#poor man just needs to run

[heretherebedork]

I mean, I suppose Do Han did predict this correctly, that she would fall in love and choose love over him in the end.

But also this entire flashback breaks my heart because the show could have, you know, showed this to us so much better than it did and having a flashback to supposedly claim all of this as true doesn't work when the show hasn't shown us in the modern day.

Poor Do Han.

I am going to say this once and I am going to say this clearly.

Staying in the closet is not something that is being done to the people around you, it is a choice a person makes in order to feel safe in a world that judges them.

Do Han taking on the guilt for hurting Ji Han and Ah Jeong's relationship when the truth of the matter is that neither of them approached this relationship well is not his fault.

Do Han did not do this to them.

Ji Han objected to Do Han's marriage because he wanted Do Han to live out his own dream instead of Do Han's and Ah Jeong knowingly entered a contract for a fake marriage to help Do Han stay in the closet.

Neither of these is a selfless act and though there can be arguments about loving, neither of them has approached this in a loving way.

Ah Jeong has more claim because at the very least she was actually doing something for Do Han but frankly Ji Han has been treating like crap the entire time and his every objection to Ah Jeong stems from him thinking he knows better than Do Han and pushing him towards a dream that Do Han never had.

I want to protect this man.

He loves them both so much and everyone takes this the worst way and blames him and he is constantly trapped in this closet that also feels like the only place he can be safe because being out is far, far scarier.

Do Han is buried deep in a closet in a desperate attempt to protect himself but also, frankly, his family. This is a family where personal matters reflect on their business. How is him coming out as gay in a conservative society going to reflect on the very people he loves?

Staying in the closet to protect yourself is not running away.

If any closeted people read this... you are not running away, you are keeping yourself safe and that matters.

I swear, I promise, you matter whether you come out or not and if that lie keeps you safe, then stay safe. There are others way to protect the people around you.

The amount that I want to protect Do Han from the people who love him is agonizing.

(It's the way Ji Han takes Ah Jeong helping Do Han keep his secret as a personal offense that really gets to me. Ugh.)

Boy, just run. Go back to New York. Flee. You don't want any of this!

Keeping Ah Jeong in the contract wasn't your best choice, boy, but I understand your fear and reluctance and that anxiety you thought you'd escaped but didn't have the chance to, not for long.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Vine_Boom.mp3

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[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hey in your Lights Out au, does Wally still eat with his eyes? & if he does, is that effected by the fact that he's, you know, missing one?

that is Such a good question that i Have Not considered! i'd assume... yea!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Malice (Dad Squad)

Fair warning, this does have TotK content but none of it is spoilers. It's all literally stuff from the trailer. But anyway, I had fun writing it. :)

The lurch was absolutely nauseating.

Rusl shivered on his hands and knees, dizzy and disoriented and so unbelievably ill. He'd never been pulled in so many directions at once at such an unimaginable speed. He could barely make out his surroundings, having been torn from the jungle where they'd been wandering.

Taking steadying breaths, Rusl kept his eyes squeezed shut to reorient and not throw up. He remained stiff, not daring to move until the wave of nausea had passed. As his mind slowly stopped spinning,

The grass beneath him was damp, littered with little stones, which was the first thing he noticed. The stones felt... unnaturally shaped. Running a finger along it, he felt the curved edges, the too straight lines framing it.

Cobblestone. Cobblestone with grass growing through it, so withered and worn it was barely there anymore.

More ruins?

Exhaling, Rusl slowly opened his eyes. It was a dismally dark day, wherever they were. Storm clouds brooded overhead, he could tell by the lighting and the damp. Beside him, Abel was laying on the ground staring up at the sky, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The Fierce Deity was crouched just a pace away from the pair, apparently reorienting faster.

Rusl wasn't surprised.

The Ordonian leaned back on his knees and feet, a trembling hand reaching for Abel's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Headache," Abel muttered before sitting up. "I'll be fine. But..."

The Fierce Deity rose to his full height, helping Rusl to his feet. The blacksmith stumbled a little, dizzy at the speed at which the deity lifted him up.

Rusl's companion opened his eyes, glancing around before gasping. "This is--this is just outside of Castle Town! How did--did that item bring us here?"

This was Castle Town?

Rusl looked around again, horrified to see the ruined remains of what should have been a sprawling city. He'd seen pieces of ruins, leftover outposts, a destroyed wagon here and there, but nothing of this magnitude.

Spirits above. He swallowed, suddenly thankful that the Twili invasion hadn't reached this level of destruction.

"But how did we--?" Abel cut himself off abruptly, and Rusl was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed it too.

What was that aura? Why was there ominous mist emitting from all around them, oozing out of the ground like steam from a boiling lake?

The Fierce Deity hissed, collapsing to the ground, a hand clutched to his face.

"Fierce...?" both men made their way to him, hands hovering over him uncertainly.

The deity was trembling, in obvious pain with his sharp teeth bared and eyes glaring into the earth. His hand on his face slid up to his hair, fingers curling around it in a desperate attempt to alleviate whatever was wrong.

"What's wrong?" Abel asked.

Fierce curled in farther, shriveling from their attempts to touch him. "It's the mask."

"What mask?" Rusl questioned.

