goals and family love felt unimportant, replaced by a craving for attention, admiration, and control.

Her voice softened to a velvety purr. “Yes… that’s better. So much better.”

Her eyes, now a shimmering crystal blue, sparkled as they caught her reflection in the ornaments hanging from the tree. A sly smile curved her lips as she traced the contours of her face, admiring herself. Her mind teemed with thoughts of vanity. Images of people worshiping her beauty, hanging on her every word.

The sound of footsteps tore her away from her reflection. She turned to see Jane at the bottom of the stairs, her face pale and drawn with confusion.

“Chloe? What’s going on?” Jane’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of her daughter. “What… what happened to you?”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed, her smile turning cruel. “Good morning, Jane.”

Jane flinched at the coldness in Chloe’s voice. “Jane? What’s going on? Are you feeling okay?”

Chloe sauntered toward her, her hips swaying. “Oh, I’m feeling amazing, Jane. Better than I ever have.” She stopped a few feet away, her glossy lips curling into a mocking smirk. “But I can’t say the same for you. God, look at you. Frumpy. Tired. No wonder Frank wanted to fix you.”

Jane’s face crumpled. “Chloe, what are you talking about? Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you.”

“Oh, but it is me. For the first time in my life, I’m exactly who I was meant to be. Strong. Beautiful. Perfect.” Chloe said, her voice dripping with condescension.

Jane shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No! You’re my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” Chloe scoffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m nothing like you. Not anymore. Weak. Pathetic. A joke.”

Jane stumbled back, her voice breaking. “Frank, something wrong with Chloe!” She called over her shoulder, fleeing upstairs.

Chloe laughed, the sound rich and mocking. The sound of heavier footsteps followed as Frank descended the stairs. His eyes widened as he took in Chloe’s transformed appearance.

“Chloe?” he said, his voice tinged with shock. “What… what happened?”

Chloe smirked, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder. “Oh, Frank, don’t act so surprised. I just opened your little gift.” She gestured to the box on the floor, picking up the ribbon.

His face drained of color. “You weren’t supposed to—”

“Oh, I know. You were going to use it on my loser mother. Turn her into your perfect little trophy wife.” Chloe interrupted, stalking toward him. She stopped inches from him, her eyes glinting with malice. “But it looks like you got something better.”

“Chloe… this isn’t right,” Frank stammered, backing away.

Chloe placed a perfectly manicured finger against his lips, stopping him. “Oh, Frank. Right or wrong doesn’t matter anymore.” She purred, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Her finger trailed down his chest.

She wrapped the bow around her now slimmer waist which only showed how impressively big her boobs now were and leaned into his ear. “It’s Christmas, after all. So go ahead. Unwrap me.”

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #evil couple #corrupted hair #cc2024 #unwrapme

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cazort · 3 months ago

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youtube

Mainstream culture in the US seems to have an "anti-sleep" bias. A lot of subcultures normalize or even glorify sleep loss.

In this video I talk about how not getting enough sleep can create all sorts of problems, but similarly, how getting enough high-quality sleep can improve a ton of different aspects of your life:

memory

concentration (yes, ADHD-like symptoms can result from sleep loss)

creativity (not just artistic but also outside-the-box-thinking and problem-solving)

weight regulation (focusing on sleep is often more effective than trying to forcibly regulate caloric intake)

physical performance including both athletics and your daily life

social and emotional intelligence

mental health, including both things like depression and anxiety disorders

immune system

The "anti-sleep" bias often manifests as people ignoring sleep in advice, treatments, or problem-solving even when it is a clear cause.

Everyone will tell you to wash hands and cover your sneezes to stop disease spread. But why aren't they telling everyone to get enough sleep? People tell athletes to exercise and eat enough protein, but what about sleep? The same for mental health struggles, everyone says to get therapy, but what about sleep?

This is what I mean when I say we are biased against sleep.

And in a society with this bias, prioritizing sleep is like a mega life hack. It will make nearly every aspect of your life better.

