#mans was fighting back the tears with his life

[tonkatsubowl]

misdemeanor.

▼ sunday x fem!reader

▼ yandere themes. triggering themes. nsfw themes. mdni.

▼ you got kidnapped. (since idk sunday's moveset or anything i just pulled something out of my ass)

sunday's reputation was well-known. his face was everywhere, and the knowledge that he was one of the family's greatest members was, well... well-known. because of this, you were given your own reputation, too, for being constantly seen by his side at all costs.

the family was known to harbor an immense amount of money, and there were rumors that if you stole a certain amount of money digitally, you'd wake up from the dreamscape and have that money in your account still. but was that possible? to steal something from the dreamscape and wake up with it?

...but digitally? would that actually happen?

some people chose to fuck around and find out.

unfortunately, you were the chosen victim for this crime.

the one time you weren't by sunday's side, life decided to choose you of all people to be... toyed with.

you were wandering through the streets of penacony by yourself. you wanted to admire the scenes of the night sky, and enjoy the festivities that occurred throughout the festive night. women, children, men and their families spent time together, giggling and laughing harmoniously as they gathered around, enjoying the moment of happiness that they shared together. you were enjoying the sight itself, but you recalled there was a hidden view here somewhere that a certain individual took a certain trailblazer to... and you wanted to check it out.

as you were making your way towards the area, you didn't realize you were being followed by a couple of a few criminals. you were humming one of robin's songs to yourself, only to find your voice was completely concealed behind the discomfort of a cloth, rendering your inability to breathe for a moment. you inhaled, smelling unfamiliar chemicals, forcing your body to relax. you immediately knew something was happening to you, but you tried to fight it back for a moment, but the sedatives were already forcing you to fall...

so you did. you collapsed to the hard ground, visiting the blackest night.

once you woke up, you were tied up, duct tape over your mouth. your eyes frantically traveled everywhere, panic now infesting the rest of your body. where were you? who took you? the immediate realization that you were kidnapped strucked you, and you were silently panicking.

you were trying to calm down, but the sedatives were making you feel sick. you felt tired, and you didn't feel strong enough to even move that well, either.

"she's finally awake."

an unfamiliar voice boomed to the side, and your head turns towards the direction. an unfamiliar face, several men. you felt your heart drop, faced with the reality of many possibilities. what do they want? are they going to kill you?

"hey there, pretty girl." one of the unfamiliar men took hold of your face, observing you.

"that's really (y/n)?" one says.

"is this even a good idea? the family is everywhere." another says.

"it's easy, boys. we just ask her for the money." another says.

"yeah, yeah. so, we'll remove the tape from your face and you start speakin'." the guy who held your face said.

he ripped off the tape of your face, causing your eyes to tear themselves up due to the pain you endured for a good moment.

"now talk—"

collecting up some saliva, you decided to spit at the man who spoke to you. you didn't say anything, but that enough should tell him 'no'.

he chuckled, wiping his face off with disgust. "you wanna get dirty, huh? we won't ask again; we want your money. it's easy. just give us one million credits and we'll let you go."

you didn't say anything. in truth, you were ultimately terrified. your body shook with distress and exhaustion, and you wanted to vomit. you looked around frantically, seeing that you were in a room, somewhere. a dark room, maybe in a building with little sunlight. but you had to get out of here.

you tried to wiggle out of the ropes that held you, but you couldn't. they were too knotted, and you were unable to do anything. you began to panic, but you tried to calm down at the same time.

"... not gonna say anything, huh?" he grinned, before taking out what appeared to be a handgun.

your eyes widen, your hands trembling. was this how you were going to die? then, you were pistol-whipped to the face, granting you to suffer from a cut and a bruise. streams of blood traveled from your injury and to your chin, dripping. you breathed, your breaths shakey. he lifted his hand again, and just right before anything could happen, the men froze. they were silent, unable to move. each individual was struck by a glowing blade from behind which materialized from nothing. they all grunted in pain, blood spurting from their injuries.

"what the-!? what's going on—!?"

from the door next to you, sunday opened the door and walked in, hands behind his back. they froze, ultimately accepting their defeat knowing that the checkmate had walked into the building. sunday's eyes rested on you, anger already apparent in his gaze. he walks over to you calmly, noting your injuries... which only infuriated him more.

"normally, those who 'die' in this dreamscape don't really die in reality, " sunday began to speak, untying your ropes, catching your body as it fell. you were in a panic, unable to move, unable to speak. you were shaking so bad, sunday could feel you vibrate against his frame, "for crimes like this, normally, you'd go to prison for it. but i'll make an exception for prison."

he lifts you up, your eyes softening at your lover. but you were too tired, and that was when sunday looked at you, turning his back to the culprits, saving you the scene of a brutal event. his eyes took steady of you for a moment, as though he was forcing you to sleep, to save you from the screams of their deaths.

"... i'll just have you all die, and wiped from reality."

your world goes to black once more, carried away by your lover, as the culprits who dared touch you would meet their ends. insufferably so, not given quick deaths.

you wake again to find yourself in an infirmary, where robin was asleep with a tear-stained face, resting her ahead atop of your body. you were dazed, tired, and you were patched up by the family's medical team. sunday was gazing outside the window, and the moment he heard you stir awake, his gaze softens, approaching you quietly.

"(y/n), you're awake." he whispered, careful not to wake robin. "how are you feeling?"

that was when you began to sob, your heart racing. "i'm... i'm okay, i'm... i'm just scared." you were terrified, even now, but you knew you were in safe hands.

sunday knelt by your bedside, brushing his hand atop of your hand. his gaze so gentle, his touch and everything was so gentle, you felt your body ease up. he leans over, pressing his lips against your injury, then your lips.

"you're okay, now. please, do not leave my side from now on, (y/n). something like this could occur again."

you nod slowly. you knew that full well that you would have to glue yourself to sunday's side, and if you had to leave, well... it'd have to be his approval.

"robin was worried sick about you. she was here all day sobbing, wishing for you to wake immediately. would you like anything to eat or drink? i'll have someone bring it to you."

god, you really were hungry. now that the adrenaline died down, you were wanting something now.

"... has robin eaten anything yet?" you asked.

sunday shook his head.

"let's get her something too. i would like..."

[goodnightoilcountry]

Fic Rec List

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

i will aim to update this weekly with new additions have NEW tagged next to it. additionally, if any fics become archived / deleted i will also tag it as such.

p.s. all summaries have been written by the authors themselves.

* updated thursday 18 april 2024 *

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

ANAHEIM DUCKS

better man (trevor zegras) by @starry-hughes summary: even though trevor wasn't good for you, you can't help but miss him sometimes.

hard to forget (trevor zegras) by @hockey-fics summary: you had a history with trevor but it was a history you had worked hard to forget. but forgetting it becomes even harder when a new person finds their way into the middle. word count: 11.8k

something about the sunshine (trevor zegras) by @huggybug word count: 3k

last night in anaheim (trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey word count: 2.3k

CAROLINA CANES

do i really have to tell you (brady skjei) by @senditcolton summary: do i really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life? word count: 6.7k

this is how it ends (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive summary: not every chapter ends in happily every after word count: 6.4k

i could love you with my eyes closed (sebastian aho) by @matthewtkachuk summary: sebastian doesn't like your boyfriend - he's forgetful, stands you up, and doesn't know a thing about you. When will you see that he's the right guy to figure you out? word count: 4k

finish line (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive summary: a resolution where all parties are happy. word count: 4.1k

lover boy (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov summary: hockey is a violent sport, one based on luck yet also talent, and most never escape unscathed. you learned that lesson too early, and haven't quite been the same ever since. then seth jarvis comes along, tearing down your hardened walls with ease, and, suddenly… you don't feel so alone anymore. word count: 9.7k

being bold (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov summary: seth has a crush on you. a bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to seth’s advances. word count: 7.4k

9PM in Vancouver (andrei svechnikov) by @thewintersoldierdisaster summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal word count: 7k

in five (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov summary: something hurt/comfort where the reader is comforting svech when he finds out he has have to surgery, and helping him through the recovery process. word count: 6.7k

COLORADO AVS

summers back home (nathan mackinnon) by @happer08

crushes with beefcake (nathan mackinnon) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes summary: josh has some questions and nate jumps at the opportunity to tell a little story of his own word count: 5.9k

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace (nathan mackinnon) by @mattyanonwrites summary: y/n & nate have been fighting for weeks, will they survive the great war or will they bury their love in a shallow grave? word count: +2.4k

monday morning (nathan mackinnon) by @matthewtkachuk summary: the boys win the Stanley Cup and you end up in bed with one of them word count: 1.2k

colorado (for the first time) (nathan mackinnon) by @withwritersblock summary: Y/N returns to Denver after her breakup with Nate word count: 3.9k

FLORIDA PANTHERS

subtle (matthew tkachuk) by @hockey-hoe-24-7 word count: 3.1k

you say you hate me (matthew tkachuk) by @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys summary: four times you were forced to spend time with Matthew plus one time you chose to. word count: 7.2k

all for you (4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and one time matty did it for you): pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (matthew tkachuk) by @comphersjost summary: finally fed up with pining over your best friend from afar, you enlist the help of matthew to help you get the guy - you’re just not really sure who the guy is anymore. or: 4 times you tried to tell brady you loved him, and the one time matty told him for you.

4 times you fake a relationship + 1 time you didn't (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy word count: 17.2k

4 times you didn;t find the one + 1 time you did (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy summary: 11.3k

homecoming (matthew tkachuk) by @doc-pickles summary: five times matthew came home to you from a roadie

NEW JERSEY DEVS

gin, tonic, and tequila shots (jack hughes) by @hockey-fics summary: you really didn’t think you could expect much from a relationship that started with nothing more than hooking up. but as the occurrences become more and more frequent your feelings become more and more involved in something that you were sure could only end in heartbreak. word count: 5.5k

stay the night (jack hughes) by @eyesthatroll summary: loosely based of of this prompt: "one character thinks their relationship is a fling, the other thinks its destiny" but not really because i kind of strayed away from that completely. word count: 1k

everybody wants you, but i don't like a gold rush (jack hughes) by @sunkissed-zegras summary: y/n had always been in love with jack since she was a kid, but he had always chosen everyone else but her. word count: 10.7k

invisible string (luke hughes) by @hugshughes summary: luke had been one of your closest friends since childhood. somehow, everything in both of your lives just came back to each other. word count: 3.8k

tidal wave (luke hughes) by @babydollmarauders summary: in which Mark’s girlfriend and his best friend have a secret. word count: 6.6k

drops of jupiter: pt 1 & pt 2 (jack hughes) by @youunravelme summary: being friends with your ex wasn’t the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, breaking up with him took that slot.

breakable heaven series: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanide summary: a summer getaway to the coast unravels more secrets than you’re comfortable sharing; namely, the love you’ve harbored for your best friend’s older brother for nearly five years. based loosely on cruel summer by taylor swift.

hey, i can be your boyfriend (nico hischier) by @theemporium summary: when in desperate need for a date to your friend's wedding, the last person you expected to step up was nico hischier. then again, he didn't step up as much as he was thrown into the mess by jack. word count: 11.6k

second best (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanideA summary: secretly pining over someone is never fun—even less so when they’re your childhood best friend, and dating someone else.

my heart's racing, and it isn't the exercise (luke hughes) by @sunnyskiesscareme summary: luke hughes has a gym crush, and his brother wants a sister in law

head start (jack hughes) by @youunravelme summary: you’ve had a crush on the middle hughes brother for as long as you can remember. and really, why wouldn’t you? he’s everything. so why would he ever fall for you?

first rule of fight club (jack hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter summary: what's the number one rule when playing on a sports team? don't fall for your teammate's sister. has jack hughes ever been good at following rules? no, no he has not.