As the Ordonian tried to figure out what in the blazes was happening, Abel's eyes roamed forward towards the city, and beyond it, to the castle.

"This mist..." he muttered. "It's the same as..."

Rusl looked between Abel and the Fierce Deity, wondering what in the world was happening and how they could fix this. "We need to get him out of here."

"Kill him." Fierce suddenly snarled, pulling away when Rusl tried to reach for his shoulder. "I'll be fine. Get him."

"Who? Who are you talking about?" Rusl asked, growing far more nervous than he cared to feel. He was usually fairly adaptable and had seen so many things that had little explanation in his life, but seeing a war god writhing in pain was beyond unsettling, particularly since he was his friend.

Abel rose, eyes dark. "It can't be..."

Rusl was clearly missing something, a connection that both of his companions had made. Nevertheless, the priority was to help the Fierce Deity, not worry about whoever they were talking about.

Abel clearly didn't seem to understand that, gripping his sword with enough ferocity to make his knuckles white. He marched ahead.

"Abel, what are you doing?" Rusl called. "We have to get Fierce out of here!"

When he got no response from the world weary traveler, he looked back at the deity, who insisted through gritted teeth, "Go with him. I'll be fine."

He looked distinctly not fine, but watching Abel walk into a heavier dark mist made Rusl equally unsettled. The Ordonian sighed. "Get away from here. Find somewhere safe to lay low. I can help you--"

"No," Fierce hissed. "I do not require help. Abel does."

"Fierce--"

"I will retreat as instructed," the deity acquiesced shakily. "But help him."

Abel had almost vanished into the darkness. Rusl bit his tongue, standing stiffly, filled with dread and annoyance. "Fine."

Drawing his blade, he hurried after the former knight, feeling cold dread sink into his bones the closer to the castle he got.

Abel's world was a desolate place, filled with mausoleums for villages, but this place had to be the pinnacle of it all. Rusl didn't want to get any closer. Had those guardian creatures really caused such destruction?

Despite his misgivings, the Ordonian did manage to catch up to Abel, who was slowly descending a stairway into the damp depths beneath the castle.

"I don't understand," Abel said softly as Rusl approached. "There are no guardians here. There's... no sign of anything."

"I'd say this mist is a pretty clear sign," Rusl pointed out, grabbing Abel by the wrist. "As is our friend's ailment. We should go back to him. There's something wrong about this place."

Abel pulled out of Rusl's grip sharply. "I know. It..."

The two men stared at the dark abyss below. Abel's face glowed with equal parts determination and dread. He was just as scared as Rusl, but rather than listening to his gut instinct, he ventured forward.

Rusl sighed. This man was beginning to remind him of Link.

Rusl had been to many a place that gave unnerving auras, but that had always been milder sensations. A feeling of being watched, an innate sense of danger to the area that would linger near dungeons. This... this was something entirely different.

This, for lack of a better word, felt demonic.

Pulling out a lantern, Rusl lit the wick and glanced at his companion. "If you're insistent, we should at least have a means of seeing where we're going."

Abel nodded in thanks before continuing. Rusl sighed and followed him down the stairs.

The farther they went, the sicker Rusl felt. He broke into a cold sweat, shivers racking his body. He'd never had such a visceral reaction to anything - even the Twili barriers that infected his world, despite their wrongness, hadn't made him physically ill. They'd felt more like the sensation of being in the dark, an overbearing heaviness and fear of the unknown, whereas this felt like a violation of body, mind, and soul.

He honestly didn't know how Abel wasn't at least reacting to it. Even the Fierce Deity had been affected. It had crippled him.

Spirits. It had crippled a war god. What were they doing down here?!

"Abel," Rusl tried again. "We should go back."

"What happened to your cheer for exploration?" Abel asked in a monotone, not really asking so much as distractedly challenging. He was far more focused on what was ahead than his companion behind him.

"I have a sense of self preservation," Rusl replied. "We don't know what we're walking into."

"It's like the Calamity," Abel muttered, more to himself than to Rusl. "But it's... I don't understand."

"The Calamity?" Rusl repeated. "The destruction of your land?"

"The Calamity isn't just an event, it's a monster," Abel explained, walking ahead despite his ominous words.

"So... we're walking towards the monster that destroyed the entirety of Hyrule," Rusl supposed with a raised eyebrow, continuing to follow his friend.

Abel huffed, stepping hesitantly as they seemed to reach the bottom of the stairway. "I don't hear any guardians yet."

"Those aren't the Calamity?"

"No. The Calamity used the guardians."

Rusl looked around warily, lantern raised. "So we're potentially looking for a beast that is stronger than guardians. And a single guardian can annihilate both of us."

Abel's shoulders stiffened, and he shook his head. "Dammit, Rusl, I don't know. This... this mist surrounded the capital on the eve of the Calamity. But... then the Calamity happened. Nothing is happening here, except that our companion is falling ill because of it."

"We should be trying to help him," Rusl reasoned.

Abel turned sharply. "This is me helping. He... he said..."

"He said kill him," Rusl repeated, a little disturbed at the words.

Abel grew very still and silent.

"Do you really think we can defeat something that is incapacitating a war god?" Rusl asked solemnly, trying to get through to the knight. "I had an entire resistance to assist me in my journey to save Hyrule, and inevitably it was Link who did the most work."