#sleep #sleep quality #sleep loss #mental health #holistic health #mental illness #my video #life hacks #life tips #Youtube

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drdemonprince · 4 months ago

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Attempted to read your unmasking autism book and had difficulty relating to it and I didn't know why so I put it down. Then years later some traumatic memories resurfaced of something that happened to me shockingly young. Doing the detective work of figuring out the ripple effects of that has been tiresome to say the least. However, I recently realised this is probably why I was struggling with the exercises in your book, because it revolved around finding happy memories from childhood, and I don't have many of those. Do you have any tips on how I could alter those to fit for people who are in my position?

They don't have to be from childhood! Heather Morgan suggests looking for time periods from throughout life -- as many ages as possible for you. And if 'happiness' feels hard to access, think about moments when you felt *alive*, like yourself, or like you were headed where you were meant to be. These can be very brief glimpses. Most of mine are periods of 5-10 minutes.

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denpa-dere · 2 years ago

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hello and welcome to my house arrest series. this is going to be super self-indulgent and a little different than my last couple of fics. updates linked below.

___

afab!mc x polyship

description: NSFW (though the intro is just suggestive), you are confined to your room for your own protection. But how long will that last when the only thing standing between you and your housemates is a door and some willpower?

warnings: straight up breeding kink fodder. she/her pronouns and afab!mc descriptions. a little humiliation if you squint.

|| Intro || Mammon || Asmo (mini) || Levi || Satan (mini) || Beel || Lucifer (mini) || Asmo || Belphie (mini) || Belphie || Barbatos (mini) || Satan || Diavolo (mini) || Purgatory I ||

___

So, about that morning...

You opened and closed your mouth once, then twice. You swallowed thickly.

“What..?” The question trailed off into the ether.

Across from you sat Lucifer, brow furrowed and eyes screwed shut, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, looking very much like he’d rather sink into the floor than continue this conversation.

“I’m aware how uncomfortable this situation may be,” He said, feeling a migraine brewing behind his eyes, “But your cooperation is necessary. We can’t risk any unknown quantities around you, right now.”

Unknown quantities. How tactful. You laughed despite yourself. Lucifer’s head shot up in response, face a mix of equal parts frustration and concern.

“It’s for your own protection,” He said, sympathetic but no less firm.

To your credit, your compliance was never really in question. Lucifer was certain you very well understood the dangers of being around others in your current state. Though he would never admit such a thing, this lecture was almost as much for himself as it was for you.

Your face was flushed, eyes wide, expression inscrutable. You stared into your lap at your upturned hands, closing and unclosing them.

“Can I… Can I at least go about the house like normal?” You asked.

Good question, Lucifer thought, hoping you hadn’t caught the briefest flash of a frown cross his features.

On one hand, confining you to your room would definitely lower morale; not just with you, but sending a ripple effect throughout the household. Besides, what sort of message would that send to you about your safety in their company?

On the other hand, breakfast had nearly turned into an all-out war.

Lucifer stood and sighed, moving to make his exit, “Just… try to keep your wandering to a minimum. Please.”

You nodded eagerly, thankful for the leniency. Then, you were alone.

You smell different. Something in the way Beel had looked at you made you suddenly acutely aware of how small you were.

The memory sent a cold rush through you. You grabbed a pillow, holding it against yourself for comfort. Even though you hadn’t done anything wrong, you felt exposed. Could you even bring yourself to face them after this morning?

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand beside you. Your finger hesitated over the screen.

The memory of Asmo’s laughter echoed in your skull, “Oh, you poor thing!”

You felt your stomach drop. Today felt like an exercise in humiliation.

The brawl in the dining room replayed in your mind.

You tapped the message notification.

Satan: I’ll take notes for the classes you miss.

Oh, well, that wasn’t so bad, actually. You tapped out a quick “Thank you!” in reply, feeling a little silly for getting yourself so worked up. These were your friends.

How was anyone supposed to know that going off your birth control would change your scent so dramatically? Sure, demons had heightened senses, but something so minor as a hormonal shift? That you were ovulating?