valentines (nico hischier) by @hischierdevils summary: nico questions your relationship on valentine’s day word count: 1.3k

reaching out (jack hughes) by @bedsyandco summary: 3 times jack wanted to reach out after the breakup + 1 time he did word count: 1.16k

clumsy (jack hughes) by @babydollmarauders summary: quinn and luke realize how clumsy y/n is after noticing how often jack unconsciously keeps her from harm

a walk down memory lane (jack hughes) by @letsgetrowdy43 summary: jack having to witness the love of his life getting engaged

lover of mine (nico hischier) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes word count: 21k

you're not the one (nico hischier) by @ladylooch summary: what if you and Nico met in NYC through friends in common since you have a very nice job there, and after spending a lot of time together and being flirty Nico asks you to be his gf but you say no, not because you don’t like him but because he is a pro athlete, and that doesn’t mean he’ll cheat but the fact that he’ll have to be away almost all of the time. word count: 3.7k

moth to a flame (jack hughes & trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey word count: 2.9k

when the party's finally over: pt 1 & pt2 (jack hughes) by @itsjusthockey

NEW YORK ISLANDERS

five times everyone knew mat loved you & the one time mat realized himself (mathew barzal) by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 word count: 11.8k

bad luck charm (mathew barzal) by @matwith1t summary: the four times you watch mat lose a hockey game, and the one time you watch him win // 4+1 word count: 11.3k

show you (mathew barzal) by @islesnucks summary: after hearing something he shouldn't have Mat is set on proving he is serious about dating you word count: 7.2k

to all the girls you've loved before: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6 (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

the word wing-woman (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme summary: you've been in love with mat barzal for as long as you can remember, so what do you do when he asks for your help to win over your friend?

this is how you fall in love (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme summary: when confronted with the idea of going home without a date, you lie and say you have a boyfriend. which would be fine, except you haven't dated anyone seriously in a year. so instead of facing the ridicule of your family, you ask mat. word count: 18.9k

it's nice to have a friend (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme summary: wherever mat went, you were never too far behind or the one where you are childhood besties

we've come so far baby (mathew barzal) by @mendeshoney word count: 15.4k

TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS

cause i'm not ready (auston matthews) by @misshoneyimhome summary: jealous!auston; Austonxreader;

3 times people asked you if you an auston were together + 1 time you finally are? (auston matthews) by @bedsyandco word count: 1.2k

we're parents? like actually parents? (auston matthews) by @austonwithan-o

moth to a flame (auston matthews ft mitch marner) by @marnerparty

VANCOUVER CANUCKS

lucky (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs summary: in which quinn counts his lucky stars.  word count: 20k

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did (quinn hughes) by @mrsensitive summary: a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer.

5 times Quinn wanted to kiss you + 1 time he finally did (quinn hughes) by @bedsyandco

friend's don't (quinn highes) by @hischierdevils summary: everyone can see that you and quinn are more than friends. everyone except the two of you. word count: 2.4k

third time's the charm (quinn hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter summary: in which quinn hates parties, yet keeps throwing them in hopes you'll show up.

fearless (quinn hughes) by @theemporium summary: the five times you tried to deny it, and the one time you and quinn gave into the bond pulling you together word count: 8.3k

plus one (quinn hughes) by @bagopucks word count: 4.6k

growing up is (quinn hughes) by @adoristsposts summary: in which quinn has a hard time coming to terms with the road your relationship has taken

[oomiya]

HIS HEART BEATS FOR. gojo satoru x reader

summary: when a series of events–and an unfortunate miscommunication courtesy of nobara–sends you spiraling down an unknown path with your oldest friend, how else are you supposed to handle it with panic? then again, maybe if you knew, and if satoru knew, that you were running out of time, you would've handled everything a little bit differently. too bad hindsight is 20/20.

warnings: heavy angst, major character death, spoilers, mentions of blood/slight violence, smut (minors do not interact), unprotected sex, car sex, cursing, fem reader (she/her pronouns), possible slight canon inaccuracies, miscommunications, this does not have a happy ending #sorry

word count: 9.1k

a/n: my first fic back on tumblr ! this is kinda not great, goes from 0 to 100 real quick cause i have no patience, and is a little bit all over the place but oh well. all the love <3

It left a bitter taste on your tongue.

The look on his face–strained, tight around his eyes with a loose grin that looked too forced to really be his–caused a flighty, anxious feeling to crawl in your chest. It filled you unforgivingly, carving out any extra space and constricting your heart until you swore it wouldn’t be able to beat anymore. 

Your response–or, you suppose, your lack of one–caused the man in front of you to scoff derisively. His fingers tightened on the back of the couch, and if you hadn’t been fighting the thoughts swarming in your head and the multitude of uncomfortable feelings from eviscerating your bleeding heart, maybe you would have seen how he squeezed until his knuckles turned white. 

“If you can’t figure it out by now, then–geez, I don’t know–then I guess I don’t have anything else to say.”

You hated yourself for not having anything to say. Or, you did have things to say–fuck, you wanted to simultaneously smack a palm upside his head like you did when you were teenagers and pull the back of his neck until your lips met in a frantic, terrifying kiss–but all the words that could have led you there turned to ash in your mouth. 

“I–I don’t–” You hated yourself for stuttering, but the ash suddenly turned to a thick, heady cement glued to your tongue. So, you shook your head, took a deep breath. Anything to shake the choking feeling that suffocated you. 

But you took too long. Your silence was all he needed–all he needed to misunderstand. A look of shocked hurt crossed his face–that easy but not-so-truthful grin faltering–and all you could do was hang your head and squeeze your eyes shut as the tears prickled like tiny thorns in the corners of your lashes and the cement coagulated so much that you swore you could taste it. 

This was for the best, this was for the best, this was for the best–

Gojo Satoru turned away from you, and if you knew you didn’t have more time, you might’ve stopped him. If you knew he was going to leave, and you were going to die, maybe you would’ve been able to speak. 

It’s for the best, for the best, this was for the best.

He stopped in your doorway, lingered in it uncomfortably with a hand held restlessly against the wall. He turned his head slightly to speak to you but barely looked at your eyes. 

“‘M not gonna say sorry,” he stated, voice quieter than usual. Like all the humor had been sucked out of his life. 

You swallowed thickly, no longer fighting the tears as they fell in fat streaks down your cheeks, and refused to look at him. You think that if you did, you might not have the strength to hold your ground. 

After all, you weren’t as strong as him. 

Without another word, you watched from the corner of your eye as Satoru faltered–pausing with his lips parted as if he had more he wanted to say–but then he firmly closed his mouth, his hand left your doorframe, and he left your apartment. 

He never came back, and you would never see Gojo Satoru again.

But a few weeks previously, you were feeling a bit less tragic. 

Satoru was, too, apparently, as he grinned at you from your position on the ground. All you could do was glare in return, irrationally peeved at the way his height towered over you as he stood; you felt a strong urge to punch his shadow. 

“You callin’ it?” your insufferable ass of a friend asks, and you finally manage to gather yourself and your dignity off the grass. 

“Maybe,” you huff, rubbing your palms roughly against your pants to rid them of dirt and grass. The rain from the previous evening left the ground damp; you consider yourself lucky that all the mud puddles had already dried–you’re sure Satoru wouldn’t have hesitated if there was a brackish puddle near your vicinity. 

“Mmm–” he clicked his tongue, “–Need a better answer than that, sweetheart.”

You let out a scoff of laughter at the not-so-endearing term. “You know I hate when you call me that,” you reminded him. Leaning down, you brushed your hands down your legs to rid the fabric of any creases formed from the intense training session. 

You’d never give Satoru the satisfaction of letting him know that he beat your ass–and probably would tomorrow, too.

“Why d’ya think I keep calling you that?” the aforementioned object of your ire grinned, smug.

Satisfied with your work–and almost entirely convinced that you were once again rendered presentable–you stood again, hands on your hips as you appraised the tall man. “That’s rude.”

Satoru replied without missing a beat. “Nah, that’s just me. But hey–we still on for food tonight?” 

“Always. And unfortunately for me, I think I’m stuck with you,” you sigh, not bothering to look back at him as you turn away, starting the trek back to the main campus building. While Satoru didn’t practice with the full force of his limitless, he still insisted on training you far away from his younger students. 

If you thought too long about that, it causes a painful prick to embed itself in your heart. 

“Damn right, you are,” Satoru states, hands shoved in his black pants pockets. He fishes around for a second–you narrow your gaze at him, distrustful–before he pulls out a wrapped cherry-flavored sucker. Ah, the taste of artificial corn syrup and starch.

“Begrudgingly, mind you,” you state.

“If you say so.” Satoru pops the sucker into his mouth and falls in step with you, matching your pace as he has for years. 

Your gaze drifts to his feet, and that painful splinter shoves itself further inside. 

You swallow thickly–as if that could help tamp down the surge of affection you feel for him. “I do,” you shrug; then, to take your mind off that uncomfortable feeling that’s making itself much more comfortable in your chest, you ask, “So, how are the kiddos?”

“Nothin’ but troublemakers,” he says, voice now a bit muffled around the sweet treat, and the laugh he lets out betrays any true meaning behind his words. “Think they’re giving me a few white hairs. Look–” Satoru points to his ruffled hair– pushed up by that black blindfold you occasionally want to pull down–with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Oh, he makes jokes. How cute,” you tease, voice lilting in amusement. “But hey–they’re your troublemakers.”

“Ha–that’s what I tell people about you,” Satoru replies.

“Funny,” you respond flatly. “But seriously, how are they?” 

“They’re good, I think,” he replies thoughtfully, head tilted towards the sky as if admiring the still-gray clouds. You find yourself thinking that you wouldn’t be all that surprised if he could see through that blindfold. 

You walk in still silence for a moment, but the pensive look causing a downturn of Satoru’s mouth, coupled with the hints from his previous statement, fills you with apprehension. You feel yourself tense when he sighs, head falling from the sky to look at you.

At least, that’s what you assume. But even through the eye-covering, you swear you can feel his piercing gaze unwaveringly on you. 

“You know,” he draws out the word, and you bite your lip anxiously at his tone, “they could be your kiddos, too.”

You try not to pay too much attention to the current subject, instead trying to let it simply roll off your shoulders. “Oh, I know. You never let me forget it.”

But Satoru is used to this. “‘Cause you never give me an answer I like,” he retorts. 

You can’t hold back the groan from falling from your mouth. “Satoru,” you grit out. “Are we really having this argument again?” 

The man beside you shrugs, kicking a stray rock in your direction. Despite the vague sense of annoyance you now feel, you stop the rock with the side of your foot easily before kicking it back to Satoru. Maybe using a bit more force than necessary. 

This topic has often been one of contention between you and Satoru. Unbeknownst to you, the man has always believed that the school could become even more invaluable if you were a teacher among its ranks. He’s been trying to recruit you for years–ever since he became a teacher and you moved on to pursue your passions. You don’t know where your hesitance to teach comes from–maybe it’s not even hesitance to teach, but instead, the love you have for the work you’re doing in your current field. Whatever it is, your answer to Satoru has never changed.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t feel a bit of guilt every time he asks. 

“Doesn’t have to be an argument. Could be an agreement, instead,” Satoru attempts to convince you, and just when you start to feel a trace of remorse for how quickly you turned him down—again–he murmurs under his breath, “if only someone wasn’t so hard-headed.” 

Indignation flattens that remorse.

“Me?” you point to yourself, brows raised in disbelief. “I’m the stubborn one? Are you really the one to be dishing it, Gojo?” 

At the sudden use of his last name, Satoru visibly shrinks back. After years of friendship, your use of any name that isn’t his first habitually strikes fear in him–the feeling not unlike receiving a scolding when he was a child.

“You know that’s not how I meant it,” he attempts to explain his poor judgment.

“Satoru, you know I love my job too much. Plus, I just don’t think I’m cut out to teach like you are. Or like how you think I am.” But you relent, wordlessly accepting his hidden apology. 

