#the ending of this chapter was one of the endings of all time

[hinamie]

fire nation festival wear aka a blatant excuse for me to push atla clothing design conventions to the absolute Limit

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[gojoest]

ENTANGLED ━━━ chapter one

pairing: gojo satoru x zenin f! reader

series masterlist┊next chapter

synopsis: you — the daughter of zenin naobito (the head of the zenin clan), born with no cursed energy and therefore deemed to be the disgrace of the clan — have only one dream. to escape from your own blood that’s rejected you ever since birth, even if it means you have to dirty your hands in the process. when simply running away is not an option, for they would indubitably find you and drag you back for worse, you find your getaway in the arms of an enemy clan  

warnings: MDNI, canon divergent, non-linear narrative (a lot of jumping back and forth between past & present, it’s indicated accordingly), female reader, she/her pronouns, reader is a zenin born without cursed energy, discrimination, abuse and bullying during childhood (she gets the toji treatment :/), brief mention of direct maternal death (regarding reader’s mother), childhood friends that fall out but come together, marriage in convenience (but with a twist), eloping, pining, kind of slow burn ngl, ijichi, shoko, geto, naoya + naobito cameo, mentions of food and alcohol, terms of endearment (calls you miss zenin, bride-o-mine, then mrs gojo later on + sweetheart <- so do you but with a lot of sarcasm behind it), sexual tension, male masturbation, although it’s left vague there’s some elements of incestuous behaviors on naoya’s end, wc: 9.3k

chapter one guideline & timeline:

I. The News — takes place in the present time.

II. The Proposal — two weeks prior to The News.

III. Sealing The Deal — two days after The News.

IV. The Past — flashback to the past, mainly from reader’s pov. this part is to be continued in chapter two, from satoru’s pov.

V. The First Night — after Sealing The Deal.

VI. Bad Faith — the day after The First Night.

The News 

Nobody could ever predict what Gojo Satoru was up to, except for one specific behavioral aspect of his — those who’ve spent a fair amount of time around him could easily figure that whatever it was on that man’s mind, it was, without any doubt, unorthodox and crazy. 

Yet every now and then, Gojo Satoru managed to outdo himself and exceed even their wildest expectations. This time — by dropping a bomb nobody saw coming, especially not from him.  

“Gojo-san, there’s an upcoming mission assigned to your students, and you are to supervise them throughout it”, Ijichi hands a document regarding the occasion, but his arms hang in the air as the blindfolded man is absorbed in a rather peculiar activity, patently unwilling to receive the papers. 

“Eeeh”, Satoru drags out a displeased whine, without even bothering to look at Ijichi. Currently seated and mindlessly spinning around in a swivel chair that he rummaged out earlier that day from one of the storage units in Jujutsu High and dragged into the classroom for god knows why. His entire attention focused on keeping his long legs up in the air as he spins as fast as he can without possibly breaking the chair, but still, he shows some semblance of interest. “When? Where? What’s it about?”, the words spoken in slow monotone. 

If you look at the papers, you might know the answer to all these, Gojo-san. Ijichi thinks to himself but, of course, doesn’t dare say it out loud. “It’s in two days from now, the location is—” 

“Stop right there”, Satoru cuts him off, ceasing his childish ministrations with his feet landing a heavy stomp on the floor. He slowly gets up. “In two days?”, he rubs his chin, thinking, “I am afraid, I can’t. I am getting married then” 

Of course, you are. Ijichi thinks in an internal monologue. 

“With all due respect, Gojo-san”, he clears his throat to push back the laughter that’s about to climb up and out his throat. “You could’ve come up with a better excuse than this to, umm—”, after fixing his glasses, he continues, “—ditch your duties” 

“That was not an excuse, Ijichi, nor was it a joke. I can’t believe you think so lowly of me as a teacher”  

For a second there, the evident seriousness in his voice sends a shiver down Ijichi’s spine, which, to be honest, is not entirely caused by the way Gojo spoke to him, but also what he spoke of just now.  “I really am getting married”, he repeats. 

“Oh?”, Ijichi’s eyes widen, unable to utter another word other than an exclamation while processing the credibility of his words. This man is not joking? This man, of all men, is getting married? For real? 

“To be more precise — in two days from now, I will be busy kidnapping this bride-o-mine” 

“Oh?!”, still speechless, another gasp leaves Ijishi’s mouth. “You’re eloping?”  

“That is correct, ten points for you Ijichi!”, Satoru claps his hands. “Keep this a secret for the time being. I know it's a matter of time for everyone to know, but I'd rather they found out after it’s official since prying eyes might get in our way and spoil our plans. Got it?” 

Ijichi only nods in return. 

“Good. As for the mission — let Nanami handle it in my stead, the students will be fine as long as he’s with them” 

After Satoru left, excusing himself with a “oh, so many things to do before the big day, you know?” spoken with his trademark silly chuckle, Ijichi stood there in the empty classroom for a while, frozen. Shocked to his core still, but now also curious. Who was that woman to make Gojo Satoru want to marry her? 

The Proposal 

(two weeks ago) 

“To say I was surprised to get a call from you would be an understatement, Miss Zenin”, Satoru grinned at you, taking off his sunglasses immediately upon your arrival and placing them on the table. 

It’s not that you were late — he was simply early, something quite bizarre for him honestly. Already ordered drinks for the both of you and waiting for you to show up with his legs crossed and fingers nervously tapping on the table — again, being nervous was something quite unusual for him as well. 

“And to ask me to meet you here of all places—”, he sprawled out on the chair, leaning his back against the wooden splat, his long legs reaching the other side of the table from beneath and pushing the chair there with his feet to invite you to sit. He was being a gentleman in his own way, to which you rolled your eyes but made no remark. “Are you going to ask me to kill someone for you?”, a mocking chuckle escaped his lips after he finished his sentence. 

“Not necessarily”, you replied, unamused.  

The day before, you called him. Asking to meet you here, in this secluded spot disguised as a cafe which regular people avoided, since it was a place swarmed by dangerous individuals and illegal activities. Drugs, kidnapping, assassination — whatever shady dealing you could think of. It had to be this place, after all there was no way for a Zenin to meet a Gojo out in the open, considering the bad blood between the two clans since generations ago. Especially not the daughter of Zenin Naobito, the clan head, and Gojo Satoru, the pride and leader of the Gojo clan. It would’ve caused consequences, for you at least. 

“You’ve got some balls to come here alone though, I must admit. As intriguing as always”, Satoru scoffed. “I don’t remember the last time I sat this close to you. Not since we were kids”, his lips slightly curved into a nostalgic smile as he reminisced about old times. “Now you avoid me anywhere you see me, like I’m some sort of disease”, and the smile shifted back to a regular one, although you could tell it was forced, just to keep his usual nonchalant appearance. “Not that we meet outside of clans’ gatherings, but still—” 

“Can we skip the yapping and cut to the chase? I don’t have much time”, you interrupted. “Sure, Miss Zenin”, he shot back. 

Miss Zenin. The way he called you that annoyed you abysmally, and that probably was his intention all along. But you had to ignore it for now, you really didn’t have much time on your hands — you had to go back home before anyone would notice you weren’t around. 

“I have a favor to ask, actually — it’s more of a proposal” 

 “Listening”, his head tilting to the side, eyes locked on your lips, awaiting the words. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Silence. 

It took him a few seconds before he could speak, pondering in his head whether he heard you right. Eventually the only word he could utter was “What?”, to which you said nothing. You figured it was best to give him some time to process the information.  

“What’s the catch?”, he spoke again, eyes now squinting. 

“Glad you asked”, you gave him a knowing smile. 

“Of course. I would say it’s a joke but no way you’d call me out of the blue just to pull my leg” 

“True, it isn’t a joke” 

“I believe it’s not out of love either? Unless... I am wrong? Have you been harboring such strong feelings towards me all these years?”, his tone slowly transitioning back into mocking after the initial shock had faded. 

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “You wish. See, that would only happen in your dreams” 

Laughing, he slowly shifted in his seat. Leaning his body forward to rest an elbow on the table and press a cheek against his palm, his other hand playing with the straw of his drink. “So, you want out of the clan, huh? And finally have the courage to do it” 

“You figured?” 

“Well, I grasp things quickly. Considering how the Zenins treat women and especially those born without cursed energy, like yourself, this wasn’t hard to predict. But I am surprised by the choice of your method” 

“And I am surprised you didn’t cut me out by now since this was a shot in the dark”, you eyed him, baffled but pleasantly. 

“Let’s say I am intrigued by your proposal, which turned out to be quite unromantic, but I'll look past it”, a mystifying grin splattered on his lips. "Also, as you already know, there’s a Zenin or two I am willing to help”, he laughed. “So, tell me — what’s in that beautiful head of yours?” 

"Well, as you already guessed — I want to leave the clan. Being a Zenin is not for me, never has been. I’ve been treated like an abomination all my life, looked down upon like I barely fit the criteria to be human in their eyes just because I was not gifted with abilities, and I am done with it”, you paused, trying to hold back the cracking of your voice. All the years of mistreatment washing over you as you spoke. You took a deep breath, “Simply running away is not an option, they will find me and drag me back for worse. You know it. But if you help me—” 

“—their hands will be tied”, he finished your sentence.  

You nodded. “They can’t go against you. Well, there might be a slight commotion, namely coming from my brother, Naoya. But he won’t do anything brash without father’s approval” 

“That lousy brat? I didn’t know the two of you were so close”, Satoru lifted an eyebrow, a bit bothered by this. 

“We’re not, but it’s complicated” 

He got the message — you did not wish to talk about it. And he’d let it slide. For now. “And you think you’ll be free once you become a Gojo?” 

“Not immediately, but eventually — yes. I don’t plan on staying by your side until death do us part, you know” 

“What an eventful meeting this turned out to be — first I get a marriage proposal, and now a divorce, all at once”, he laughed, covering his eyes with a hand. Perhaps to hide something in them that didn’t quite align with his laughter. “What if I get attached and refuse to let you go?”, he spoke, with a tone more serious that it took you aback a bit. “Have you considered this?” 

“Are you a comedian now?”, you brushed it off. “We both know such thing won’t happen” 

“How come you’re so sure?” 

“It’s happened before, you know it” 

“We were kids back then”, he smiled softly, with a sprinkle of regret on his lips. “We used to sneak out to spend time together, but things are different now” 

“But you stopped coming” 

“My training got more intense, didn’t have time for games anymore” 

“You bet. I know you did it to keep me out of trouble. You were aware I was getting scolded and punished for meeting you” 

“Oh?”, he gasped. “You knew?”, a powerless laughter followed the realization that all these years you didn’t just avoid him out of spite. Part of him felt at ease about it, that you always understood him, even without words. Just like back then. Maybe because you were both a mutation of a different breed — a special boy put on a pedestal by many, a monster if you will; and a nonspecial girl looked down upon by her own blood as a disappointment, barely a human — yet the loneliness you carried weighed the same on your hearts. 

“Yea”, you sighed. “Back then you did it to keep me out of trouble, now you’ll do it to get me out of one. When the time comes, we’ll separate but keep it a secret. If my clan finds out, they won’t let it slide. I’ll show up for gatherings every now and then, to dodge any possible suspicions, but that’s all. Treat this like a deal” 

“That’s all good, but deals require an equivalent exchange so both parties benefit from it. You get your freedom. But what about me — what do I get in return?” 

Your lips curved into a scarce smile, delighted that he was willing to negotiate. This could actually work, you thought. “Well, it’s not like your family will be very pleased to have me but still. The most important thing is, you won’t ever have to deal with the blind dates your clan sets you up on, with an arranged marriage in mind. I bet they’re nagging you about it constantly since you’re pretty much of age now” 

“What my clan is concerned about is an heir, marriage is just a stepping stone. How will this temporary thing between us do that? Temporary and fake on top of that?”, he questioned through a scorn. 

“I’ll give you a child”, you shot at him in a heartbeat, voice unwavering. This was part of the plan after all. 

“What?”, he laughed, tilting his head in pure astonishment at your offer. 

“We will lead a normal married life, like a proper wife and husband. I’ll have your child, this secures me even better. That way I’ll be tied to the Gojo clan forever, not the Zenin” 

“You’re aware what we need to do in order for you to have my child, right?” 

You were, but when he put it like that your face got hot against your will, heat burning your cheeks and sizzling on your ears. “I am”, you mumbled, unable to look him in the face. Petrified to meet his gaze. 

“You really are insane”, he covered his face with both hands. Perhaps he was petrified, too. 

“Coming from you that’s rather concerning. Now back to the point — you up for it?” 

“Alright. Let’s do it” 

Sealing The Deal 

(back to present) 

For the past two days Satoru pulled all the strings possible in order to speed up the marriage procedure. He diligently prepared all the needed documents to officially register your matrimony. All that was left was to go to the ward office and submit the marriage application after signing it along with two witnesses. 

With that, today would mark your last day as a Zenin. 

“Do you know who the girl is?”, Shoko asks, leaning against the wall in the ward office hallways, waiting for Satoru and the mystery bride to arrive. 

Geto shrugs from next to her, “Nope, no clue. Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is happening — he is actually getting married” 

“You of all people didn’t know he was involved with someone?”, she scoffs, turning her head in his direction. “Strange, maybe he was hiding the love of his life from you so you wouldn’t snatch her away” 

“He wasn’t involved with anyone, if he was — we both would’ve known. Besides, what do you mean by that? I would never break the bro code, come on” 

A semblance of a lazy laugh slips through Shoko’s lips. One can tell she didn’t get much sleep (again) by how lethargic and unenthusiastic her reactions were. “Girls end up falling for you always, so maybe he chickened out to introduce her” 

“That’s because he sucks with girls”, Geto snorts.  

Satoru wasn’t exactly the sweep-you-off-your-feet type of guy. His looks were bewitching, that was a given, and women would latch on him, only to give up shortly after. And all the reviews were unanimous — I want someone that will put me first, but with him — I don’t see it ever happening, his mind is elsewhere.  

“Maybe he finally caved in after years of his family pestering him to get married”, Shoko throws another guess. 

“Satoru caving in to an arranged marriage? Seriously, Shoko... Does he look like the type to listen to what elders tell him to do?” 

“He never looked like the marrying type either, yet here we are” 

“I don’t know”, Geto sighs heavily. “This is way too odd” 

“Hey, hey~”, Satoru’s voice echoes through the hallways. “Sorry to keep you waiting, my bride was barely able to sneak out from the Zenins. You know how the old farts there are” 

Hearing the name Zenin, Shoko and Geto glance at each other with the same perplexed look in their eyes. A Zenin? Sneaking out? 

Forcing a somewhat adequate smile, you shake their hands. You could tell they were taken aback after hearing your name, it was written all over their faces that they didn’t quite endorse this insane whim of Satoru’s. 

“Satoru, can I have a quick word with you”, Geto pulls him to the side after giving you a polite smile as a form of apology. 

“Are you eloping?”, he whispers, although quite audibly, “With a Zenin? Have you actually lost your mind, Satoru?” 

“Suguru”, Satoru lazily drapes an arm over Geto’s shoulder, “Yes to your first question, as for the second — have you ever seen me be normal about anything?”, he laughs. 

“Not the right time to humor your misery, Satoru”, Geto says through gritted teeth all while forcing a smile looking your way, to avoid any awkward impression on your end that the two of them were talking about you (even though that’s exactly what was going on). “There’s existent animosity between your clans already, are you trying to start an actual war all over again?”, he snaps, giving a sharp nudge to his side. 

“Ouch~”, Satoru yelps. “Come on, Suguru. What can they do to me?”, his words brimming with confidence compel Geto to rub the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Do you remember, that one time on the rooftop back when we were still students in Jujutsu High, I told you about a girl from my childhood?”, Satoru continues. 

Geto nods. He does remember it vividly, after all it was the first and last time Satoru has ever talked about a girl of his own accord and with so much passion behind his voice. 

“That’s her.” 

“It’s our turn”, Shoko interrupts. “Let’s go get you married” 

As you all entered the hall, Suguru gave Satoru a soft pat on the back and glanced over his shoulder at Shoko with a validating nod. 

Satoru got a pass from his moral compass. 

-- 

Signatures were inked, rings were exchanged, and vows were made to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part. 

It is said that vows are crucial in a marriage, they set the tone for your relationship going forward and serve as a ground to build your values on. Whatever values could be built on a soil soaked with lies, you thought to yourself as you all walked out. As soon as the ceremony was over Shoko rushed out to get the dose of nicotine her body was yearning for the entire time inside the ward office, leaving you three behind. 

There was nothing holy about your union, it was a lie to begin with. And, naturally, so were your vows. It shouldn’t bother you this much that you were to break the fake promises you just made to the man that handed you a one-way ticket to your freedom. 

“What’s with the face, Mrs. Gojo?”, Satoru softly pokes you in the arm, the unease in your expression doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “We just tied the knot, yet you look like you just walked out of a funeral” 

A funeral. Right. That’s how it felt to you. 

You buried yourself, your past, in there. You got what you wanted, but part of you was terrified of the new person you were to become. Mrs. Gojo, huh? You were not in the right headspace to be snarky about it now. 

“I’m fine. All these formalities are draining, that’s all” 

“Then we’ve got to recharge”, he grins, then turns around and shouts at Geto who’s walking a few steps behind and scrolling on his phone, “Suguruuu, let’s celebrate, shall we?” 

“Geez, you’re loud, Satoruuu”, he cracks an irked grimace, sticking a pinky finger into his ear. 

“There’s no need for that”, you whisper, tugging at the hem of his shirt.  

Satoru’s fingers trace over your knuckles, hesitant to get a proper hold of your hand, but he gives in anyway, “We have to pretend there is”, he speaks in a low voice, and wraps his hand around yours. “Besides, it’s lunchtime. We need to eat” 

You don’t resist, neither his touch nor his words.  

On your way to the restaurant that your (now) husband made a quick call to reserve a table for four, Satoru sat on the driver’s seat — a rare occasion, usually Ijichi drives him everywhere — glancing at you beside him on the passenger seat at every opportunity, studying your features and how much they’ve changed compared to his childhood memories of you. It’s not like he never saw you after that. But you’d never let him take a good long look at you, always running away the moment you noticed him around. Before he could know it, he was smiling, mouth agape — a soundless “ha” passing through the crack of his lips, the sunlight hitting his eyes, yet he couldn’t blink — he had to take you in. He was back to being a child at that moment, wearing his genuine feelings on his face without knowing how to mask them. And you... you were even prettier now. 

The two sitting on the backseat exchanged an astounded look after observing the scene unfolding before their eyes. Who would’ve guessed that their friend had such a hidden, soft spot for someone and could make such genuine faces? 

The Past 

You were born with bad luck. 

That’s what you told yourself. And that’s what others, who felt sorry for you, thought so too. Mostly those unfortunate enough to be servants in the Zenin clan that have witnessed way too many things happen to you. 

First, you were born into the Zenin Clan as the daughter of Zenin Naobito, the leader — that alone was the biggest mishap the heavens bestowed you with. A problematic clan with questionable values, where owning powerful cursed techniques was held in highest regard and considered the measure of your worth as an individual and whether you were fit to be a Zenin. Rejecting, without an ounce of remorse, their own flesh and blood and looking down at them like inferior beings did they deem their ability weak and unworthy. 

With that being said, here comes the second — you were born into that clan, with no cursed energy. You didn’t make the cut ever since the beginning. The clan didn’t even mourn the fact you were lacking, they simply treated you indifferently, and sometimes with disgust, like you were one of the servants — easily replaceable. “It’s not enough that you were born a girl, but you are also lacking the gift. You were never meant to be part of this family to begin with, the name of Zenin will abandon you once you get married”, your grandmother would often tell you, right before throwing you into the disciplinary pit with curses. Till then, maybe through some miracle you could manifest some cursed energy if she locked you up there for long enough, so you could be at least a little bit useful. 

Wait. There’s a third, too — your mother lost her life giving birth to you. It’s not like you felt any guilt for that, you never knew what parental love was anyway, therefore didn't see it as a burden that weighed on your conscience. In fact, you were partly relieved that there was one person less to mistreat you there. 

Your older brother, Zenin Naoya, would often use this to harass you. Telling you “Maybe you’re not that hopeless after all, since you killed mother. Or maybe that’s even worse — she’s going to be your only kill” with that revolting laugh of his.  

Other kids looked down on you too, avoiding you like you carried some disease. There were rumors even, how childish, now what you think back — that if you came closer to them, you’d rid them of their powers and of their mothers too. Oddly enough, those rumors were started by none other than your brother. Perhaps he wanted to be the only one to pick on you. While he made every woman walk three paces behind him, he’d keep you close, telling you in a condescending manner “How am I to look down on you if you keep walking behind me, little lamb?” 

And you truly were a little lamb. Living and growing only to get the life in you eaten away by the Zenins. A sacrifice for no good. 

But the summer of your sixth year was different. 

You met a boy. 

He looked like winter in the middle of summer. Snow-white hair falling over his face and likewise lashes, sitting like tender snowflakes on his eyelids. The bluest blue in his eyes you had ever seen in your life, and if you stared long enough it’d throw you into a trance. 

There was a sense of loneliness to him akin to winter too. 

How when the cold months came around, people would spend less time outside and instead run to their homes to warm up in front of the fireplace. He was the winter people were hiding from. 

And you figured, you had heard of him. He was the special boy of the Gojo Clan, the first in centuries to inherit both The Limitless and The Six Eyes, whose birth alone shifted the power balance in the world, who had a bounty over his head at such a young age for being a force too great to be kept alive. 

He was the complete opposite of you, yet somehow the same as you. One rejected for being too much, and the other — for not being enough. Both were similarly exhausting, arduous, and lonely. 

You first met during a clans’ gathering. The big three brought together under one roof to discuss some matters you can’t quite recall now, just like you don’t remember the reason you were brought along. Perhaps to carry stuff around, like you always did. 

An exchange of shy glances as you waited outside, sitting on the wooden engawa (veranda) led you both slowly scooching over closer to one another, until the gap between you was small enough that you could see how his heartbeat made the collar of his kimono flutter ever so slightly. 

“Is it sweet?”, the boy pointed at the popsicle in your hand. “It is”, you answered along with a nod. Bringing it up to his mouth — “Want some?” — you invited him to take a bite as he looked at you with uncertain eyes. A blush painting a beautiful cherry hue on the pale complexion of his cheeks. He nibbled on the side of it — “It is!” — his eyes grew wide, a glow in them. 

“You’ve never had one? — surprise in you voice. “Of course, I have”, he lied, scratching the back of his head, a bit embarrassed of possibly seeming uncool in your eyes. 

He had a strict regime when it came to the food he consumed. Whatever he put into his mouth had to be of great value and nutrition, diligently prepared by the best chefs, so his body, or as others saw it — the shell where a god resided in — would grow healthy and strong to be on par with his powers. 

It was the first time you shared food with someone else. You usually ate alone, disgusted by the Zenins surrounding you around the table that your throat felt too tight to swallow anything that you put in your mouth, be it water even. 

And it was the first friend you ever made. While everyone up until now turned a blind eye and avoided you, he didn’t run. He even stayed. 

Introducing himself as “Satoru" only, he deliberately refrained from saying his full name at first. When you never pushed him to reveal it, he turned a bit fidgety. 

“You never asked about my last name” — lips slightly pursed, the muscles on his face fighting off a pout but failing eventually. “Maybe I’m not that interested in you” — tilting your head, you teased, yet — “Just kidding, I know who you are” — you quickly added upon seeing his brows knitting in dejection. “But you can be just Satoru with me” 

From that day onward you’d meet in secret every now and then, whenever both of you could manage to sneak out. For just a little bit. To eat popsicles and other sweet things together. 

That was, until your brother found out. 

Naoya always kept tabs on you after all. You were a prey to him, and chasing you was like a game. It was only a matter of time before he knew. Or perhaps he did already but let you sneak out on purpose so he could use it to his avail and torment you further. 

Naturally, the time you spent with Satoru fell shorter compared to that spent in the disciplinary pit. “That’s to teach you a lesson, little lamb”, Naoya would say with a twisted look in his eyes as he locked you up in there. 

At times like this, you’d remember your grandmother’s words — “the name of Zenin will abandon you once you get married”. 

...and an idea brewed in your mind. 

If you could run away right now, you would. But where would you go? What would you do? You were only six. If your own flesh and blood was this cruel to you, how could you expect the outside world to treat you any better? 

You were not that naive. You knew you had to wait. 