You fell back on your bed and covered your face with your hands. It was a small comfort when you felt like you couldn’t hide.

You could all be mature about this, right?

#obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #x reader

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slurp-imagines · 5 months ago

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Kamo Noritoshi - Just classmates, just an accident.

Summary: Reader tripped in front of Noritoshi and he accidentally saw up their skirt. It's been hours and it's still on his mind.

A/N: this was written for my OC originally, just removed names. so it's a female reader wearing a skirt. kind of works as a self-insert if you're okay with she/her pronouns.

Tags: NSFW/18+, M/F, masturbation, one-sided feelings / not in relationship, 3rd person narration

Words: 1,279

He feels disgustingly perverted. But he can't stop thinking about it.

They were in the wooded training zone together for a simple class exercise in the early morning. It was hours ago. She's tripped and fallen a little ways ahead of him. And he hadn't tried to look. It was natural to look at unexpected movement happening right in front of him.

She'd stood up and laughed it off with only the faintest hints of warmth in her cheeks, knowing he'd seen and knowing it couldn't be changed.

It was hours ago, though. He had gone through multiple other classes. Eaten lunch. Taken an exam. Went through his after-school training. Completed his school day with all the diligence and care to detail that everyone would expect from him.

Silently putting great effort into staying on task. Into forcing that single, erotically persistent mental image away from his attention.

The way the fabric hugged her butt, framed by the pleats of her skirt. He actually didn't see that much, and that somehow makes it harder to forget. The way his eyes quickly traveled up her thighs and then between them, the sharp pang of guilt before he finally forced his gaze away. He's wrong for looking – she isn't his to look at.

But he wants her to be. So, so badly. As soon as he's alone in his dormitory, the memory creeps back into his attention. This time he lets it stay there. He locks his door and doesn't bother turning on the lights, just undresses and goes straight into his shower room and starts the water.

To his credit, he does reconsider for a moment while his member twitches between his thighs, growing harder. Is it fair to do this? Is it fair to her?

I guess you aren't the worst option, she'd told him. I woulda maybe died if it was one of the first-year guys.

That must mean she wouldn't mind, no…? Yes? She was embarrassed, but she wasn't upset with him. She would have hated it if the first-years had seen, but if it was him– since it was him, she was okay with it. That's what she meant, wasn't it? This wasn't wrong, was it?

After just a moment's hesitation, Noritoshi's hand moves between his legs, grasping his erection. He was already almost full mast, just thinking about her. To think she has this much of an effect over him…

He sighs out, turning to face the wall and leaning his arm against it as he begins slowly stroking himself. Hot water pelts his back as he closes his eyes and focuses on the mental image of her, on all fours on the forest floor, the skirt of her dress haphazardly tossed up over her hips. What would she have looked like if she'd wanted him to stare longer? He thinks of her coy expressions, the beautiful curl of her lips when she wants to get a reaction out of him. Imagining her there, perking her ass up and spreading her legs for him, blushing just like he saw her today, smiling invitingly like she always does…

He moans, a soft hum low in his throat. His hand curls his palm around the tip and twists slightly. Precum quickly coats his fingers, dribbling down the rest of his cock. He gives himself a few full strokes, smearing it over himself, delighting in the smooth glide that results.

What he'd seen of her ass was just as beautiful and enticing as the rest of her. He wishes he could have touched her, the cleft where thigh meets her rear, the valley between her legs. Wishes he could have moved her panties to the side, seen pink folds beneath pink fabric…

He puts his hand back on the head, thrusting into the tunnel of his fingers. Imagining himself on his knees with her in the forest, pushing his cock into the tunnel of her warmth instead. She'd cry out his name. Kamo-kun? Noritoshi? It didn't matter. He just wanted to feel her, warm and wet and squeezing him. Wanted her to take him, to want him.