Not that you were ever really upset about that, anyways. 

Satoru easily semi-changed the subject. He never really was one to back down. “Ah, I knew it! You think I’m a great teacher. Now, if you could just relay that opinion to Megumi somehow–”

“I think we’ve already established that you’re a funny guy, and we can both agree that I’m great, right? But I’m no miracle worker. Sorry ‘Toru,”

The slight tension from before eases away just like that, faster than it came, and an immense feeling of gratitude for your friend sits on your tongue. You look up at Satoru, an awkward ‘thanks’ hanging in the air between you. 

As if sensing how you’re torn–firm in your resolution to not give in to him, yet feeling bad all the same–Satoru softens, nudging your arm with his. No words are needed. 

“I’d feel hurt if I wasn’t still annoyed about the whole teaching thing. But, in all realness, you know the kids love you–”

“Well, that’s a given. Everyone loves me,” you remind him flatly. 

“Yes, especially me. Which is why I would only tell you this–I need your help,” his sudden seriousness, something that is far-and-few-between with him, immediately makes you curious. 

“You’ve got my attention,” you tell him seriously, knocking your elbow against his. He quickly returns the gesture, making something twist in your heart. 

He pauses as if taking a steadying breath. “I think you’d do great stuff here. And I could use the extra help. I wanna do right by these kids, even though I don’t make it obvious sometimes,” Satoru implores, and you can hear the unmistakable earnestness in his tone. It’s only apparent to those who truly know him and those for whom he allows most of his walls down. Gojo Satoru is a mysterious person, sometimes seeming inscrutable to outsiders. 

You pride yourself as one of the few people who truly knows him. 

“Satoru, you literally let the new first years take care of an unregistered special grade a few months ago,” you joke, recalling how Nobara and Yuuji returned from that abandoned warehouse a little worse for wear. But Nobara and Yuuji took everything in stride and were bickering as if they’d been friends for years. You knew Satoru had been proud. 

The man in question merely waves his hand, as if ridding the air of the subject. “You know that practical shit is how they learn–it’s how we learned,” he justifies, and a small part of you can’t help but to agree with him. “But I will admit that you just made my point. With everything going on lately…I don’t know. I have a bad feeling. I could use the extra hands.” 

You hesitate. You can’t help it–you’ve always had a weak spot regarding Gojo Satoru. “Have you even asked Yaga about this? I don’t know, Satoru…” you trail off, unable to find the right words.

“Let me handle Yaga,” Satoru reassures you. “Just promise me you’ll think about it?” 

You pause, thinking about it seriously for a moment. In that time, you can see how Satoru grows impatient, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet beside you. All you can do is groan. 

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you raise a finger, as if trying to halt Satoru’s excitement from bursting. “But just think about it. I’m not promising anything.” 

His grin becomes all-encompassing and almost all-consuming. You can’t help but be drawn to it, just like your heart can’t help but skip a beat at the joy that exudes from the tall man from a mere sentence. 

“Ah, I’m not worried. I’m sure I’ll be able to convince you,” Satoru states, now standing tall with his shoulders back. He’s clearly pleased with himself, and you can’t help but laugh a bit. 

“Satoru, did you hear what I just said?” you ask, but you can’t help the amusement decorating your tone. 

“I heard. I’m just choosing to be optimistic.”

“‘Optimistic’. Is that what the kids call delusional these days?” you ask, a finger poised on your chin in thought. 

You see Satoru’s cogs turning as he tries to quickly think of a response, but just as he opens his mouth to quip back, the two of you are pleasantly interrupted. 

“Who are we calling delusional?” Megumi asks as the group of first years pops up from behind you. You turn around to greet them with a genuine smile, and Nobara gleefully exclaims your name.

The younger girl happily pulls you in for a hug, and you immediately return it. 

“Your teacher over there,” you explain to them, moving your head to look around Nobara at the other two in her group. You nod to Satoru, who immediately rolls his eyes. 

“Well, we already do that,” Megumi states listlessly. This causes your friend to jump in to defend himself, and Yuuji quickly joins him. 

 You turn your attention to Nobara, who’s pulling away and ushering you away from the boys. 

“They’re too loud. Like, all the time. Or–Yuuji is,” she explains, sighing frustratedly. “I wish I had been in your class. Or, that there were at least a few other girls with me. I can’t handle those two all on my own sometimes.”

You can’t help the warmth you feel at her words, nostalgia ricocheting you back to your school days. The fond memories of your classmates are ones you cherish–spending warm spring days hiding from the sun under a large tree, Shoko and Utahime occasionally bickering affectionately before Shoko tapped on the other girl’s head with her knuckles, lounging as ‘Toru and Suguru got into some type of trouble–

And the thought of your other classmate–the lost one, the boy with long black hair he often kept tied up except on the days that he didn’t–is what grounds you back in the present. 

While your smile is still genuine, the remembrance of him causes it to feel a bit more forced. 

“Well, it wasn’t always as great as you’re imagining,” you explain to Nobara softly, moving your hand to gently ruffle her hair. “Plus–you have Maki. Doesn’t matter all that much that she’s a grade above you.”

She gently swats your hand away, but you’re relieved to see her still smiling. You remember how difficult it was to sometimes corral Satoru and Suguru. 

As if a brilliant thought just entered her mind, Nobara’s eyes went wide with mirth. The look wasn’t unlike that of Yuuji’s–or even Satoru’s–mischievousness. 

Brows furrowed, you hastily tried to intercept her thoughts, glancing up briefly to see how Yuuji is keeping Megumi and Satoru occupied with some kind of story. 

“What’s that look for?” you ask as you look back at Nobara, only a little bit wary. 

She grasps your hands conspiratorially, barely containing her giddiness. “So…how’s the guy?”

Nobara wiggles her brows–as if begging you to let her in on a secret–and the realization comes flooding in. 

“Practically nonexistent,” you tell her, but the younger girl doesn’t let you off the hook that easily. 

Her brows furrow like she’s frustrated, or maybe about to scold you, and her hold on your hands turns firm. “What do you mean? Oh, don’t tell me–” she starts, eyes widening almost comically in realization. “Did the date go bad?” 

At the word ‘date,’ you practically watch as Satoru’s head jerks to face the two of you. However, before he can ask, someone else beats him to it.

“Date?” Yuuji asks, his attention swiveling to you, too. “You had a date?” 

Megumi intercepts by knocking Yuuji on his head. “That’s none of your business, Itadori.”

“What?” Yuuji looks at Megumi, his features akin to appallment. “Nobara’s the one who brought it up,” he grumbles.

“That’s because I’m closer to her than you two dimwits are,” Nobara states, pointing to the two of you. 

The following ensuing argument pulls Nobara’s attention away from you; but you’re not fooled. You know you can only escape her and her relentless questions for so long. 

“I didn’t know you had a date.” 

Sometime during the few seconds you were mindlessly distracted, Satoru apparently sidled up next to you. He’s warm despite the overcast day, and you can feel it as he accidentally brushes his arm against yours. 

Your wishful thinking has you hoping that, maybe, it wasn’t an accident. 

And you wouldn’t know until later, but you were right. 

Brushing off the unbidden thoughts, you cross your arms and watch as the young students continue to bicker. “Are you asking a question?” you ask, refusing to look at Satoru. 

He doesn’t hold the same notion. You can tell he’s looking at you–can practically feel his gaze on your face. You do your best to ignore it. 

“Why didn’t I know you had a date?” he asks instead, and if you were paying more attention, you might’ve caught the slightly irritated twinge in his voice. 

You make a noncommittal sound. “You didn’t ask.” 

“Don’t act like that,” he says.

“Like what?” 

“Like how you’re acting.”

“Satoru,” you groan, feeling your resolve chip away with his needling. “‘Cause there was nothing to tell! It was a guy from work, and we had a date, and that was the end of it–” 

“But what happened?” Nobara says your name, suddenly cutting it. “You were really excited about it. Remember–you were talking to Shoko about it that one morning?”

You remember, all right. You’d been hopeful and filled with a little bit of anticipation for the date–a cute guy who’d been flirting with you for a few months at work. He was sweet, and boyish, with glasses and light curly hair that was sometimes a bit messy. You can’t deny that you didn’t like the attention at least a little bit, so when he asked you to dinner one day, leaning across your desk with a sheepish, kind of shy, grin, you couldn’t help but accept. 

The next day, after trying and failing to find Satoru, you ran into Shoko in the hallways of the school. Being one of your oldest friends–outside of ‘Toru–and after being unable to find the man, you spilled all the details to her. 

Shoko listened dutifully, one hand on her hip as she listened to your jumbled nerves that kept spilling out. Then, the one grievance. 

But what about Satoru?

This caused Shoko to raise a brow, not condescendingly. “What about him?” she asked. 

You were thoroughly stopped in your tracks. She had a point–what about him? Where did that even come from? Of course, you had some idea–the steadily growing feelings of something had been ever-present and ever-annoying, but in the previous few months, they’d gotten worse. They’d been taking root, pushing aside any sort of logic or reason that told you that falling for your closest friend was a bad idea–the worst, actually. 

But you did your best to ignore them, and you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t falling. 

“Sorry–nothing,” you shook your head–like you were shaking the thoughts off. 

Shoko looked at you disbelievingly. “You sure about that?” she asked, clearly skeptical. “Because that sounds like a shitty excuse if I’ve ever heard one.”

Her words stayed with you, and later, you’d learned that Nobara had caught wind of the first part of your conversation with Shoko–the part where you’d been slightly gushing and airing all your nerves about the date to the older woman. 

You’re eternally grateful Nobara had chosen to apparently slink away before catching the tail end of the discussion. 

You shoot Nobara a glare. “You’re not helping,” you tell her, but she grins triumphantly. 

“C’mon! I’m just trying to help you get a cute guy,” she states before offhandedly muttering, “One of us should.” 

You wave your hands in an attempt to dispel the sudden miscommunication. Beside you, Satoru was stiff.

“I had a date; it was fine, end of the story,” you state clearly, looking at Nobara pointedly. 

But your apparent firmness on the topic does nothing to stop the ever-curious girl. “Was it not good? Oh! Has he not texted you back?”

“Nobara!” you exclaim in disbelief, eyes wide at her insistence. 

“What?” she shrugs. “From what I heard, it sounded like you really liked the guy.” 

“All right!” Satoru announces out of the blue, clapping his hands to gather his students’ attention. You gratefully allow him to take over. “Don’t you guys have class soon?”

“Shoot!” Yuuji exclaims, hooking an arm through Megumi’s and pulling him forward. “Thanks! See you guys later!” 

Megumi jerks out of Yuuji’s grasp and turns back around to wave. Nobara joins them, albeit trailing behind a bit, offering a doleful goodbye. 

As they leave, you smile and offer a wave. Satoru still stands beside you, but you can tell that something is a little off. He’s more tense than usual, and his usual grin is absent. 

You furrow your brows, but before you can ask if anything’s the matter, Satoru rounds on you, a slight grin hanging from his lips. 

“So, we still on for dinner?” he asks, his vaguely strange behavior from earlier having disappeared almost entirely. 

Almost. 

With a belated nod, you take in his face. But Satoru betrays nothing. 

“Sure,” you reaffirm, doing your best to forget Satoru’s minuscule change in demeanor. 

You don’t. 

If karma exists, you’re being hit with it in full force.

The evening came faster than you expected it to. You barely had enough time to return home, clean up, subsequently get yourself cleaned up, and grab your wallet before Satoru was waltzing through your apartment door like this was his second home. 

Though to be fair, it kind of is. 

The drive to the restaurant–yours and Satoru’s favorite place–felt short, and any traces of Satoru’s previously strange behavior had all but vanished. Instead, your typical, satisfied friend sat in the drivers seat. 

Then, you arrived. At first, everything appeared normally. You were seated at your favorite table, started sipping on your drink, and stole bits of Satoru’s food when he acted like he wasn’t looking. 