You endured the endless hours that felt like days and weeks in that pit, surviving by pure miracle every time. Or was it hope that kept you fighting? Because you knew, by the end of it, as long as you were alive, you’d find a way to meet your friend, the only one you had. And maybe he could save you one day. Maybe, tomorrow you could make a promise to each other — that when the time came and you were both of age, you would take his last name and be freed of the curse you were born with. 

...but Satoru never showed up. 

(to be continued) 

The First Night 

(back to present) 

It was getting late. You spent more time than originally planned at lunch with Shoko and Geto as everyone had already cleared out their schedules for the day to join you on your escapade. 

You thought at first, that the entire time you would have to dodge questions such as How did this happen? When did you start seeing each other? When did you decide it was time? Who proposed? How? Doesn’t the animosity between your clans worry you? Have you considered the consequences even? Are you perhaps pregnant? Is this why all the rush is for?, etc...  

But that never happened. Neither of them pried, nor made you uncomfortable invading your personal space. In fact, they made you loosen up a bit by being warm and friendly, already treating you like one of them, mocking Gojo’s constant mischiefs in front of you. The setting resembled that of a parent-teacher meeting where you were in the role of the parent, and they were the teachers complaining to you about Gojo. It was a rather humbling experience for the whitehaired man who sat there pouting and subtly gesturing for them to cut it.  

But when he heard you laughing at their stories, he ceased. Sucking it up, he let them continue playfully bashing him. He had really missed your laugh. 

“So~ we’re here — welcome to your new home”, Satoru points at the huge mansion after helping you hop out of the car. One of the bodyguards in the yard immediately took the keys from his hand and drove the car away to park it in the garage area. 

To say this thing before your eyes was huge would be an understatement actually. After you quickly scanned the place you noticed there were a few more houses built around the mansion, and perhaps even behind it.  

The Gojo household was located in a huge, fenced area with a single front entrance, for security purposes (so it would always be known who walked in and out under meticulous surveillance), leading to a big yard with a well-kept garden befitting the Gojo Clan. The first house in front, and the biggest, was the main mansion — inhabited by Satoru’s parents and grandparents (from his father’s side), while extended family (like aunts, uncles, cousins — basically the most important members of the clan) resided in the ones around it. 

Satoru, despite being the clan head, did not live in the main mansion. His place was relatively isolated from the rest (ironically resembling the life he led and the powers he had), situated far behind all the houses, right before a path that led to a forest-like area as part of the Gojo property. 

“No way”, you gasp — “Don’t tell me you live with your entire clan?” — as you quickly pad forward, leaving him a few steps behind, to further inspect the place. 

“Not technically but yea, we stick together — clan traditions deem it this way”, he sighs. 

“Never took you as the tradition following guy, to be honest” 

He chuckles, “What can I say — I am full of surprises~ But truthfully, as the clan head I can’t just up and leave, you know? Besides...” — a pause, observing you as your eyes roam around studying the place, head turning from one side to the other in astonishment. Then his gaze shifts to his left hand. Lifting it slightly and spreading his fingers to look at his ring, and then back at you. “...sometimes deeply rooted habits are hard to break. Especially if one holds onto them for too long. It’s hard to let go no matter what kind of person you are” 

“There’s something even beyond you, Gojo Satoru?”, your voice almost mocking but somehow lacking the right tone to it, too distracted by your surroundings. 

He laughs, “Maybe. Just one little thing only” — words mumbled under his breath, too soundless for your ears to catch on. 

-- 

After you made it in, he gave you a full tour around the house. Walking you through each and every room, thoroughly explaining where things were and how you could touch up anything you desired and change it to your liking — this was now your home, too.   

The last stop was the bedroom.  

“Should I carry you in bridal style? That’s how newlyweds do it~”, Satoru smirks at you, arms crossed around his waist, his side leaning against the doorframe. 

You were about to make a face there for a second and give him an eyeroll, maybe even pick on him for watching way too many romcoms, but you held back. 

“Sure, why not”, you mumble instead, looking down. 

After all, before you was the room where certain things were to happen in, according to your deal, and you thought it’s best to let him indulge in this play pretend and carry you in as your feet were frozen in their tracks anyway. Nervous of what was ahead, you couldn’t bring yourself to move. 

“Oh?” — caught off guard, not expecting you to actually go along with it, he gasps, but then — “Right?” — quickly plays it cool. “Alright, bride-o-mine, here we go” 

Charging towards you with a slow step, he leans down so your eyes are on equal level, face an inch away from yours. So close that, as he cracks his lips open to swipe a tongue across them his hot breath feels like steam against your skin. Licking his lips, a habit you were painfully familiar with, it was something he did when he got nervous that seemingly didn’t change from when he was little. 

He scoops you up effortlessly, holding you tight but tenderly at the same time. His fingers clutching firmly around you yet at the same time careful enough to not bruise you.  “Almost there”, he pushes the creaked door open with his foot and carries you in through the doorway. 

Flustered, you turn your head the other way in an attempt to hide the heat eliciting from your face. You were way too close. His scent invading your nostrils, you could almost distinguish his natural body odor from his perfume. 

“Oh, my... If you shy away this easily”, he carefully sits you on the bed — “how are we to make that baby~ Hm?” — and smugly smirks as he plops down next to you right after, his knee scarcely brushing against your leg.  

“Tch...”, you click your tongue, heat still spreading like fire on your cheeks, and even far up to your ears. “Didn’t know you wanted to bed me right away?” — is he really going to jump on you now? Why bring up the baby talk otherwise... 

He gasps in an overexaggerated manner, gluing fingertips to his mouth, “Thought I could give you some time to adjust, but if you insist...” 

“Ugh, Gojo”, you aim a reflex eyeroll his way. 

“What now, are you talking to yourself?” 

“Excuse me?”, you lift a brow. 

“You’re a Gojo too now, you know?”, a grin on his lips, the kind he makes when he’s about to win something. “When you refer to me, you have to say my first name — Sa-to-ru — to avoid any confusion~” 

See, that was his goal all along — to make you call him by name, just like in the past. 

...but two can play this game. You had no intention of losing this battle to him. 

“Sweetheart”, your tone overly delicate on purpose, as you tilt your head, cheek pressing against your shoulder. “Isn’t this better?”, you flutter your lashes at him. 

His reaction comes slow. The full grin from a second ago is now a half, the other half — a surprise, with a sprinkle of a new, unknown to you glint in his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game there, sweetheart”, he breathes, scooching closer to you. An arm finding its way around your waist, wrapping itself from the small of your back all the way front, hand stopping at your navel. 

A flinch shudders through your body, but he’s got you still, you can’t pull away. “What happened to giving me time to adjust?”, you mutter, not as feisty anymore. This was a side you haven’t seen to him, which you figured was natural. You knew him as a kid, now — he was a man. And like all men do, he was acting on his urges. 

“You push my buttons”, he’s leaning closer, and closer, and closer, until your noses are brushing and breaths are exchanging. His free hand rolling up and tucking the few strands of hair falling on your face behind your ear, then slowly sliding to the back of your neck. “Trying to get me excited?” 

“If a mere endearment excites you this much, what will become of you when I say your name?” 

He laughs, his breath infesting your mouth. Lips accidentally grazing yours from the action itself, which draws a low, helpless hum out of him. “Care to find out?” 

You jolt — something about the way he was looking at you told you this wasn’t just some simple teasing — and finally bring your hands to use and push him away and get up. “I need a shower” 

“Ah, got all hot and bothered? It’s okay, I am used to it — I have this type of effect on women all the time~”, he chuckles, earning yet another eyeroll from you. Reaching behind to grab a pillow and sit it on his lap, subtly hiding the fact that he got all hot and bothered, too. “You know where the bathroom is, sweetheart” 

He won this round. 

-- 

Satoru is still sitting in the bed, back relaxed against the headboard with one foot thrown over the other on the mattress, as you make your way out of the bathroom. You smell like him now, he thinks — only natural after having to use his shower gel and shampoo — as your freshly showered self approaches the side of the bed your pajamas were carefully folded and placed at. He took it upon himself to buy them for you, along with some clothes, and shoes, and bags, since you couldn’t pack and take anything with you. 

“Can you, umm”, you fidget, “turn around or something? I want to get dressed” 

“There you go again, shying away from your own husband”, he smugly teases. 

“Oh, you want to watch so bad? How perverse of you, sweetheart”, you mock, loosening the belt of your bathrobe so the fabric covering your shoulders slides down a bit, revealing more of your flesh. 

There’s a good chance for this reverse psychology to backfire now, you think, but you just couldn’t make peace with him picking on you like that. 

He shifts in his place, now sitting up on the opposite side, legs touching the ground and his back turned against you. The transition was so quick and instinctive as if he, by sheer luck, dodged a bullet aimed to take his life. “I’d love to stay for the show but, you see...”, he rubs the back of his neck, “I need to check the report regarding my students’ mission from today” 

“I see”, a victorious smirk on your lips as you watch him walk away. 

This round was yours. Now you were even. 

-- 

You were going to be trouble. 

The report was, of course, an excuse. He had to make it out of the room, or he would’ve done something terrible to you. 

His face burning hot as he quickly stripped himself of his clothes in one of the guest rooms downstairs and went straight into the bathroom to cool off. An aching pulse on his groin dragging inaudible curses from his mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

A stream of ice-cold water hitting his face, hugging his shoulders, cascading down the rest of his well-built body before washing down into the drain. He stands there still and completely unaffected by the temperature. He was burning inside. 

Eyes shut, he thinks about you — about the way that bathrobe loosely enveloped your frame, about the gap temptingly revealing bits of your cleavage, leaving little to the imagination... about sliding his hands down into that very gap and pushing it open, taking the fabric covering your shoulders in his hands and pulling it down your arms to expose your breasts... about clasping both of your wrists behind the small of your back while his other hand moves to the side of your face and holds your chin before kissing you hungrily... then moving to your jawbone, and then lower, and lower... and lower, kissing and nibbling until he reaches your nipples, and then further below... 

His hand relentlessly stroking his cock to the visual of you in his imagination. Part of him absolutely disgusted by what he was doing right now, thinking how he was tainting the innocent girl from his memories. But then another, the one he couldn’t suppress — shamelessly trying to picture even beyond, making up in his mind what he thought your sweet expressions and obscene sounds would be like under his touch.  

His balls tighten up to him as he pumps himself from base to head with firm strokes, low growls rising from his throat echo through the walls the faster his hand works up and down his shaft. 

The tension soon leaves his body, his cum oozing out from between his fingers and spraying all over the bathroom tiles.  

Oh, you were going to be trouble for sure... 

-- 

“What puzzles me though, is that nobody has called you all day”, he walks into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. “In all honesty, it’s been bugging me for a while now”, a hand brushes back his damp hair. 

“They think I’m staying over at a friend’s place”, trying to ignore the view before you, you avert your gaze from him and his ridiculously lean body and well sculpted six pack that looked way too perfect to be real. He probably came here half naked, on purpose, to get back at you for earlier... Say nothing, say nothing, say nothing — you kept internally repeating to yourself. Play it cool. 

“And they let you?”, he casually saunters over to you, his hand reaching behind you to grab a hold of his nightwear sitting on his pillow. Seriously? He had to walk all the way to your side only to reach for the pajamas placed on his? What a sore loser... 

“Mhm”, you hum, lips tight and eyes looking down at your lap, “I managed to convince father. The odds were in our favor, I guess? — But I have to pay them a visit tomorrow, to deliver the news” 

“We will pay them a visit”, he corrects you. “I’m coming with you” 

“You don’t have to” 

“But I want to”, he insists, his resolve is solid. 

“Okay”, you don’t resist any further. “What about your family? When are we telling them?” 

He makes his way to the bathroom inside the room, while still speaking to you from over there. At least he’s not as shameless to get dressed in front of you.  

“They’re easy, I’ll talk to them some time tomorrow. Might organize a little thing to introduce my wife properly, heheh” 

“How do you think they’ll take the news? I mean, I know they won’t endorse it but — on a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it will be?” 

“What does it matter when it’s fait accompli? Besides, they can’t go against my decisions, so”, he shrugs after making it back, fully dressed now. Thanks god. But wait... 

“Did you seriously get us matching pajamas?”, you look him up. He was wearing the exact same pair in blue, while yours was a light shade of pink. 

“Yea?”, he emits a dorky snicker. “Don’t you think it’s cute?” 

“Ew, cringe”, you fight back a snort. 

What a truly bothersome man... 

Bad Faith 

— (n.) dishonest behavior with the intention of deceiving someone. “bad faith” refers to dishonesty or fraud in a transaction. depending on the exact setting, bad faith may mean a dishonest belief or purpose, untrustworthy performance of duties, neglect of fair dealing standards, or a fraudulent intent 

You slept well for once in your life, despite being in a new place, a new bed — you knew you owed it to the fact you were away from the Zenins.  

The same can’t be said about Gojo though. 

He stayed wide awake all night, restless, turning and tossing, making occasional visits to the shower even, to calm it down. Annoyed to some extent by how he was the only one in turmoil while you innocently slept next to him, unaware of his condition. He felt like an insatiable teenager all over again. How embarrassing, he thought... 

During the whole car ride to the Zenins, he kept yawning and rubbing his eyes from beneath his pitch-black sunglasses that were adeptly hiding his dark sleepless circles caused by none other than you. 

“You can wait in the car”, you try your chance one last time after arriving. 

“I said I’m coming with you, so don’t waste your breath” 

“Fine” 

After you both make it past the gates of the Zenin household, the few of the servants standing in the veranda quickly pad inside — most likely to bring it to your father’s attention, you think. 

All the rest you got the night before instantly leaves your body now that you’re in Zenin territory, your chest filled with unease as you cross the threshold of the place that, despite being so big, could never quite fit you in and be a home to you. 

Your mouth feels too dry, you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it keeps sitting there like an immovable object, growing bigger even the further you step in. 

Unknowingly, you’re grabbing Satoru’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Relax. I am right here”, he leans in to soothingly whisper in your ear, which makes you realize your actions. You pull your hand away, picking up your pace. 

...only to slow down and take a step back the moment your eyes fixate on none other than your brother, Naoya, leaning against the wall in the hallway. Waiting for you. His hair falling on his face, covering the look in his eyes but by the way his teeth bite into his lower lip, you can tell — he’s not thrilled by the view of you together.  

“Well, well”, a loud, hysterical laughter erupts from Naoya’s mouth as he strolls over to you, thumbing the bridge of his nose. “If this doesn’t remind me of good old times when my little sister would sneak out to play with you — are you perhaps falling back into that bad habit of yours, little lamb?” 

You flinch as Naoya’s claw-like hand reaches for your shoulder, ready to hook his grip on you, but with a swift move Gojo stands in front of you and stops your brother, leaving him unable to go any further due to his infinity. “Hello to you too” 

Naoya clicks his tongue, not pleased with the impenetrable intrusion. “Tch... Move, don’t butt in in family matters” 

Satoru chuckles condescendingly, “I am family too now, you know? — Dear brother-in-law" 

A jarring burst of inconsistent, unsettling laughter follows this declaration, each sound leaving Naoya’s lips grows more hectic and twisted, the tone wavering between low and high, and it sends a chill down your spine. 

“Huh... sis... that true?”, the deranged madness in his voice dying down now, but he speaks with a timbre of sinisterness. His eyes wide, unblinking and staring right at you with piercing lunacy in them. 

He had the same exact maniacal aura to him right now, just like years ago when he first confronted you about the secret escapades with Satoru. 

Terrified, you hug your shoulders. Head turned the other way, trying to hide from the sharp daggers in his gaze. 

You only manage a nod, and the sick sound from seconds ago echoes through the hallway once again. 

“You—”, Naoya grits his teeth, trying to draw near you but the whitehaired man before him won’t budge. “How long have you been plotting this for, huh?” 

Irritated at Gojo’s technique that leaves him unable to come any closer and wipe that mighty grin off his face, Naoya takes his frustration out on the wall by punching a hole right through it. “You fucking as—” 

“Naoya”, your father’s voice approaching from behind him interrupts the commotion. “Go cool your head off” 

“Tch...”, it’s not that he feels like complying, no. His arrogant self would never bow down to anyone, not even his own father, the clan head. 

But walking away right now gave him a chance to pass by you — and he’d gladly take it, as there was something he wanted to confirm.  

“Did you let him touch you, little lamb? Answer me — did you?”, he stops right behind you and whispers from over your shoulder. 

You wince, his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. Noticing that Satoru’s hand is moving slightly up and getting ready to possibly attack your brother, you gesture at him to stop. Mouthing a silent it’s fine. 

“Don't but in in husband-wife matters, our sex life is off-limits for you, brother”, you mutter over your shoulder. 

“Pfft”, his eyes squint knowingly at you. “Good — I don’t smell foreign residuals on you. Good, little lamb. Good.” 

-- 

“So, you two, huh?”, Naobito, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the tatami room, takes a sip of his sake and wipes the droplets drizzling from the corners of his mouth. 

It was barely noon, yet your father, as per usual, had already started his drinking for the day, most likely during the early hours of the morning at that. 

You hum, but the man beside you, your husband, had something more to say. 

“What can I do, old man — your daughter’s a beauty, I had to go and take her. Pardon my rudeness, I forgot to ask for your approval first” — to which you basically facepalm yourself. 

“If you had done that first, you wouldn’t be sitting here now, you arrogant brat”, Naobito drags out, the alcohol must be getting to him. “But the damage is done already, what can I say”, he adds through a hiccup. 

“—or do, against me — Right, old man?”, Satoru shoots a proud grin, then on a more serious tone, he continues — “She’s mine now. And I don’t quite fancy it when people pry on what belongs to me. So, I ask of you to act accordingly from now on, or there will be consequences” 

“You ask? Yet this sounds more like a threat to me” 

“It could be, depends on you” 

Silence. 

The air in the room is intense and heavy after these exchanges. There’s a calm smile on both of your father’s and husband’s faces, yet the glare in their eyes is as cold as absolute zero. 

“With that being said, glad we’re on the same page and thank you for the half-assed belated blessing~ I will take care of her from now on, don’t you worry”, your husband nonchalantly breaks the silence, then looks at you with a quick shake of his head towards the door. Meaning, our job here is done. Let’s go. 

“You might go, I wish to speak to my daughter, alone” 

Satoru glances at you, looking for consent in your eyes. You nod affirmatively, “Wait for me in the car” 

Before walking out, Satoru gives one last warning. “Old man, if you try anything funny, I’ll make this place one with the ground beneath you”  

-- 

“Make this place one with the ground?”, Naobito laughs uproariously. “You’ve gotten under his skin. Good.” 

He gulps down another cup before proceeding, “He’s always got a soft spot for you. I’ve seen his eyes wander in search of you during clans’ gatherings, but this — this is beyond my expectations even”, he wheezes. “Good job. You’re finally doing something right and being useful to the clan” 

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my own sake”, you grit your teeth. 

“I don’t care for your purpose so long we sow the benefits of what you reap, just like I don’t care how you do it so long you take him down — poison him or slit his throat in his sleep, I couldn’t care less. Just make sure he’s dead by the end of it — it’s the only way to get that lousy freedom you’ve been babbling about all these years” 

The terms were clear from the beginning, yet your stomach fills to the brim with guilt, threatening to spill out from your mouth the more your father speaks of it. 

And he continues, “If you give him a child too in the meantime — even better. That way the Zenins can take over the Gojo Clan”, a greedy curve on his mouth wet with sake. “But in all honesty, what surprises me the most is you, actually — you’re more of a Zenin now than ever”, an unhinged laughter cracks his lips. 

Your father’s words stab through your heart like a sharp knife. Snapping a few necks for the greater good for yourself, your freedom, shouldn’t be a problem after all you’ve been through. 

But then, why does it feel like he is right? You are more of a Zenin now than ever. Why does it feel like the more you try to run away from the Zenins, the more you become one? 

And why does your heart ache so much for the man you are to kill soon?

[peachdues]

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR

WIND AND MOON • Sanemi x tsuguko!Reader

A/N: or, Sanemi nearly murders Maeda to protect Reader’s honor, featuring Reader getting to wear Sanemi’s haori.

A snippet from an upcoming chapter of Wind and Moon.

CW: MDNI • light strangulation (deserved) • implied past sexual assault against Reader (not described) • implied assault of Sanemi’s mother (not described) • protective Sanemi • soft Sanemi • ust kiss already jfc • violence

Sanemi Shinazugawa was never particularly keen on visiting the Corps’ tailor. His hatred for the bespeckled seamster was no secret among the slayers, nor was his reasoning. Most of the Corps disliked Maeda — particularly those female slayers forced to endure his unwanted attentions, who, when presented with too-small and too-short garments, saw his feigned incompetence for what it was: perversion.

Sanemi, however, was the one of the only few who’d ever called him out directly for being a lecherous asshole. And he certainly was one of the only ones who Maeda genuinely feared — enough so, that he became remarkably adept at his job whenever he heard so much as a whisper of the Wind Pillar’s presence.

And yet, Sanemi knew that their previous encounter — one that ended with Maeda pissing his pants while begging for forgiveness Sanemi had been in no position to give as the female slayer he’d groped stood nearby, red faced and humiliated — didn’t seem to have inspired the tailor to make any permanent changes to his deviant habits.

So no, Sanemi was already not in the best of moods as he stalked through the hallways of the Butterfly Mansion, in search of the fitting rooms where Kocho had informed him Maeda would be fitting his new tsuguko — you — for your final uniform.

He was wryly optimistic that the lecherous tailor wouldn’t try anything knowing who you were and of your proximity to him. But still, Sanemi didn’t like that he’d left you alone with Maeda for any period of time, and he was eager to get you suited up so the two of you could return to training.

Training. Sanemi had been warned that your breathing techniques, though powerful, were about as stable as a barrel of gun powder near a lit match. He would need to prioritize your precision, your control, before moving onto anything to do with your actual movements and fighting abilities.

He scowled. It would be a long day, he knew. You had an attitude and a smart mouth he was fairly sure couldn’t be beaten out of you, and grudgingly, he thought he might have to just endure it. You’d probably spend most of your time bitching; of that he was certain. But unluckily for you, you’d been assigned to the Hashira with the least amount of sympathy when it came to training; one whose disdain for complaining was rivaled only by Iguro’s.

At least he only worked his trainees to the point of vomiting or passing out; Iguro tortured the poor bastards, and he relished doing so.

And so, Sanemi began mentally tallying up the various exercises and tasks the two of you would undertake as he rounded the last corner leading to the fitting rooms. He would start with breathing techniques, he decided as he reached for the doorknob. Breathing techniques, and then physical exercises — pushups, planks, perhaps even over a bed of tacks for motivation, and then —

All of the Wind Pillar’s internal planning ground to a halt the moment he swung the door to the dressing room open. In an instant, all thoughts of endurance and strength-enhancing regiments dissolved as Sanemi’s vision turned crimson at what lay before him.

His tsuguko; and though you’d proven yourself more than capable of testing his patience, for once, it wasn’t your smart mouth that was making him see red.

It was the sight of you, standing up on a small pedestal before a great mirror, clothed in scraps of fabric that could hardly be called a uniform as the Corp’s perverted tailor circled you like a vulture does a piece of felled prey.

He didn’t need to look at you for long before his vision tunneled in on the seamster startling back from you as though burned, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at the reddening face of the Wind Hashira behind you.

Because Sanemi didn’t have to linger; he’d seen enough to know.

Your skirt hung a solid inch shorter than even the Love Hashira’s, its hem barely extending past the tops of your thighs. Your shirt was easily two or three sizes too small, preventing you from fastening anything but the bottom two buttons.

But it wasn’t the egregiously little coverage of your uniform that loosened the lid he tried to keep on his rage. It was your face. Though your back was facing him, he could see every inch of you — exposed as you were — reflected in that great mirror.

There was a rigidity in your limbs that Sanemi clocked instantly as paralysis; and the empty, haunted look in your eyes as they fixed wide and unseeing at some distant point on the floor coupled with the way you’d hadn’t so much as flinched when the door flung open signaled to him that you were not truly present in that room at all.

You were back at your family’s estate, blood-soaked and half-dead as you were forced to endure whatever it was those bandits had take upon themselves to do.

And Sanemi disappeared from the room right along with you. In that moment, he instead saw the countless other female slayers forced to endure Maeda’s greedy, wandering fingers over the years as they stood exposed under his beady little eyes.

He saw his mother turning rigid under his father’s too heavy, too rough hands as he dragged them down her body. Ma, who would force her mouth into that distant, practiced smile she always maintained in front of her children who were too young to understand why Kyogo dragged her by arm out the back of their home as he barked at them to stay inside until she returned.

He saw you; broken and bleeding in the snow, your clothes askew, unable to be left alone even in death; used.