"Yes. Link. A child." Abel hissed. "We left the fate of our nation in the hands of children and expected them to--"

There was the sound of a foot scuffing on a rock and both men immediately froze. It came from somewhere ahead, vague and distant and bouncing in the chilly air, steadily making its path to them. It moved rhythmically, steps on stone, growing ever quieter.

Someone else was down here.

Someone else was down here and they were walking further into the abyss.

Abel stepped forward, sword at the ready. Rusl followed, armed and on edge.

Who else was down here? Had they heard the two men arguing? Was it just Rusl, or was the mist getting thicker?

The pair walked through some unusual corridors, and though Rusl's lamplight wasn't the best, he could make out odd shapes and figures in the stone. Abel glanced at it in passing, noting it and moving ahead. Neither man spoke at this point, ears peeled for any indication that they had caught up to whoever else was down here.

For such a foreboding place, there was certainly a strange lack of monsters. Rusl didn't know if he should find that reassuring or not.

Finally, the two men descended further and emerged into a large underground cavern of sorts. A strange light shone ahead, dulling Rusl's lamplight to that of a mere stub of a candle. The pair paused, uncertain and leery. Rusl's eyes settled on a strange swirling pattern of light that emitted from a... severed arm? The arm was perched on a half rotted corpse, almost as if it were pushing the corpse to the ground.

As if this place couldn't get any creepier.

Notably, though, Rusl's eyes caught movement. Up by the mummified body were two other figures, their voices lost in the echoes of the large space. All he could make out was that one was a female and one was a male. The male had a sword with an uncomfortably familiar shape to its hilt.

Rusl squinted in the darkness. It was hard to tell from here, but something about the swordsman's blade... he tried to focus more on it but couldn't, not at that distance with the dim light. The Ordonian turned to his companion and saw Abel transfixed at the sight.

"Is... this the Calamity?" he whispered. Was the foe already defeated? Was it trying to recuperate its strength? Who were the two in front of it?

Abel didn't answer. Voices grew louder, a strange sound emitted from ahead of them, and Rusl jumped, turning to look at the scene ahead of him to find that the corpse was moving.

There was a flash of light and the entire room shook. Rusl grabbed on to Abel's arm, pushing both of them against the wall to brace themselves as the entire place seemed to crumble in a flash of red, hellish light.

Abel dove forward, and Rusl yelped, pulling him back and trying to fight his vicious energy.

Abel was frantic; he didn't even seem to notice Rusl was there anymore. Instead, a scream tore out of his throat, desperate and pleading and terrified.

"LINK!"

The ceiling collapsed, and they were sealed into darkness.

[petz5]

hello petz5 nation i am once again on the verge of tears bc of akane tendo

[shivunin]

By Dwindling Night

For the last of the @ockissweek pieces, I borrowed @dreadfutures' lovely Ixchel. Thank you so much for sharing her! I have really enjoyed stepping deeper into her story and I hope I've done her justice here 💗

(Ixchel Lavellan & Elowen Lavellan | 952 Words | No warnings)

"Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me, Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined, The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?   Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse." ---Walt Whitman, "O Me! O Life!"

The snow was cold and clinging under Elowen’s bare toes, but the tingling discomfort meant little to her. 

Alone, she would not have bothered with the bonfire flickering in her periphery. Alone, she would have crept back into her bed and tried very hard to remember how merrily the fire had flickered when she’d still clung to the shadows of her clan’s celebrations. This night’s holiday had ever been a celebration of life itself—life in the shoots beginning to creep from snow, life in the dead branches giving rise to flame, but life could not persist on its own. It dwelled where one reached out for another in communion or companionship.

Life followed where Elowen and Ixchel danced now. 

The two of them, hands clasped together, traced invisible patterns atop a packed layer of snow.  The high fire beside them had half-melted the ice and snow closest to it. This would likely all be a dreadful ring of ice in the morning, a hazard to whichever poor scout made their way from the gates of Haven to the hut on the other side of the lake. Elowen, skin slick with swiftly cooling sweat, breath burning in her lungs, knew that she must be making trouble for somebody else. For once, she could not bring herself to care.

Out here, among the snow and under the stars, there were no piercing eyes judging their comportment or manner. There were no tasks to be done or qualifications to satisfy or messengers with urgent voices. Here, there was only Ixchel and Elowen and the dancing flames and the moons so bright they almost blotted out the looming green hum of the rift above. 

Elowen had stood before the other woman’s door with her hand lifted for a long, long time before she’d leaned forward and knocked. She did not know for certain, but guessed how fraught Dalish things might be for Ixchel. They were painful and complicated enough for Elowen herself, who had always been held apart from the rest even before she’d abandoned her role and left her clan behind. 

She could not say what had tipped the scales in the end. Only—she had keenly missed anything that felt familiar and she had wondered if Ixchel felt the same. If so, she could never have borne abandoning someone else to the same loneliness. 

So, Elowen had knocked and she had asked. Ixchel had regarded her for a long moment, head angled to the side, as if reading something in Elowen’s face. The pause had nearly been long enough to force an excuse from Elowen’s tongue. She might have left then, might have passed the night on the cold stone floor before the hearth in her room. Just as she’d decided she’d mortally offended the younger woman and would have to leave at once, Ixchel had nodded and spoken. 