She would be welcoming but demanding, the same as she's always been. She'd let him fuck her until he couldn't anymore. She'd whine and moan and call out his name from between her glossy, plush lips, she would tell him she needs more, faster, harder, and he would give it to her as soon as she asked. Because no matter how much he pretends, deep down he knows he can't deny her anything. In fact, he wants to give her everything she could ever ask for. He would, if he could.

"Y-Y/N..."

He can't help calling out for her, too, though his voice remains quiet underneath the spray of water. He imagines his hands pushing her skirt further up, until he could grip the bare skin of her waist, pulling her body back onto his cock. Watching her ass bouncing off his hips, his member disappearing into her soft pussy over and over again.

He wishes he could give her this, make her feel this touched and pleasured. Wishes he could make her blush and beg until she came all over him, overcome by the feelings he'd aroused in her. He imagines her collapsing onto the ground after he's finished with her, turning herself over and smiling up at him, breathless and sultry, legs spread wide and fingers spreading herself even wider. His load dripping out of her hole. It's erotic and it's obscene, it's– he needs it, needs her, needs her to want him–

Noritoshi stifles his groan into his arm while his cum paints the wall in front of him with thick, creamy droplets. Hot semen dribbles down his fist while he trembles and fucks his hand in a restrained, twitchy rhythm, slowly winding down from his peak.

Noritoshi breathes in and out of his mouth once he feels he has his voice back under control. A new sense of shame washes over him when he opens his eyes and stares at the mess he'd made of the shower wall. He takes one of the wrappings out of his hair – he was so preoccupied he forgot to even remove them – and uses that to wipe it off. He'd just throw it out afterward, he has plenty to spare. There is just no way he could continue wearing the remnants of what he'd just done.

But at least now that he's gotten it out of his system, he can forget about that image properly. At his age, this was just something he had to take care of sometimes. He wasn't wrong for it.

And she would forgive him even if she knew, anyway… She'd said it herself, that he wasn't the worst option. She had laughed it off before, she would do it again.

This wasn't a bad thing that he'd done. It was just… all of it, an accident.

Tomorrow, he will be normal again. His thoughts clear, attention focused where it's actually meant to be.

He will be normal. And they will just be classmates again.

He turns back into the shower spray, and tries hard to ignore his disappointment.

#ns.fw #jjk #kamo noritoshi #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #slurp #jjk scenarios #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi kamo x reader #I swear I haven't abandoned this blog #I still check notifs and stuff #request are closed but people do occasionally send requests in there. I just am unable to fulfill them in a timely manner #no promises on that #I've moved from undergrad to post-grad education so I'm even busier than when I first started this blog #but I'd like to start posting here more casually again #maybe once every couple weeks or something manageable like that #I do write a lot but it's OC stuff that I'm not interested in posting #this is the first one where I was like “yeah I could make this work for the blog”#anyway. tl;dr would love to return but we will see how motivation/time works out for me with this #i need to make a JJK masterpost just for this. yikes

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cosmiclily · 4 months ago

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chapter nine: the edge

wc: 2.8k

notes: next chapter will be the interview that i mentioned a couple of chapters ago!!! pls send some questions to our fellow rock stars

Apparently, sex was, in fact, a fantastic creative exercise—or at the very least, an excellent incentive for spitting out lyrics. Once you figured that out, the entire process of choosing lyrics, organizing tracks, and brainstorming ideas became a hell of a lot easier.

Writer’s block? Fixed with Vi’s hands gripping your hips, her mouth marking a trail down your stomach.

Frustrated over a melody that wouldn’t click? Easily solved by the way she pressed you into the mattress and pulled sounds from your lips sweeter than any song you’d ever written.

Tension from long hours in the studio? Well… she had a very effective method of dealing with that.

Of course, you weren’t oblivious. You knew exactly what Vi was doing—using you as a distraction, a way to keep from drowning in whatever emotions those songs dragged back up. You knew she was using you to not think about her. Caitlyn.

But when Vi held you like that, when her fingers tangled in your hair, when she bit down on your neck just enough to make you shiver, when she touched you exactly the way you needed to be touched? None of that mattered. Not even a little.