Red. Red. Sanemi could only see red as his feet carried him across the floor.

“M-Master Shinazugawa!” Maeda squeaked as he began trembling; loud enoufh for his voice to carry down the hall, a futile effort to alert any nearby Corps members of the rage burning in Sanemi’s eyes as the latter advanced on him. “How w-wonderful it is to see you a-gain —!”

With nothing but a faint buzzing in his ears and an anger-numbed mind, Sanemi’s hand snatched the tailor around his throat before he could think the better of it.

“I thought I made myself pretty damn clear the last time I saw your ugly mug of the need for you to keep those filthy fuckin’ hands to yourself.”

Sanemi’s voice was a barely more than a growl, low and dangerous and vicious. “And I thought I told you what would happen if I caught you makin’ a mockery out of our uniform again.”

The seamster’s cheeks were rapidly turning purple as Maeda sputtered. But Sanemi only tightened his hold around the tailor’s throat, lifting him from the ground until his toes only scraped along the floorboards.

“Y’know, I’ve had to hold my tongue for far too fuckin’ long about you.” Sanemi cocked his head in consideration. A slow, wolfish smile stretched across his mouth, all sharp teeth and a vicious promise that he could and would rip out his throat. “But you’ve got some balls for someone who’s too much of a rutting coward to fight the demons we give our lives to exterminate.”

A crowd of curious and horrified junior slayers had gathered out in the hall, nervously watching as the Wind Pillar threatened to squeeze the life out of the Corp’s sole tailor.

Behind them, you remained frozen on the pedestal, though your eyes had shifted away from the floor, focusing instead on him.

Sanemi wrenched the tailor closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose, his fingers digging harshly into the soft, fleshy portion of the tailor’s neck. “And you dare make a mockery out of our uniform? You think I’m okay that you’re putting female slayers at risk by not giving them proper protection? What sort of person does that to their comrades?”

Sanemi’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. “You’re not even fuckin’ human. You’re no better than a god damn demon.”

The muscles in the Wind Pillar’s forearm rippled as his fingers crushed around Maeda’s throat. “And we’re required to put demons outta their fuckin’ misery. So, whaddya think that means for you, shitstain?”

There was a distinct wet dripping against the floorboards as Sanemi remained there, Maeda suspended before him.

Sanemi didn’t need to look down to know what it was; its scent alone was enough of a give away.

Urine.

That feral grin of his only widened. Good, Sanemi thought savagely. The bastard should fear for his life. And who gave a shit, really, if he took out the creep right then and there. It didn’t matter that he was the only tailor in their ranks capable of manufacturing their uniforms with speed and precision. Sanemi would trade his sword in for a needle, if it meant wiping away the stain that was Maeda.

But Sanemi’s wild, murderous rage was tempered by the sudden arrival of the Insect Pillar, who had appeared in the room in a blink of an eye, her small hand wrapped harshly around Sanemi’s wrist.

Her voice was hard and severe as she ordered, “Shinazugawa, stop!”

Sanemi only snarled in response, his hand squeezing tighter and tighter. Just a little more pressure and it would be over, Maeda would never harm another woman again —

Kocho wrenched on his arm once more. While her strength wasn’t enough to force his grip to relax, it did jostle Sanemi enough that he looked away, just long enough to catch the pair of eyes that watched him closely in the mirror.

Your eyes.

Sanemi found himself unable to look away as the two of you stared at one another in the mirror’s reflection. And though that haunted look remained, there was a newfound tightness in your gaze.

Pain, he recognized. There was pain in your eyes, too. And suddenly, Sanemi became all too aware of the fact you were still exposed, only now in front of a greater number of your comrades than before.

Sanemi held your eyes for one more moment before his hand opened around Maeda’s throat.

“Pissed himself like a little bitch.” He sneered, dropping the lecherous tailor to the ground where he crumbled like a napkin.

Maeda sputtered and heaved on the floor, color rapidly returning to his face as he gasped for breath.

Sanemi only looked after him with disgust.

The Butterfly Mansion’s mistress turned sharply toward the entryway. “Away.” She ordered before she turned back. But the instant the word left her lips, the gaggle of junior Corps members who had congregated in the hallway dispersed.

Sanemi cut his eyes to the Insect Hashira and saw a cold rage simmering in her eyes. Eyes that were not looking at him, but were instead glued to the sniveling mass on the floor, whimpering into a puddle of his own urine.

“P-please, forgive me, Master Shinazugawa! I must have packed the wrong uniform — I will sew a n-new one right away —“

“Save it,” Sanemi spat. “And get the fuck outta my sight.”

Though he wanted add in a kick for good measure, Sanemi held back. He was likely in deep enough shit as it was, once word reached the Master about what he’d done. He knew better than to continue testing the Corps’ limits.

Kocho inclined her head back toward the Wind Pillar. “I will see to it that a new uniform is prepared for her immediately.”

She made to step primly over Maeda’s shuddering form, but halted.

Kocho crouched down, low. “I think we both know that you’re better off keeping this to yourself and never mentioning it again, hm?”

Maeda turned his reddened face up toward the Insect Pillar and shrank under her withering glare.

Kocho’s answering smile was nothing but poisoned honey as she dropped her eyes to the wet stain that soaked the front of Maeda’s trousers. “If you wish to hold onto what’s precious to you, that is.”

She narrowed her eyes coldly, as though squinting for something, before she rose with a faint scoff, her threat hanging over Maeda like a cloud.

The Insect Hashira turned back to Sanemi. “I trust you will see yourselves out?”

Sanemi felt a rush of gratitude toward his comrade — likely only one of two among the Pillars who wouldn’t rat him out to the Master — and curtly nodded his head.

Kocho only gave him her usual, practiced smile. “Until next time, then.”

With that, the mistress of the Butterfly Estate departed. The moment the edge of her haori flapped around the corner of the doorway, Sanemi dropped his attention down to Maeda.

“Fuck off.”

The tailor made not a peep as he scrambled to his feet and he left the dressing room without a word.

——

Finally left alone, Sanemi turned to you.

“Y/N.”

You blinked, surprised. He’d addressed you by your first name — something that, until this moment, you’d been fairly sure he hadn’t known.

You made some noise in response, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, exposed as you are.

Shinazugawa didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s go.”

While you were just as eager to get the hell out of the dressing room and away from the Butterfly Mansion, you remained rooted in place upon that platform.

Not a moment had passed since Maeda had first unveiled your new attire that you hadn’t been acutely aware of your own exposure.

You gulped and cast your eyes around the room. You found the neat pile of the clothes you’d worn for the trip here folded in the corner of the dressing area. While Shinazugawa had made a point to keep his eyes on everything but you, you couldn’t fathom having to wear the scrap of a uniform you’d been given for the entire journey back to his estate.

But nor did you want to change again; you couldn’t, not when that would require you to be left alone, a possibility that seemed nearly as daunting as having to brave the trek home in little more than a loincloth.

You agonized over your options, especially as you felt Shinazugawa’s impatience mount. You shifted anxiously from foot to foot, arms wrapped tightly around your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your breasts concealed as you struggled to make the words — any words, really, dislodge from where they’d become stuck in your throat.

Annoyed by your lack of inaction, Shinazugawa looked back into the mirror. In its reflection, you saw him open his mouth, ready to snap at you, but the moment his eyes connected with yours, it closed.

An understanding passed between you right then, as heavy the silence that hung between you.

Shinazugawa considered you for a moment before his hands went to the front folds of his haori. A strange shyness fell over you while he shrugged out of it, causing you to drop your gaze as he rounded the pedestal, haori in hand.

He shoved the ball of white fabric at you, though he kept his gaze fixed pointedly at the ground. “Here. Use this to cover up.”

Timidly, you plucked the Wind Pillar’s haori from his outstretched hand and quickly turned away.

Though it sat cropped on him, the hem of Shinazugawa’s haori extended past the laughably short one of your skirt, providing your backside with a bearable degree of coverage.

It was warm; and to your surprise, it smelled nice, a familiar, grassy sweetness washing over you as you pushed your arm through one of the holes.

Shinazugawa had turned his back to you, his hands notched firmly on his hips as he waited. You tested the reach of his haori, relieved to find that you could wrap it around your front and hold it easily in place by folding your arms across your chest.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. The white fabric reached a good three inches down your thighs, all vulnerable areas sufficiently covered.

It would do, you decided. At least until you returned to the Wind Pillar’s estate.

“I’m ready.” You said softly after a moment. Shinazugawa only looked back at you and nodded, before the two of you quietly made your way through and out the Butterfly Estate, setting down the path that led home.

Neither of you spoke for the entire journey. Instead, you were left to stare at the broad expanse Shinazugawa’s back.

The Wind Pillar wore a slightly modified version of the Corps’ uniform, you realized. His top was sleeveless and without the presence of his haori, you saw that his biceps and shoulders were just as solid and well-defined as the rest of him.

No wonder he’d been able to lift Maeda so easily from the ground; Shinazugawa’s biceps were huge. Though, you noted with some mild interest, the skin of his arms was just as scar-specked as the rest of him.

Idly, you wondered whether the scars dotting his face and body were products of his years with the Corps — a tapestry of battles hard-won, or whether they, like yours, were part of a past he wished he could forget.

You arrived back at the Wind Pillar’s estate shortly before sunset. The moment he set foot inside the gate surrounding his manor, Shinazugawa turns to you and holds up a hand.

“Wait here.”

Without another word, he disappears inside of his manor, leaving you alone in the courtyard, slightly bemused.

The Wind Pillar returned a few moments later, a familiar, dark green fabric draped over his hand.

“Here,” he held out the material to you. “Still had one from when I was a Mizunoto. Might not fit you properly, but it’s better than nothin’.”

You accept his offering and then it over in your hands, eyes running over the crisp white destroy sewn into the back. Below the shirt is a pair of pants, in the same, dark-green tinted hue as the shirt.

“I know it doesn’t mean much,” Shinazugawa’s voice was gruff as he spoke. Curious, you lifted your eyes to find him rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “But if I’d’ve known what he was gonna pull —“

You shook your head. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Truthfully, you didn’t want his apologies. To apologize meant there’d been an expectation, and expectation meant there’d been some trust he’d broken. While he may have been your master — while he may have been the one whose face you could not forget from that day — nothing about either of those things meant he owed you anything.

Shinazugawa looked like he was going to argue, but he closed his mouth and turned away.

Good, you thought. At least he knew to pick his battles.

“We’ll start training once you get your uniform in.” He said after a moment, turning away to retreat into his estate. “Get settled here and once it arrives, we’ll start.”

You nod, your fingers clenching tightly around the front folds of his haori. Though you know you’re safe out here, that Shinazugawa has no interest in overstepping any of your boundaries, you still feel too exposed.

More than anything, you want to retreat to your small room at the back wing of his manor, and disappear under your covers.

The Wind Pillar seems to know, for he only gives you a curt nod, before he turns back to the great, sprawling Estate, and takes the entry stairs up two at a time.

You wait a moment before following. You’ll have to figure out how to return him his haori, you realize. Perhaps you’ll drop it off at his room later in the night, when he’s likely to be asleep, or maybe you’ll wait until breakfast —

“Y/N.”

Your foot halted mid-air as you lifted your head to him, waiting.

Shinazugawa lingered on his engawa, though he kept his back to you.

“I won’t leave you alone with another man again. That’s a promise.”

You wanted to snap at him that he shouldn’t do this — he shouldn’t create obligations that he couldn’t or wouldn’t keep. That was the only way this transaction between the two of you would work; Shinazugawa would train you and once you’d gathered enough of a grip over your own abilities, you’d fuck out of his life and pursue your own, greater ambitions.

That’s what you should say, and yet, his words strike at something soft in you. Reminds you, once again that for whatever reason, he is someone you can rely upon; someone you can trust.

The exception.

And it’s because of that, you only respond, “Thank you.”

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe! (1)- Arms Out Like An Angel

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 1- 3.9k- Mature Rating

A/N- This fic will include mature themes such as smut, descriptions of internalised homophobia, drinking, mentions of unhappy marriages and more. Please consider these warnings before reading.

For clarification, Wanda and Reader are both 18 in this fic and the legal drinking age is 18. 

---

Hiding a yawn behind your hand, your face expressed your boredom as Professor Harkness rambled on about the context of the novel you were covering in class, her hands moving emphatically in the air as she tried to get her never ending point across, much to your dismay. A sigh of annoyance left you when Steve raised his hand to ask a question, your gaze burning a hole into the back of his head as the teacher started to talk about another useless point, Natasha next to you chuckling at your irritation as you leaned back in your uncomfortable seat, tilting your head to her to show her your lack of interest.

"There's only ten more minutes," she whispered, trying to reassure you as your fingers impatiently drummed against the desk, the redhead amused at the way your shoulders slumped in defeat, eyes trained on the clock at every torturous second that passed by.

"More like ten years," you muttered in annoyance as you let your gaze wander across the various heads in front of you, naturally landing on the brunette's across the class from you. It was like a strange, gravitational pull as your bored eyes searched for her, observing how Wanda smiled politely at Miss Harkness, your heart unable to stop the gentle flutter the sight of her caused. Her fingers toyed with a stray strand of her hair as she intently listened, all of her attention devoted to the woman at the front of the room whilst yours remained on her, a smile threatening to lift the edges of your lips at the way her fingers soon started to spin the rings on her fingers, something she told you confidently she didn't do. You tampered down the smile as you let your thoughts drift away from the Literature lesson you were in, letting them wander towards Wanda to help the time pass, memories of your secret times together consuming your mind.

The shrill sound of a bell knocks you out of your daydreams, your eyes flickering across the room as you move to copy everyone else in packing your books up, Natasha shaking her head playfully at you and chuckling as you frantically try to catch up.

"Come on, I want to go for a smoke," she muttered as she waited for you, your stuff haphazardly shoved into your backpack as you followed her out of the classroom, your eyes briefly meeting Wanda's as she smiled at you shyly, not trying to be too obvious as you walked past her, ignoring the way warmth and affection flooded through you at the small interaction.

"I'll meet you outside, I need to grab a book from my locker," you tell Nat who doesn't wait another second for you, walking towards the exit as you make your way through the crowded hallways, barging past one or two people who were being annoyingly slow.

Eventually, you managed to get to your assigned locker, smiling to yourself at the sight of the small note shoved through the small gaps in it, your head turning to check for people before opening the crumpled paper, recognising the delicate handwriting.

Usual spot at 7? x

Folding the note up as soon as you read it, you pushed it into your pockets before grabbing your book, an excitement bubbling inside you at the idea of meeting Wanda later, an onrush of warmth flowing through you as the enticing green fill your mind, your heart skipping a beat every time you imagine that soft and gentle smile.

You tried to push down the love that enveloped your chest when thinking of Wanda but it was inevitable, you had fallen hard for her. You had to remind yourself of how the two of you were actually 'nothing', words the brunette had repeatedly said to you but you knew that couldn't be the truth, the longing look in both your eyes, the delicate moments you shared together couldn't just mean nothing. Maybe you were just just a fool in love, you weren't sure, but all you knew was that you didn't care when you were with her, the secret moments together were enough for you at the moment.

Her laughter caught your attention across the hall, your head naturally turning, lips tugging into a smile at the sound as your eyes met her enchanting green. The room was filled with others but all you could see was her, a silent conversation passing between you as you shrugged your backpack over your arm, your body already moving towards her when the sight of a tall blonde caused you to pause in your tracks, her attention switching to Vision, one of the most popular boys who clearly had a crush on her. You turned your gaze away at the sight of them, a small crack forming in your heart at the wide and bright grin that took over her face when he kissed her cheek, a small bubble of hurt building at the pit of your stomach as you brushed past more students, making your way to the exit without looking back at her, a weight tugging on your heart.

***

Bringing the cigarette to your lips, you waited nonchalantly for the brunette to turn up, your back resting against your truck that was parked behind the small store you worked at, gaze trained on the small bird that had landed on a nearby branch, it's small movements of great interest to you, your mind finding something else but the excitement of meeting Wanda to focus on. Exhaling a puff of smoke once you heard approaching footsteps, you couldn't help but smirk teasingly as you lolled your head to the side, features softening at the sight of her as she shook her head at you playfully, tutting at your actions.

"How many times do I have to tell you they're bad for you?" Her voice gentle and soft yet teasing, an infectious smile gracing her lips as she grinned up at you, leaning against your car as her fingers plucked the cigarette from your mouth.

"At least once more," you mutter as you always did, watching in amusement as she takes a brief drag of your cig before dropping it on the floor, crushing it into the ground with her shoe as her gaze expresses her disapproval of the habit before she steps closer, your arm naturally moving to rest over her shoulders. "You owe me a packet at this rate, Maximoff," you mumble playfully, looking around on the floor at the many remains of cigarettes she'd stolen from you, a soft and angelic chuckle escaping her as she leans into your body, her enchanting green focussed on the small bird from earlier.

"You should be thanking me," she teases as she tilts her head to rest on your shoulder, peering up into your eyes in that intoxicating manner, your gaze softening as you admire her natural beauty, hints of scarlet tinting her cheeks at your adoring look. "I'm saving your life," she murmurs, a hum leaving you as you turn your head away from her, not wanting to kiss her here as you knew it wasn't appropriate.

"More like killing my bank account," your tone is laced with sarcasm as you feel her hand slide into your pocket, taking the packet out of it and into hers so you couldn't use them, your head shaking at her as she thought she was being sly and sneaky.

"Mhmm, whatever," she whispers, purposely letting her accent seep into her words as she murmurs them near your ear, knowing the effect her voice had on you, a low sigh leaving you as you turn your head back to her, noticing the look in them. "Can we go to the Lake?" she asks in a hopeful voice, her green pleading you to say yes, knowing you had a massive soft spot in giving her what she wanted, one of her hands snaking under your jacket affectionately to help persuade you.

Your smile swiftly fades into a mischievous smirk at her words, knowing that most of the time when she'd ask to go to the lake it was for privacy, the serene and peaceful area completely isolated and perfect for the two of you to have some sinful moments.

"Of course," you rasp out, lowering your own voice in revenge for her earlier teasing actions, her teeth biting down on her lower lip seductively as she looks up at you, a genuine smile breaking out on her face at the enamoured look in your eyes before your gaze drifts lower to her lips, her hand slipping out of your jacket as she tilts her head up, letting her lips ghost near yours.

"Come on then, I want to watch the sunset," she whispers out, tauntingly pulling her lips away at the last moment, your body craving to press your lips to hers right now, to have her moaning into your mouth as you pushed her up against your car but you knew it wasn't the place, a small laugh leaving you at the way she enthusiastically makes her way into the passenger's seat. You shake your head whilst looking up at the sky in amazement at how wrapped around her finger you were, the sound of her pressing your horn making you laugh once more before jumping in, ready to take her to your secret spot.

***

Once the two of you arrived at the lake, you swiftly prepared your truck for the two of you to spend the rest of the evening in, the back seats being pushed down and the boot opened as you placed the blankets and pillows down, the sight before you mesmerising.

The body of water stretched a vast distance as the wind caused gentle ripples across the reflective surface, the trees surrounding the car giving you the privacy you both wanted whilst the canvas of the sky gradually grew more iridescent. The scenic view of the sunset, the symphony of colours painting the evening sky, reminded you of the woman next to you as she shuffled her way over to you on your makeshift bed, her body as close as possible to yours as you sat and watched the sun slowly descend. The vibrant colours were powerful, passionate and overwhelming, just like the emotions Wanda evoked from you but the tranquil beauty of it was reminiscent of your time with her, the two of you always sharing peaceful and soft moments just like this one.

Your comparison to her and the natural phenomenon were cut short as her hand slid across your abdomen, the delicate pressure of her hand against you drawing your gaze from the sky to her eyes that you'd argue were more alluring, the shades of green hypnotising. You noticed an expectant look in her eyes before she rested her head against your shoulder, her body cuddling closer to yours as she shared a tender embrace, your fingers reaching down to interlock with hers, letting her play with yours as she knew it was a habit of hers.

"Hm?" your tone questioning as you realised she had asked you something, the pads of her fingers tracing over the lines on your palms before moving to the back of your hand, feeling every small ridge of your knuckles and the light protrusion of your vein to keep her hands busy, the brunette always fidgeting with them.

"I asked what you were thinking about?" she whispers, keeping the tranquil atmosphere that had wrapped around the two of you, the intimacy that was brewing between you both as you relaxed against one another.

"Just how beautiful you are," you say, tone laced with charm and flattery as you offer her a playful smile, leaning your body further into hers light heartedly, your words causing her to grow shy, an accompanying blush creeping onto her face.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," she huffs out, aware of the warmth in her cheeks and the heat going straight to her core at the way your eyes flicker between her shy stare and mouth, the way your pupils dilate as she subconsciously wets her lips.

"Is that so?" you murmur out, smiling at the way she moves her body to lay down in your truck, her hand fisted in your jacket as she pulls you down on top of her, peering up at you with want in her eyes, legs spreading a little to welcome your body. Bracing yourself above her, you tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear softly, knee sliding between her legs and pressing against her core causing a soft moan to escape her, the sound setting your body a light, arousal clouding your mind. "Even if I tell you how enchanting your eyes are? How your lips are just so... irresistible?"

Her fingers thread through your hair as she pulls you closer to her, your lips brushing over hers, smiling against her lips at the timid expression etched on her face, the obvious blush painting her cheeks.

Before you can say anymore, she tilts her head up to kiss you, the world around you fading away as you focused on the intoxicating feels of her body pressed against yours, the way her back arches, pressing her chest further against yours, legs wrapping around your middle to pull you closer as she gasps into the kiss at the way her hips grind against your knee.

Passion is poured into the kiss as you groan into her mouth at how her fingers tighten their grip in your hair, one of your hands moving to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss as you slide your tongue into her mouth, dominating the kiss effortlessly as she gives you control. As soon as one of you part from the kiss, lips lingering open against one another, the other crashes them back together, addicted to one another as she moans into your mouth, the noise eagerly being swallowed by you as lust takes over, desire consuming you both.

"Fuck," she groans sinfully, accent adding a rasp to her words as you throb around nothing, when you bite her lower lips softly, tongue soothing over the dull pain before you steal another passionate kiss before letting your mouth trail along her jaw, encouraging her to loll her head back so you could pepper hot, open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

"Do you have any idea of how truly beautiful you are?" you whisper, honesty and love lacing your words as you peer up into her darkened eyes, one of your hands moving to the hem of her shirt, slowly creeping under it as your fingers drift across the soft skin of her stomach, feeling the warmth her body radiated.

Your words strike a cord in Wanda as the sheer adoration dripping from your voice, the enamoured look in your eyes is too much, the emotion on show overwhelming as love wraps around her heart, the action suffocating as her mind fights what she wants to what she must have, her thoughts tangling together. She loved the way you made her feel, she loved the way your words sent a shiver down her spine, sent warmth pooling between her thighs but she hated how it was you who made her feel this way. She couldn't feel this way, not towards you. She wanted, no, wants you to make her feel this way but she shouldn't. How could she want something like this? It wasn't right... It wasn't how things were meant to go, this wasn't her.

She let out a shaky breath in response to your low voice, your lips stilling against her throat at the way her body language shifted, concern immediately filling you as you pulled back, hand sliding out from under her shirt to not make her uncomfortable as she avoided your gaze, trying to unravel her messy thoughts. This was supposed to be casual. Nothing more.

"Hey," you coo in a delicate voice, trying to get her attention as she blinks back the few tears threatening to spill in her eyes, the sight of her causing something to stir in your gut, a saddened expression taking over your face as you attempt to comfort her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just not in the mood anymore," she mumbles, wiping her eyes and moving to sit upright as you sit next to her, confused as to what you did wrong to upset her, a small pang of guilt washing through you.

"Hey," you softly coo once more, gaining her attention as her gaze meets your tender one, "You never have to apologise for wanting to stop, you don't owe me anything." Your gaze expresses how serious your words were, never wanting her to feel pressured, a small smile tugging at her lips at how caring you were, another wave of confusion crashing through her at the butterflies that swarmed her stomach when you kissed her forehead comfortingly. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you had to," you whisper, trying to hide the pain in your voice as you watched her get comfortable next to you, her head leaning on your shoulder despite as her mind screaming at her to get as far away as possible, her heart's craving for you overpowering her. "I'm sorry if I upset you," you murmur, offering your hand out in case she wanted to fiddle with it, your gaze locked on the spectacle happening around you, the sight almost meaningless as you waited for her to relax against you.