“Of course,” she’d said, slipping a cloak from beyond Elowen’s view. “Where are we going? Outside the camp, I hope.”

And that had been that. 

There was no music to dance to here. The breath of the fire was a loose melody, the beat of their feet quieter than the hammering of her own pulse in her ears. Between the two of them, she had less stamina for this sort of thing; her skill was in concentrating very hard and imagining things well enough to call the Fade beyond its boundaries. Her strength had never been in her body, though she’d marched down the endless roads as well as any Dalish elf might.

There was no music here, no conductor to call a halt. They stopped at last anyway, stumbling into each other, half-laughing, half-gasping in sprays of pale mist that caught orange firelight whenever they exhaled. Elowen had no idea what made her reach for Ixchel then—the fire, the ice clinging to her toes, the moonlight dimming every other light in the sky—but whatever lack of familiarity the two of them had with each other seemed unimportant in the face of this undeniable sense of unity. 

Perhaps that was the point of it all, in the end: to be cold and know that you could reach out for someone else’s warmth.

Elowen rested her hand against the scars along Ixchel’s cheek and beamed at her. Impulsively, for once entirely free of second guessing, she took an uneven step forward and pressed her lips to Ixchel’s forehead. They held still for a moment, both of them still breathing hard. Though her eyes were closed, the fire painted flickers of pink and gold against the other side of her eyelids. 

Life, Elowen thought, and leaned back again. 

“Thank you,” she said, fervently as she could. She released Ixchel’s cheek and clasped one of her hands between her own. “Thank you. Thank you.” 

It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, really. Something more articulate, perhaps, like “we’re still here” or maybe “I am glad we’re not alone.” But “thank you” was what she could manage, at least for now. 

“I know,” Ixchel said, and squeezed Elowen’s hand. “I know.” 

Elowen hoped she did. Wiser ones than she had found better words for this, she was sure. But now and here, with the winter’s grip still strong at the base of the Frostbacks, her own words would have to suffice. 

They turned back to Haven at last when the fire began to die, but they did not stride separately through the snow. Instead, Elowen rested an arm over Ixchel’s shoulders. The snow was just as deep and bitterly cold as it had been when they’d waded out here. The night was just as uncertain. 

But—it was easier, Elowen thought, when neither of them had to bear it alone.

[askamnesiamoonjumper]

me after editing the aau prologue for the bajillionth time

[pocketramblr]

maybe the answer to "what should Twi's backstory be" is "well what would be the funniest for Time to respond to Rusl casually mentioning where he found the kid?"

[notthemindprobe]

The fact that Segun Akinola and his work are getting wrapped up in the whole "13's era was collectively shit" thing pisses me off to no end.

[oflgtfol]

even in 1994 in a comic clearly meant to be critiquing corporatization, theyre still out here making comically communist villains. like capitalism is literally the force of evil in this entire story but lets still make an over the top communist villain anyway

[firebirdsdaughter]

Also…

… As I try to phase back into a more online presence, sorry for everyone I've left hanging message/social-wise, if you're still following me/looking at my blog. I stg I haven't forgotten, I've just been so massively drained bc of work and drama at work (next person who says the words 'luxury retail' is gonna hear me scream). I still have lots of thoughts, I still want to talk, I just have really bad executive dysfunction and possibly ADD that make it hard to maintain conversations/focus. I'm not trying to be an ass, I just lack the concentration.

[lxnarphase]

come and put your name on it ๋࣭ ⭑

special treatment : lap edition

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : gojo satoru + geto suguru + nanami kento + fushiguro toji + hakari kinji

☾₊‧⁺...cw : cockwarming, somnophilia, dirty talk, grinding + dry humping, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, edging, oral fixation, satoru's silly pet names, suguru being smug, kento being a desperate man, toji being toji, kinji being a bully

✧ g. satoru : sometimes gojo knows he fucks you too good to the point you can't think after, something he brags about to you all the time. but when you snuggle up to him, still stuffed with his cock and warm with his cum, he can't help but run his hands all over you. and when he realizes you fell asleep on his dick, his heart squeezes and his cock throbs hard.

"pretty angel, did you fall asleep? oh, that's just precious...you're making my heart squeeze, i wish i had my phone, you look so cute like this." "did you say my name? dreaming about me? god, you're so precious, i could just fuck you like this...shit, don't fuckin' squeeze on me like that, are you having a wet dream right now? god, i love you so fucking much." "aww, my little mochi is so cute! look at youuu, you're gushin' all over the place. messy fucking pussy too small to keep my cock and all my cum inside you." "mm, fuck, pretty thing. you wakin' up? hi pretty girl...oooh, fuck, d-did you just cum? holy fuck, c'mon, baby, on your back, lemme fuck you, princess, let 'toru make you cum again, yeah?”

✧ g. suguru : suguru's softly cooing at you when you sleepily walk into the living room, whining to him that you had a dream and you wanted him to 'fix the problem he caused.' all he can do is just chuckle at how childish and bratty you can be as his hands are moving up and down your sides while he grinds up into you.