But then, after nearly choking when Satoru made a dumb joke, you caught sight of a vaguely familiar head of messy blonde curls. 

Eyes narrowing, you move in your seat to get a better look at the familiar stranger. Then, you groan, because the head of light curls was most definitely not a stranger. 

“Oh, fuck me,” you groan, dropping your gaze and cradling your head in your hand. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t be entirely against it,” Satoru jokes, using his chopsticks to jab a piece of meat into his mouth. 

You shoot him a scathing look, but your eyes widen when you realize that the waitress just so happened to sit your ex-date directly in your line of sight. And, therefore, place you directly in his line of sight. “Come on,” you groan.

“What? Sorry, I was only mostly joking about that other thing,” the man across from you replies, entirely unaware of your current plight. 

You hastily reach for your bag, eyeing Satoru firmly, and you state, “Hurry up–we have to go.”

Satoru’s brows furrow. “What? No. You’re not even done eating,” he points to your plate with his chopsticks. 

“Satoru!” you urge, not having the energy to go through the trials this morning and your awkward first-and-only date caused. You can’t help how your gaze suddenly splits to your ex-date across the room, hoping he hasn’t seen you. 

However, you quickly come to find that he isn’t the one you should be worried about.

Satoru easily picks up on your rising panic, and with a brow raised in question, he turns to look over his shoulder at the object of your worry. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots. 

“Huh. That him?” Satoru asks, accidentally knocking his elbow against the table as he turns back around. He winces before leaning down to capture his drink’s straw between his lips. 

“Wha–well…” you huff, doing your best to keep your head down to essentially hide behind Satoru. 

He looks at you over his sunglasses–weirdo wears sunglasses even indoors, at night, you think offhandedly–thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Cute,” Satoru states simply, voice only slightly on edge. 

He stretches his long legs under the table, and you nearly jump when his knee accidentally brushes against yours. 

“Exactly. So we need to leave. Please?” you plead with him, not having nerly enough patience to handle Satoru’s antics right now. 

A strange look passes over Satoru’s face, but it’s gone faster than you can decipher. 

“Or…” Satoru draws the word out, and a strangely foreboding feeling runs across your nerves. “We could stay. Make him jealous.”

If you had anything in your mouth, you would have promptly spit it out. 

“What?” you ask, entirely dumbfounded. All you can do is stare at your friend, who’s looking almost too pleased with himself. 

“What? Bad idea?” he asks with a slight frown. 

“Uh, you think?” are the first words that instinctually come out of your mouth. 

However, the more you think about it…

That budding emotion that’s been steadily rising in you for months rears its head again, and you find that when you go to shoot down Satoru’s suggestion, your mouth is suddenly dry. Flirting with Satoru…even the thought makes your heart crash against your chest, and you feel much too warm despite the restaurant’s air conditioning vent on the opposite wall. Of course, that’s supposing that’s what Satoru is implying. If not, well, you just made an entire fool of yourself. 

“Ah, c’mon. You’re no fun,” Satoru stretches again, but this time, when his knee accidentally brushes against you, a flare of something fills you, and you curiously wonder if it was actually an accident. 

You cough out a nervous laugh and reach for your drink. “No, I can be fun,” you suggest, but an undertone of something else makes its way into your voice. 

Of course, Satoru being Satoru, he easily catches on. Something in his eyes shifts–you can see it as he continues peering at you from over his frames–and a tingly feeling starts in your fingertips at the look. 

He still hasn’t moved his knee. Surprisingly–or maybe not so surprisingly–you don’t really want him to. 

Satoru’s eyes never leave yours–piercing with some kind of question in them that you can’t entirely discern yet. It’s something familiar yet wholly unfamiliar as you watch it cross your friend’s face; familiar in that you’ve seen it before but never on Satoru’s face. Then, he swallows thickly, throat bobbing as if trying to push down a feeling that threatens to rise up on his features, and you suddenly know what that look is.

Affection, want. Desire. 

“You can?” Satoru asks, and while you’d previously felt like you’d been frozen to your seat, the heaviness of his words is coated in a sweet, titillating warmth filled with possibilities that warm you through and through. 

No longer worried about your ex-date seeing you, you break your gaze with Satoru. “Maybe,” you say, and your nerves cause only a slight tremble to your voice. “You’ve just never seen it.”

Satoru takes the bait. Or, maybe he was waiting for it all along. “Maybe I want to.”

Oh, his words cause an instant heat to rush through you, and anything outside your booth is suddenly drowned out. It’s like a haze has settled over you both, turning your brain into a vibrating mess of nothing but Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. It suddenly feels a bit harder to breathe, and you vaguely wonder how things have changed this rapidly. How the words and intentions between you and one of your oldest friends quickly went from cordial and friendly to being filled with unanswered questions and staggering but undeniable attraction.

But, you think, maybe that’s where you’re wrong. These feelings you have didn’t appear in the past ten minutes. You’ve felt them for a while, but for a million reasons that don’t seem like reason enough anymore, you can’t shake them. 

And you don’t think you want to. 

As you think about your words, you sip your drink again, wet condensation filling the spots between your fingers. It seems like Satoru is leaving the metaphorical ball in your court–endlessly selfless even if he often hides it behind lighthearted words and joking actions. And that reminder makes you feel endlessly grateful for him. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, and a million questions lie within that one phrase. Is Satoru sure he knows what he’s implying–what you’re implying? Does he mean it, and if he does, is he certain of it? You feel like lightning is zipping through your veins, alighting every nerve you have. 

Under the table, Satoru’s knee bounces a bit–almost like he’s nervous–and then you suddenly realize that he is. A surge of affection fills your heart and your chest, making you feel every kind of warmth that exists. 

“Yeah,” is all Satoru says, and you think it’s all that he needs to say. 

Your heartbeat is in your throat when you reply. “Maybe I want you to, too.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Satoru to have you on his lap in his car, lips hot and insistent on yours as he kisses you breathlessly, hungrily. One hand–large and slightly calloused–rests on your hip, and the realization that he’s touching you and kissing you and it feels so right almost causes you to forget how to breathe. All you can do is kiss him back, mouth opening in surprise at the feel of his hot tongue dragging against your bottom lip. 

Satoru groans against you–a low, gravely sound–and it immediately has you pressing closer, greedily taking all of the affection he offers you. He’s everywhere–one hand pressing against your hip so hard that his fingertips turn pale, the other hand brushing against your face, throat, the back of your neck to pull you even closer. All you can smell is the deep, masculine scent that is simply Satoru, and it is merely one out of five hundred things at the moment that make you feel dizzy–like you might collapse in his hold if he wasn’t holding onto you so sweetly, so firmly. 

Like he couldn’t bear to let you go. 

“S-Satoru,” you say against his lips, voice breathy and pitched higher than usual. A sweet, seductive sound that Satoru has never heard before that, if you weren’t mistaken, causes him to suddenly tense with arousal against you. 

“Say it again,” Satoru nips against your bottom lip, pulling away only slightly to stare at your swollen lips, chest heavily panting. The sunglasses are long discarded–tossed haphazardly in the passenger's seat, and the sight of his eyes blown out and demanding is something that causes pleasure to pool heavy in your gut. 

Your eyes dart between his, chests meeting as the both of you pant into the limited space separating you. His breath is hot as it fans across your face, and you can’t help but lean down to press your lips against his once more. 

“Satoru,” you murmur, lips brushing against his. 

The hunger that flashes across his features is something you think you’ll dream about forever. 

The next few minutes pass by in a pleasure-filled blur. You don’t remember who moved first, but soon, your pants are discarded carelessly–just as Satoru’s sunglasses were–and his are shoved down his legs. You’re grinding against his pretty, hard cock, pressing your clit against the flushed head every time you rock your hips back down, and Satoru’s hand is up your shirt, pressing your bra up, until your breasts are free and he can grope them. The sight is enough to have you moaning again, seeing the man underneath you flushed with swollen lips and his hand squeezing the fat of your chest. 

“Fuck, they’re so nice. So pretty,” Satoru says quietly–almost like he’s not even talking to you–before leaning down and mouthing along your nipple. A gasp gets caught in your throat at the feeling of his soft lips wrapping around your breast, nerves feeling as if they’re standing on end as, at the same time, his fingers press between your legs to swipe against your clit. 

“Oh–shit,” you curse at the feeling of pleasure, winding taut and tight as Satoru continues touching you, unraveling you for him. 

“Mmm, I never hear you swear,” Satoru grins against your skin, tongue darting out to taste your nipple. He blows on the spit then, and it’s enough to have goosebumps crawling across your skin, and you can’t help but arch against him. “It’s cute.” 

Even with his hand shoved between your bodies and fingers pressed tight to your clit, his cock hard and throbbing with every little gasp you let out, Satoru still manages to get under your skin in the best way possible. 

Gritting your teeth, you pull away to glare at him, making him release your breast from his mouth. “Satoru,” you nearly groan, unable to stop from grinding against his hand as one, then two, fingers easily press inside you. 

“Hm?” he hums under his breath, a slight grin tugging at his lips. 

“Are you going to fuck me, or keep teasing the both of us?” You ask, raising a brow and pressing a hand to his chest. 

For a moment, other than the two fingers he keeps crooked inside you, easily pressing up, up until he’s massaging against that sweet spot inside you, Satoru pauses. His grin is bright, excited, slightly cocky, and he keeps slowly opening you up, making you lose nearly all sense of reason as his cock throbs against your inner thigh. It appears as though he might’ve said something, but the way you rest, poised above him, cunt all soft and wet and ready for him, your hands on his body, Satoru sinks against his chair with a sigh. 

“Wish I could take my time with you,” Satoru says quietly, fingers pushing inside your cunt then pulling out to rub your own slick against your clit. The sensation almost has you keening, and you have to bite your lip to prevent an embarrassing sound from falling past your lips. 

“Another time,” you say, not entirely thinking what those words could mean. 

Satoru’s breath visibly hitches at your words, and it’s easy to help him adjust so that you’re hovering over his heavy cock, hot and warm in your grasp, before you sink down on him with hardly any resistance.

“Fuck–” Satoru grounds out, head falling against his seat at the feeling of you dropping your hips to take all of him. You’re in no better shape, hands moving to press against his chest as Satoru’s cock presses into you–deep, deeper than you could’ve imagined–and you hastily grind against his lap to feel the heavier weight of him inside you. 

“Oh–” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as you circle your hips again in an effort to feel him nudging against that spot inside you again. 

“F-fuck–don’t do that–shit–won’t last long,” Satoru hisses through his teeth, large palms soothing over your back to press against you. He pulls you closer, deeper against his hips, and the new angle has his cock feeling even bigger and heavier inside you. 

“Can’t help it,” you reply, your hand turning into a fist against his shoulder, and you slowly lift off him. It doesn’t take long for you to set a steady rhythm–rising off his cock before pressing back down, circling your hips and grinding against him to feel how the head of his cock nudges that spot inside you that has you clenching and moaning his name. 

“Well, help it,” Satoru nearly seethes, and when his hips rise up to meet you, all you can do is gasp out his name and take the pleasure he gives you. 

“I’ll do my best,” you tell him, but the words feel airy and meaningless when Satoru begins rubbing your clit again, causing that coil to tighten even more. 

“Not gonna last long like this,” Satoru groans, hand tightening on your hip as he fucks up into you. Your cunt feels hot and wet, taking his cock in over and over with his every thrust up into your heat. 

Embarrassingly, you find yourself agreeing with Satoru. The sight of the man quickly unraveling beneath you–thighs tense, cock disappearing between your thighs every time you sink down on him, his hands held tight and secure on your waist to keep you on him, and pale hair unruly–it itches a pleasure-filled part of your brain and causes your tongue to feel heavy in your mouth. 