"It wasn't you, I promise," she whispers, easing the worry swarming through you, her hand naturally reaching down to interlock with yours, the comfort you provided helping her relax as she tried to push down the variety of emotions gnawing away at her, not ready to confront them. "It's just me I-" she cuts herself off with a defeated sigh, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand soothingly as you let her talk, having a small idea of what she might be referring to. "Can we talk about something else? I don't want to talk about it," she mumbles, her free hand reaching down to pull the blanket over you both as you settle on watching the sunset, your arm moving to rest over her shoulders so she could sink further into your body.

"Is it a bad time to offer you a cig?" you whisper playfully, trying to change the conversation as she had asked, a small huff leaving her as she lightly slaps your arm, a disapproving and berating look in her eyes as she looks at you, a smile taking over your lips as the anxious expression from earlier is replaced, a smile stretching across her lips when she realises what you're doing. "I'll take that as a no," you grumble, dramatically rubbing the spot she lightly tapped making her roll her eyes at your theatrical actions, "Can I at least have my packet back you stole?"

"What packet?" she innocently murmurs out as she avoids your gaze, knowing you'd see straight through her lie, the despondent feeling dissipating into joy as you tease her, your head leaning against the top of hers.

"This one," your tone is cocky as you had slipped the packet out of her pockets, her lips tugging up into a shy smile as she had been caught, a chuckle leaving you at her reaction. "So you're a thief and a liar," you say tauntingly, tossing the packet to the side so you could hold her hand again, the feeling of her fingers playing with yours making your heart flutter, warmth stirring in your chest as you glanced at her.

"I'm not a liar," she says defiantly, various shades of blazing orange and red reflecting in her mesmerising green as you smirk mischievously, knowing how to catch her out.

"I don't play with my rings when I'm bored," you mimic, purposely using a higher pitch voice as you repeat her words from another secret meeting, a giggle leaving her at your poor attempt at her voice. Her hand raises to cover her mouth at the adorable noise, her nose scrunching in the way you loved, a genuine laugh leaving her as she rolls her eyes at you once more.

"Were you staring at me in class again?" she teases back, turning around in your arms so that she is looking at you, her eyes exploring your features as she takes in your beauty, the casual smirk planted on your lips making her own lips curl up into a smile.

"I wasn't staring, I was admiring," you counter, earning another chuckle, "But that's not what we're talking about. I saw you-" Her finger places itself against your lips to silence you, her teeth on show as she grins at you, knowing you were right but not wanting to admit it.

"Why don't we sit in silence?" she teases, your eyes rolling this time as she places a soft kiss to your cheek before sitting next to you again, curling up against you as she seeks the warmth your body always provided, wanting to simply be with you.

A comfortable silence takes over you two as you watch the sky darken, no words needed to understand each other as a gentle touch was enough, the vibrant hues of red and oranges bleeding into pinks and purples before fading into deep blues and greys, the subtle transformation elegant as you savour the moment together, part of you hoping the sun would never have to set as you wanted to stay there with her forever.

Only once the two of you could see stars shining bright and the moon illuminating the sky did you decide to leave, the hours spent together thoroughly enjoyed as you reluctantly took her home, wanting your time together to never end.

Despite the late hour, the two of you were still wide awake, the empty country roads causing you to have the radio on full volume, your gaze inevitably drifting to your side at the sight of the brunette singing along to whatever song was blaring out of your speakers. Her enchanting stare caught yours as she tilted her head to the beat of the music, joy, youth and affection engraved on both of your faces as you listened to her sing, the memory slowly engraving its way into your mind as she unbuckled her seatbelt, her finger pressing the button to open your sunroof.

"Be careful, Maximoff," you shouted over the music, her body standing in your car as her body fit through the gap, your arm wrapping around her thigh to keep her steady whilst her arms stretched out the car like an angel as you sped through the tunnel, adrenaline and excitement coursing through you both as you simply enjoyed being young and carefree.

Her laughter and singing filled your ears as she sang her heart out in the empty tunnel, the sound of the engine, music and her angelic voice echoing around you as you smiled to yourself, unable to stop the love you felt.

You knew in that moment that any doubts you had about calling it off swiftly left your mind, any worries about her never wanting to call it love unimportant as the overwhelming sense of happiness that wrapped around you in that moment was worth everything.

Being with her was worth anything. 

[opbackgrounds]

Brook's backstory has a unique structure compared to other flashback sections. Firstly, it happens at the end of the arc instead of someplace in the middle. Most flashbacks are meant to clear up mystery and inject one final shot of emotional energy to carry the end of the arc through the big fight scenes. Here, we already know everything that happens to Brook; nothing is a surprise. Instead we're learning how it happened.

Secondly, Brook's backstory is the only one that I can think of that intermittently bounces back to the present. In fact, it actually goes on three timelines: Brook alive with the Rumbar Pirates, Brook alone and dead during his fifty years of isolation, and the present day party with the Straw Hats.

The thread that connects these three sections is Bink's Sake. Music is the bridge between past and present, and the instrument by which Brook is allowed to grieve and put his former crew to rest.

Back during the Skypiea arc music was portrayed as a connecting force. I noted at that time all the chapter names that were musically themed (there were a lot) and the ringing of the golden bell was literally called a love song that brought peace to a warring land. Bink's Sake is much the same. There's a reason why Luffy insisted for so long that he needed a musician on the crew.

(As an aside, in an upcoming SBS Oda mentions how he wrote and commissioned the music for Bink’s Sake 4-5 years before it came up in the manga, anticipating that he would need it soon for the story. While Oda is notoriously bad at planning out timelines, it does mean that he was thinking about Brook and Bink’s Sake at the end of Skypiea. Perhaps at one time he was planning on going from the musical theming of the Skypiea chapter titles to actual, in-universe music back to back. We’ll probably never know for sure.)

Ages ago I wrote a long meta on Brook, and at that time I noted that there is nothing strictly necessary about Brook. The Straw Hats have another, better swordsman, and his skill isn't needed for sailing along the open seas.

But the Straw Hat Pirates without Brook is like life without music. You can do it, but it's a life without joy and bereft of the simple connections born from singing a song with the people you love. Luffy has understood that from the beginning, and it's why Brook is so, so important to the crew.

[starkeyisthelastname]

It’s Always Been You Chapter One

Okay.. so here is the first chapter of my first series. Things will get more exciting! Hope you loves enjoy! 🥰 Things are a little different in this universe and don’t necessarily follow the exact OBX plot line. Here is the back plot for anyone who missed! https://www.tumblr.com/starkeyisthelastname/753335857604329472/hear-me-out-ive-been-thinking-about-this-idea

Rafe is a total dick to other girls, you’ve been warned. 😅

Chapter One:

The girl below him, whose name he couldn’t remember, let out a loud moan as he shoved himself inside her entirely. He pressed her head down into the mattress, telling her to shut the fuck up. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of her cunt as he tried to get a quick nut in that night. It had been a long work week, and tonight he needed a distraction from wanting to go out and get wasted. It was when he was mid stroke that his phone rang on the bedside table. He went to ignore it, but eyes glanced over the caller ID to see it read your name.

“Hey slut, listen to me. Don’t make a fuckin sound when I answer this..” Rafe spat, smacking the girl’s ass hard before sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

You had plans to go out that night with some friends, but now we’re laying in bed with your makeup done, pajamas on as they had changed their minds, leaving you alone on a Saturday night. As you held your phone up to your ear, you heard the voice of your best friend answer after a few rings.

“What’s up?” He asked, hips not slowing down as he continued to thrust into the girl. “Club doesn’t sound too busy?” He laughed, hearing the sound of a tv in the background.

You were completely oblivious to Rafe having company, and if you did know then you would have probably shut yourself down tonight not wanting to think about all the girls he constantly was fucking that weren’t you. It was your own fault really, but he had been your best friend since before you two knew what that even meant. You couldn’t ruin your lifelong friendship by telling him you’d been in love with him since you both were teenagers.

“The girls changed their minds, don’t ask me why either because I don’t even know.” You laughed, as you were sure it had to do with one of them wanting to see their boyfriend instead. “But… can you come over? I’m bored… and can you bring food?” You asked with a soft giggle. It was when you heard a faint moan in the back, that your heart sank. That wasn’t his tv, and you knew it by the name Rafe being followed. “I-I’m sorry.. I didn’t know you were busy. Um.. just text me later.” You said, clearing your throat as the last thing you wanted was for him to hear the sad tone in your voice. It was best you hang up the call and quickly.

Rafe barely had time to respond, before the call ended. His thrusts completely came to a stop, no longer caring about his nut as he tossed his phone on the bedside table and pulled out. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house.” He said, voice cold as he grabbed his sweatpants from the floor. He hated himself for doing this. Meaningless hook ups to avoid how he felt about his best friend, and his anger only grew as he would have completely dropped this whiny bitch to go over to your place in a heart beat.

The girl sat on the bed, frown on her face as she watched Rafe pull the grey sweatpants over his toned hips and grabbed his vape off the dresser to take a hit of. “B- but, I didn’t cum.” She said with a pout, only to earn a mean laugh from the man that had been inside her the only moments before.

“I told you to the shut the fuck up when I was on the phone, think I care that you didn’t get to cum? Better be out of here by the time I get out of the bathroom.” Rafe said causally, walking towards his connected bathroom, not carrying that she mumbled asshole under her breath.

He was an asshole, always had been. That stemmed from some deeper issues that he didn’t talk about often. The only ones who knew about his mental health problems were his family and you, something no random girl would ever understand. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before slamming his fist on the marble counter of the sink. Why was he continuing this torture on himself? Why was he such a pussy about telling you how he felt?

You heard the beep of the alarm, signaling someone had unlocked the front door. There was only a few people who knew the code, your parents, Sarah, Wheezie and Rafe. Walking down the stairs of your townhome, you saw his tall figure stepping in quietly, a bag of food in his hand. You took a sigh, stepping onto the hardwood floor as you looked at him. You wanted to be mad at him, but you couldn’t. There was no reason to be. Right? He was just doing what Rafe Cameron did.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had your little girlfriend over.” You asked, trying to hide the obvious jealousy in your voice. Your fuzzy slippers glided over to where he stood, taking the food sack from him and turning around to head into the living room. You heard him chuckle behind you, but didn’t look back as you plopped yourself onto the couch.

“Not my fucking girlfriend.” Rafe snorted, throwing his keys on the coffee table. “You know I don’t do serious shit.” He said, collapsing down next to you as you pulled the food out from the bag. He didn’t do committed relationships as he was far too busy working at his father’s company, trying his best to become the man he needed to be. In an out of jail, high off blow and after nearly killing someone, he was trying to do right for the people he loved and more importantly himself. The only committed relationship he was willing to be in was with you, that was if he ever manned up enough to tell you.

As you unwrapped your food, you couldn’t help but feel your heart clench at that statement. For as long as you’d known Rafe he’d never dated anyone longer than a month. He was too selfish to be tied down and after everything he had went through during his coke fiend, you knew his focus was work and trying to stay clean. You just wondered if he would ever want anything serious when it came to you.

“And you really thought that bitch was important enough for me to skip coming to hang out with my best friend?” He asked, stealing a fry as he leaned back against the cushion.

Best friend.. and that’s all you would probably would ever be to him. You brushed the thought away, slapping his hand away as he started to reach for another fry. “Why didn’t you just get something if you planned on stealing my food?” You asked with a laugh as he pretended to look hurt that you slapped his hand.

Rafe always seemed to have a stick up his ass for the most part, a brooding look constantly on his handsome face. You knew it was hard for Rafe to let down the wall of being vulnerable, or even his funnier side. You felt lucky that you got to see the side of him that not a lot of people got to experience.

“I just wanted a couple, damn. It’s the least I can get for waiting in that long ass line for some damn chicken strips.” He scoffed, muttering about how the worker was an asshole anyway.

You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of one as he pulled his vape from the pocket of his hoodie to take a hit off. “Please tell me you aren’t gonna complain this much on family vacation.” You said, jokingly, meeting his blue eyes you loved so much as you looked up at him.

Blowing out the cloud of flavorful smoke, he rolled his own eyes before leaning his head back against the couch. “Don’t fucking remind me, that my dad picked fucking Disney World of all places.” He said with a grumble, shuddering at the idea of all the kids he was going to have to be around for 7 days.

It had been a tradition every summer for as long as you could remember that both of your families took a trip together. The first one of this year being Disney World, which you were excited for. Rafe on the other hand would rather go anywhere else than the happiest place on earth.

“Wheezie’s been begging to go for years and we’ve always gone elsewhere. Let your sister be happy.” You said, knowing the thirteen year old hardly got to choose anything that she wanted to do as she was the youngest out of everyone.

“She’s 13. Don’t you think she’s a little old for Mickey Mouse or some bullshit.” Rafe said, eyes traveling back to you. The way you looked so effortlessly beautiful, having washed your face free of makeup. Your hair on top of your head in a messy bun, and cute little set pink pajama set on that hugged those gorgeous curves. He wanted to groan, not only from the thought of leaving for Orlando in a few days but also that he wanted you more than anything he ever wanted in his life. Rafe pretty much got whatever his heart desired, except having you as his girl.

“You are never too old for Disney.” You told him, matter of factly as you continued to eat, completely clueless to the fact his cerulean eyes were bored into you as he watched you.

Rafe let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at the fact you and everyone else seemed to be thrilled about visiting a place he didn’t find so magical. “Are you that excited princess?” He asked, the nickname one you were used to but still felt butterflies when he said it.

Swallowing a bite, you looked up at him to meet his gaze with a nod to your head. Disney was the place where dreams came true and maybe there you would finally have the courage to tell your best friend that you were in love with him.

tag list: @alinavalentine

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[emphistic]

Blood in the Water

A/N: i know, i know. i said this chapter was gonna be the angst, but the wc was just too long. and i got carried away writing the smut. PS: this was not beta read

<- Series m.list

Sukuna wasn’t a morning-person; he never would be. Sukuna was a you-person, however. All the same, though, right?

Sukuna was like a plant.

To Sukuna, you were the sun. To others, that sounds absurd. But, people could think what they think and say what they say, and Sukuna would continue loving you anyway.

It sounds cheesy, yes, but you lit up Ryomen Sukuna’s life, with your smile, the sound of your voice, the melody of your laugh, everything. If he really thought about it, he would be totally unsure of how he survived for so long before he met you.

Sukuna was like a plant. (A/N: a poisonous one, if that were true)

Now, if you don’t pay attention during science class, here’s the gist of how Sukuna’s unconventional thinking came to his conclusion. 

All plants need sunlight, water, and air to live. They need all those ingredients to perform photosynthesis, make their food, and thus survive. (A/N: this is one of the only times Sukuna paid attention to your tutoring)

You completed Sukuna. You made him whole. You made him him.

Without you, Sukuna would wither away, whether you were the sun and him a plant or you two were your normal human selves. It didn’t matter, at all. Sukuna needed you like he needed air to breathe. Sukuna needed you like he needed water to drink. It didn’t matter, not at all. Any one of his metaphors would work. Whether you were the sun, water, air, Sukuna needed you. But he was just beginning to realize that, and maybe it was too late. Too late to turn back. Too late to forget about the bet. Too late to be afraid. Too late to have regrets.

“How long are you planning on staring at me for?” you asked. Though not having even opened your eyes yet, you felt Sukuna’s heavy gaze on you.

He did this often. After you two made it official, you started coming over more frequently. Before, you seldom stayed at his apartment for things unrelated to tutoring or just school in general.

Sukuna didn’t enjoy many things in life. Hell, he didn’t like many things in life. But he certainly liked this.

He liked staying up late and watching the silly, stupid movie that you decided to put on. He liked sitting around with you and sharing a large bowl of popcorn. He liked not having to bid you goodbye when the clock struck; it was very different from before — when either one of you would have to hang up the call. He liked settling into a non-empty bed; he used to never be able to fall asleep; then, when he met you, he fell asleep quickly and giddy; but now, he practically never shut his eyes, too busy admiring the most beautiful face he had ever and will ever see.

He liked it. He liked it all. So much so that,

He loved. He loved you.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake, huh.” Sukuna gingerly pushed a strand of hair off your cheek, and tucked it behind your ear. His touches had been so gentle lately, as if he was worried that even one wrong move would result in an empty bed and a blocked number.

Sukuna wasn’t used to this kind of stuff. He never stayed in one place, and he certainly never stayed with one girl. Sukuna was scared. Scared of change, scared of changes, scared of losing, scared of losses. The bet, you, everything. He wasn’t going to let Naoya think he was a pussy; and, somehow, he also wasn’t going to let everything he worked hard for go to waste.

Because, if there was one thing he wasn’t going to lose, it was you. But, Sukuna was no more than a man. He was afraid. Thus, each morning, he could only gaze upon your face with such sentimentality, regret, longing, that even God would think about changing his fate.

Sukuna didn’t want you to go. He knew you would, though, probably as soon as you found out about the bet. But, nonetheless, there was a sense of hope that you would wait. Wait for him to explain, and say he tried to end the bet multiple times, though fruitlessly.

“I’ve been awake; I just didn’t say anything,” you grumbled, lifting your head up from the pillow beneath you. You would’ve liked to continue laying there under your boyfriend’s watchful gaze for a few more minutes or hours or days, but the Adult Life calls you.

“Yeah? You enjoy having my undivided attention?” Sukuna grinned, though you sensed a melancholic ring to his tone. The pink-haired man was never one to truly reveal his emotions and feelings, but over time, you did get a little better at reading him. You just wished he would stop bottling himself up like that.

“Don’t push it, babe.” You cupped his cheek, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before rolling out of bed to get ready for the day.

Sukuna laughed, “You’re not denying it!”

“Uh huh, doesn’t mean I’m confirming it, either.” You turned around, a cheeky expression plastered on your face, to which Sukuna snorted.

-

With your relationship only beginning more recently, people were, obviously, unaware of it. You were never one to flaunt around your partners or be that open about your personal life online on your social media or just in general. People knew you as the President of Student Council, someone who many could rely on for advice and help, someone who knew definite or at least rational answers to questions people inquired. 

You stood out as a role model to most students on campus. So, if anyone ever were to imagine you, they wouldn’t ever envision you on Sukuna’s arm walking around the mall or sleeping in his bed curled under layers and layers of blankets or watching TV on his couch with your head on his shoulder and his arm around you.

No, it was an impossible idea, one that never ran through anyone’s mind. And, to be honest, you didn’t mind. You liked the stillness and tranquility of being on the sidelines — figuratively or literally, it was true.

Sukuna’s life, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of yours. He was known for his charisma, charming smile, outstanding performance on the court; everyone on campus knew him, and either loved him or feared him, or both. His life was loud; that’s a fair way to describe it. Girls threw themselves on him all the time. He was invited to parties and after parties as if that was the only reason he attended college, for the fun, and for the thrill.

But, that didn’t mean you were unpopular. Yeah, your life may not have been as boisterous and eventful as your boyfriend’s, but your personality brought you your own fair share of fans, and possible suitors and beaus. 

That’s right, people liked you for other than your brains.

And unfortunately for you, Naoya Zen’in was one of those people. And that’s why when that blonde-haired fucker saw you in the crowds at one of Sukuna’s games, he knew this was his only opportunity. Naoya saw the way Sukuna looked at you nowadays; Naoya knew you had that man wrapped right around your finger; Naoya found Sukuna’s weak point and was going to use it against him.

The bet didn’t start because Naoya wanted to see Sukuna court the un-courtable. The bet started because Naoya Zen’in wanted to see the impossible. Which, Sukuna had previously assumed was him getting with you, his oh-so dear tutor. But no, Sukuna was wrong. The bet started because Naoya wanted to see the impossible: vulnerability from Ryomen Sukuna. And vulnerability, he got.

Sukuna managed to take you out on a date. Sukuna was able to make you his. There was blood in the water now, and it was clear who bled.

Naoya’s ploy was executed just like how he had planned; the puzzle was in the right place; he just needed one last piece before everything would come crashing down.

The last thing you expected after Sukuna won his basketball game was for him to face you from all the way in the court. No one knew of your relationship yet — or so you thought — and you didn’t take Sukuna to be one to put it out for the world to see. Not like you had a problem with that per se; people always knew the pink-haired man as someone who went from girl-to-girl and bed-to-bed, did Sukuna want others to know he had settled? For starters, it would definitely cause a whole lot of talk.

You wondered what he wanted when he wouldn’t take his eyes off of you, but when you saw his hand move in a way as if to gesture for you to come nearer, you were a little hesitant. On the other hand, Sukuna was anything but unsure. He stood there as the crowds hollered and yelled and bellowed, but he paid them no mind as he absentmindedly continued to wipe the sweat off his forehead with his jersey. Sukuna’s abdomen was bared as he did so, and the audience only became more wild.

Your chest tightened as you weighed your options.

When your relationship was solely tutor and student, you still came to watch his games, but only because it was your college that was playing, so it was expected for you to cheer for your peers.

Back then, you never met up after his inevitable victories, sometimes it was a short embrace like a hug or pat on the back, but that was it. Sukuna knew this, so when you hurriedly came down the bleachers, the last thing that he expected was for you to jump into his arms. He caught you, of course, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t stumble backwards a bit. Nevertheless, he wasn’t complaining. 

Behind closed doors, Sukuna was the main initiator for doing anything intimate. He didn’t mind your shyness, because, he had been pining for you for years — though he only realized recently, so why would he not be reveling with the woman of his dreams. Sukuna knew you loved your personal space, but he loved your personal space, too. And that’s why as soon as you lay down on the couch to catch the latest episode of your show, he’s laying his head right between your legs. And that’s why as soon as you try waking up early to surprise your boyfriend with breakfast in bed, he’s also jumping out from beneath the blankets to follow you like he’s your shadow.

Sukuna loved you, he thought to himself, as he leaned down to slot his lips against yours. But ‘love’ was a dangerous word, and what type of world would it be if nothing was at least a little dangerous?

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and returned the kiss as the sound of cheers and whistles from the crowds bled into the distance. It was just you and Sukuna. That’s all there was to it, and you liked that.

On your first date, and during your first kiss, you were obviously unfamiliar with the feeling of kissing Sukuna. It was new, but it was pleasant. This was a different feeling, a different type of kiss. For, you had gotten used to this experience, you spent many nights — most, even — familiarizing yourself with the feeling and sensation of Sukuna’s lips on yours, peppering your neck, trailing down your shoulder blades, almost everywhere.

Sukuna was soft, gentle, nice, until he wasn’t. Sukuna was mean, rough, teasing, because he knew you liked that. You two developed a guessing game; the rules were simple; you just had to guess when Sukuna would end his nice guy act. It was mostly only you playing, though. But for the instances when it wasn’t, Sukuna sometimes even surprised himself. It was like he was a whole different person when he was alone and around you. He didn’t need any phony drug, you alone were an aphrodisiac.

It's a shame, because you weren’t alone. When your eyes fluttered open, and your ecstasy gradually bled out, you noticed all players on the court — Sukuna’s team and opponents — were standing as still as statues. Some with their eyes blown wide in shock; some with their gazes averted and pointed at the ground in timidity.

“Damn, Sukuna, you beast. When you gonna kiss me like that after we win?”

Gojo, and most of the players on your boyfriend’s team, were already either highly suspicious of your relationship with one another or already knew the truth about it. The former because who the hell hangs out with their tutor so much off of school? And, the latter because as soon as Sukuna informed his younger brother about everything that went down, Yuuji could not keep his mouth shut.

You abruptly hastened to push away from Sukuna’s grasp upon hearing the teasing sound of none other than Gojo’s voice. How could I have done such a thing in front of so many people? you asked yourself, wanting no more than to combust right then and there. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at anyone in the face with the way your cheeks started reddening, coincidentally, like the color of the eyes belonging to the man whose arms continued to hold you unwaveringly.

Choosing to freeze in place — to keep your peace, you mentally slapped yourself in the face. You thought you were better than this.

On the other hand, Sukuna was far from embarrassed, and wasn’t planning on letting go any time soon. He placed a tender kiss on your cheek, slightly disappointed at you pulling away so early. Was merely kissing one’s girlfriend such a wrong act? After all, he hadn’t seen you all day after dropping you off at a Student Council meeting or some other shit; he missed you, to say the least.

“In your dreams, dumbass,” Sukuna spat out, sending a glare in his teammate’s way, to which Gojo only responded with the raising of both his hands as if in a defensive manner.

Sukuna had his arm around your shoulder whilst you two walked through the hallway on your way out to the parking lot. It brought you a sense of comfort, and ease. Both from Sukuna alone and also his arm around you. He had just got out of a quick shower, changed out of his sweaty and grimy jersey, and was now planning on spending the rest of his evening with you.