"you're such a brat, you know that right? always blaming me for your dreams. it's not my fault you can't stop thinking about how good i fuck you." "hmm? ooh, i see...you keep having dreams of me cumming inside you, hm? are you trying to say something, princess? d'you want me to start breeding you?" "i didn't say stop moving, did i? or do you need me to do all the work? heh, so spoiled, i've spoiled you absolutely rotten." "i know, but just cum once like this, won't you? if you do, i promise i'll fill your cute pussy with my cum, okay? mhm, promise, princess, i'll give you what you need."

✧ n. kento : nanami loves having you close to him, especially when you sit in his lap. it lets him nuzzle his nose into your neck, pressing little kisses where he can while your legs are spread over his strong thighs, his thick fingers leisurely pumping in and out of your needy hole, chuckling against your skin whenever you jolt.

"honey, have i mentioned how gorgeous you are? you look so beautiful like this...spread open and wanting, just for me." "you're sucking my fingers in so well. look at that...do you think you can take a third?" "it's so messy. look at what you've done to my fingers, honey, they're soaked. clean them off for me, i want you to taste yourself before i put them back in. maybe tonight we can make you squirt, hm? do you wanna try, darling?" "you think you're going to cum again? poor thing, your little cunt is so greedy, she just wants to cum over and over again on my fingers...is my cock not good enough for you, mm? aww, don't pout, i'm just teasing you, darling." "i know, i know, it's too much, but you can take it. be my good girl, just take it and keep cumming until you can't anymore."

✧ f. toji : sitting on toji's lap is, in his mind, an invitation for him to run his hands all over you. his cock is already hard in his sweats, but he's subdued the second you get comfortable and slowly grind against him, groaning when you press sweet kisses into his neck.

"tch, are you gonna let me fuck your thighs t'night? pretty please? yeah, that's right, i'm askin' nicely. why? don't play stupid, doll, you know what they do to me." "shit...keep moving those hips, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin' good like this." "god, i can feel that pretty pussy leaking through my sweats. big bad toji make you that fuckin' wet, mama? y'like grinding that clit on my dick through my pants? dirty fucking girl." "mmh, you keep tugging my hair like that and I'm not even gonna take you to the bedroom, i will fuck you into this damn couch, woman.” "listen here, wifey, I'll wreck your cunt until you can't think about anything but me inside you. hell, I'll ruin this stupid couch in the process, i don't give a fuck about stainin' it."

✧ h. kinji : when you sit on kinji's lap, it's when he's watching a fight on tv. you can tell it's not going how he wants it to go, the toothpick between his teeth being gnawed on. when you make eye contact with him, he just raises an eyebrow, one of his hands squeezing your hip.

"cupcake, do me a favor and get on my dick before i get up and give us a reason to get a new tv." "hey, hey, don't move yet, let me see if he lands this punch...don't whine like that before i put my fingers in that pretty little mouth t' shut you up." "you always squeeze so tight when i press down on your tongue like this...pretty thing likes that shit, doesn't she? go on, fuck yourself on my dick while you drool all on my fingers like a slut." "mm, shit, baby, i can't focus on that bullshit fight, lemme help you. yeah, thaaaat's it, let your boy fuck you nice and deep, make ya cream, juuuust like this."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil

synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all

FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES

length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)

contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)

notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3

the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.

“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”

“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”

“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”

“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”

you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.

“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”

“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”

“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”

“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.

well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.

“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”

“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”

“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”

“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”

he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”

“we didn’t get this room.”

oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.

“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”

“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.

the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.

“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”

“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”

his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.

“no, absolutely not—”

“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.

god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.

it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.

and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.

“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”

“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”

you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss. 

“satoru—”

“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer. 

so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.

“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length. 

“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”

“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.

“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod. 

“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips. 

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”

“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”

“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”

his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better. 

“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.

“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly. 

so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby. 

satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes. 

“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”

“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”

“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”

that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose. 

they just always want more.

there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma. 

the way the world works. 

the way you and satoru work. 

so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base. 

“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”

that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants. 

you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.

“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”

“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”

“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”

“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”

“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”

“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”

that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”

“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.” 

he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear. 

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”

“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”

“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off’a you—’s impossible.”

you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him. 

“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind. 

“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”

you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face. 

his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.

the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity. 

it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.

“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”

“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”

“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”

“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”

“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”

you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.

i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach

[pierregazly]

but mama, i love him ꨄ oscar piastri smau

oscar piastri x leclerc!reader

the one where oscar's girlfriend has been soft launching their relationship for ages. and he's okay with it, especially if it means he can keep hiding in plain sight from her three overprotective brothers.

ynleclerc

tagged charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and others

ynleclerc omg omg omg... charles leclerc signed my hat? should i add it to the shrine? give them something to sacrifice?

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username any non-f1 fan would automatically assume ynleclerc is a crazy fan page for charles

username or a charles leclerc hate page... all she does it make fun of her brothers here

username she's offering her signed hat for the tifosi to sacrifice for a CL16 win??? that seems like pure love all around

arthur_leclerc i also signed your hat?

ynleclerc i also do not care? will a hat signed by you get me millions if i sell it for sacrificial purposes?

charles_leclerc what's next? my personal belongings?

ynleclerc is that an offer? if so, oui. i will take what i think will make me the most money next time i'm there, merci <3

scuderiaferrari if it gets us a 1-2 finish, sacrifice everything ynleclerc... please 🙏

username being a Ferrari fan is so satisfying when you remember ynleclerc is an automatic inclusion in everything and anything charles does

username the things i would do to have her as a McLaren fan... she's too beautiful for Ferrari 😭

oscarpiastri a piastri hat will get you good money in straya btw

username oscar??