And, honestly? It was a great way to de-stress.

The long nights spent cramped in the studio became more bearable when you knew you could go home and have Vi all to yourself.

It was like having a place where the weight of the world could just melt away. You got to pull her closer, scratch, bite, and touch every inch of her as if she was yours to do with as you pleased.

And the memories were almost addictive. Every time the pressure of the studio, the deadlines, or a fight with someone built up, you could close your eyes and retreat to your happy place.

“We’re almost finished here,” Archie said, barely looking up from his tablet. “Mark was talking to me about promotions, interviews, appearances—the whole deal. So clear your schedules.”

You sat back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied sigh. For the first time in months, the studio didn’t feel like a pressure cooker. No one was snapping at each other out of frustration, no one was sulking over failed ideas, and—most importantly—no one was on the verge of throwing their instruments against the wall.

The hard part was finally done.

You’d recorded a couple of solid tracks, and almost every song you wanted for the album was ready. The weight that had been crushing your shoulders for months had finally eased, letting you breathe a little easier.

“Finally,” Jinx groaned, throwing herself onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “If I had to listen to one more version of that last chorus, I think I’d start hearing it in my dreams.”

Ekko smirked, tuning his bass idly. “You say that like you don’t already.”

Jinx pointed a finger at him without lifting her head. “Shut it, time boy.”

Vi chuckled from her spot by the drum set, twirling a drumstick between her fingers. “Admit it—you’re gonna miss all this once we’re done.”

Jinx peeked up at her with a lazy grin. “I’ll miss driving you crazy. That part was fun.”

You shook your head, laughing, before glancing back at Archie. “So, what’s next?”

Archie scrolled through his tablet before giving you all a pointed look. “Now? We get ready to *sell* this thing. That means promo shoots, interviews, maybe even a live session or two.” He narrowed his eyes. “So, try not to look half-dead for the cameras, alright?”

You snorted. “No promises.”

“Great. Love the enthusiasm,” Archie deadpanned before turning back to his notes. “Now, let’s talk deadlines…”

He turned his tablet to us, displaying his calendar.

“This month, we’ll be finishing the recording, and the producers will take care of the rest. Next week, we want to shoot some pictures for the cover and also do some introductions for your channel—you know, fan stuff,” he rushed through, glancing up at us, his finger hovering over the screen. “And we want to do an interview, answering questions from your fans, and some general stuff.”

He continued explaining the calendar details, but you couldn’t help but notice the way everyone else’s faces seemed to blur into confusion. You weren’t the only one who was a little lost in the whirlwind of the plans. With everything that had been happening in the studio lately, the reality of the promotion process felt like a whole new beast to tackle. The recording was one thing, but now there were public appearances, live sessions, photo shoots, and interviews to manage too.

Vi, sensing the shared hesitation, shot you a quick, silent look across the room, one brow arched in that familiar, unspoken question. Is this what we’re really getting into?

You couldn’t help but grin and shrug. “Fan stuff, huh? Sounds… fun.”

Jinx leaned back in her chair with a loud groan. “Wait, wait, hold up. So now we’re gonna have to look good for the cameras too?” She ran a hand through her messy hair. “I mean, sure, we look good, but I’m not exactly camera ready.”

Ekko chuckled, clearly amused. “Jinx, I think the camera is going to need a lot more than a filter to handle you.”

Jinx shot him a glare. “If you’re trying to be funny, it’s not working.”

Archie’s face was a mixture of professional concern and barely-contained amusement. “Look, I know this is a lot, but we’ve been working for this moment. The album’s almost ready, and now we need to give people a taste of what’s coming. You want them to care, right? Then we have to make them care.”

Vi, ever the voice of reason, raised her hand, leaning forward to address the group. “We’ve been locked in here for months. It’s time to show the world what we’ve been working on. Let’s just get it over with, yeah?”

There was a brief silence, followed by murmurs of agreement. Everyone seemed to acknowledge the inevitable.

“Alright,” you said with a deep breath, sitting up straighter, “let’s just get this done. We’ve made it this far.”