The air was cool, the wind light, and there was a noticeable and welcomed absence of boisterous crowds and players, there was neither noise nor sound, save for the pitter patter of your footsteps upon the tiled floor. Well, that is, until someone else decided to show up.

“We should celebrate your win, babe; do you want to eat out? Or I could make that dish that you liked? Or, or, we could order?”

Sukuna hummed, “Whatever you want, baby.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face your boyfriend, who raised an eyebrow, curious. “That’s, like, the only thing you have to say, nowadays. It’s your win, not mine, I can’t choose how we celebrate it.”

“But that’s the thing; you can.” Sukuna couldn’t care less about the food you two ate, where you ate it, or how much the bill would charge. If you wanted something, you would get it. Sukuna made sure of that much.

You crossed your arms, giving him a stern look.

“Alright, alright,” Sukuna pulled you back into his side — already desperate for that fluttering feeling you gave him whenever you two came in contact. “I fold. We can go try out that new seafood place that just opened down the street; I’ve been meaning to try their lobster—”

“That sounds good; do they have any grog?”

You almost jumped at the unfamiliar voice of, actually, who was that? You hesitantly turned around to get a good look at the culprit of your near heart attack. Blonde hair? Sorta tall. Lean build. Was he on Sukuna’s basketball team? Never mind that, had he been following you both? How long has he been listening in to your conversation?

“Naoya,” Sukuna snarled. “What the hell are you doing here?” If looks could kill, Naoya — whom you’ve just remembered as the guy who asked you to tutor him —would be six feet under, right now.

“Oh, you know. I’m just a little bored, that’s all. Anyway, I’m guessing that place doesn’t have any alcohol, after all?”

Sukuna deadpanned, and Naoya should’ve taken that as his cue to leave right then and there, but he didn’t. Besides, you were right there. Sukuna wouldn’t get all fired up in front of his girl just because of some small nuisance, right?

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, but y’know what, that won’t be a problem! I’m hosting an after party back at my place, and there’ll definitely be drinks there. ‘Sides, we should all let loose after that long game; you were MVP, after all. You should be there.” Naoya playfully gave a weak punch to Sukuna’s chest. 

It almost looked like they were friends for a second, before Sukuna rolled his eyes, wanting to take his leave already. He was tired of listening to the blond’s obnoxious voice; it gave him a headache. “Yeah, it won’t be a problem because we weren’t planning on drinking all night, anyway.”

You put a coaxing hand on Sukuna’s arm. Ever since you two started hanging out, Sukuna stopped going to after parties, and just parties altogether. And, although he always reassured you, saying, “They’re boring, trust me,” you still didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on fun.

“I don’t think it could be that bad; you should go, Sukuna. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Naoya was surprised to see you unintentionally side with him, but he used that to his advantage, “Not that I have experience, but, I think you should listen to the lady, capt’n. She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.” The blond shrugged.

It didn’t take long for you and Sukuna to head over to the (as Sukuna called him) punk’s house, and, to say the least, it was totally not what you expected, like, at all. You had already known that the Zen’ins — as they had a big name around the area — were rich, crazy rich, if you will, but it’s always still a surprise to see big houses, right? Not to mention, there was a whole ass gate, too, not like it would be protecting anything, anyway, as it was wide open. Probably to be more accommodating for the entering guests.

The booming music could be heard even from your parking spot outside, and the volume only increased as you entered the lavish abode. You were starting to question if this was a bad idea, after all. However, when you spotted a couple of your friends, and they pulled you aside to play some beer pong or something — you weren’t really paying attention, most of your misgivings diminished. 

“You look so good, babe! C’mon, let me show you where the best drinks are,” Nobara said, pulling you away as soon as she spotted you amidst the people entering and leaving.

Albeit, you were a little saddened at having to leave Sukuna.

Speaking of which, he, on the other hand, was not holding up as much as you. He was immediately dragged off by Gojo to the kitchen, and was offered a solo cup filled up with a liquid which bubbled. It was a shade of greenish-blue and probably tasted as disgusting as it looked.

“You gotta try it, dude. I spent hours mixing all of these drinks together. Man, I probably deserve a medal for doing this. Just look at how much alcohol Naoya has. Damn.” Gojo pointed to the countless bottles in the countless cupboards; there was so much booze that it took up a whole room. This was definitely a little much, even for an alcoholic. And that should say a lot.

Fortunately, the both of you weren’t separated for too long. A game of Seven Minutes in Heaven was started up by a bunch of already clearly tipsy people, and your friends were not going to let you pass up on the opportunity. Apparently, and according to one of them, “You look too hot to not get laid tonight, girl. Don’t be so boring.”

A couple of your complaints and protests went unnoticed, so you reluctantly sat down in the circle of college kids and random people whom you weren’t even sure if they went to Jujutsu Tech. An empty bottle was placed in the middle of the carpeted floor, and as a brunette girl moved to spin it, an assertive voice stopped her.

“Yo! Got any room for three more?” Gojo flashed a smile which showed his pearly whites and almost blinded you and everyone else in the room, but nevertheless, several girls backed up to make room for him, a long-haired man trailing behind with an unamused expression, and Sukuna, who held an indifferent look on his face.

It was almost comical to see the speed at which the ends of Sukuna’s lips quirked up once he saw you amongst his peers, and the speed at which his smile flipped upside down when he noticed there was no room by you and he had to sit next to his white-haired teammate instead. 

Sukuna quickly mouthed to you, Help me, before turning back to face the bottle which was already beginning to spin.

You counted the minutes you had left of your life as more and more people entered the small closet down the hall of Naoya’s house, and either returned with smug expressions on their face or bored looks. Some people were forced to pair up with those they were infatuated with but couldn’t actually ask them out and needed just a little push to do so, while some were forced to go with people that they totally hated. 

You felt bad for the latter, but then again, no one had to actually go in the closet if they didn’t want to. They could choose to skip and keep playing. That’s what you planned on doing—

“Hey, guys! Madame President hasn’t had a turn yet; we can’t let her miss out on all the fun, right, everybody?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

A couple of Yeah’s and agreeing comments filled the living space, and you wanted to dig a hole in the ground and just die. But nonetheless, you didn’t want to seem like a chicken, so you begrudgingly crawled from your previous spot on the ground to the center of the room and spun the bottle.

The bottle went so slow, so slow. To the point it was agonizing to watch as your fate was sealed. You blinked, licked your lips, swallowed the lump in your throat; God, when was this going to be over?

The bottle neared its stop as it unhurriedly passed by Naoya, fuck, the long-haired dude you saw earlier, could be better, Gojo, could it get any worse, until it finally came to a halt at . . . Sukuna, who remained emotionless except for an unexplainable glint which flashed in his eyes. Okay, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

Gojo let out a holler at the truly unexpected event, and most people followed. “Was this magic?” someone even asked; many others said similar things.

Though your nerves did go down a bit, they came back worse than before once you were actually in the dimly lit closet. Sukuna closed and made sure to lock the door behind him, before turning to face you with an unreadable look on his face.

“So—”

“I—”

You both spoke up at the same time, but you let Sukuna go ahead first. For, you didn’t even know what you were going to say if you did otherwise; you just wanted to break the awkward silence.

“Look, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to; I’m not some monster. And,” Sukuna scratched the back of his neck, “I know all those idiots out there expect us to make out and have sex — since we’re dating and whatnot, but fuck whatever they’re thinking, okay?”

“Sukuna, I—it’s okay. I do want this, with you, and no one else.”

You hoped Sukuna would get the hint, as you two had come close to this moment multiple times, yet never actually indulged in it. The both of you being in close proximity always brought a lot of tension. Sukuna could never keep his hands off of you; playful touches frequently turned to ones filled with a different desire. You reminded yourself to take things slow, and just go with the flow, since you two had only started dating recently. But, needless to say, it was hard to restrain yourself from jumping his bones, and sleeping over at his apartment more often definitely did not help you one bit.

“Oh yeah? It might be a little too late for you to change your mind later on, though,” Sukuna murmured, drawing nearer and nearer until he had you backed up against the wall. 

“I won’t be able to help myself, and neither will you. Can you blame me, though, when I’ve got an absolute work of art standing right in front of me?” He tipped your chin upward with a single index finger, while his other hand trailed up your side.

You knew what was coming, as you closed your eyes the second Sukuna gingerly connected his lips with yours. It was tender at first; Sukuna wanted to savor the taste, smell, feel, of you. He had been craving this for God knows how long. And you knew he wasn’t planning on letting you go when Sukuna gripped you by the jaw as his other hand rested on your hip.

Sukuna tasted of the chapstick you had recently bought him, and his unruly hair was soft beneath your fingertips — as always. You both moved in sync, like your lips were molded just for each other. And, they probably were. If not, that would be a shame, since Sukuna wasn’t planning on kissing anyone else but you. He was already in too deep; nothing was going to coerce him.

Sukuna only — though resentfully — pulled away when you tapped him twice on the shoulder, indicating you needed to breathe.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting, dying, for this,” Sukuna groaned, burying his nose into the crook of your neck. “That white-haired dipshit is the bane of my existence, y’know. Can’t fucking stand him, not when he’s in the way of getting to my girl, not when he’s doing stupid stuff simply because he’s stupid, not when he’s being careless at important games, never.”

It was amusing, the way Ryomen “King of the Court” Sukuna was so wrapped around your finger. He was crazy for you; you made him crazy.

“Damn, you’re really driving me nuts, huh. Can’t even think without you clogging up my head. What are you, a witch or something?” You felt Sukuna’s grin widen as he laughed aloud.

You pouted, your bottom lip jutting out as you threaded your fingers through Sukuna’s pink hair. “Hmph, don’t be mean. Seriously. What’s your problem?”

“Haven’t I made it obvious enough? ‘Sides, aren’t you supposed to be, like, smart and whatnot?”

“. . .”

Sukuna raised his head from your neck to look at you, curious after your silence. “Aww, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. You know I was just joking.”

When you wouldn’t even look him in the eye — not because you were genuinely upset, no, you just wanted to test the waters, Sukuna exhaled and dipped his head so his face was only mere inches away from yours. Your noses nearly touching.

“C’mon, don’t be mad at me. Hell, I should be the one who’s mad. After all, I’ve become a mad man because of you. Fuck, never leaving my mind, running through my head twenty-four seven, because of you. You, baby, you’re my problem. I’m a deranged mess . . . all for you. You, you, you.

“Shit, look at me, damnit,” Sukuna grasped your chin, forcing your face upward to meet his eyes. 

He wasn’t wrong when he said he was a mess; he was a hot mess. Because of you, All for you, you mulled over Sukuna’s words. You liked this side of him, you had to admit. You loved this side of him, you decided, as you cupped his cheek, bringing him in for another kiss. This time, more zealous, and impossibly more fervent.

It would be a lie to say Sukuna wasn’t surprised, because he was utterly amazed. The pink-haired man wasted no time in letting his hands roam up and down your waist as he pressed himself against you, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. 

“Mmph, Sukuna—please,” you whimpered, your words barely intelligible as Sukuna’s tongue explored your mouth. 

Sukuna felt overwhelmed by the feeling of you; it was almost as if he was being drugged — he wouldn’t be surprised if it was just the taste of you that did it for him, though. 

Sukuna didn’t care anymore, he had already thrown away any thought about anyone else outside that damned closet door immediately after you spared him that one look of yours. The one that made him question why he ever kissed other girls, why he ever dated anyone before you, why he didn’t do this earlier. The one which made him — despite his large stature — nearly fall onto his knees and kiss the ground upon which you walked.

“You fuckin’ minx, use those words of yours. ‘Please’ what, huh? Tell me, and I’ll do it,” he mumbled, between placing hot, sloppy, ephemeral kisses on your lips.

“I—ngh—need you, need you so bad, ‘Kuna.” Your knees buckled, and you would’ve fallen if you weren’t held up by Sukuna’s bruising grip on your hips.

“Fuck.”

Every ounce of self-restraint and control that Sukuna had left in his body dissipated at the sound of those three words. Something snapped in the pink-haired man right then and there, and you knew — after seeing that feral, crazed look in his darkening eyes — that you would hardly make it out of here the same person you were before.

Sukuna wasted no time in slipping his hands under that flimsy, dainty dress of yours, memorizing every curve and aspect of your body. And, unbeknownst to you, a strap of your dress had slowly slid down your shoulder as your hands found purchase on Sukuna’s chest and bicep. Your boyfriend was quickly made aware of this when he caught sight of more cleavage than he had hoped after the front of your dress dipped forward.

“You’re such a tease,” you whined, at the unexpected feeling of Sukuna licking a stripe up your throat; heat rushed to your face as you grew more squirmish.

“Don’t move so much; maybe then I’ll be a little nicer.” Sukuna cursed under his breath as he planted searing hot kisses upon your shoulder, across your collarbone, trailing down your chest in his path.

His cock twitched under the confines of his pants at the sight of your finally freed tits; he nearly ate you whole when he found you weren’t even wearing a bra. His hand grew nearer and nearer to the swell of your breast as he latched on with his mouth to the other one.

Your back arched off the wall, bringing you even closer to Sukuna’s unforgiving touches as he fondled one breast and nipped and sucked at the other, never once giving either of your tits an unequal amount of attention.

Sukuna’s knee pressed between your legs, right where you needed him most, and you had to cover your mouth to stifle the almost pornographic sounding moan that was elicited consequently. You couldn’t help it; you hadn’t been very out in the open in a long time, no, not ever since Sukuna came into the picture.

“Sensitive, are we? Heh,” Sukuna grinned, pulling away from your chest to admire his handiwork. Your lips were swollen, bruised from his endless biting, kissing, sucking, and your tits and chest were blooming with developing marks — or love bites, as Sukuna called them, when you reprimanded him later on.

Everyone outside the closet, down the hall, knew what you two were doing. You knew this was probably wrong for a president to do; you were supposed to set a good example for others to follow. Yet, nothing had ever felt so right.

The metal of Sukuna’s rings were cold against your thighs as he carelessly pushed your soaked panties to the side. You bit your lip, containing your whimpers as his fingers brushed against your clit.

“What’s wrong, hm? Be a good girl f’me and let me hear those pretty sounds of yours,” Sukuna’s lips ghosted the shell of your ear as he spoke so casually.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes squeezed shut and your nails leaving crescent-shaped marks up and down Sukuna’s arms when he first slipped a single digit inside.

Soon that one turned into two, and you were tightening around his fingers as you felt a knot build up in your stomach. Sukuna quickened the pace, curling his fingers inside of you.

Noticing the way your body tensed, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel bad. Cooing, he murmured, “That’s right. Just let go. Mhm, there you go; you’ve got it.”

You were hot all over; the throbbing in your core intensifying even after you came all over his hand.

Peaking an eye open after hearing a belt unbuckle, you let out an audible gasp at the sight of Sukuna’s stiff cock; the reddened tip leaking precum uncontrollably. 

“Sukuna, I—I don’t think that’s going to fit.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

Sukuna swiftly turned you around so your back was flush against his chest. You gulped, planting your palms against the closet wall.

Sukuna had you babbling nonsense as soon as he entered you. It was a surprise you even got this far without calling it quits, Sukuna was surprised, to say the least. “F-fuck, you’re too big, ‘Kunaa.”

It was overwhelming, the stretch. You could practically feel him in your guts. But it was crystal clear things were only going to get harder. You knew Sukuna wasn’t a kind man. You knew he wasn’t neither soft nor careful. However, Sukuna was a person who knew how to mix pain and pleasure just right. 

After your walls molded to fit him, his pace was unforgiving, hips snapping against yours with an inimitable speed. A particularly hard thrust had you crying out, clawing at the walls looking for purchase, to no avail.

Sukuna’s hands groped and squeezed at your breasts, even going as far as pinching a nipple, eliciting a loud whimper from your lips.

“‘tis too much, too much, ‘Kuna, I can’t,” you mewled.

In an attempt to soothe you, Sukuna lathered the skin of your shoulders in endless amounts of kisses, while one of his hands trailed down your torso.

“Hahh, you’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Sukuna’s breathing was heavy, and warm as it hit your skin. “Every time I saw you with one of those degenerates you called boyfriends, I nearly lost it. Since high school, too, y’know, ngh, I always wondered if they made you feel as good as I could, if you gave me a chance. But no, I told myself it was better to wait. And, whaddya know, I was right.”

Sukuna rubbed your clit with his thumb, in efforts to get you even louder than you already were. He wanted to get you on the edge, push you past your limits, see you out of your mind on his cock. Your non-stop whining rung in his ears, and he groaned at the feeling of your walls fluttering. The coil in your stomach tightened ever so slightly, and Sukuna just knew you were close when you started panting his name like a prayer.

“I’m a mad man for you, baby. I would kill for you, walk across earth and back, worship you like the goddess you are. So, hah, tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me I’m not the only one. Hell, you feel it, too, don’t you. Fuck, I—God, you seriously have no idea how much I love you. How much I love, ngh, this, and everything about us. Not a clue, huh.” 

It’s safe to say you were beyond overstimulated, your brain already turned to mush, when your orgasm came crashing down on you — Sukuna’s following soon after — leaving your legs shaking and a mess drying between your thighs.

With a final groan from Sukuna, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and snaked his arms around your waist. To be honest, it felt like you were the one holding Sukuna up, when it should be the other way around. Considering your current physical condition, and the ratio between your and your boyfriend’s stature.

Sukuna let you ride out your orgasm, while he breathed in your scent.

Sukuna didn’t find laughter in many situations, but when he saw your flushed face, eyes squeezed shut in bliss, mascara running down your cheeks, he couldn’t help but let a small grin slip out.

You were too lost in the moment to even hear Sukuna say those three words which you longed to hear ever since you two got together. But, it didn’t matter, Sukuna thought. He planned on saying them much more often later, anyway.

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[lostfracturess]

hi nicii i would love to see an ex husband geto !! i feel like he’d be so sneaky with everything he does to get reader back if u can do it ofc !! goodluck editing chapter 12

18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content.

ex-husband!geto who first meets you in a university class, and from that day on always saves you a seat next to him in the lecture hall.

ex-husband!geto who stumbles over his words when he asks you out on a coffee date after class, his usually calm demeanor giving way to adorable awkwardness because he's just so nervous.

ex-husband!geto who takes you to a cozy café for your first date, where you lose track of time as you talk about everything and nothing, him hanging on your every word as if it's the most fascinating thing he's ever heard.

ex-husband!geto who walks you back to your dorm after the date, his heart racing as he leans in to kiss you for the very first time, the moment feeling like a scene straight out of a movie.

ex-husband!geto who's so smitten with you that he can't help but introduce you to his friends as "the one" after just a few months of dating.

ex-husband!geto who stays up with you during late-night study sessions, quizzing you on flashcards and bringing you snacks, always your biggest supporter and cheerleader.

ex-husband!geto who surprises you by getting down on one knee at your graduation ceremony, his voice trembling as he asks you to spend the rest of your lives together, and tears up as he watches you walk down the aisle on your wedding day.

ex-husband!geto who whispers "I love you" every night before you drift off to sleep, his arms wrapped around you so tightly it's as if he never wants to let go.

ex-husband!geto who, as the years pass by, you find yourself growing more and more distant from, your dreams and aspirations no longer aligning as he wants to stay in your hometown and you long for a change of scenery.

ex-husband!geto who you start to argue with over these big life decisions, the tension slowly seeping into every aspect of your relationship until you find yourselves fighting over the most trivial matters.

ex-husband!geto who can't hide the hurt in his eyes when you start spending more time with your colleagues than with him, seeking a distraction from the growing rift between you. he understands, but it doesn't make it any easier.

ex-husband!geto who end up sleeping in the guest room one day, both of you needing space to reflect on what you truly want out of life, realizing that perhaps you fell in love too young and grew apart.

ex-husband!geto who is barely holding back tears the day you come home late from work and suggest divorce, his world shattering.

ex-husband!geto who, in the months following your divorce, throws himself into his work, but finds that no matter how busy he keeps himself, his thoughts always drift back to you.

ex-husband!geto who realizes that he thought he was doing you a favor by setting you free to find yourself, but now understands that he never wanted to be without you, that a life without you by his side is no life at all.

ex-husband!geto who shows up at your doorstep on a rainy evening, his hair plastered to his forehead, he didn't really think of what to say to you. he just thought he wanted to be with you.

ex-husband!geto who, when you open the door, stares at you with longing and desperation in his eyes, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out.

ex-husband!geto who, after a moment of silence, finally manages to whisper a broken "I missed you," before he surges forward and captures your lips in a kiss.

ex-husband!geto who pours all of his love, regret, and yearning into that kiss, his hands cupping your face as if you're the most precious thing in the world.

ex-husband!geto who deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in desperation, his body pressing against yours as if he can't get close enough.

ex-husband!geto who, when you finally break apart for air, rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he breathes you in, savoring the feeling of your skin against his.

ex-husband!geto who, without a word, scoops you up into his arms and carries you inside, kicking the door shut behind him, his lips never leaving yours.

ex-husband!geto who who lays you down on the bed, his body covering yours as he trails kisses along your jaw, down your neck, his hands roaming over your familiar curves.

ex-husband!geto who removes your clothing piece by piece and places heated kisses on each newly exposed patch of skin, his lips worshiping every curve of your body.

ex-husband!geto who kisses his way down your body and pauses to lavish attention on your chest, his tongue swirling around each nipple before he continues his descent.

ex-husband!geto who, as he settles between your thighs, looks up at you with dark eyes, his hands caressing the smooth skin of your inner thighs, feeling you tremble beneath his touch.

ex-husband!geto who presses soft kiss to your inner thighs that quickly turn more rough, biting and bruising your skin before his tongue darts out to taste you.

ex-husband!geto who, as he works you with his tongue, his lips sealed around your clit, reaches up to intertwine his fingers with yours. like he always used to.

ex-husband!geto who, as your hips begin to buck against his face, locks up to you, determined to watch you come undone on his tongue. like he always used to.

ex-husband!geto who places a final, gentle kiss on your clit before crawling back up your body, his lips finding yours in a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

ex-husband!geto who keeps your hands intertwined, whispering "I love you" as he enters you, and begins to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow and deep rhythm.

ex-husband!geto who, as the minutes tick by, starts to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, more insistent, just like he used to do when you were together, his body remembering every detail of how to please you.

ex-husband!geto who releases your hands to grip your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer, driving himself deeper into you.

ex-husband!geto who, as he pounds into you, leans down to capture your lips in a rough, demanding kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.

ex-husband!geto who, as he feels your walls begin to tighten around him, reaches down to rub tight circles around your clit, determined to bring you over the edge with him, just like he always used to.

ex-husband!geto who drinks in the sight of you sobbing and moaning underneath him as you reach your peak, thinking it's the most beautiful and hot view he's ever witnessed.

ex-husband!geto who, as he feels his own release approaching, quickly pulls out of you, his hand pumping his shaft as he hovers over your stomach.

ex-husband!geto who lets out a deep moan, his seed spilling onto your stomach in hot, thick ropes, coating your skin with his cum, just like he always used to, marking you as his once again.

ex-husband!geto who milks himself through his orgasm, his hand stroking his length until every last drop is spent, watching in awe as his cum pools on your stomach.

ex-husband!geto who, once he's finished, collapses beside you, his chest heaving as he catches his breath, his eyes still fixed on the mess he's made on your stomach, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips, causing you to swat his head.

ex-husband!geto who then pulls you into his strong arms, your bodies still trembling, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as he whispers just how much he's missed you and how deeply he loves you.

ex-husband!geto who, as he holds you close, basking in the warmth and comfort of your body against his, feels a sense of completeness and belonging wash over him, knowing that this is where he's meant to be, with you, forever and always.

ex-husband!geto who, in the weeks and months that follow, works tirelessly to rebuild your relationship, planning surprise dates and heartfelt gestures to show you how much you mean to him.

ex-husband!geto who, when you mention wanting to move somewhere new, doesn't hesitate to start looking for jobs in that area, determined to follow you wherever your heart desires, realizing that home is wherever you are.

ex-husband!geto who, on your first anniversary back together, takes you back to that cozy little café where you had your first date, gets down on one knee, and proposes to you all over again.