“That’s okay,” you tell him, hand moving to cup the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours. Satoru obliges quickly, moaning against your open-mouthed kiss. He never stops pressing against your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as you rock yourself over his cock. Moaning, you undulate your hips, aching to feel even more of him, to feel him even deeper. Satoru seems to like this, his grip on you bruising and tight every time he presses his hips back up against your own, chasing a release you know is close by the way his eyes fall shut, and his groin tightens. 

“Did you mean it?” he suddenly asks, mumbling against your lips, holding your body tight against his. 

“Mean what?” you return, lashes fluttering and a sound of pleasure caught in the back of your throat as he swipes two long fingers against you. You rock back down against him, circle your hips at the same time he pushes tight inside you, and you’re so close to that edge, feel like you might fall over it at any second–

“‘Another time’? Did you mean it?” Satoru asks against your mouth, cock thrusting inside you at just the right angle, fingers pressing deliciously against your clit until you fall over that edge, pleasure clouding your brain and causing you to stiffen up as you fuck him through your high. 

Satoru quickly follows, joining you in the deep abyss of pleasure as your tight cunt milks him for all he’s worth, massaging the head of his cock between your slick heat, your moans as you tremble against him something he swears he’ll hear ringing in his ears for years. 

Neither of you fully comes down until a few seconds later, Satoru’s hands slightly shaking as he cups your cheek and pulls you in for one last kiss. You lean against him, enjoying the aftershocks of pleasure as they course through you, and it’s only then that you remember his question. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, a bit of something akin to shyness seeping into your tone. You swallow at the sudden turn of events–shit, this whole evening is going to give you whiplash, you think. 

With his forehead pressed to yours, Satoru’s eyes dart across your face–searching for something. You don’t know if he finds it. 

“Okay. That’s okay,” he starts, but stops himself before he can finish his thought. He hesitates, and you raise a brow in question. “There doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to mean anything–not if we don’t want it to.”

And there, in the head of Satoru’s car and his embrace, you suddenly feel chilled to the bone. The urge to run far, far away urges you to move–you want to move, you want to go home and crawl under your covers and consider the implications of your’s and Satoru’s actions, of his words. 

Shit–of your words. 

What held more weight? Your actions or your words? 

Fuck. You love him. 

You feel wholly embarrassed; embarrassed by your feelings, by your actions, by agreeing to this thinking that Satoru felt the same. Or maybe he does feel the same and you’re too busy reveling in what just happened and everything that didn’t happen to fully take everything in. All you feel is the sharp shame of regret and foolishness because even if he didn’t mean what he said, he still said it, which still hurt. It makes you question yourself, your feelings, and your fucking actions. You want to say something, to ask for clarity. To admit your feelings and tell him that you want it to happen again, and again, and again. 

But in the end, you allow the cold to seep through you, replacing the bright warmth that previously filled you. And the words left unspoken fill your heart like a thick, painful dread. 

“Hey–you okay? Come back to me.” Satoru furrows his brows, hand cupping your cheek. So, you give him a pained, forced smile, and look at him again. 

“I’m okay,” you reply. You could say more–admit your feelings, tell him everything you want to hear. But the fear overwhelms you in its finality. 

Instead, you say nothing, a heavy, dreadful weight filling the once blissful space between you. 

You can’t shake the feeling of cold.  

The next couple of weeks are strange. 

Now fully aware of the extent of your feelings for Satoru, you do your very best to avoid him. Maybe if you hadn’t had sex in his car, or come to a realization about your feelings, or if any of the things that had happened hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t feel the need to avoid him. 

But they did, so you did. 

In fact, you’d been doing a pretty successful job of doing so up until the night of the 29th. Earlier that day, it’d been chilly outside, a reminder of the seasons changing from summer to fall, from fall to winter. As soon as you got home–after another successful day of dodging Satoru’s texts and calls–you hopped into the shower, changed into warm pajamas, and wrapped yourself in a blanket, fully prepared to spend another night wallowing in all the mistakes you’d made. 

However, that was before rapid knocking on the door pulled you from your thoughts, alerting you that the night might go differently than you would have liked. 

With a sigh, you stand, allowing the plush blanket you’d grabbed to fall from your lap. You have an aching feeling you might know who’s behind the door, and when you open it mid-rap, a hand poised just about to know, your assumptions are confirmed. 

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” Satoru says, and you note how his jaw looks tense. 

“Me neither,” you admit. 

You move back to allow Satoru to enter–something he’s done millions of times before. 

So why does this time feel different?

“You’ve been avoiding me.” A statement. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you can reply with. 

Satoru shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” he states, and when he looks at you, you could swear there’s almost something pleading in his gaze. 

“But I do–”

“No, you don’t. I’m the last person you’d ever need to apologize to.”

Confusion fills you, wraps around you almost like dread. 

“I don’t think I know what you mean, Satoru,” you say slowly, because the words you’re looking for aren’t making themselves known as quickly as you’d like. 

As if sensing your beginning discomfort, Satoru braces a hand on the back of your couch. “Don’t you think we should talk about what happened? Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” His underlying meaning is there, but not spoken: about you.

“I just don’t know what to say,” you say, pressing against your middle finger until it begins to hurt. “If you won’t let me apologize, then I don’t know what else to say.” 

Hurt makes itself present on Satoru’s face, almost like he’s shocked at how detached your words are. 

“Well, I could think of about a hundred,” he retorts, and the sudden harsh edge behind his words almost makes you wince. 

“I just don’t think there’s anything else to say.” A lie. You have a million things to say, but you’re afraid of Satoru’s previous words. 

This doesn’t have to mean anything. 

But you want it to. And amidst your confusion–the balance between what you want and the fear of changing the comfortable, of Satoru’s rejection, of the unknown–is what holds you back. 

The fear of changing everything causes you to stand still in silence. 

The air between you is tense, and the irony of the situation is not lost on you. A few weeks ago, the air between you was tense, too, but filled with a different kind of anticipation and affection. 

Now, it’s just cold. 

“Really? Not even about how we had sex? And how I’m pretty sure both of us felt something that’s been making you avoid me for the past few weeks?” 

You’re starting to feel like you might be a flight risk. Satoru’s words are uncomfortable to hear, but they’re true. Yet, the fear that wraps itself around you until you feel like you’re bound is solid and unrelenting. You think this is for the best. 

“If I wanted to say something, then I would have,” you tell him, doing your best to hold your ground. 

You find that it’s incredibly difficult. 

“Are you sure? Because I think you’re lying.” 

His words are like a shock to your system, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

The look on his face–strained, tight around his eyes with a loose grin that looks too forced to really be his–causes that flighty, anxious feeling crawling in your chest to heighten. It fills you unforgivingly, carving out any extra space and constricting your heart until you swear it won’t be able to beat anymore. 

Your response–or, you suppose, your lack of one–causes Satoru to scoff derisively. That’s not like him–you think. He must be becoming more and more frustrated with you.

You don’t blame him. 

“I don’t know what you’re asking me, Satoru. Or what you want from me. You told me it doesn’t have to matter, right? That’s what you said,” you accuse, doing your best to form some kind of coherent sentence in the mass of things you can say. 

His fingers tighten on the back of the couch, and if you hadn’t been fighting the thoughts swarming in your head and the multitude of uncomfortable feelings from eviscerating your bleeding heart, maybe you would have seen how he squeezes until his knuckles turn white. 

“If you can’t figure it out by now, then—geez, I don’t know–then I guess I don’t have anything else to say.”

You almost gasp at his words and hate yourself for not having anything to say. Or, you do have things to say–fuck, you want to simultaneously smack a palm upside his head like you did when you were teenagers and pull the back of his neck until your lips met in a frantic, terrifying kiss–but all the words that could have led you there turn to ash in your mouth. 

Fear is a horribly terrifying thing. 

“I–I don’t–” You wish you didn’t stutter, but the ash suddenly turns to a thick, heady cement that glues your tongue. So, you shake your head, take a deep breath. Anything to shake the choking feeling that suffocates you. 

But you took too long. Your silence is all he needs–all he needs to misunderstand. A look of shocked hurt crosses his face–that easy but not-so-truthful grin faltering–and all you can do was hang your head and squeeze your eyes shut as the tears prickled like tiny thorns in the corners of your lashes and the cement coagulated so much that you swear you could taste it. 

This was for the best, this was for the best, this was for the best–

Gojo Satoru turned away from you, and if you knew you didn’t have more time, you might’ve stopped him. If you knew he was going to leave, and you were going to die soon, maybe you would’ve been able to speak. 

It’s for the best, for the best, this was for the best.

He stops in your doorway, lingers in it uncomfortably with a hand held restlessly against the wall. He turns his head slightly to speak to you, but barely looks at your eyes. 

“‘M not gonna say sorry,” he states, voice quieter than normal, but still firm. Like all the humor has been sucked out of it. 

You swallow thickly, no longer fighting the tears as they fall in fat streaks down your cheeks, and refuse to look at him. You think that if you do, you might not have the strength to hold your ground. 

After all, you aren’t as strong as him. 

Without another word, you watch from the corner of your eye as Satoru falters–pausing with his lips parted as if he has more he wants to say–maybe something that could put your mind at ease, something like I love you–but then he firmly closes his mouth, his hand leaves your doorframe, and he leaves your apartment. 

As soon as the door is shut with a decisive click, you cover your mouth with your hand, and you sob. 

He never comes back, and you would never see Gojo Satoru again.

On the night of October 31st, just a few days later, Shibuya is cold. 

This is something that feels strange to you as you lie on the chilled, cracked concrete ground beneath you. You’ve lost feeling in your fingers, your toes, and it feels like something heavy is sitting on your chest, restricting your breathing in a way that’s vaguely concerning. All your medical training fails you, but you remember that loss of feeling is never a good sign. 

Shibuya is never cold. 

It’s a place that’s constantly full of people and therefore warmth and life. Bustling with the noise of strangers who will never meet and never know each other’s stories, of loud chatter and cars driving to whatever destination they need. 

Now, the only people in Shibuya are your fellow sorcerers, and curses are milling about in spaces where people should be. And the only life in the area is that of depleting life. Of people dead and dying. Of the blood pooling around you from a fatal strike you can no longer remember the origin of. 

At least that’s warm, you think. 

Everything starts to get dizzy, almost like a mixed feeling of vertigo and déjà vu. It’s concerning, but you feel so tired, and all you want is to feel warm again. 

So you sink into the feeling, sink into the warmth staining the cracked concrete, the red coating your clothes that you’ll never have to worry about getting out. 

Finally, you think about Satoru. Distantly, you think about that fear you had just a few days ago, and you wonder how much of it really mattered. 

You love him. 

Your last thought is of Satoru, and you hope he’s alright. 

Satoru feels numb. 

Well, that’s not entirely true. He wishes he felt numb. He feels everything, actually–and what’s the aftermath of feeling everything? 

Numbness. 

He couldn’t get to you in time.

Now, locked in the Prison Realm, Satoru supposes he has all the time in the world to think about you–to think about everything he could’ve done, should’ve done. 

Instead, he had to watch as you died, as he was powerless to help you. The grief rips him to shreds, and another sob he didn’t know he had rises hot and heavy in his throat. It burns, the pain of losing you, and Satoru has the childish urge to kick something, punch something, to let out all the anger and anguish that threatens to consume and overwhelm him as a reminder that there was nothing that he could do. 

So Satoru sits, and he thinks about how much he loves you, about everything you lost. His throat becomes raw, but he keeps crying anyway, even when he’s sure his eyes are rimmed with a redness that won’t dissipate for days. 

Not that he would be able to see, anyways. After all, he was locked away. 

Keen on punishing himself, a thought strikes his brain in the most painful way, but Satoru has no energy left to fight it. 

He’s the strongest, yet he’s never been able to protect any of the people closest to him. 

Satoru thinks about that night–the night when he could finally hold you as if you were his, if only for a little bit. The soft smile on your lips, the way you let him kiss you, how it felt to shower you in his affections without fear. 