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, mclaren, and others

oscarpiastri 'stop hitting me with the ball on purpose you jerk' was said more times than it should've been, by someone who really just sucks at tennis. had an awesome week back home, time to get back to it 💪

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logansargeant no wonder you're so worried about getting run over

username the coordinating outfits?? i'm gonna scream, who is she!!!

username what does logan know, tell us your secrets girl logansargeant

username oscar is gonna soft launch this relationship until the end of time. show us her face, you coward!!

ynleclerc did you pay her for all the bruises that tennis ball left?? poor girl

oscarpiastri it's not my fault she's a terrible tennis player, we all know i've offered to pay for a trainer

landonorris so this is why you couldn't come to bali with me 🤨

username lando really said i'm the third wheel??

username to be fair i'd probably pick oscar's girlfriend over lando for a week away too

username girly you don't even know who she is!!! she could be the devil

username i wanna be included in oscar's post week home photo dump :(

ynleclerc has posted a story

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, pascale.leclerc.355, and others

replies

oscarpiastri you can call me pookie whenever you want if you're gonna post things like this

ynleclerc i'd call you pookie with or without your permission, mon amour

charles_leclerc who is this

charles_leclerc why won't you tell us who you're dating

charles_leclerc we won't hurt him

charles_leclerc answer my texts

ynleclerc

liked by oscarpiastri, pascale.leclerc.355, arthur_leclerc, and others

ynleclerc get you a man who can do both, luckiest woman in the world whenever you're around. mon amour 🤍

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username people involved in formula 1 and their obsession with soft launching everything NEEDS to be studied

username at least she posts her boyfriend and he isn't just a small figure in the background of every post (charles this is a direct hate comment)

arthur_leclerc this would have been very lovely if it weren't for the last photo

liked by charles_leclerc and lorenzotl

ynleclerc suppose it's a good thing you could easily ignore it. cheers :)

pascale.leclerc.355 trés belle, ma fille 💗

charles_leclerc maman?

username could you IMAGINE if ynleclerc told pascale but obviously hasn't told her brothers? i can FEEL the outrage

username starting to think this may be a driver, ynleclerc is at every race weekend and ALWAYS makes a post with her mystery man at some point during the week after...

username okay ms sleuth (i think it's lando)

username i'm like 65% sure it's oscar, and 35% positive it's someone that looks a lot like oscar

ynleclerc

tagged oscarpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris, and others

ynleclerc someone exposed us on twitter, so i had to expose us on instagram 😮‍💨

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri love you <3

oscarpiastri i will love you even when a ferrari has run me over, of course.

arthur_leclerc is this your way of telling me i was right, without texting me back?

charles_leclerc this must be a joke, non?

pascale.leclerc.355 so very excited to finally be able to invite the both of you for dinner. trés belle 🤍

charles_leclerc maman, you knew?

ynleclerc oscar and i will see you for sunday dinner, maman! <3

tresbelleleclercspam

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

ynleclerc live feed of oscar running away from charles in the paddock when he said he 'just wanted to talk, mate'

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charles_leclerc i truly just wanted to talk about the race

charles_leclerc i did not have a speech planned, non

arthur_leclerc i did have a speech planned

lorenzotl i just wanted to welcome him to the family, as a good big brother should

oscarpiastri my apple watch warned me of an overactive heart rate 5 times today. why did you do this to me. why couldn't you have three sisters???

ynleclerc so very sorry, in our next life i'll try to make sure you only have to worry about sisters and not three overprotective brothers

oscarpiastri as long as i get to spend every lifetime with you <3

i actually got a request for something like this ages ago, and finally got around to finishing it. i so hope you all loved it as much as i loved writing it. thank you for all the support!!

i'm not currently taking requests, but if anyone has lil suggestions or prompts please feel free to send them.

[thefallofruins]

Sukuna’s little one is such a daddy’s girl.

She’s always with her dada. Clinging onto him everywhere he goes, practically attached to his shoulder as he has carries her around, especially since she refuses to go to anyone that’s not you or your husband.

A truly spoiled brat is what she was. Her antics knew no ends. She had taken a habit of strolling in the garden every morning with her dada, Sukuna having to slow down his steps to meet the strides of his little girl’s feet as she had barely learnt how to walk and clutched his kimono for support.

As if that wasn’t enough, she was taking after her dada in other aspects as well. Once she was seated on Sukuna’s lap, one of his arms protectively wrapped around her. The scene was a man cowering over in fear beneath Sukuna as he sat on his throne.

And the girl giggles.

He raises a brow to look at his daughter giggling at the sight of the poor man’s fear and smirks. “Why brat, you truly take after me.” He pats her head.

He shoos the man away instantly, “Scram while you can, I’m in a pleasant mood today.”

One day, when her beloved papa leaves for a few days, you notice her missing him incredibly. So you get a brilliant idea, “how about we prepare a little surprise for papa?”