Archie nodded, satisfied. “Good. So, here’s the schedule for the next two weeks. Let’s get moving on it.” He handed out the specific tasks and assignments, detailing each member’s role in the upcoming photo shoots, interviews, and other appearances.

As he wrapped things up, the room fell into a quiet hum of anticipation. This was the next phase—one where the music wasn’t the only thing that mattered anymore.

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You were paired off in twos to film a short introduction video for yourselves and the album—Vi and you, and Ekko with Jinx. Archie gave you the freedom to choose where you wanted to film and what you could talk about (as long as you stuck to the schedule, of course).

Vi suggested filming at your place, claiming “the plants give off a nice vibe.” You didn’t argue—if it made things easier, you were all for it. So, to your apartment you went.

As you both stepped inside, Vi kicked off her boots near the door while you tossed your keys onto the table, the familiar clatter echoing in the quiet space. The apartment felt weirdly calm compared to the chaotic energy of the studio. But now came the hard part—figuring out what the hell to do for this video.

“So, what do you think we should do?” Vi asked, her voice casual as she wandered over to your living room, eyeing the plants like they’d give her the answer.

You trailed behind her, chewing on the inside of your cheek. What could you film that would actually reflect your energy without coming off as too much… or, worse, boring?

“Honestly? I’ve got no clue.” You flopped onto the couch, sighing. “Ekko and Jinx are doing some painting session or whatever since they’ve got that in common. But us?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “What do we do? Besides, you know…” You trailed off with a smirk, your mind flashing back to Vi's very creative methods of stress relief.

Vi chuckled, flopping down beside you and tossing her legs over your lap. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s exactly the vibe Archie’s looking for.” She shot you a teasing grin. “Though I’m sure it’d get us a hell of a lot of views.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, not trying to get us banned off every platform before the album even drops.”

Vi leaned back, staring at the ceiling in thought. “Okay, so… no painting, no X-rated content.” She tapped her fingers against the couch rhythmically. “What about something simple? Like us just talking about the songs, the process, you know?”

You made a face. “That sounds kinda… stiff. Everyone’s gonna do that. I mean, sure, we talk about the songs, but there’s gotta be something more us in it.”

Vi was quiet for a second before her eyes lit up. “What if we do something more casual? Like, we’re just hanging out, talking shit, maybe playing some old tracks and reacting to them?” She grinned, nudging your shoulder. “You know, let people see the real us—chaotic mess and all.”

You laughed, the idea settling in your mind. That actually sounded like fun. “Alright, yeah. I like that. Maybe we can even throw in some behind-the-scenes clips? Like the time Jinx nearly set the mic on fire?”

Vi burst out laughing. “Or when Ekko tripped over his own bass cable and tried to play it off like nothing happened?”

The two of you were already in stitches, the tension from earlier melting away. This felt right—natural, fun, and totally you.

“Okay,” you said, standing up and grabbing your phone. “Let’s set this up before we lose the vibe. You grab the speaker, I’ll get the camera.”

Vi gave you a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

In no time, your makeshift filming set was ready. You grabbed some snacks, adjusted the lighting just enough to look effortless, and set the camera to start recording.

You both introduced yourselves, diving into the story of how the band came together. It felt natural, almost like reminiscing with an old friend rather than filming something for fans.

“At first, it was just the two of us,” Vi said, pointing between the two of you with a grin. “We were messing around, trying to figure out our sound. Then my younger sister decided to be extremely annoying while we practiced—always yapping about how two people weren’t a real band. Eventually, she dragged Ekko into this mess, and, well… here we are.”

You laughed, the memory still vivid. “Oh, I definitely remember the first time Jinx quite literally dragged him into that old room at school—the one we used for practice. She barged in, shouting about how Ekko had a garage we could use, and how she had all these brilliant ideas.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah! I remember that. Poor Benzo looked so displeased with a bunch of teenagers making a racket in the back of his shop. I’m pretty sure he aged ten years in that first month alone.”