He wonders about if you ever really thought about his offer. The one where he offered you a teaching position. You said you would think about it. Had you? Had you decided on teaching, on helping him? Or were you just appeasing your best friend's antics?

You would've made a great teacher. He's always thought so.

He loves you–loved you, he supposes, in light of recent events–yet the last memory he left you was one filled with hurt and despair. 

Satoru thought he felt numb, but that was only wishful thinking, just as the idea that you’ll be okay, that Shoko or someone will get to you in time.

But Satoru is no fool. 

He sits, simultaneously feeling numb and everything all at once, and he doesn’t have any strength to fight them off. 

All he can think of is you, and the tears begin to fall again. 

[pennyellee]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings (preview only): minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, incision wound, blood, suicide attempt, strong language, mentions of God, ...

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 583

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: well, yall, life is getting in my way, it's certainly keeping me from finishing this chapter, but it shouldn't be that long before I actually do. I wanted to drop a little preview before the sacred day I was born, which is tomorrow, 1-2-3 birthday depression. Enjoy the preview and stay tuned for the chapter. I'll be also answering some asks tomorrow, yes, i see them, and i love you all so so so so much, I just have very little of free time lately. See ya soon! lots of love, p. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡🫧

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII

Time seemed to slow as Yoongi lunged forward, reaching out to stop her, but it was too late. The blade sliced through her skin, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as pain seared through her, her vision swimming with darkness. She felt Yoongi’s hands on her, his panicked voice calling out to her, but it was distant as if coming from a faraway place.

“Seokjin?!!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

He cradled her in his arms, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

The sound of loud footsteps echoed in the corridor as others rushed forward to reach the doctor, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. But amidst the chaos, Y/N’s empty gaze remained fixed on Yoongi, her eyes still burning with flames.

“Stay with me, baby. Don’t leave me please.” Yoongi whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He pressed his lips to her forehead, willing her to hold on, to fight for her life.

But as he looked down at her pale, lifeless face, he knew that the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges. For now, all he could do was pray that she would survive, that she would find the strength to forgive him and that they would someday find their way back to each other.

“Please don’t take her away from me, my Lord.”

Yoongi prayed that it was not too late to save her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

One thing remained clear in Yoongi’s mind: he would do whatever it took to save her, to make amends for the pain he had caused, and to prove to her that his love was worth fighting for.

Yoongi’s voice cut through the turmoil, his words a desperate plea for forgiveness. He begged for her to forgive him, to give him another chance to make things right. No more secrets, no more lies. No more pain. He was willing to rebuild their relationship from the ground up, on a foundation of honesty and trust.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the tang of fear, thickening the air with a palpable sense of impending doom. He ripped one of his sleeves a while ago, pressing the roughly crimpled fabric to the wound, praying that Seokjin was near. Or did anyone hear him scream frantically enough to relay the message?

“You can’t leave me, baby, please. I promise we’ll work everything through.”

He kissed and caressed her hair with his free hand which was covered with her blood. Tears blurred his vision as his hand trembled at the sight. A blood he never wished to shed.

“Please, Y/N, you have to forgive me.” The weight of his actions pressed down on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with the weight of his mistakes.

“Fucking goddammit Yoongi!”

—

Y/N set the plates on the table, pouring the hot water into a kettle of green tea as he joined her at the table. They exchanged smiles, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the kitchen and the windows providing a magnificent view of the sea.

“I’ve been thinking,-” she said with a smile on her face while she set the seaweed salad down in front of him. He hummed in response, reading today’s paper.

“About opening my practice.” He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

“Thought you wanted to wait until the babe arrives?”

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

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[syrupfog]

Ahhhhh. Soulmates AU where Sanji has built his whole life around the fact that somewhere out there he has a soulmate. 

Like, it’s the only thing that kept him going, kept him moving forward. An entire childhood of being told by his siblings, by his father, that he’s unloveable—

And the only proof he has, after his mum’s gone, is that somewhere out there is someone who’s DESTINED to love him. The universe has SWORN it. 

Even when he’s getting bruised and bloodied and told he’s worthless from the siblings who have all the love of their father.

Even when he spends his days in a dungeon, the light filtering in from the high window barely visible through his iron helmet, alone and cold. 

Even when he’s slowly dying from starvation, stranded on a rock. 

The one truth Sanji knows is that he has someone who loves him.

He spends his time at the Baratie flirting with anything that moves, but is thoroughly aware underneath it all that he’s worthless. That’s been drilled into him since birth. 

If he’s able to make a woman happy for a moment, then he will, but that’s not for his own sake.

He feels confident, having had years to think on it, that there is one single person in the world who CAN love him. And Sanji feels sorry for them, because he knows he doesn’t deserve that love, but all the same he selfishly looks forward to finding them.

And then— he meets him. 

It’s everything the books — and his mum — described it as. The world bursting into colour, the feeling of RIGHTNESS slotting into place. The man (that’s surprising) has green hair and three earrings and three swords and it feels like fate. It IS fate.

And then the man — Zoro — green hair and three earrings and the only thing Sanji has ever wanted, the person he’s centred his whole life around — he tells Sanji that he doesn’t believe in soulmates. Doesn’t want the universe to be in charge of his own destiny.

And Sanji breaks. 

He— doesn’t know what to do with his life now. He joins the crew because Luffy asks, because the only thing he clings to right now is that SOMEONE wants him. But. 

Zoro doesn’t. 

His soulmate. 

The only one MEANT for him. 

And what does that say about Sanji?

He hates Zoro. HATES. 

He fights him at every chance. Wages war with words and kicks. 

He’s drowning inside. Unmoored. The knowledge that he’s entirely unloveable is a burden too great to bear. 

They sail onward and Sanji cooks and fights and cooks and fights and drowns.

Something shifts at Thriller Bark. 

Sanji’s there when Zoro attempts to sacrifice himself. And Sanji HATES him for it. He hates him because in all this time traveling together, try as he might, hate him as much as he does, Sanji’s never been able to stop loving him.

And if anyone’s going to die for this fucking crew, it’s going to be the one who’s so worthless he cant even have a soulmate who loves him back. 

He knocks Zoro out of the way, faces Kuma head on. 

The pain in his side a moment later feels like the Baratie betrayal all over again

Later, on the ship keeping vigil at Zoro’s bedside, he waits until Chopper’s gone and then weeps, face red and blotchy, ugly loud wails as he falls apart, staining the sheets with tears and snot. It should’ve been him. 

He doesn’t stop until a hand wraps around his wrist.

“Cook,” Zoro says, voice painfully rough. “Why the fuck— did you do that?” 

Sanji tries to hide his tears, replace them with that familiar anger. “What?” he asks. “Try to keep you alive?” 

“No,” says Zoro. “Fucking— sacrifice yourself.” 

Sanji frowns. “I’m the best option.”

Zoro, injured as he is, gapes at him. “You’re the cook,” he says. “We need you.” 

Sanji tries to pull his wrist from Zoro grasp. “You need a cook,” he says. “You can find another.” 

“You’re crew,” Zoro says. 

“You can FIND. ANOTHER.” Sanji grits.

“No, we CAN’T,” Zoro yells, grip tightening. 

“You already THREW ME AWAY!” Sanji screams. 

Zoro’s fingers go slack and Sanji gets up and runs from the room.

It’s another week before Zoro can leave the infirmary but when he does, Sanji finds himself cornered in the kitchen, fast enough he can’t plan an escape. 

Zoro’s face is set, serious, Sanji’s gearing up for a fight despite Zoro’s injuries. 

He storms in and pushes Sanji up against the back wall. “I was WRONG,” he says, arms bracketing Sanji in. 

“Wh— no,” Sanji squeaks, trying to find a way around him. 

“Yes I WAS,” Zoro emphasises. “Franky says I was stupid and self protective, but I lied. I’ve loved you from the moment I fucking saw you.”

“No, you DIDN’T,” Sanji says, a rushing in his ears as he looks anywhere but AT Zoro. “Because I’m UNLOVEABLE.” 

Zoro’s breath hitches, and he grabs Sanji’s chin in his hand, forcing him none too gently face to face. 

“You’re fucking not,” he snarls. “Because *I* love you.”

Sanji REALLY can’t handle this. “Stop,” he pleads. “You can’t— it’s okay. I’ve always known that I’m worthless, you don’t have to try to convince me otherwise.” You already did, he thinks. “Just— I can’t handle you lying like this. To me.”

“You’re not—“ Zoro looks at him in shock. “You’re not WORTHLESS, Cook, what the hell? And you’re not unloveable, you’re not any of that shit! I thought you’d be a distraction from my dream, that’s why I said that shit, and I’m SORRY. But I was fucking wrong.”

Sanji is still shaking his head — or he’s just plain shaking now— because it’s too late. He KNOWS this is who he is, doesn’t understand why Zoro is LYING. 

“It’s okay,” he says, making eye contact, placating. “I won’t let this — me— interfere with protecting the crew.”

Zoro growls and lunges forward, capturing Sanji’s lips in a bruising kiss. It hurts, Sanji gasps into his mouth, it— feels like truth. 

“I love you,” Zoro says, low. “Tell me how I can prove it.” 

Sanji chases the kiss before recovering. “I don’t know,” he says, small, uncertain.

Zoro grasps his arms, his waist, his neck, like a desperate man searching, he settles on cupping Sanji’s face, leaning his forehead against him. “I’ll prove it,” he says. “Something in your head is fucked up, Cook, it’s wrong. You’re loved. I fucking swear it.”

Sanji’s still shaking, tears rushing unbidden to his eyes. He doesn’t get it but — he wants it. Desperately he wants it. “Tell me again,” he says, voice small, scared. 

“I love you,” Zoro says. “I’m sorry. I love you.” 

Like a mantra. 

Sanji kisses him, afraid to initiate, but Zoro responds with a vengeance. “

I love you,” Zoro says again, like a prayer. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you.” Someday, Sanji will know it intrinsically. But for now it’s good enough to hear it. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you.”

[suguru-getos]

Fleeting - Part I

Summary: Broken and bruised, is what your heart feels after losing the love of your life - Geto Suguru, in the hands of someone you barely know. Isn't it your duty to have Gojo Satoru dead at your feet?

Author's Note: Gosh TIS is ANGSTY>!!! I almost cried while writing this part :((

Chapter Summary: You have been told that Suguru is no more, how you cope up can be utterly frightening when there's nothing else to lose anymore.

You stood at the kitchen door, frozen, numb, eyes widened with the sheer panic of everything that befell. The environment around you just felt akin to pure desolation, the very marrow of your bone shattered, broken apart in endless pieces and it was impossible to bring you back. The endless void that Suguru created in your life, the deteriorating feeling of emptiness, hollowing you, sucking your soul up. "Where is he?" You managed to fight from the endless pit of anxiety that grew like a black hole. Mimiko and Nanako are scared to meet your gaze, the woman who's not much older than them but they still consider her as the epitome of love. For both of them, and, their precious Geto Sama.

Your eyes are not allowing the pent-up grief to escape, not a tear shall be shed for this. Never will. You can't wash off all the feelings of being notoriously tainted by Suguru's intensity, by his love. Your mind isn't thinking straight, you want answers, need answers. "I asked a question, Miguel." You asked someone else in the 'Family' that cherished you as much as they cherished Geto. "Please.." Manami, the woman who helped him do his due-diligence being a Cult leader cried out. She knows you will break apart, and they are not sure if they can handle a living corpse after losing Suguru-chan.

"Where is Sugu?" You asked again, desperation of clutching for the fleeting hope of him returning back, evidently smiling with his ever-so-loving, signature smile and warmth ensuing with his hugs. He couldn't… he shouldn't. HE COULDN'T!