© lostfracturess. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my work without permission. thanks for reading and supporting my work !! ♡

[pedgito]

↝ FOR THE WORK (10k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Using your neighbors address for deliveries doesn’t seem like the worst idea until you find yourself with a world of dilemmas and a burgeoning crush on the single dad who lives there. [Pre-Outbreak]

↝ PATROLS (17k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: A story of how things began, where they ended up, and where they might go. A collection of patrols over the course of several months is forcing you closer to Joel than you ever imagined, tense circumstances leading to hasty decisions and one bad choice after the next.[Set Post S1]

↝ SOFT & SWEET (5k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Based around Work Song by Hozier. A comfort fic with lots of angst and fluffy goodness. Content Warnings: mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it’s just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

↝ MEET ME IN THE WOODS (50k words) | (Finished Series) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Taking a much needed vacation for the holiday, you aren't aware your cabin has been double-booked until you're face to face with the other guest the night you arrive, left with a big decision to make and the possibility of a month with a man you know nothing about. But, through communication and isolation, you learn that you and him might not be that different after all. Consumed by your shared loneliness, you find company in the unlikeliest of place—a stranger named Joel, in the middle of the woods. [No Outbreak] (6 chapters)

↝ MET THE DEVIL LAST NIGHT (6k words) — (AU) Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: 18+ Demon!Joel, Virgin!Reader, this was little plot and mostly smut lol.

↝ THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR RIDING (3k words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel doesn't like gifts, you gift him new boots.

↝ HANDSOME, DIRTY, RICH (12k words) — BFD!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The rich father of your bestfriend, Sarah — Joel Miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided.

↝ MILLER'S GIRL (24k+ words) | (Finished Series) — (AU) Professor!Joel Miller

Summary: A sudden infatuation with your professor yields strange, unnerving results and Joel Miller, in his first semester at a new job finds himself in an unlikely position with a student that hides their intentions behind innocence.

↝ MOONLIGHT (8k words) — No Outbreak!Joel Miller

Summary: a series of nights spent with a neighbor you find an unlikely connection with, sharing a similar interest to pass the time, it forms into something much more intense and suddenly, neither of you can deny it anymore.

UPDATED: 6/17/2024

[atlasmoonglade]

Joost Klein x singlemom!reader

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4

Warnings: kind of a rollercoaster of emotions, smut, PiV, riding, angst, 18+ only

This turned out quite long, but I didn't want to split it into another chapter. Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 5

Your head is resting on Joosts chest, his finger drawing mindless patterns on your arm.

There is a comfortable silence around you.

"What happened between you and Elliot's dad?" he asks.

You don't answer at first.

"We started dating in high school and were friends long before that. Basically I've known him the majority of my life. We didn't rush to have kids or get married, we were building our careers, focused on ourselves. I was truly happy with him." you stare into the distance. "I think we got too familiar with each other, if that's possible." you laugh a little. Joost is listening to you intently. "so when a new routine got introduced, we weirdly just grew apart. We both love Elliot with our whole hearts, so after we realised we are failing to make this work, we decided to separate. We are still very close, it feels like we are best friends who have a kid together. But I don't regret separating. It was the right choice for us." you turn to look at him. "What about you? Have you experienced married life?" you try to joke.

He laughs. "No, I didn't. But I want to one day, with the right person." he says his tone getting serious.

You fall into silence again. His breathing steady, but you know he is not yet asleep.

"You know, that day we met, I really wanted to stay home, I had a horrible headache. I almost didn't go." you say quietly.

He doesn't say anything, so you start to think he did fall asleep.

"That coffee shop we met at the second time. It wasn't on my usual run route. For some reason that morning I decided to go a different way and ended up there." he says suddenly.

"Funny how life works sometimes." you say.

He kisses the crown of your head. "It all works out in the end."

Waking up next to Joost in your bed that morning was even more ethereal than before. Although you'd shifted several times in your sleep, he'd found you in the darkness each time so that he could cling to you again.

You ghosted your fingers over his hand splayed out on your stomach, and the touch only served to make him pull you closer to him. You continued to run your hands along his, eventually going up his arm and quietly giggling at the goosebumps that formed. When Joost began to stir, the first thing he did was bury his face between your shoulder and neck. You giggled at the tickling sensation of his breath, and he responded by peppering the area with short, light kisses.

"Good morning" you say.

He just groans into your neck.

"You really are not a morning person, huh?"

"I am" he says into your ear, as he pushes himself even closer behind you and you feel how hard he is.

You laugh. "That is not what I meant." you turn to face him and press a light kiss to his lips.

He moves his hand to your jaw and pulls you into a kiss again. He hugs you tight against him, and trails his kisses from the side of your mouth, to your jaw and continues kissing your neck. Your hips roll against him earning a moan from him. You move your hand down to touch him through his boxers.

"Fuck" he exhales, as you continue to tease him. His hand slides from your neck down your body, he moves your panties to the side. "So wet already" it definitely strokes his ego. "Could have woke me up earlier" he chuckles and gets up to get his wallet again. You hear the sound of foil ripping and he gets back to the spooning position behind you.

"Come here" you kiss him again as he rolls into you slow and tender, the two of you entwined and sinking into the mattress.

Your head rolls back into his shoulder. "You feel so good"

His hands are holding your waist, while he is rocking his hips slowly at first. He wants to take his time with you, wants to take care of you, the sounds he hears leave your mouth encourage him to move faster. He can't believe the things you do to him and what he feels for you in this moment.

"Please don't stop" your voice feels like a prayer to him.

He moves his hand to work on your clit, a few more thrusts and he feels you clench around him. Your legs start to shake.

"Just a little longer" he says chasing his own release. A few more thrusts and he comes into the condom. You both try to catch your breath.

He kisses your shoulder and moves to lay on his back.

You check your phone "C'mon we have to get up. Nicholas is dropping off Elliot soon." you tap his thigh. "I'll make you breakfast."

"The full morning experience." he says and laughs at his own joke.

You get up and head to the bathroom.

"Stop starring" you throw a t-shirt you pick up from the floor at him.

"Why so shy all of a sudden? I was inside of you a second ago." he catches the t-shirt.

"Shut up" you laugh.

You finish showering and go the kitchen to start making eggs on toast. Enough for you, Joost and Elliot if he wants. When did this become so domestic you think to yourself.

"Hurry up, they are coming up already." you shout when Joost is still in the shower.

You put down the plates and throw your head back laughing as you see Joost rushing towards the kitchen, still putting on his t-shirt.

The key turns in the door and you hear little footsteps running in.

"Hi, mom!" Elliot runs towards you, you kneel down. "Hi, baby" you hug him.

"Hi, Joost." Elliot says looking up from the hug. "Why are you.. breathing like that?" Joost is still out of breath from trying to make it in time to the kitchen.

"He just came back from a run. He loves doing cardio in the mornings" you say trying not to laugh.

"Cardio in the mornings, huh?" Nicholas walks in and laughs.

"Hi! " you hug Nicholas. "Thanks for driving him back."

"I had time before work today to drop him off, so you didn't have to drive up." he says and looks at Joost.

"This is Joost. The one I told you about."

"Hi, Joost. Nice to meet you." Nicholas reaches his hand out to him.

"Hi. Likewise." Joost shakes his hand.

This is so weird runs through your thoughts. All of your favorite people in one room, but why is this weird, you think to yourself.

"Did you have fun?" you ask Elliot.

"So much fun! Look what daddy got me." he shows a new Lego set to Joost who is the closest to him.

"That's so cool!" Joost matches his enthusiasm and it makes you smile.

"I have to go now. Bye, Elliot. Love you." Nicholas says and heads towards the door. He gives you and Joost a wink and chuckles again mouthing cardio.

Later that week you invite Joost to join you in a park with Elliot for a little picnic. You take out a blanket and Elliot lays out the Lego set, which he was excited to build. Joost helps him sort out the pieces while they talk about cartoons and movies they've seen.

"You haven't showed him the classics? What do mean you haven't seen Shark Tale?" Joost looks between you and Elliot.

"Well, the movie for the evening is sorted then."

"You are gonna love it, lil guy." the nickname he started calling Elliot makes you chuckle.

"How is your song coming along?" you ask.

He sighs. "We haven't made much progress. We are in kind of a creative drought as my producer likes to call it." you see how much it bothers him.

"Oh. Well hope it passes soon." you hate to see him not feeling excited about his music. "What do I say to that? Do I wish you inspirational rain?"

He laughs. That infectious laugh again. It even makes Elliot chuckle as he flips to the next page of the Lego instructions.

"What do you usually do to get the juices flowing again?" you ask.

"I usually go out with a pretty girl and a lil guy to build legos"

"I am not little." Elliot pretends to be upset.

"Sure, lil guy."

You have built half of the lego car, when Elliot went to the playground. You notice Joost is being quieter than usual.

"Anything I can do to help? It breaks my heart to see you like that."

He looks at you with a smile and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing slightly. "You are already helping." he says. "I'll work it out."

"What are your plans for next week?" you ask.

"Depends. Are you asking me on a date?" he teases.

"Nicholas is taking Elliot to stay with his grandparents." you say. "I thought me and you could also go somewhere. A little vacation."

"I would love that." he gives a little peck to your lips.

You figured time away with just the two of you would help you understand where do you stand now. What this new relationship means to both of you. You were trying to repeat his words "Let's just have fun for now" for as long as you could to distract yourself from the ticking clock when the time comes for him to leave. You don't want to scare him away by asking too many questions, like "So, what are we?", but you would be lying if you didn't say that this question is spiralling in your head. Would long distance even work between you? Those are the questions which you don't have yet the answer to.

You are helping Elliot pack for the week he will spend with Nicholas' parents. Joost has come over earlier that morning, he is working on his ipad in your bedroom.

"Let's go, you can give it to him now." you tell Elliot.

"Joost?" Elliot is suddenly shy walking up to him.

"Yes, lil guy?" Joost puts down his ipad.

"We were making bracelets in my class and I made one for you." he pulls out the bracelet from behind his back. "There were numbers we could choose from in the beads kit, it reminded me of your tattoo." he points to the 1983 inked on Joosts fingers. "Hope you like it."

Joost takes the 1983 bracelet and puts it on his wrist. He looks taken aback by this gesture. "Thank you so much, Elliot." he touches the bracelet. "That is so sweet of you. I will never take it off."

This whole interaction makes you tear up a little bit. You sit next to Joost and hug him.

You and Joost check in into your hotel room at an out of town resort for the next couple of days. As you both settle in, you remember the first time you stayed at his apartment, the awkwardness between you, which has now completely disappeared. There are still unanswered questions floating between you but you leave them in the air for now. You think of how dark it was around you in his apartment that night compared to the sun shining into the room through the floor to ceiling windows. A little laugh escapes you.

"What?" he comes up to hug you from behind.

"Nothing." you are smiling from ear to ear as you turn in his arms.

"No, no, share with the class what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

"Just trying to imagine you in the tennis class I signed us up for tomorrow."

"You think I'm gonna be bad at tennis?" he looks at you pretending to be offended. "I will win so easily you won't even have time to react."

You laugh "Someone is competitive."

"You have no idea." he lowers his head to kiss you. The kiss is slow and sweet, he walks you back to the bed not breaking the kiss. You both fall onto the bed, his hands bunching up your dress slowly going up your thigh. A phone call startles you. He pulls away, his pupils dark and full of want. "Sorry" he says standing up.

He answers the call, while you fix your dress and sit up. He opens the balcony door to take the call there. You continue to unpack, the faint sound of Joost speaking in dutch on the phone. He comes back into the room, you can't fail to notice his tense shoulders.

"Everything ok?" you ask concerned.

"Yes." he answers. "It was my manager, sorry."

"Ok.." you look at him, when he doesn't give any more information you decide to drop it.

"There are beautiful routes for running here. Want to go?" you ask him.

"Let's go." he smiles at you.

To summarise your last few days:

He did beat you in Tennis, but only because you let him is what you say when he gloats about his win.

"Are you sure it wasn't your age?" he leans down to ask you.

"How dare you" your jaw drops. You both start laughing.

You went to a painting class where you had to draw each others portrait. His turned out pretty good, his own style very apparent. He didn't know you went to an art class in college, the accurate portrait took him by surprise. He promised to put in a frame on his wall back home.

"Something to remember me by." you smile at him.

"There is much more I will remember." he smiles back.

On an afternoon walk you met Joosts fan, who was shocked to see him here. As they talked in dutch, you tried to let go of Joosts hand, to give him a choice in case he didn't want to be seen with someone publicly. He only squeezed harder. A small gesture but it meant so much to you.

They switch to English, before they take a photo.

"Haven't seen you post online much."

"Big things coming." Joost replies in a heavy American accent on purpose.

"So, you do have fans, huh?" you say when you continue the walk.

"I should show you my DMs." he jokes.

"I would rather not go there." you laugh.

You watched his old Youtube videos. He didn't cringe once, you love how unapologetically he is himself, even to his past.

"We should have gotten popcorn. This is golden! You were so adorable as a teenager. Look at your cheeks, man!" you can't contain the laugh that escapes you.

"Okay, calm down. Now you have to show me your teenage photos."

For your last evening he booked a table at the restaurant. You are wearing a black maxi silk dress. You are finishing your makeup, when you see Joosts reflection in the mirror. He is wearing a shirt, black tie and black pants. A matching black jacket thrown over his hand.

"Look at you, handsome" you put your hands on his chest, smoothing out his shirt, going up to fix his tie.

"Love this dress on you." he says taking your hands into his own. You look up at him, loving how much taller he is than you.

The restaurant has an ambient lighting, quiet live music and murmur of people at other tables around you. You order and put down the menu. Joost hasn't said much on the way here, you see something is bothering him.

"Do you not like it here?" you ask.

He looks up at you. "What? No. No, I love it here. With you." he gives a faint smile. You smile back and wait for him to continue.

"I, uh. I actually wanted to tell you something." he says fumbling with a napkin on the table. "I talked to my manager and we figured out a plan for me to stay here for 2 more months. He will handle the paperwork tomorrow. But essentially it is done." he looks at you trying to read your face.

"What? That is amazing!" you can't hide your excitement. "Here I thought you were gonna say you killed someone."

He laughs, you wish you could bottle this sound.

"So.. any plans for those 2 months?" you say with a teasing note in your voice. "Are you sure you are not gonna forget dutch?"

He puts his hand over yours on the table. "Alles voor jou."

"I hate to bring it up again" you say. "but what happens after those 2 months?"

"You can come to Amsterdam to visit me."

"You know I couldn't stay for long. Or visit you often."

"We could try long distance relationship." he suggests. "I really like you, Y/N. I want you to know that. I will do anything to make this work."

Those words make your heart beat faster. In a room full of people, he is the only one you ever want to look at. No one has ever made so much effort for you, it has always been easy and safe with Nicholas, a clear plan always laid out in front of you, you had no idea you would crave something so risky and uncertain. It makes your head spin how loved and special he makes you feel, all your previous concerns are long forgotten.

As soon as you get back into your room, you feel his hands on you. He is kissing your neck, and presses you into the nearest wall. The mixture of his touches, a secluded room where it feels like you are living in your own little world and a light buzz you have from drinks at the restaurant, it all seems so perfect. You wish it all could last. You kiss him back.

He takes off your dress, then you push his shirt past his shoulders and reach for the belt on his pants. When you both get rid of each other's clothes, you make it to the bed.

He grasps the plush of your thigh as you bend your leg around his waist, his other hand braced next to your head as he lines himself up and pushes in.

"Oh, fuck" you wind your arms around his neck, find his mouth with yours.

Joosts brows turn into a frown when you wriggle away from him, but he doesn���t argue when you turn to push him onto his back and straddle his hips. He pulls you down to kiss him instead, panting against your mouth as you sink down inch by slow inch. You can see him watching as you move above him. He feels good like this, his chest is firm under your fingertips, his eyelids heavy and his pupils blown wide in the dark of the room.

“Feel like fuckin heaven..” his hands find your hips, holding you against him as he shifts his hips up in tight rhythm with your body. And it’s the sounds he makes, fucked-out, breathless moans that he would never let anyone else hear.

He can feel you beginning to squeeze tight around him and how slick the slide of you has become. He kneads his hands into your backside, drags his teeth against you again, keeps it going even as you collapse against him. Keeps you riding that wave as he wraps his arms around you and rolls you to the mattress, fucking into you then with the last of his energy. His voice at your ear, “so perfect.. beautiful..." For a split second he imagines a family with you. Would it work between you two? A little kid with his last name running around the house. The imagination takes over him and the words seem to have slipped past his lips. "I love you.”

You open your eyes to look at him. Did he just say...that he loves you? You are taken aback and your mouth doesn't move to say it back. Do you love him? It's all been happening so quickly, you haven't had the time to think about that question.

You are both trying to catch your breath as he lays down next to you, looking at the ceiling.

"Sorry. It just. Kind of happened."

"It's okay." is all you can say. You still can't bring yourself to say it back. You know the heavy weight of these words and you can't yet say them.

A few days after you got back, you and your friend Brianne met up to catch up on everything, after the coffee date, you decide to go thrifting to a few of your favorite spots. You are going through the vintage jackets they have.

"Y/N?" you hear someone call. You turn around and see the girl you met backstage at Joosts concert.

"Hi!" she gives you a hug.

"Hi! Long time no see! How have you been?"

"Good." she smiles at you. "It has been a long time." you hear worry in her voice. "Sorry if I'm being too straightforward, but are you and Joost still close?" she asks.

"Yes." you reply with hesitation, not having expected this question.

"I guess you don't know." she looks down at her hands. "We've been worried about him. He has been turning down our invitations to hang out, which is fine I guess. But he also turned down the gig we were supposed to play in Austria to stay here for longer."

You look at her, all color draining from your face. So, you weren't imagining things. All the pieces suddenly turning into a clear picture, him not being able to focus on his music, the secretive calls. You feel nauseous, guilt creeping up your throat.

"I had no idea." you say quietly. "I will talk to him."

"This isn't like him. Hope you find the right words to say to him, because we sure are out of those." she says and gives you an apologetic smile.

Later that night you get a text from Joost asking if he can come over. You can't see him right now.

No, sorry, I am not feeling well. I'm gonna call it a night early today.

Oh. Hope it's nothing serious. I can bring you soup if you want, give you a massage. Will that help?

I need to be alone today. I'm sorry.

Ok. Feel better soon.

You put down your phone and cover your face with your hands. You can feel a headache coming on, you need to talk to him, but you can't do it today. How could you let this go so far? It is not like you to get swept away like that and to confuse him as well. You feel like it is all your fault that he doesn't have time for anyone else or even work on his music. Has he lost his inspiration because of you too? You feel ashamed. Him saying he loves you all of a sudden? This is not just you having fun together anymore. The fact that you couldn't say it back should have been the first sign.

You knock at his door.

"Come in" you hear his voice from inside the apartment.

You walk in and see him taking out the plates to set the table.

"Hi" he comes up to you. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. What's with the fancy china?" you ask.

"I can't really cook, but I got us takeaway. Wanted to do something nice for you. In case you didn't want to go out." he says.

"Joost, I need to talk to you." you sigh.

"Ok." his voice getting serious. "What's up?" he leads you to sit on the couch.

"I saw your friend yesterday. The one I met after your show." you say, looking everywhere but not at him. "She told me you cancelled your concert in Austria and haven't been seeing your friends."

He doesn't say anything, he stands up, and runs his hands through his hair. He turns to look at you.

"I was so embarrassed, Joost. I had no idea this is what is going on with you." you continue. "If you need time apart, just tell me. I am not trying to ruin your career."

"You are not ruining anything. Let me explain." he says with a sigh. "This is just one side of the story. Yes, I have been seeing them less, but I was overwhelmed ever since I came here. I met you and things seemed to have... fallen into place, I felt this calmness, finally a little peace of mind."

You look at him tears filling your eyes.

"I promise it's just temporary. It's not you, I have got wrapped in my feelings, I will work it out. I will learn how to balance work and my personal life." he kneels down next to you, taking your hands in his. "I'm sorry this happened."

You put your head on his shoulder.

"This really scared me." you say quietly.

"Trust me, I will do better." he says, his hand patting your back in soothing motions.

"I want to trust you." you sit back up to look at him.

He kisses your hand. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

You pull him into a hug. "Let's have that dinner you prepared. Smells so good."

He sighs with relief.

Once again you are in his bed, the smell of him all around you. His breathing is steady next to you. You close your eyes having finally made a decision.

It's deep into the night, you are sitting on the edge of his bed fully dressed. You reach to move a strand of hair, which covers his face, and continue to run your hand through his hair. He smiles in his sleep, as a tear falls down from your face. You walk up to his mirror and leave a note there. Without looking back, you close his door for the last time.

I can't let you build your future around me. You deserve so much more - see the world, create your art and never look back. The world deserves to know your name. I couldn't say I love you that night, but I want you to know that I felt it. One day you will meet someone who is brave enough to say it out loud.

I hope you move on faster than I will. You can be mad at me but please don't blame yourself.

I'm sorry, Joost.

Goodbye.

~~~~~~~

Elliot is playing outside with his friends, you can hear their chatter through the open window.

You are mindlessly scrolling through videos on your recommended page. A face you haven't seen in a long time pops up and it takes your breath away the same way it did the first time you bumped into him.

"I'm happy to have finally released this song. I showed it to someone I was close with once, she didn't react with words at first, but I saw goosebumps spreading on her skin. I've been chasing that high ever since." you put down your phone. Tears start blurring your vision, you wipe them away.

You put Elliot to bed, kiss the top of his head, quietly close the door and go into the spare bedroom, which now has a crib prepared, rolls of new wallpaper ready to be put up. You open the cabinet, which you have yet to go through and take out a box. Dust is covering the top of it. You take a deep breath and open the box.

An envelope with a wristband pass, an old receipt with a barely visible ink from your favorite breakfast spot, a label you took off from the wine bottle and a polaroid photo of you dancing at a concert. You take the polaroid, turning it in your hands.

He has never tried to reach out again, you only found this polaroid in your mailbox a week after you left his apartment. You read his neat handwriting on the back of it.

Since I didn't get a chance to say goodbye, I guess I'll do it now. I spent the last few days trying to process why you did it, I wanted to call you, but I won't - it will hurt too much.

I meant what I said that night in the hotel room, but I hope I never see you again. Live a happy life, Y/N, I'm glad to have been a part of it.

Forever yours,

Joost.

The door opens softly. "Honey, you coming?" your fiancé asks.

~~~~~~~

"Here is to the sold out tour!" Joost's manager raises a toast.

"Woooo! Cheers!" everyone clinks their drinks together.

Joost's friends and crew came to celebrate a successful show they just played and a world tour ahead of them. This place starts to bring back memories, he's been here before, although seems like a lifetime ago. A bar now turned into a venue for private events.

He notices a woman with a dark haired teenager standing next to her, he can tell by her pretty dress and people around in formal wear - they are celebrating something. There is a brand new guitar wrapped up as a present.

You look as good as the day he first saw you heading to the bar. The rollercoaster of emotions, which almost swept him off his feet. Sometimes he thinks it did. You see him, your eyes wide in surpise and softening as quickly, smile spreading across your face. The smile that he has almost forgotten. You look at each other, all the years between you disappearing. Suddenly it's that summer again, the morning runs, late night texts, a movie playing in the background as you take off his clothes, deep conversations hidden by the comfort of the dark. He thinks back to the note you left on his mirror, he couldn't take it off for days, he kept reading it again and again hoping to find an answer, looking at his own reflection. The night he said those words flashes in his mind. He blinks and the moment ends, the chatter of the room separating you. You go back to your conversation.

He watches as a man joins you with a little girl in his arms, he puts an arm around your shoulders bringing you closer, you lean in comfortably.

Elliot doesn't recognise Joost.

At this moment he stops blaming myself. He can move on.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hi! I hope this question makes sense, but: a while back, you recommended that instead of writers feeling like they have to write thousands of words of build-up in order to write the fic idea of their heart, they should do a fanfic speed run and just write the parts they want to write. And if something doesn’t make sense without context, they can always explain the details in an author’s note.

I really want to try out this advice, but . . . I don’t know how? I know that sounds weird, but I’m always worried any emotional impact of my fic is going to be lost if I don’t include the build-up, especially if it’s an AU of any kind. Maybe it’s because I always feel like my fic has to be completely outlined before writing, but IDK. No pressure, but if you feel like it, could you go back and talk about your fic speed run advice again?

Speedrunning fic is my favourite way to write. I love to jump to "the good bits" or start off in media res and then hit all the highlights as I write my way through. Sometimes, I'll get so excited about the part that I'm going to write next that I actually skip parts that I would also love to write, but they just aren't making my brain sing.

There are a lot of different ways to do this, and it will depend on what kind of story you want to write.

The first common trick I use in ship fic, is to start at the point where at least one of my characters is already aware of their feelings and pining and then write how the other one falls in love too. You can pack a lot of emotional tension into that one character trying desperately not to show how they feel and the other character gradually (or suddenly) realizing they feel the same way.