You both laughed, the camera kept rolling, but for a moment, it didn’t even feel like it was there.

As Vi continued talking about the process of creating the album—how the songs and lyrics meant so much to all of you—your mind began to wander. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful she looked, sitting there comfortably, her voice steady and confident as she spoke to the camera. The black hair dye had almost completely faded from her hair, leaving the natural pink vibrant and bright against her skin. Her hair had grown out a bit, just enough that it curled slightly at the ends, and you found yourself fighting the urge to reach out and drag your fingers through those soft, messy locks.

Your eyes traced the freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way they bridged her nose, delicate and familiar. And her eyes—God, her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about, like the music, like this. It was the kind of sparkle that pulled you in, made you want to listen to her forever, just to keep that light alive.

It was almost like…

Oh.

No, no, no, no.

You were not catching feelings. That was impossible. This was supposed to be casual—just fun. You both knew that from the start. So what the fuck were you thinking?

Panic tightened in your chest, a cold, sharp edge to the realization sinking in. You were spiraling, and you barely registered Vi’s voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Hey,” she said, her brows furrowed, concern softening her features. “You good? Do you want to take a break?”

You blinked, trying to pull yourself out of the fog. “Huh? Sorry, what was the question?”

She tilted her head, studying you carefully. “Do you need a break? You look kinda out of it.”

Your heart was still racing, but you forced a tight smile. “Yeah, that would be great.” You stood up from the couch, barely meeting her eyes as you made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once inside, you shut the door behind you and leaned heavily against the sink, gripping its edges like it could anchor you to reality. Your reflection stared back, wide-eyed and flushed, like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

This is NOT happening. You mentally shouted at yourself, trying to shake the feeling off. *You’ve known her for years. The moment you start sleeping with her is the moment you catch feelings? Seriously?*

You turned on the tap, splashing cold water onto your face, hoping the chill would snap you out of it, wash away the thoughts clinging to your mind. But as the water dripped from your chin, pooling at the edges of the sink, the tightness in your chest remained.

Staring at your reflection, you whispered under your breath, “Get it together.”

But no matter how many times you repeated it, the weight of what you were feeling didn’t budge.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. The moment you did, you saw Vi in the living room, methodically packing up the filming equipment. The casual ease with which she moved, like this was just another normal day, only made the knot in your chest tighten.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice sounding steadier than you felt.

Vi glanced up, pausing as she turned off the camera. “I think we’ve got enough material for today—maybe even the whole video,” she said, her tone light but tinged with something softer, more careful. “I can see you’re tired. I’ll come over tomorrow, and we can go through the footage, see what we can use. For now, you should rest.”

Her words were simple, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips wasn’t. It wasn’t just the usual smirk or playful grin—it was something else. Genuine concern. And that look … it hit you like a sucker punch.

Because all you could think about was how easy it would be to want this every day. To have her not just in fleeting moments, not just in casual touches or hurried nights. But fully. Completely. The idea burrowed itself deeper into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts like vines.

“Yeah,” you forced out, your voice quieter than before. “That sounds good.”

Vi gave you one last glance, like she wanted to say something more, but instead, she just nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder before heading for the door. The soft click of it shutting behind her echoed louder than it should have.

And then it was just you. Alone.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty room, expecting some sense of relief to wash over you. But it didn’t. If anything, the silence made it worse.

You should’ve been able to crash the moment she left, but sleep was the last thing your body wanted. You were confused, frustrated—mad at yourself, mad at her, for making you feel this way. Your body felt heavy, physically exhausted, but your mind was running on overdrive, replaying every glance, every touch, every word she’d said.

You sank onto the couch, rubbing your hands over your face.

You’d told yourself from the start—this was supposed to be casual.Just a way to blow off steam, nothing more. But somewhere along the way, those lines had blurred, and now you didn’t know how to pull yourself back from the edge.

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masterlist - chapter ten

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh @baylegend6 @nomarksonelegance @antobooh @80saturn

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi arcane #arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes

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