"Y/N Sama" Nanako sniffled, running to you and hugging you tightly, loud sobs and wails of torment echoed the room as she fell to her knees. As if she's apologizing. Why is she apologizing? Where is Suguru? You just asked a simple question - where is Geto Suguru? The love of your life, the biggest piece of your heart, the reason of you existing and not dead at your own actions all those years ago.

"Y/N Sama- please don't ask this, you know he's gone… he said he would be the first to come home didn't he?"

You want to kill everyone in this room, you want to kill every sorcerer to exist, you want to kill yourself.

He did… he did promise you. Hugged you close and whispered how grateful he is to have you, over and over and over and over and over and over and-

Why did he have to leave you forever?

Why could he not let his heart beat for you?

"This- is mine." The flashback of Suguru's silky voice haunts you, as his looming, large hands point at the left side of your chest. "You have my heart, and I, have yours." He smiled, holding your hand and softly placing it on his naked chest. "So if this stops working -" He nuzzles against your chest, "Which it would never, because my heart would never give up on you… but if it does, know I've failed to protect you as a man."

"Gosh, so intense and for what" You push him away, rolling your eyes. "Both our hearts wouldn't stop working. You know why? Because - in this world, you bring out a smile in me."

Suguru was right, if his heart was in you - he didn’t fail to protect you, but you did. You're all alone now, the only shred of comfort if ever, in the grotesque way your heart is tattered apart, is the words of Suguru where he calls that 'his heart'. You know that's not true, you know better. Still, what else could you do?

You can't think of anything else, can't speak, can't eat. Time is a construct when it's your other half that you’ve lost.

You don't even remember that a week has passed with you staring at the wall, sleeping in the same bed that has the scent of your person.. fleeting… just like him.

You cry on the eighth day, you roar, you scream, you let the world know that you're here. Even if Geto Suguru is not, you're here.

What's worse than a lion? The king of the jungle, the apex predator?

An injured lion.

You.

All you can think of is how to make the ache in your heart settle, how to breathe again. Or perhaps, how to be worthy of death that you can grant yourself and re-unite with Suguru. What would it take to meet him again…

You drag yourself up from the bed, going to his closet and taking his perfume out, the whisking sound of it spraying all over echoes as you close your eyes, pumping it over and over and over and over and over- you can't afford to not smell like your lover. You are losing your mind- why doesn't everyone else die? Who killed him-

Right, who killed Suguru Geto?

Frantically, tear-stained and in an absolute mess, you opened the door. Stunned to see 'everyone' standing outside. You know why they were there, your screams and sobs were unimaginably painful. You were crying out in utter devastating, soul churning pain after all. None of them knew how to console you after all. How would you tell someone to be okay after they lose the light of their life?

"Who killed him?" You asked the question, looking at everyone.

"Gojo Satoru." Larue responded.

"Gojo Satoru.." You repeated, as if writing his name in red in your broken, bleeding heart. Writing his name in… blood red.

"His best friend?" You snorted, the denial turning you furious and unimaginably dangerous.

"We have a new mission, my family." You smiled. If it's revenge that can keep you alive, so be it.

[alllsunday]

A few thoughts on how Portgas D. Ace is the epitome of the Tragic Hero. For one, his entire life was a tragedy.

“A tragic hero is the protagonist of a tragic story or drama, in which, despite their virtuous and sympathetic traits and ambitions, they ultimately meet defeat, suffering, or even an untimely end. They are often imperfect or wounded with some sort of fraught experience, and typically have some sort of fatal flaw.”

He fits the criteria :

1.) “High status/noble”

Ace is the sole heir of the notorious Pirate King and the only known female Will of D carrier. Yes, he’s not a noble, but he is obviously a high status pirate and a person with the “noble” qualities Aristotle was talking about even if he wasn’t literally one. Honourable, generous, polite.

2.) “Flawed”

The fatal flaw (hamartia) that brings about the hero’s downfall, destruction caused by their own hands. In Ace’s case … well, if I had to narrow it down, I’d say wrath, arrogance, and never backing down were the most key to his downfall, but the title of #1 has to go to his hubris (excessive arrogance/pride). It was because of this he went to Wano to challenge Kaido, the monster not even Oden could slay. Izou himself pointed out Ace’s arrogance. It was because of this he challenged Whitebeard, went after Teach, and ultimately ended in tragedy. Ace had been the strongest almost his entire life, losing was.. new. Even in the face of Teach’s power, he underestimated him, thinking that he’d win, which brings me to my next point :

3.) “A reversal of fortune”

“The character should suffer a terrible reversal of fortune, from good to bad. Such a reversal does not merely mean a loss of money or status. It means that the work should end with the character dead or in immense suffering, and to a degree that outweighs what it seems like the character deserved.”

Ace was a traumatised and heavily wounded character who spent his childhood suffering. It was not quite a childhood. As an older teenager, he was tearing up the world of piracy (the first pirate of the new generation, super rookie, all at an insanely fast rate, even much moreso than Luffy) before joining Whitebeard and settling down. Though not eradicated, his internal struggles cooled down slightly. Maybe by the time he was a fully wisened man and not a boy fresh out of his teenage years, he could have been on the road to healing - but his belief that he could obviously beat Teach, his subordinate, was the catalyst for the events that were to come.

It was seemingly going alright - Ace had fit in, made friends, had the family he had so needed.

That flipped over almost instantly, and ended in his painfully premature death. During the fight, Ace realised he’d been overconfident. But this time he couldn’t back it up. Teach had won.

On his deathbed, Ace finally realised that he wanted to live. Death was the thing he’d wondered about for his entire life, and now that he was actually on the brink of it - he had changed his mind. After 20 years, he genuinely wanted to keep going for the first time. Yet it was snatched away from him.

To add insult to injury, Sabo’s death, one of Ace’s many traumatic experiences, ended up being a misunderstanding. Sabo was alive and didn’t remember him… until he had died.

[shygirl4991]

Just a Dream

A fic inspired by a gmod animation @therabbitdemon did in the discord server we are in! Summary: It was finally the moment he has been waiting for, as he watches the sunset his dream finally comes true. He finally gets to confess his feelings for his ex rival after all this time.  Tags: Love confessions, first kiss, two idiots in love, character death, angst with happy ending, fluff

SMG4 sighs walking back from a shopping trip, thanks to Mario experimenting making different kinds of spaghetti they ran out of food at the castle. He smiles seeing his home, as he enters his home something feels off. The castle was too silent, he looked around and saw no one was home. He was getting worried, hoping that Mario hadn't gone next door and set something on fire so he dashed out to see SMG3. 

He runs into the cafe and lets out a sigh of relief seeing nothing was broken yet, looking around he was glad to see the snails have not damaged the cafe. He hears a ding from an elevator letting him know Three was approaching, he walks out from the back room and screams seeing four. “WHAT THE HELL!? SMG4, why are you here? The cafe is still closed!”  SMG4 lets out a sheepish smile as he waves “Uh the sunset looks nice..thought you needed air?” Four wanted to facepalm at how terrible that was. 

Three looked him up and down before relaxing, he rolled his eyes as he walked out the cafe “Whatever, I was going to take a walk anyways.” Four smiles as he follows three, the pair stop in front of the castle and look at the sunset together. It was relaxing, whatever troubles he was having felt as they were being washed away. Three takes a deep breath as he turns to the other man “Um..four?” turning he notices Three's face “Yeah?” 

Three blushes the moment their eyes made contact, he had to do it. Three had been planning to confess to the other man for days, so watching the sunset was the perfect time. He looks down nervously “I um…” Four looks at him concerned “Are you okay?” in panic Three yells “YEAH!” realizing he yelled at his ex rival he looks down “I’m..sorry.” 

What was wrong with him, he just had to say those magic words and face the music. Four smiles softly at Three, he lifts up his hand “It’s okay!” Three nods turning to Four “I just…” slowly he grabs Four’s hand causing the man's eyes to widen in surprise “I wanna tell you something..” Four looked at their hands intertwined, he felt his heart race “Wha-what is it?” his eyes slowly move looking into Three’s crimson red eyes.  “SMG4 I-” without thinking they both slowly lean forward, Four knew exactly what Three wanted to say. And Three picked up on it as their lips connected. 

Suddenly Four hears static, he pulls away to see Three has been frozen. He takes a step back. Confused, he runs to look for help. He runs out the showgrounds only to appear back at the grounds, he gasps seeing Three with another person. They kissed Three and the both of them giggled “I'm so glad you picked me over that idiot four, cause darling we were made for each other.” Four growled and was ready to approach them when he heard static again, then the showgrounds went dark. 

“Four wake up! We can't lose you too!”  He heard Meggy's voice from a distance. 

That's when his memory returned to him, they were trapped in the TV world. Mario escaped and helped them get out of their brainwash. The crew were on their way to leave the castle, when the strange flesh tentacles approached them just like at peach's castle. They did their best to dodge and fight out the appendages only for Four to trip and hit his head. Disorientated he was unable to defend himself, that's when three jumped in front of him.  

Four wakes up staring at the blue sky, slowly sitting up he sees the crew crying. Was that whole thing a dream?

Getting up the crew didn't hear him approach until he saw the reason for everyone's tears. There on the floor was SMG3 devoid of any life “I…what? This has to be a joke…” hearing four the crew run giving him a group hug. SMG3 was gone, after all they went through after learning his feelings through a dream, he lost any chance to tell the man his feelings. Mario looks down shaking “Mario failed to save you all…im sorry.” 

Meggy shakes her head “This isn't your fault, it's that TV bastard fault!”

They hear laughter causing them to turn around “We can have this now can we?” the man of the hour arrives. They watch as Mr Puzzles smirks at them flashing a TV remote “We cant get those five star ratings with a favorite character dead, that just won't do!” 

Seeing the remote, Four charges at the adware determine to get the remote to save Three. Mr Puzzles chuckles as he hits pause on them “You all really are idiots, hahaha don't worry i will fix this and then we will go back to making the perfect endless entertainment,”

Mr Puzzles hits rewind bringing the guardian to life, he quickly starts to tend to the wounds. Seeing this Four felt a strange energy flow through him, his eyes glow yellow as he starts breaking free. The moment he was able to move again he charged at Mr Puzzle, hearing movement he turned “HOW ARE YOU-” Four using the strange energy punches the screen smashing the TV. Mr puzzle falls to the ground as Four frees the others “WE NEED TO RUN NOW!” 

Mario picks up the now living SMG3 and runs with the crew, as they run Four remembers one of Three’s old hideouts and leads everyone there.  Now safe everyone decided to rest and plan in the morning. Four sits next to the unconscious SMG3, gently he runs his fingers through Three’s hair “I hope you wake up soon three, we have a lot to talk about.” He lets out a shaky laugh “I need to tell you..I'm sorry im such an idiot and that i love you.”  

He breaks down crying not hearing someone moving next to him, he jumps when hands gently wipe his tears “You are an idiot, what dumbass confesses to a man near death?” Fours eyes go wide turning and seeing Three give him a weak smile, without a second thought Four makes his dream come true as he pulls Three in for a kiss. Mario, who was walking over to check on them, sees the kiss and smiles “About time,” he turns to let the others know the pair was okay. They don't know what the battle with the Adware will bring, but one thing was for sure, Four wont let Three go again.

gmod art by rabbitdemon

[rosemaze-reveries]

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you. (Part 2)

hello hello! here is part 2 as promised. there are less characters than I hoped to write, but in exchange each blurb is a little longer than pt.1 !

part 1 can be found here

🦌🪼🤡🦎🪞🤕🕯️🎭

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🦌 Bane rubs his chin, tracing his memory. "Hm... Indeed, I'm familiar with that name. I'd suppose that's someone I knew when I worked for the DeRosses." He crosses his arms with a low, contemplative grunt, as if struggling to remember anything else. "I'd need a photograph." I happen to have a couple on hand, and he takes them gently. A long period of silence follows. After leafing through the photos for some time, he says: "I remember. They were always talking about marriage." With you? "Mm. I was never interested, but I never said no. Eventually I made them a ring from a scrap of iron. I hoped they'd stop visiting me if I satisfied them... It's too dangerous to come to the forest everyday." Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring of his own. "In exchange, they gave one back." He's been cherishing it all this time, even when he'd forgotten its origin.