Another way to get people together faster is to use a plot device that forces them to realize how they feel. Stuck in an elevator. Snowed in in an abandoned cabin in the remote woods. Quarantined after exposure to an alien virus (bonus points if they have to shower together Because Science (tm) ). Again, you can create a lot of tension and that cathartic release without needing the story to occupy months or years of time before you get there.

Other great ways of just writing the fun bits are to make use of the series function on AO3. You have a universe that you want to build out but you just want to write this one tiny corner of it right now? It's the first fic in a series, and the next fic can be some completely different part of that world.

You can also do a classic 5+1 story (which have the added bonus of providing you with a title too). 5 Times They Didn't Kiss and 1 Time They Did. 5 Times the Bad Guy Got Away and 1 Time They Didn't. 5 Times There Weren't Any Chips in the Cupboard and 1 Time There Were. These fics are usually written with 1 chapter per "time" so you can time skip as much as you want in between and even be super vague about when and where things are happening at all.

The most important thing to remember is that your audience already knows these characters. They already love them. They already clicked into your story wanting to know about the thing that you said you're going to write. You don't have to spend time convincing anyone that your story is allowed to exist in this AU or with this ship or in this time period or with this ending. The permission was there as soon as you decided to write it.

If you're worried about whether a story can have impact even if it's short, then I recommend you spend some time reading shorter fics and oneshots. People can absolutely devastate you in 500 words or less or fill you with joy in 300 words. It's not about how many words you use to do it, it's about how you use the words you've got.

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.13. TEAM DICK

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . pop star by coco & clair clair

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

i tried so hard to cut it down AND I DID to 18 photos (by making some screenshots longer) and then added gossip girls to the end and got back to 21 photos but i hope u guys enjoyed this chapter </33

kenma literally hasn't spoken a word out loud since y/n left

if goldfish meows at him kenma just stares back

iwa did in fact sit in an extra chair while yn got princess treatment with suna's fancy pc and fancy gamer chair

suna played next to her and they'd both periodically breakdown laughing bc of how hard his old laptop's fan was running trying to process minecraft

iwa and tsukki both didn't play mainly bc they didn't have a device to play on and also didn't want to get involved but i know tsukishima was watching noya too

kageyama stans all cows and i will never not accept that he adores cows

hinata brought minecraft up to him asking if he wanted to play and kageyama was like "what is minecraft? what do you do."

hinata said, "you mine and craft. and you can have pet dogs and take care of cows"

kageyama immediately googled minecraft cows and found mooblooms and wanted to play just to see them but found out with a little bit more research that they were never added to the game </3

I GAVE UP TRYING TO ADD STATS TO ALL THE LIVE TWEETING AND I HOPE THAT IS UNDERSTANDABLE BC I WAS NOT ABOUT TO GO THINKING ABOUT NUMBERS FOR EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE REPLIES

suna took "when i see kenma it's on sight" literally

also he wanted kenma's stone axe

kuroo has not gotten a dog yet in this minecraft world </3 noya tried barking for him though before everyone told him to stop

oikawa took y/n with him to get flowers not even planning to completely split up from the other group but it's what happened and y/n wasn't complaining because she did NOT want to be around kenma

iwa and oikawa texted the gossip girls gc at the exact same time and oikawa started freaking out more after iwa's text

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @r0seandth0rns @gsyche @kitnootkat @seillarium @tamimemo @myromanempiree @coldcigarette @eclipticnikki @squiishymeow @vivian-555 @cryptictheseus @eclecticeggknightpsychic @kodzukein @kawaii-angelanne @luvly-writer @kodzuken-hoe @kodzuken88 @bookworm-center @theweirdfloatything @glitch-karma @spicana

[holylulusworld]

Two bikes (2)

Summary: You’re back in your hometown and meet two men from your past.

Pairing: former Jax Teller x fem!Reader (pre-story), Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: smitten Bucky, fluff, light/implied smut scene

A/N: I wanted Jax and Biker!Bucky in one fic. So suffer with me…

Two bikes (1)

Two bikes masterlist

He moves slowly but with enough strength to punch the air out of your lungs. You gasp with every powerful thrust, torn between lust and regret.

How could you end up in his arms? How could you let him fool you again?

“I knew you’d feel this good, baby,” he groans in your neck. His body presses yours into the mattress and you are glad that he can’t see your face.

You’re close to tears because of your bad decision of getting close to the man breaking your heart more than once.

If only he chanted your name when you were not tangled in each other. If only he meant the words he whispers in your ear while taking you apart.

You know better, and still, you fell for him again.

“Look at you, all fucked out,” he groans with the last thrust. He is still on top of you, his face buried in your neck long after he came inside of you. You feel his chest pressed against your back, so close that it feels like you are one person. “Shit, you gave me another one.”

He finally slips out of you, huffing as you do not move. “That was amazing,” he says while already looking for his pants. “Uh-maybe you should head home. It’s getting late and I’d hate for you to walk in the dark.”

“I-“ your voice fails. How can he be a passionate and sweet lover one moment, and the next he turns into the selfish asshole you know so well. “You’re right.”

You slip out of bed to grab your clothes and throw them on. He watches you hastily dress with amusement. “You can go slow. Give me a little show.”

“Fuck you,” you snap at him. You walk out of the room, your jacket, bag, and one shoe tugged under your arm to get away from the next mistake you made. “How could I have been so stupid?”

You walk away, ignoring passersby watching you walk along the sidewalk with only one shoe on. Your apartment isn’t far away from his place, and you are too out of it to put your second shoe on.

You’re more running than walking when you see your building. With your last strength, you spring toward the building and unlock the door with shaking fingers.

You stare at the word count before rereading the words. “That’s awful. A bad sex scene and the angst doesn’t hit right.” You rub your tired eyes. “Three hours and I only got three hundred and eighty lousy words. You’ve got to be kidding me, Y/N.”

Slamming the laptop shut you sigh deeply. Of course, your personal experience is always a good inspiration, but not this time. You want to start this book with a perfect opening, so the reader doesn’t want to put the book away until they read every single sentence.

“What do we do?” you hide your face in your hands and sigh again. Since the day you met Jax again, your mood turned sour.

You believed coming back to your hometown would spark your inspiration. Instead, you got your heart broken by the very same man causing you to leave town years ago.

“Fuck, I need to come up with something better than this shit.”

You’re about to give up when your phone starts ringing. Reluctantly you leave your unfinished first chapter to answer the call. “Hello, this is…”

You don’t get to tell your name before Bucky calls you doll. “Hey, doll,” he chuckles when you squeak a hello. “I wanted to tell you that I fixed your car. You can get it this afternoon if you want to.”

“That would be great, James,” you smile to yourself. Hearing Bucky’s voice saved you from despairing over your first chapter. “I can be there at five, is that okay?”

“No, no doll,” he stops you before you can say more. “I’ll pick you up, doll. I can’t let you walk or take the bus. And please, stop calling me James. My father called me that when I did something stupid. I hate it.”

“Did he call you James often?” you tease. “I bet he did because you did something stupid all the time. Like smoking or driving too fast.”

“Ma’am, I’m a responsible driver, and I do not smoke,” he replies, but you hear the joke in his words. “Maybe I like a good drink, but that’s all. Oh, and don’t worry. I don’t drink and drive.”

“I can call a taxi, Bucky. You don’t have to pick me up,” you try not to owe Bucky another favor. He refused to take money from you for repairing your car. That’s more than enough.

“Doll, if we want to stay friends,” he tries to sound serious, but chuckles, “you’ll accept a ride on my bike, miss. I’ll pick you up at five pm sharp. Please wear something…nice.” He laughs when you mutter into the phone. “Nah, just kidding. Come as you are, Y/N. That’ll be enough.”

“Fine, but I’ll pay you back somehow.” He makes an odd noise but plays it cool. “Oh! I know. I’ll devote the first chapter of my new book to you, Mr. Barnes.”

“A new book!” He gasps. “Will it be about the same woman? Another part of your series? Please say yes.”

You’re surprised Bucky knows your books. “Yes, and no. I try to…I don’t know.” You huff. “I want her to have a fresh start, just like me. Old habits die hard, but it’s time. If you know what I mean.”

“I know damn well what you mean, doll. I’ll pick you up at five and we can talk about that fresh start some more…”

“Here,” Bucky holds a leather jacket in his hands. It’s too small to be his, and you frown. “I got you a jacket, so you won’t freeze.” He grins when you glance at the jacket.

“Bucky, I’m not your old lady,” you point out, knowing about the traditions of bikers.

“Not yet,” he retorts. Bucky helps you into the jacket, and a big smile on his face when he zips it up. “Looks good on you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. He’s very charming, but you know the flirty banter will turn into something more if you don’t stop him. But…do you want to stop him?

“I got you a helmet too,” he grabs the helmet and helps you to put it on. He taps it twice and grins. “Perfect. Now we can go for a ride…”

Bucky gets on his bike, planting his feet on the ground to steady it. He holds out his hand to help you get on the back of his bike.

“Hang on, baby. I don’t want you to fall off my bike.” He smirks when you laugh. “You can hold tight onto me, Y/N. I won’t mind.”

You hesitate for a second. This situation is a little too familiar for your liking. You look at his back, reading the wrong club’s name on it. “Howling Commando,” you whisper.

“Is everything alright,” Bucky asks. “We can wait if you’re scared of driving in the back.”

“No,” you shake the memories of the past off and wrap your arms tightly around Bucky. “All good, Bucky. We can go.”

He starts the engine, ignoring he can feel you pressed against him. If he gets too distracted by your closeness, he’ll crash his bike with you in the back. And that’s the last thing he wants to do…

Tags in reblog.

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 19

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 7.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie takes a brave step and Jude suspects Frankie is keeping something from her. Chapter contains smut.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 18

Before the crash…

“Hola, hermanita. (Little sister) Hey. I need to talk to you. It's... important. Yeah, I'm okay. Well, kinda. I just... I just found out I'm pregnant… Ya sé, noticias grandes. (I know, big news) Yeah, I’m positive… It's positive! There are two lines, I’m staring right at it now…

"Shit, I don’t know what to do. Dios mío, no sé qué hacer. (God help me, I don’t know what to do) I just… Yeah. I know… I... I don't think now is the right time to tell him. Things have been so strained between us lately. I don’t even know if we… if we’re going to make it… No, I know it’s stupid, but I just feel… I’m losing him… No, I am. He-He’s not been the same since the overdose, and I-I don’t know if I can go through that again… I don’t think I could bring a baby into that situation either, right?

"I just don't know how he'll react. What if he doesn't want this? What if he leaves?... Maybe it would be too much for him, right? He needs to get better and a baby would just mess all that up!… I'm so scared, what do I do, hermanita?... Yeah, I know I have options, but, I can’t- that’s not… wait. Listen, I have to go. He's just got home. I'll call you later, okay? Kiss abuela for me...” (grandma)

Carla ends the call and quickly slips her phone into her pocket, standing up. She glances her weary and pallid reflection in the mirror and wipes under her mascara heavy eyes.

She can hear Frankie in the kitchen and pauses at the bathroom door, taking a deep breath in. 

She can still smell it as she breathes, the harsh, sterile smell of hospital disinfectant. Can hear the steady beep of the heart monitor pulse in her ears, a rhythmic reminder of his fragile state.

She tries not to see it but it barges its way in, haunting her all over again. 

Frankie lying unconscious, his face pale and gaunt, a stark contrast to the vibrant man she’d once known and fallen in love with. She reaches out, her fingers gently brushing against his hand, cold and unresponsive.

Tears well up in her eyes as she takes in the sight of him, hooked up to tubes and machines. It’s a scene she’d dreaded, one that she’d feared might become a reality ever since she’d learned about his struggle with addiction. But seeing it, the reality was more crushing than she could’ve imagined.

She’d been at work when she received the call from Will. The rush to the hospital, the panic, the fear - it all felt like a blur now. 

But the image of him, lying motionless on that bed, was seared into her mind forever. Carla had thought they were making progress, that he was getting better. But the overdose had shattered that illusion, bringing her crashing back to the harsh reality of his addiction - he would never get better, not really. Sure, there would be bouts of time where he would be sober, but that fear of him relapsing would always be there. A shadow lingering behind her back waiting. 

How could she bring a baby into that chaos? How could she raise a child when the father was fighting a battle that could end in a quick moment? 

“Estoy en la cocina," (I’m in the kitchen) Frankie calls up, his voice carrying up the stairs.

She can feel the distance between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. The weight of her discovery presses down on her, but she pushes it aside, hiding the test and focusing on the moment at hand. 

Whatever happens next, Carla’ll face it - she has to.

Present day…

He’s been standing there for what feels like hours, gathering the courage to move forward.

The air is thick with the scents of an early summer - saltwater from the nearby Gulf, blooming magnolias, and the faint tang of spiced seafood that consummates in the Floridian air - but to Frankie, it carries an undercurrent of fear and regret.

The small house, with its open windows, cracked awning and the heavy silence from inside, seems to pulse with a heartbeat that mirrors his own anxious rhythm.

His heart is racing and palms feel slick with sweat. The sun casts a warm glow over the neighbourhood, but Frankie only feels the cold bite of anxiety.

The island has stripped him to his core, forcing him to confront his darkest fears and deepest cravings. Yet the challenges of survival seem minor compared to the emotional ordeal he’s about to face.

The world around him seems to blur, the house and suburban street dissolving into a stark, unforgiving landscape. Finding himself back on the island, the relentless sun beating down on him, the smell of salt and decay in the air, he sees himself at his lowest, shaking and sweating as the need for cocaine claws voraciously at his mind.

The sunlight casts clear, sharp shadows that seem to dance and mock his hesitation. He takes a deep breath, feeling the warm air fill his cracked lungs, and forces his feet to move.

He climbs the tiny, singular step up to the door, a mountain that seems impossible to peak, yet fighting the battle against the urge to turn and run. 

Frankie raises his hand to knock but freezes, his fist inches from the wood. He lowers his hand and stares at the swirling grain, feeling the crushing weight of his doubts. The sunlight seems to swamp closer, the whispers growing louder.

He closes his eyes, summoning the strength he’d found on the island, the resilience that had kept him alive. He drifts to Jude, her unwavering support, and the love they’d discovered amidst the chaos. He thinks of how she’ll take this news, her face twisting into bitter disappointment.

He thinks of the promise he’d made to be a better man. But not even Jude's strength could protect her from the island's cruel whims. He remembers the day she lost their baby, an event that shattered them both and still continues to do so in some twisted way, giving him a chance at parenthood when it was ripped from her. The grief and helplessness had been overwhelming, a pain deeper than any he’d ever known.

Frankie clenches his fists, digging his blunt nails into his palms until the sharp pain grounds him in the present. He can't afford to be weak, not now. 

With a final, resolute breath, Frankie knocks on the door. The sound deafening on a quiet day. The seconds stretch into an eternity. Then, the door creaks open, fluttery eyelashes greet him and that familiar tinny jangle from her wrist fills his ears. 

“Hey,” he all but croaks. 

“Es bueno verte de nuevo." (It’s good to see you again.) Carla smiles thinly. 

A small crook of his lips under the shadow of his cap convinces her of the same, as she steps aside, the scent of him flouts itself so uncouthly as he passes her. 

Her expression is a mix of surprise and guarded hope, and despite the small amount of time that’s passed them - what’s in a year? - she looks worn and tired around her almond eyes that used to be buoyant and keep him afloat. 

“We’ll need to be quiet, he’s sleeping,” she murmurs as Frankie follows her to the kitchen, pausing momentarily to glance upward at the stairs. 

“You want some coffee?” She asks casually as he sets himself down at the table. 

“Uh, yeah.” He says, as he spies piles of folded baby clothes in a basket on the floor by the dryer. 

His fingers wrap around a warm cup of coffee and Carla sits across from him, her hands cradling her own mug, her eyes studying him with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

The silence between them is palpable, punctuated only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the house settling. Frankie's gaze drifts to the ceiling, imagining the tiny form of his child asleep up there.

The thought sends a shiver down his spine, a potent mix of fear and anticipation as it bottoms out in his gut. 

Frankie takes a tentative sip of his coffee, the bitter warmth grounding him momentarily as it scalds his lips. He glances at Carla, noticing the subtle changes in her face - the faint lines of worry and the traces of sleepless nights scattered purple and weary in her sockets.

He wants to ask her so many things, to understand what she’s gone through in his absence, but the words feel trapped in his throat, heavy and cumbersome to swallow down or bring up. He wants to ask her the whys and hows, but he knows it’s fruitless. The stark reality is here and he has to face it head on, whether he likes it or not. 

"How’ve you been?" Carla finally breaks the silence, her voice gentle but probing. 

Frankie hesitates, searching for an honest answer. "It's been... hard," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Of course it has, shit. Lo siento, that was stupid. I can't even imagine," she says, her eyes reflecting a deep empathy. (I’m sorry)

He looks down at his hands, the coffee cup trembling slightly in them. The ripples in the dark liquid remind him of the waves that had battered the island's shores, each one a reminder of nature's unyielding power and him being nothing but a slave to it.

The rhythmic crash of the waves echo in his mind. The sensation of being adrift, caught between the past and the present, consumes him for a few moments.

He sees Jude, her face etched with pain, as they bury their hopes and dreams in the sand. The ocean had seemed both a barrier and a saviour, holding them captive, yet offering a taunting promise of escape.

Frankie can feel the rough texture of the island's ground beneath the hardened-over skin on the balls of his feet, and smell the brine in the air. The tremor in his hands grows stronger, the coffee sloshing precariously close to the rim of the cup.

"Are you okay?" Carla’s voice cuts through the fog of his thoughts, pulling him back to the shores of the present.

She reaches out, placing her hand tentatively over his, steadying the trembling cup. 

"I'm... I'm fine. How are you? I mean, how-”

She sighs and settles back into her chair, taking the once familiar and comforting touch with her. “I was planning on telling you, but… we ended, and then the plane and-”

“Yeah.” Frankie nods, averting his gaze.

“I just couldn’t believe it when Benny told me you called him. That you were alive.”

“I still can’t believe it myself.” He runs his hand around his neck, feeling the ribbing of the scars that mottle there. It’s all too real and visceral. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He closes his eyes, but the darkness behind his eyelids only intensifies the sensation.

He sees the plane crash in vivid detail - relives through the moment of impact, the chaos, the feeling of helplessness as he struggled for breath in the water.

“Can we talk about… the baby?” He says, hesitating. 

Caral nods and begins to tell him everything. How it had been a week since she and Frankie had broken up, a painful but necessary decision given his ongoing struggles with addiction, and the fact he was adamant it was over, even if she would’ve fought for him.

She was pleased he was getting help and had Eddie to guide him, but he was still pulling away. She was trying to move on, to rebuild her life piece by piece without him, moving in with her sister across town.

A news alert had popped up on her screen on that fateful day: Plane Missing Over the Pacific. She’d skimmed the headline, feeling a pang of sadness for the people involved but not thinking much of it. Plane crashes were tragic, but they were also rare, distant events - stories that happened to other people.

She’d put her phone down and went about her day, trying to keep herself busy and weighing up her options about the pregnancy the more she discussed it with her sister. As much as she didn’t want to consider it, her mind swayed into confusing and guilt heavy thoughts of a possible termination. 

It wasn't until late afternoon that her phone had rung. The caller ID showed it was Will, one of Frankie's closest friends, or at least before he’d pushed them all away. She’d hesitated for a moment before answering, a knot forming in her stomach. Perhaps he was calling because he’d heard about the split. But then as he spoke down the line, Carla’s world had stopped turning.

The kitchen seemed to spin around her, and she’d gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. She doesn't remember much after that. The hours and days, and soon months that followed Frankie’s disappearance were a blur of emotions - fear, hope, guilt, and overwhelming sorrow.

Each passing minute that Frankie was gone and wasn’t coming back, felt like an eternity. She’d thought about their last conversation, the pain and frustration that had driven them apart. She’d hoped that some time apart would help Frankie find his way back to sobriety - and to her - but the longer time wedged itself in, she feared that time had finally run out. The thought of him out there, somewhere, possibly hurt or indeed dead, was unbearable. 

She hadn't told him about the pregnancy, unsure if it was the right thing to do, but then her mind had been made up after the funeral - she’d raise their son alone, a last connection to Frankie and allow him to live on, for everyone that would miss him. 

His addiction had always been a constant shadow over their relationship, and Frankie feels the grip of culpability as he thinks about the pain he’s caused her as she speaks. She’d stood by him, supporting him even when things seemed hopeless.

Carla had loved him deeply, but his demons had often gotten in the way. He realises how much she’s endured, and it makes him admire her even more. She’s strong, resilient, and compassionate - qualities that had drawn him to her sparkle in the first place.

"Carla. I'm so sorry for everything," Frankie says, his voice trembling. "I-I know I messed up before, but I wanna make things right.”

Carla’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "Francisco,” she only uses his full name when she’s serious, he notes, “the fact that you're here, willing to try, means more than you know. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know this has come as a shock. No es así como quería que esto fuera. But we'll take it one step at a time. He’s your son, and he deserves to know his father." (It’s not how I wanted this to go)

Frankie nods, feeling a tendril of hope unfurl from a tight bud somewhere inside of him.

“But…” Carla begins, “you have to stay clean. That’s the condition. You can spend as much time with him as you want, I won’t get in the way of that. But if you can’t… then you won’t be allowed to-”

“I know.” Frankie swallows thickly and holds her eyes. “I won’t let him down.”

And he believes those words as they crawl out from under his tongue. He wants to believe them so badly. The feeling of worry is an opaque heavy fog, seeping into every corner of his consciousness. It’s a weight pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Carla nods, picking up her mug. His thoughts drift, unfocused and chaotic. Images of the past few months playing out in a disjointed sequence - Jude’s face etched with concern, the eerie quiet of the island at night, the baby boy he has yet to meet.

“Can I see him?” The words feel alien as they pour out of his mouth. 

“Are you ready for that?” Carla asks, scrutinising him carefully.

“Honestly, no.” Frankie takes off his cap and runs his hand through his mussed curls.

She remembers the feel of them, sliding through her own digits once upon a time.

“I’m fuckin’ terrified.” He admits timidly as he puts his trusty cap back on his head. “I just... I want to be a good father," he confesses, his voice tinged with bubbling emotion. 

“You're not alone in this, Frankie," she says, firmly.

"Gracias," he murmurs sincerely. "For giving me a chance. I know I don’t deserve it, especially from you.”

"I loved you Frankie, it is what is, I guess."

She wipes her eyes and looks away momentarily. They sit in silence, the weight of their conversation hanging between them until she looks at him again and smiles softly. 

“Come on.” Carla sways as she stands. 

Frankie’s gaze falls upon the crib, where his baby boy lays asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

Frankie's breath catches in his throat, and he feels a rush of emotions he can't quite name. The baby is perfect. Fine wisps of dark hair crowns his head, and his chubby cheeks are flushed with the warmth of sleep. Frankie approaches the crib hesitantly, his hands trembling uncontrollably. 

“It’s okay,” Carla whispers, encouraging him. “He’ll sleep through anything.” 

He leans over the crib, watching his son with wide, tear-filled eyes. The baby's tiny hands are curled into soft fists, and his mouth moves slightly as he dreams.

Frankie marvels at the delicate features, the smallness and fragility of him. He feels an almost physical ache in his chest, a swell of something so intense it’s almost painful and he struggles to breathe through it.

The enormity of it all hits him - he’s a father. He has a son. This little boy is a part of him, a piece of his heart made flesh. Frankie feels a surge of pride, but it’s quickly followed by a salty tasting wave of crushing fear.

“How do I do this?” He murmurs.

Carla steps beside him. “You be there.” She says as if it's simple, and of course it is. Such a simple, yet daunting thing. 

Frankie’s brows furrow with uncertainty. He wants to understand, to grasp the simplicity she speaks of, yet it feels elusive, intangible.

"Be there." He repeats, exhaling slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

The concept seems deceptively straightforward yet filled with profound implications. The ease of being present is daunting, a responsibility he isn't sure he’s fully prepared for. Thoughts race through his mind, a jumble of plans and uncertainties. 

Carla squeezes his shoulder gently, her touch grounding him in the moment.

He reaches out, gently brushing his fingertips against the baby's soft hand. The warmth of the sensation sends a shiver through him, and he swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. It’s all too much. 

“What’s his name?” Frankie asks softly.

The baby stirs slightly, his tiny hand curling around Frankie's finger in his sleep. He lets out a shaky breath, his legs feeling like they might collapse under him at any moment.

“Frankie.” Carla replies. 

The absence of him is growing, mutating, and it’s been so hard to get through the days without him. 