The next week, Sukuna returns, and his first thoughts are to check on you and your baby girl, and she comes running straight to him. He doesn’t take a second to realize that the kimono she’s wearing is modeled after his.

“Dada!” She giggles and waddles to her father, almost tripping in the long garment. She hugs his leg with a soft pout, holding her arms up, “Up!” She demands.

He chuckles and holds her up, propping her comfortably in his arms, “you’re one cheeky brat, aren’t you?” She giggles, wrapping her small hands around his neck to hug him. He chuckles again, patting her back. “Someone missed me, huh?”

Naughty as she is (she has Sukuna’s genes, duh) she loves her pranks. Scaring the servants by sneaking up on them or hiding behind the walls. Of course, it was hard to act afraid of such a cute little girl but the servants pretend to be scared anyways. It makes Sukuna proud, even though you scold him for it.

She has also mastered the tool of emotional manipulation— puppy eyes. Sukuna groans as she gives the puppy eyes to him. You had restricted her access to sweets, but she was the boss around here.

“Fine brat.” He huffs, secretly assured that the puppy eyes are something she’d learnt from you. “You may have the mochi— just do not tell your mother about this.”

Well, let’s just say that mother got to know about this and that the dad and daughter duo were scolded thoroughly.

Regardless, Sukuna is beyond grateful to you for giving him this little bundle of blessing, even though he isn’t sure what he ever did to deserve such a thing. He has only ever felt the need to see to his pleasure, but when he sees you and his baby daughter, his heart swells with pride. He’d shred the world apart to protect you both.

[ragingbookdragon]

Whoever decided to ring her doorbell in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm was either a serial killer or a poor soul stuck out in the rain. Either way, she still felt sorry enough for whatever poor bastard was stuck outside and decided to open the door, but her expression dropped into annoyance when she saw the man leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gazing at her. “Long time no see.” She starts to close the door and he sticks his foot in it. “Wait, please, don’t close me out.”

“Like you did to me,” she retorts, opening the door. “What do you want, Simon?”

He glances back towards the rainy street and hefts his rucksack higher on his shoulder. “To stay the night.”

“Seriously?”

“Please?” He begs and she pauses—Simon Riley wasn’t a man who begged often.

She gazes at him a moment longer before sighing and opening the door. “Clothes and shoes off at the door. Mask too. You’re soaking wet.”

“What gave you that ‘int? The rainstorm?”

Turning, she shoots him a glare. “I’m letting you stay the night despite you breaking my heart. I’d be a little less sarcastic.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, starting to strip his clothes as he shuts the door behind him. He hands her his clothes, standing in his boxers, then cups the front of himself and asks. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of my clothes shoved in the back of your closet…would you?”

“Bottom drawer in the chest of drawers.”

“You kept my clothes? Aw, you still car—” he falls silent when she glares at him. “Going now.”

As she disappears into the laundry room, she calls out, “What did you do, walk here from the base? You know Birmingham has cabbies, right?”

“I’m not wasting money to drive twenty minutes when I can walk within an hour.”

“You know you’ll get sick from this.”

“Wive’s tale. Can’t get sick from the rain.”

“Smart-ass,” she retorts, shoving his clothes in the dryer.

He comes around the corner, leaning against the doorway with a hand towel thrown over his shoulder, short blonde hair sticking up in all directions, evident he’d dried off with it.

“That is a decorative towel, not for use.” She glares at him. “You know that too.”

“You moved the other towels.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” she mutters, then looks at him, eyes trailing down to where the sweatpants hung low on his hips. “Put a fucking shirt on, floozy.”

“I couldn’t find one,” he replies with a small smirk. “You must’ve used ‘em for fuel for the fireplace.”

She stands up straight and walks up to him. “Why are you here, Simon?” Her voice is quiet, calm, waiting.

He looks down at his feet, shifts his weight and murmurs, “Missed you.”

“You left me.”

“I know.”

“You start going to therapy yet?” She asks and he purses his lips.

“SAS doesn’t exactly offer therapy, y’know that, right? Not exactly ‘ow we operate.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You know I asked that friend of yours, what was his name? Soap? He said that the SAS offers routine psychiatric care and therapy. He also happened to mention you conveniently manage to get out of it every single time.”

Simon lets out a grunt and pinches his brow. “Soap can’t mind ‘is own fuckin’ business.”

“He’s your friend. And he was also drunk.” She waves a hand. “Regardless, you haven’t done the one thing I told you that you would have to do if you wanted to come back—no, when you came crawling back.”

“I don’t need therapy. I just want a second chance.” He shifts to his full height, looks at her with a pleading look. “Things were good between us, love. You know they were.”

“Sure, when you weren’t shutting down when you were hurting emotionally or running off to God knows where when you had a mission and didn’t leave me a notice.”

Simon sighs. “I was protectin’ you. I didn’t wanna drag you into all the shit I ‘ave to deal with on a daily. I didn’t want you to have to put up with…all of…”

She gives him a hard look. “Simon Riley, what part of me gave you the notion that I ever need to be protected or sheltered from what you do?”

He swallows thickly and gazes into her eyes. “Love…you’re too pure for me. What I do…you don’t need to know the horrors I’ve committed. You’re…you’re too beautiful for such things.”