🪼 Ivy - "I'm no stranger to feeling like I'm missing my other half, you know. That sense of loss is one of the only constants I have left. (Y/N) fills my emptiness, and without them it increases twofold." I open my mouth to ask, Do you think you could be soulmates? but then my eyes dart to the Yithian and I realize my mistake. Sorry, was that insensitive? Ivy is not amused with my implication that she might be interested in claiming (Y/N)'s soul. "My dear interviewer, I am a scholar, not a monster. Whatever you're insinuating, you're gravely mistaken."

🤡 Joker's face suddenly hardens, in spite of the fragile, twiddling-thumbs demeanor he'd shown me thus far. His hands ball into shaking fists and his lips purse, as if he's psyching himself up for a fight. Are you okay? I ask, preemptively guarding myself with my clipboard. Tears brim his eyes and the strength falls from his shoulders. He mutters out, "All I wanted was to be their sword and shield, their angel of light, and they left me out of my mind. Hahaha... Wanna know the biggest joke of all? I'd let them drive me crazy all over again."

🦎 Luchino's mouth stretches into a lazy grin. "That one's a cutie, eh? Had the pleasure of meeting them yet?" I shake my head, reminding him that (Y/N) is the focus of my current investigation. I guess his laidback attitude fooled me into saying too much. He promptly straightens his back, the smile fading. "Yeah... Yeah, from one researcher to another, I get the intrigue," he says. "But I can't say I fancy another guy using my love as a test subject."

🪞 Mary - "Do you take pleasure in nosing around a lady's private affairs? I'd expect more tact, even for an interviewer." The chill in her tone startles me. I sputter out something in my defense, but Mary huffs and waves me into silence. "(Y/N) is enjoying the privilege of being my right-hand. They're my favorite one so far, too. I dismissed the others without a second thought."

🤕 Naib - "On good terms." Wringing out any insightful answers from this man is tougher than I thought. In hopes of inspiring more of a reaction, I tell a small lie: When I interviewed (Y/N), they described a rather colorful affection for you... Almost immediately, Naib breaks eye contact and crosses his arms. But I still only get a guttural "Hm." in response. Can you confirm if this is true? I press. His answer is, once again, a curt "Hm." (Slightly more affirmative, I would say).

🕯️ Philippe - "My work has always stood as a testament to my love," he caresses the wax figure grafted onto his shoulder, "but shielding someone in life is a far greater challenge than honoring my losses. My worries are endless." Suddenly reminded of his sister's tragedy, I offer a sympathetic smile. Do you believe (Y/N) is in danger? Philippe returns my smile, though I can't make out the intent. "Of course. Evil lurks around every corner. At the very least, it won't reach them while I'm around."

🎭 Sangria - A fond smile graces her face as she recounts her memory. "It was clear to me after some time that I had disastrously entranced them." Then she adds, lightly, "I hadn't meant to, of course. At the time, I thought, I'm not looking for love—no, I'd had enough of it all—but soon, their smile would appear in my mind every time I sang. When someone gives you that much inspiration? You'd be a fool to let them go." She has a playful tone of voice, but I can tell (Y/N) means a great deal to her.

[daisiescomelate]

Check list

Prompt: Reader starts working at a new company and Nanami is in charge of training you, the thing is that you can't do a single thing right and the poor's man blood pressure is starting to spike.

Content: Nanami/Reader, office workers, drabble.

div. animatedglittergraphics-n-more - masterlist

You graduated with a degree you never got to use. So many years of work, so much money. You felt like your soul was ripped away from your body when eventually you got no choice but to start to apply to random companies for a job because it was something that couldn't be delayed anymore. So after months of being ghosted and failing interviews, even having no clue what was going to be of the rest of your life, you cried tears of joy when you received a welcoming email telling you you passed, because finally you felt like you had accomplished a little thing after so long. Problem was, you had no clue what your job was actually about.

You were completely lost from day one, from catching the wrong bus, to walking past the right street. It took you a while to get to the office building. You were fairly late. It was embarrassing, actually.

After messing up before your day began, and a welcoming talk from your supervisor, she introduced you to the employee that would be in charge of your training.

"Nanami Kento." He greeted you shortly while extending his hand to you when you were alone.

From the very beginning everything was a struggle for you. You messed up people's coffees, often got lost in the chain of emails that others endlessly sent around to let everyone know that plans had changed, had no clue how to use the printing machine, got the paperwork mixed up at least twice a day.

It didn't help that no one allowed you to finish a task before throwing something else at you, or that one of your bosses often interrupted you to ask you to do some meaningless thing for them, or that the managers contradicted each other on a daily basis and you had no idea what direction to follow when they did that –asking only made it more confusing and started fights.

But no matter how much stress this was, it was not an option for you to quit. This was your first serious job, your first this-pays-my-rent job, this-is-about-my-insurance job. Also, you were the stubborn type. You wanted to overcome this, become good at this, make progress. You didn't want to fail on something else so soon.

Nanami-san was many ranks above you, and had been assigned to you probably because he had been working there for long enough to know how to explain things to someone, but not enough to be able to refuse to do something he didn't want to do. Long story short, you could tell he was simply caught into this.

Still, he was always polite and despite the few times your lack of capabilities got the worst of him, he never raised his voice at you. He frowned and pinched the brick of his nose, but after a deep breath he always helped you through it.

He was patient.

He was kind.

He also had a strong sense of rightness. You heard him stand up in your defense against seniors more than once while walking around the halls, scolding people for asking you to make them coffee when that was not part of your job, or assign tasks to you that weren't supposed to be your responsibility. You two didn't even know each other that well back then.

On the days you felt dispirited and wronged by people in the office, it was nice to know of someone that cared to have your back.

It often made you feel bad, to be someone that needed so much patience; but at the same time seeing how much this man that was very much a stranger to you did to help you out, it filled your heart with desire to improve, and maybe someday be his equal at work, be useful to him too.

Nanami-san wasn't a happy worker. He never did more than he was asked to do, and he didn't care to be overly nice to anyone at the office. He had no friends among his colleagues and he often gave the impression he would rather eat alone every day than sit down at lunch with all those people.

After a few weeks at the company, you were confident to say that there was no one he seemed to particularly like in there. Still, he remained polite unless someone tried to step on someone else's boundaries –that was when he striked as if by instinct to the managers or the boss– despite him repeatedly stating he didn’t like to meddle in other people’s business because it was a bother.

Because you remained kind of a mess, and because everyone else at the office had grown tired of you, he became the person responsible for all your actions at some point. And even then, he never rejected you. He was being more vocal about you having to get your act together, but that was fair criticism since you two often got punished together. It was unfair for the boss to do that, but you couldn't deny there was a selfish part of you that partly enjoyed that meant you got to spend more time together.

You pissed off a client –to be fair, they were being very rude to you.

You ruined a very hard to obtain contract by dropping a soda all over it.

You accidentally exposed your boss for having an affair during a meeting where his wife was present.

You were too loud about a thing you discovered about the company management that everyone actually already knew, they were just playing dumb to not lose their job.

You broke a computer. That was fun, almost got you fired.

After hours (that he complained about no end), skipping lunch breaks together and doing paperwork together to fix your misses. Within all that extra time just the two of you, you got to know him better. He was easily annoyed by everything, and he got angry at something or someone every day, but he had a good grasp of his emotions and sometimes allowed you to make fun of him for being so serious.

With time, three to four months after you began working there, you started talking more. He even accepted to go out for a drink with you a few times in compensation for whatever you did. You had the feeling you helped him release some of the tension off his shoulders when you were together. And it wasn't much longer until you got verbal confirmation for it.

"I don't mind spending time with you."

It was so little, but so much coming from the orc this man could be. He was very grumpy and constantly putting on a no-feeling façade, but there was now a small fissure for you to look through.

A drink became dinner, and dinner became nights going to the cinema. Cooking was his main hobby, so he invited you home every other Friday. You were embarrassed the first time you asked him to go to the park on Sunday but you blushed ten times more when he said yes in his text.

His expression softened, he stared at you more often, he became more hit up when someone said something about you at work, and he started to walk you home some nights if you came out late.

One of those nights you offered him to come in. And the morning after that, you guessed the twist of fate that had brought you to that place so many months ago wasn't that bad either.

[equestriagirl16]

MC: Sooooo I did a thing.

Crewel: Oh dear-

MC: Nonono-it’s completely harmless I promise! Lemme just..*removes hat*

Crewel: *gasp*

MC: *reveals a white streak they dyed in their hair* U-Um, I just thought it’d be a cool idea for us to be matching. Ya know like a..father-child thing.

Crewel: *crushing you in a hug* Oh pup, you look wonderful.

MC: *hugs back* So am I correct to assume you like it?

Crewel: *chuckling* I love it.~❤️

[time-is-restored]

i have literally nowhere else to put this i apologise for the spam. the absolute best thing to come out of s3 trent is without a doubt the fucking earnestness... like in s1-2 he always came across as a very self-assured kind of guy, who knew how he came off (ie: intimidating) and enjoyed it. but seeing that paired with him being silly + completely relaxing in certain company??? pulling ridiculous faces at vodka + scrunching up his nose when he smiles @ colin + making the most ABSURD 'i really wanna say something right now but i feel like im interrupting' noises ive ever heard in my fucking LIFE??? its like. he is cool as shit and he is self assured AND he can make dumb fucking sherlock holmes jokes and dance ridiculously. its like!!!! he's lame but he's also not bc he's exactly as confident in being lame as he is being cool. do u see the vision. he has killed the part of him that cringes!!!! its just.. that unshakeable self confidence that u see in his fucking swaggers into frame includes all of himself + his different moods and eccentricities and that's just so based to me idk. unironically live ur best life wear the loudest combination of prints and patterns and primary colours uve ever seen in ur life while espousing the virtues of extended museum hours!!! contain multitudes! get silly with it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[jackpotsadmon]

shit like kizuna and distant blue sky are going to be the fucking death of me man

(long kizuna and pokemon rants in tags + a lot of emotional rambling and spoilers)

[franeridan]

at this point my weekly appointment with the op manga is just me crying over how much i love dragon that's okay that's cool

[kifu]

I decide to see if I can get the tie rod off of my car myself today, because it's as nice a day as it can get in December and there is wayyyyy too much play in my steering right now and this car's gonna throw me soon if I don't get it fixed - and I get home to find a flat. I watched that tire sink, so it happened in my yard. It's sliced wide open. So I can't fix that.

I could still (try to) change the tie rod but a) I'm not sure that I can reach a safe place of the frame with my jack because it's a piece of shit and the "good" one won't lift and b) car's currently jacked up and three-wheeled in the opposite corner from the tie rod that needs fixing. I suppose I could put the donut on to do what I originally intended. I guess. I don't know how many possible points of failure I want at a time.

I just ... I just put more money than I had in the brakes and now I need a new tire? I think I'm at the end of my ability to deal with problems right now. I'm going to max out my credit before my car insurance is due next week. Which that is ... well, at least $1800.

Still haven't gotten things figured out with the phone. I can't get my last phone through Metro PCS to unlock to accept the current sim card. Verizon is the one and only cell company that even works where I live, so it's not like I have a choice with whom I use. Be one thing if I could use wifi calling, but I can't.

I had to memorize my work schedule this week and write it down for my boss because I don't know my login information and I can't dick around with my email to get that figured out at work. I just feel like things are a mess right now, and just about all of them are money related. You'd think making twice minimum wage would get me through life no problem. Maybe if I didn't have my chickens or rabbits, but those chickens paid for sooooooo much this summer, it was ridiculous. And what was the point of buying a house with land if I'm just going to sit on my computer chair all day?

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.