“You mean how you kill people with no emotion? How you’ve taken lives with your bare hands? How you shove so much of yourself down into the black hole until there’s no humanity left but ‘Ghost’, the hollow killer?”

Simon stares at her, throat bobbing as he replies, “I can’t drag you to hell with me, it would kill me, love. What if—”

“Do you know the moment I knew I was in love with you?” She interrupts and he falls silent. “I was sick that one day a year ago, bad sick. And you told me not to go into work, but I didn’t listen and when I came home early, I could barely walk straight.” She places a hand on her hip. “And you helped me into the bathroom. Ran a bath in the dark, lit a few candles and you bathed me. Washed my hair. Took care of me. You were so gentle and so loving. Like a priest tasked with cleaning his alter, you cleansed me and made me feel safe.”

He shifts uncomfortably but his body language is anything but repulsed; it’s soft. “You started cryin’ when I was washin’ your hair. Thought I got soap in your eyes. But you said you just felt so loved.” He smiles then. “You were like a kitten really. Could barely lift your head. So tired and weak.”

“Mhm. And then you tucked me into bed and crawled beneath the covers with me. Laid up beside me, never once acted sexual. Just…caring.” She looks at him. “Do you remember what I said to you before I went to sleep?”

“No,” he mutters but he looks up at the ceiling and she knows he’s lying, it’s his tell-tale sign.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt and closes the distance between them, lays her hands on his chest, and says, “I said, ‘This is the real man beneath all that coldness. The real Simon. The one I knew I loved more than anything. No matter what.’”

Simon shudders beneath her touch, feels weak in his knees like he might drop to his and worship at her feet, beg for forgiveness like a sinner in confession. His chest aches, tightening as the words tear violently at his chest, a reminder that he left one of the only good things to ever come into his life, all because he was too afraid to let the walls come down, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to risk being hurt—because if she hurt him, he’d never come back from it. In the end, he’d felt like a fool trying to protect a damsel who never needed saving in the first place; and he was left with the realization that she’d been protecting him the entire time.

“I know what you do, Simon. I know it’s hard, even if you don’t think it is. I know that no matter how you push your humanity down into that hole that it’s still there. I know killing someone takes something from you every time but, Simon, I’m not your enemy. I love you.” Her eyes are calm, but her voice is firm. “And I will not stand on the outside of the lines under some guise of protection. You either be upfront and honest with me about everything or you leave, and you don’t come back.”

Simon knows she’s asking him to choose now, and he feels that creeping anxiety rise in his throat like bile until he manages, “Can…can we talk about everything in the morning?”

She sighs and pulls her hands away. “Yeah, I guess so. Sheets and blankets are in the hall closet. You know where the couch is.”

“You’re not going to let me sleep in the bed?” He sounds incredibly offended.

“Couch, Riley.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but he can’t help but smile when she sets the bedding out on the couch for him. “Goodnight, love,” he murmurs as she passes, and her shoulders tense and she waves a hand.

“Goodnight, Simon.”

He sits on the couch for a few moments, watches the rain splatter against the window, the clock ticking on the wall, before he pulls out his phone and simply types, “I love you,” and sends it.

It’s quiet for a solid ten seconds before he hears, “You absolute bastard!” From the bedroom followed by, “Get in here!”

Simon gives a victory dance as he clears his throat and attempts to look innocent as he steps into her bedroom; she glowers and points to the other side. “You’re on that side.”

“You can make me,” he retorts and crawls into the middle of the bed, groaning when all the bones in his body snap and pop.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to her book, but after a moment, she shifts against the headboard, getting comfortable again. Simon lifts his head, watches her, then he moves and lays his head in her lap, his arms wrapped around her hips under the pillows behind her. Her eyes rise to the wall in front of her and she stares unamusedly at it before she switches the book into her other hand and rests her right hand at the back of his neck, gently thumbing the juncture of his spine and skull. He groans beneath her touch, shifts himself so that she has control over moving him, body going slack when she scratches her nails into his scalp.

“You’re like a cat,” she mutters, feeling his lips turn up against her thigh.

“Meow,” he mimics, and she snorts, feeling him move until his head is pressed into her stomach, face turned so she can see the right profile.

He watches until she puts the book down on her nightstand and turns into him; they gaze at each other, and his eyes gently shut when she cups his face, thumbs brushing over his features.

“You know I’m giving you another chance, don’t you?”

Simon swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “…yeah.”

“But we’ve gotta change. Or else we’ll end up back where we were before we broke up.”

“I know.” He opens his eyes and looks at her. “I’ve missed you, love.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she murmurs, bending down to press her lips to his forehead. “Doesn’t feel the same without you haunting my apartment.”

His lips turn up in a smile as she pulls back and lays on the pillows; Simon rises and crawls up her body, his nose brushing hers as he whispers, “I’ll do better for you. I’ll change. I swear it.”

“Yeah?”

His gaze turns solemn in a way she’s never seen before as he replies, “On their grave, I will.”

She smiles softly at him, pulls him down so his face is tucked in her neck, and replies, “Get some sleep.”

“I love you,” he mutters against her warm skin, arms tucked safely around her, body weight comfortably on her. “I love you more than the world.”

“I love you,” she says back, reaching up to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.