Jude can’t sleep; tossing and lying awake for hours staring up at the ceiling and at the empty spot in her bed where Frankie ought to be; his long limbs wrapping around her like a spider devouring its prey.

The heavy bouts of tiredness have seemed to appear out of nowhere over the passing days, evidently the effects of arduous life on the island catching up with her. But it’s not enough to keep her still; she’s undeniably restless.

There’s something ansty picking at her scalp, gnarled fingers raking at the soft flumpy jelly of her brain. She can’t put her finger on it, perhaps it’s the stupid self-imposed distance she’d put between them. Her insistence that they sort their lives out individually, when all she wants to do is spend every waking moment in Frankie’s arms. 

Since their departure, watching him drive away, each time Jude had closed her eyes, the vivid images of the tsunami rising on the horizon flashed through her frontal lobe, keeping her tense and wrought.

To add to that, she’d be accosted outside her parent’s house during her comings and goings to the point that that she soon had to fight her way through the small crowd of paparazzi expanding as the days wore on; hounding her as soon as she stepped foot out of the front door to tend to piecing her life back together again. 

“Please, leave me alone,” she’d say to them as they crowded her until she got into her car and drove away, fraught and wrangled at their infecting presence now in her life.  

At night the news broadcasts would still replay the moment they came through the arrivals together at JFK; Frankie clutching his arm around her and holding her tightly against his body whilst she shut her eyes and got through it.

She would watch it over and over like a zombie, unable to look away. Remembering how those arms felt around her and how much she missed them. 

Life back here was hard, and Jude found herself missing the peace on the island, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply to calm herself, imagining she could hear the crash of the waves rolling up on the beach, the water splashing over her ankles and knees.

Headlines didn’t exist on the island, in fact nothing did. Just her and Frankie existed in their own confined and safe bubble away from the brutish realities that life harboured. Life that she’d been so desperate to get back to at one point, but now that she’s here, living in it, it’s just... well, it’s not like Jude remembered at all. 

She’d reach for her phone and scroll through, searching for sounds of the ocean waves. Pressing play she’d slouch back into the pillow as the familiar, comforting sounds of the waves filled her room and she could finally sleep for a while.

But it wasn’t enough to quell that irritating picking. 

One night she’d decided to get up, and soon found that she was running, in the middle of the night. Running until she was exhausted and her legs were screaming at her to stop. 

Jude had eventually stopped, miles from home and threw up on the sidewalk; choking on catching her breath through the heaving, and it tasted like putrid sea water.

She’d cough it up, plumes of it coming out of her and swirling around her feet as she stood horrified, zoning out at the waking nightmare that seemed to plague her. Feeling as real as the water sinking into her sneakers.

The lumpy puddle of vomit stared back at her as she calmed her mind, trying to convince herself it wasn’t real.

It’s not real... you’re home now, you’re safe. 

But home was strange, unsettling the way the city skyline twinkled in the distance, the towering buildings looking like giants against the backdrop of the dark sky. The sight should have brought comfort, a sense of familiarity and security. Instead, it only heightened Jude’s unease. The vastness of the urban landscape stretched out before her, a stark contrast to the confined space of the island that had been her world for so long.

Jude had proceeded to walk home in the breaking dawn and the sun was almost fully up by the time she’d stepped through the door. Her parents regarded her with an anxious look at the early hour, and Jude brushed it off to them that she was fine. 

But the trend had continued every night; Jude would get up and run.

She would run until her body was on the verge of collapse, her feet bloody with blisters, and then when she would return home, she would pass out from exhaustion and sleep for only a few hours until the nightmares began to resurface again. She’d ply herself with coffee to stay awake, anything to not go there, and the cycle would repeat itself. 

The one thing that was getting her through was the thought of seeing Frankie again.

And on the same evening after Frankie had seen his son for the first time, he and Jude are indeed talking on the phone, confirming the final details for his visit.

Jude feels instantly relaxed when she hears Frankie speak or breathe or chuckle down the line. Like every plague of angst swilling around her is instantly washed away.

But there’s something in his voice, a slight hesitation, a dimming of the light. Something she can’t put her finger on, so she changes the subject. 

“There’s been a few members of the press hanging outside the house.” Jude almost whispers.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I guess they’ve figured out where I live.” She sighs. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Frankie enquires, his voice changing further down the line.

“What can you do about it?”

“Well...” he trails off, “nothing, I guess, but that’s not the fuckin’ point.” He bites down on his lip. “Maybe it might be good to tell our story. Maybe it might offer some closure?”

“Closure?” Jude baulks.

“Yeah. I think we kinda need it,” he pauses. 

“Mom says I should talk to someone, a therapist.” Jude says quietly.

She knows her mother means well, always the pragmatic voice of reason in their tiny family. But the suggestion stings somewhat, reopening wounds Jude is trying to bury. But in the back of her mind, perhaps that’s what the prickling is.

Frankie frowns. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

“I know I can. I keep having nightmares. It’s like I can’t get it outta my head, you know? It’s keeping me awake at night, the insomnia is pretty bleak right now.” She looks down at her blistered feet and winces.

Frankie goes quiet on the phone. He remembers all the times the sea water has chased and tried to drown him too.

“I hate knowing that you can’t sleep.” Frankie remarks sourly.

“It’ll be better when you’re here tomorrow. I miss you so much.” Jude says, her voice going quiet. 

“I miss you too, hermosa.” 

“I gotta tell you something… I bumped into Nate.” She waits when there’s an obvious pause on the line. She hears him take in a slow, steady breath. 

“You did?” Frankie asks, freezing on the spot.

“Yeah.”

“Well, tell me what happened, what did he say?”

“Nothing much, same old Nate. He seemed convinced that we could get back together.” She snorts in repugnance.

“I see.” Frankie hums quietly.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“You have nothing to worry about. I love you. I told Nate he didn’t stand a chance and that I didn’t want to see him ever again.”

“Kinda hard when he lives in your fuckin’ neighbourhood.” Frankie bites.

“Frankie-”

“Yeah, I know, sorry.”

“You okay? You seem distracted?” 

He sighs hard down the line, running a hand through his hair. He knows he’s being guarded, but he can’t help it. The events of the past year, hell the past day, have left him with walls he doesn’t know how to dismantle.

“I’m okay, really. Just tired. I just... I fuckin’ hate this. I hate being away from you like this.” Frankie explains, the pulling in his gut subsiding a little. 

“I do too. Was a stupid idea...”

“Yeah, not your finest.” He smirks down the line and she can hear it. Hear the fragments of the sun gleaming.

But Jude’s intuition tells her otherwise. She can sense the barrier between them, an invisible but palpable divide that his words don’t bridge.

“Frankie, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know,” he says, but the words feel hollow, knowing she deserves more than the half-truths he offers, as if they’re spoken from a distance.

The silence between them stretches out, taut and uncomfortable. He can sense Jude’s concern, her need for reassurance, and he knows he’s failing to provide it. He shifts in his seat, searching for something to bridge the gap.

“I’ve, uh, been looking at some apartments today. Here, in Florida.”

“Oh.” Jude says, her voice small and unsure.

He pauses. “You don’t like the sound of that?” He’s trying to keep his tone light, but unable to mask the underlying anxiety.

“No, I just... I mean, New York is my home and-”

“Yeah?” Realising how his announcement must have sounded to her, he pauses.

He’d intended to steer the conversation away from the emotional minefield of his pick n' mix of feelings, but instead, has inadvertently introduced another layer of unseen complexity.

“Well, my parents are here, and my work and-”

“You can visit them whenever you want. Your parents can come visit us too, it’s just a flight away.” Frankie says, sounding agitated.

“You mean you want me there, in Florida?”

“We love each other and want to be together, right?”

“Of course,” Jude confirms. 

“I guess I’m just trying to figure things out, and Florida seems like the best place for me to be right now.” He grits. 

“Why Florida specifically? You can figure things out anywhere, Frankie.”

“I just think it’s the best option right now for me to be here.”

“For what?” Jude is silent for a moment, her breath heavy on the line.

“Why are you so against it?”

Jude baulks. “I’m not, I’m just… have you really thought about this? It seems kinda rash all of a sudden, to be looking at apartments there.”

“Yes. I don’t understand what’s so fuckin’ difficult about it!” Frankie snipes, his tone flat and sharp.

“Woah, Frankie. What’s gotten into you?”

He hears her sigh heavily down the phone and she doesn't say anything else, waiting for him to respond.

“I’m sorry... Mierda, I just got in my head about it.” (Shit) Frankie replies, running his hand through his hair. “I thought maybe you’d wanna be here with me.”

“I want nothing more than to be with you,” she says, her voice softer but no less resolute. “But we need to find a way to do this together. We can’t make decisions in isolation, Frankie. We need to talk, really talk, about our future together, and where that might be.”

“Yeah.” Frankie confirms. 

“We can talk about it more tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” Frankie replies, the words feeling both a relief and a heavy responsibility. “Listen, I’m gonna go. I’m tired, okay?”

“Okay.” Jude says, feeling deflated. 

“I’ll call you in the morning, before my flight.” He replies bluntly.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Jude says.

 “You too. Night.”

“Night.”

Instead of going for her run, Jude curls up into a ball on her bed, hugging her pillow and stares out at nothing.

The phone call with Frankie has left her feeling more unsettled, a gnawing worry twisting in her stomach. Her mind races with thoughts of the changes he’s proposing. Big changes moving to Florida to live with him? It seems so drastic, so sudden.

She understands his intentions, but the idea of him making such a significant move without fully discussing it with her feels like a betrayal somehow.

She tries to tell herself that perhaps she’s worrying over nothing, but her gut, the same gut that alerted her to Nate and his devious ways, convinces her all is not right with Frankie. 

When he ends the call, Frankie tosses his phone down on the coffee table in Benny’s apartment and sits contemplating for a long time. Thinking and his mind whirring until the sounds of the water starts filling his ears again.

Irritated, Frankie rifles through some drawers until he finds a blank notebook and a pen. 

He sits with the notebook on his knee and begins to write. 

The landscape of silvery skyscrapers and the concrete jungle of the Big Apple are getting closer.

The turbulence that had once been a minor inconvenience now feels like a personal assault, each bump and shake magnifying his anxiety.

The cockpit had once been his sanctuary, a place where Frankie felt invincible. But ever since the crash, flights feel different.

The familiar hum of engines, the routine safety announcements, the very sensation of being airborne - everything that once brought him comfort now fills him with a creeping dread.

The announcement for descent breaks through his reverie, and Frankie braces himself for the landing. The plane dips and sways slightly, and his heart pounds in his chest.

He grips the armrests, white knuckling and closing his eyes, counting down the minutes until the plane touches down. The plane eventually hits the runway safely and begins its journey to the terminal. 

Frankie’s booked another Air Bn’b for their reunion and Jude’s already there as he enters the apartment door, standing up and rushing to him, locking lips with him almost immediately that it makes him unsteady on his feet.

And he melds instantly around her. It blocks everything out, quietens the tornado of his mind and stifles that ache he’s felt since he watched her shrink in the distance.

Her lips are the same softness they’ve always been, her tongue tasting of longing and desire. He grips her tight, unable to let her go and fathom truly that she's back in his arms.

Frankie looks at her, pulling back whilst holding onto her arms, and regards her, taking her in all over again. She’s cut her hair and he weaves his fingers through it, smiling at the new length and how it changes her face.

She looks a little less gaunt, beginning to get those supple curves back that he remembers from the early days, filling out her clothes a little better and not having to hold up her jeans as she walks.

She wears a small smattering of make-up and he thinks she looks beautiful regardless - and that he’s wholly undeserving of her.

Jude reaches up and runs her fingers through his significantly shorter curls peeking out from under his cap, and marvels at how soft they feel.

His eyes are still that muddy swamp that swallows her whole. Those heart shaped lips are still a pink rosy splash of intense colour on his face that she longs to taste again and again. 

The welcome and anticipated feel of her fingers grazing behind his ears hair whilst she’s stood on tip toes is an indescribable relief. 

Frankie stares back at her with those piercing eyes and she’s held there under the spell of his gaze unable to refute him. Breathing never used to be so hard, but she has to constantly remind herself to do it whenever he looks at her like this.

The mastery of him leaves Jude breathless.

“Hey hermosa,” he smiles into her lips as he tastes her again.

“Hey Catfish” she says, kissing over his lips with a heated fervour. 

He’s here with her and it feels like she can finally breathe again - he’s finally home. 

Her fingers are delicately circling up and down his chest; pulling him out of sleep, dipping into the softness of his hips, trailing across to the slot of his belly button.

He lays there for a few sweet, oneiric moments quietly enjoying the patterns Jude makes on his skin and how it makes his nipples awaken with him too. 

It’s been the first full night’s sleep he’s had in over a month, since he’d parted ways with her and left her in New York. Frankie doesn’t wake with a sweaty jolt from a torrid nightmare of drowning, or burning and instead feels more rested than he’s ever been. 

Holding her in his arms all night, after they’d made intense love for hours beforehand, she’s managed to sleep too and isn’t lying awake trying to calm herself with ocean sounds as insomnia strangles her. Nor does she feel the need to run until she can’t feel her feet anymore.

Jude's forehead is resting against his cheek and is tickled lightly by the graze of his scruff reaching out of his pores, and his lips glue themselves to her temple now and again kissing against it, signalling he’s there with her in the land of the conscious.

Frankie lusts for the feeling of her making swirly tracks over his epidermis and leaving little shivers as she glides over his hips and sides of his waist. 

Frankie runs his fingers down her spine and up again; he hears her breathe out contentedly.

He’s soft and relaxed; his warm cock resting languidly against the top of his thigh, and her breasts are squashed into the side of him, her leg hooked over his left leg.

Waking up together slowly through sleep-filled eyes and enjoying the warmth of the day as the sun pools in through the window, with those breathy sighs and stretches around one another’s limbs.

“Mmm,” Frankie hums out into her crown, ghosting his nose into her hairline and indulging in the scents of her hair. 

Jude shadows her fingers gently in return over his groin, down onto the plump circumference of his balls and gently massages them; tiny pitter-patters of her fingertips against the skin that bunches around them.

Enjoying the firmness of them through the somnolent comfort of their hazy bliss, she rolls them gently between her thumb and fingers squeezing softly. 

She begins cupping him gently and squeezing, kneading as she makes his breath hitch further in his throat. His fingers are felt crawling at her neck, scratching away at the nape delicately. 

He reaches for her chin, tipping her face up to meet him and plants a delicate smooch on her that soon morphs with its vivid passion. His other hand goes to the skin around her back and slips, clutching onto her bare ass, squeezing her pliant meat in his tender grip. 

She rolls over his balls and up the length of him that’s hardening, waking up fully to the sensual feel of her touching on him again. 

Frankie draws his right leg up and out of the duvet, resting it back down as he opens his legs a little wider as Jude starts pumping his now awake cock gently. Up and down slowly and with her grip tightening around him. 

He grunts out; a delicious sound escaping his mouth and nose as though he chokes.

He strokes down her back again, making her nipples hard as her skin tingles cold from his touch. His fingertips dance and create little convulses as he drags them up her body making her ripple softly against him.

He rests his hand on his waist; a splayed giant starfish as she looks up at him, and he looks back into her eyes through that hooded desire that’s clouding them into a milky latte in the morning light. 

“I love it when you touch me like this,” Frankie whines, enjoying the feel of the relaxed jerk session she’s giving him in the early morning dawn. 

“I love touching you like this,” Jude confirms. 

They’re spread together in the puffy sheets of the bed, warm and content from one another’s skin, touching and stroking and feeling one another.

He reaches for her breast, running his knuckles against her pebbled nipple, making her groan equally into his mouth as he kisses her again. That nub of each jolt through it sends sparks up her thighs and into her pussy that’s flooding for him. 

He grunts out again, a deep hum on his larynx, drawing his knee up and holding onto his thigh as she works him tighter and little more rhythmic now. 

The slick feel of his hard cock inside her hand is paramount as she licks her palm and runs it over him, squelching him through her saliva. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head at the feel of it; so wet and sensitive right on the tip of him that it makes his legs judder with a spasm. 

Frankie breathes in, grunting and pursing his lips out, bucking his hips slowly into her grip.

“Fuck,” he drowns inside of her hair; feeling her fingers dancing around his balls and massaging as she strokes his cock up and down.

Running her thumb over his frenum and making the delicious pull wind tighter under the muscles of his abs.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he drones, biting down onto his plumpy bottom lip and closing his eyes as they roll back into his lids. “You make me wanna come so bad...”

His hips are trembling and his hand is reaching for her chin again as he swallows her in a swamping kiss. 

He groans out with a hissed snuffle; his teeth clenched together and his cheeks blown out, his eyes shut and lost somewhere between rational thinking and pure unadulterated bliss.

His hips wind as Jude pumps and jerks him off tighter, harder, faster - tugging on his balls now that are aching wonderfully through it all. 

“Fuck, yeah…" His breath vibrates in the back of his throat as he sucks in little gasps in succession

“Come for me, Frankie,” Jude whispers into his chin. 

Frankie tenses his ass, his cheeks rising from the mattress slightly as he feels everything in his body rush towards the end of his cock. 

“Fuck!” His head contorts back into the pillow. 

He covers her fingers in warm, plentiful glops, some of it spraying up his chest as he comes. 

She strokes him gently through his sticky come down as he reaches for her, kissing her deeply and pulling back to look at her as she smiles at him with sleepy, dream filled eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Should we… should we maybe talk about Florida?” Jude probes gently as she reaches for a tissue from the box on the bedside table. 

“I love you too, hermosa.” He moans back into her mouth. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

He holds her tightly, closing his eyes as he breathes out in sweet relief.

Frankie wipes his chest down as she hands it to him, and she notices he avoids her gaze. He screws it up in his fist and turns to her. 

He hesitates, the words catching in his throat. This is the moment he’s been dreading since he found out himself. How can he tell her? How can he shatter all her illusions?

“I know you said Florida's the best place for you right now, but is it really, considering how much…” she chooses her words carefully, “... pain, is there?”

His eyes soften at her and he feels the catch in his throat. Of course she would worry about his addiction. That’s just who she is, always wanting the best for him.

Jude had been his rock during his darkest days on that damned island. She had seen him at his worst - angry, desperate, afraid - and she had never given up on him. Her unwavering support had been a lifeline, a beacon of hope when everything else seemed lost at sea.

Jude had believed in Frankie when he couldn’t believe in himself, and now, even with the weight of his past mistakes and the uncertainty of his future, she’s still here, still caring. Still loving him even though he knows he is far less than deserving of her. 

Frankie swallows hard, emotions swirling sickly inside him. He feels a mix of gratitude and guilt. Gratitude for her steadfast love and support, and guilt for the pain and worry he’s caused her. He can see it in her eyes as they peer carefully back at him, a slight spark of trepidation and confusion. 

“Frankie, you’re worrying me, please talk to me.”

He can see the concern etched on her beautiful face, the worry that perhaps he’s back on the drugs. It’s an unspoken fear that lingers within her, a cariogenic shadow from the past that refuses to fade completely.

Frankie knows she has every reason to be anxious, to be fearful of a relapse because, God, he is. It's a struggle that he faces every single day now he's back here.

She squeezes his hand, her eyes brimming with concerned empathy, and a touch of something else. Something that threatens to fall down her face like jagged glass. 

Frankie takes a deep breath and looks at her. 

He realises in that moment just how much he needs her, how much he needs her belief in him. How much he can't lose her.

Fuck, he loves her more than anything. He just hopes that its enough.

“Jude, I… I have a son.”

To be continued...

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[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

warnings: mentions of alcohol, partying, slight suggestive themes, angst, bullying pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: you and Kento get invited to a frat house party and he decides to take you out even though he much rather stay in. you two have been getting closer, despite your own denial about your feelings for him. during a drunken make-out session, Kento soon learns what he believes is the truth about your relationship. things are left unsaid and things are colder than ice.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @kenpachisbrat.

@marikuchanxo @harlekin6 @gennaray @markleeisdabestdrug

@entirelysein-e @brokennerdalert. @sugurusprettygirl

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As the weeks go by, you and Kento find yourselves teetering on the edge of being in a relationship and still remaining casual. You really are falling so deeply in love with him, but you’re in denial. You try your best to remind yourself that this is just a college fling, but you wonder if maybe you could really be in a committed relationship with someone like him.

At night, you think of him. Even while in your bed alone, you cling to your pillow and wish he was here with you. In the last little bit, he’s been staying the night even though he’s not really supposed to be. You’ve dusted off your old Nintendo 64 for the two of you to play Ocarina of Time well into the wee hours of morning. If you’re not playing Legend of Zelda, you two are falling asleep to AVGN playing on your clunky laptop.

Kento has found a place in your heart, and you fear you won’t be able to let him go. You don’t want to consider him exclusive, but you are also not eager to share him with anyone else.

As the second semester comes to a close, you and Kento find yourselves invited to a party at a —---. He’s finding excuses not to go, but the minute you say you might want to go for just a bit, he sees the appeal in it.

“I think it could be fun,” you mention as you two have lunch together at your favorite cafe. “It’s a good way to unwind after exams.”

Kento nods and sips his coffee. “Yeah, I guess I never really saw it that way,”

“Will you come with me? I wouldn’t wanna go without you.”

This makes his heart flutter. Kento, on his end, has found himself completely head over heels for you. He’s gone through his denial phase a while back. He had tried his best to hide his feelings for you, but the more you two hung out, the more he found himself just hanging on to your every word. The more he would take an extra second to admire you.

And with every moment that passed between you two, he longed for the day that he could fully call you all his. He wanted to hold you in his arms, post-coitus and in that beautiful afterglow and to finally whisper those three words to you. For now though, it was just a singular fantasy. The one he imagines whenever he’s aroused and you’re not around to take care of him.

“Earth to Kento,” you wave your hand in his face.

“Yeah, sorry sorry…” he shrugs and tries to hide his blushing cheeks. “I’ll come with you if it means that much to you.”

You chuckle softly, reaching over the table to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Just that little touch sends shivers down his spine. He can’t quite look you in the eyes right now, and you love the way his cheeks and tops of his ears are tinged just a little pink.

“It’s tomorrow night around 9,” you mention. “I’d like for us to go together.”

The words play in his mind, even after he’s promised to come by your dorm to pick you up around 8:30. He wonders what you’ll wear. Kento’s mind is very active that night, while he lays in his bed. He holds his pillow close.

The thought of you wearing a cute dress with fishnet tights makes his heart flutter in his chest. You were that type of girl too. He sees what you wear when you’re not trying to dress business casual for class. It turns him on to see you in such alternative attire.

The next morning, you two meet up for breakfast before a short morning class. You notice how he’s in a much better mood than usual, and you wonder if maybe the promise of cutting loose for a bit is making him happy.

The night comes quickly and you’re in your dorm texting a few friends and listening to music as you get ready. You settled on a gray and black plaid skirt along with knee high red and black socks. Your shirt was a cut up Green Day shirt you had bought the last time you went to a concert. You finished up your makeup in the mirror plastered in polaroids and old pictures taken from music magazines.

There’s a knock on your door and you rush over to answer it. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see Kento standing there, a single red rose in his hands. He’s blushing as he thrusts it in your direction.

“For you.”

Your eyes widen and you smile sweetly. You gladly take it, bringing the rose up to your nose. It smells floral and lightly sweet. Then you take in the look of the man who stole your heart. Dressed in his signature black skinny jeans and ripped up Vans slip-ons, he looks so good. And you notice the new checker print hoodie he’s wearing with his thumbs poking out the holes in the sleeves.

“You look really good,” you comment. You invite him inside and he sits on your couch.

He stumbles with his words. He tells you that you look pretty, but he means you look beautiful. He wants to take you into his arms, kiss you softly and tell you not to go out tonight. You two could stay in and finally take your relationship to the next step.

“Thanks Ken! Do you want to head out now?” you ask him after touching up your makeup.

He nods. “Y-yeah. Let’s go.”

You take his hand and grab your purse before you two leave your dorm. The walk to the frat house wasn’t far, so you two had a little time alone to enjoy each other’s company. The night is so beautiful. The sun had just finished setting and the sky was getting darker. The stars would be shining soon. You felt like this was one of those nights you’d never forget.

The minute the two of you step into the frat house, you know that this party is going to be wild. Beer bottles litter the ground amongst a group of drunken college kids. You look around as you and Kento enter the house, moving around waves of bodies that are either getting drunk or dancing. You spot a group of girls in the kitchen and you notice a few of your friends within that group.

“Hey!” You wave at them. Your fingers still interlocked with Kento’s.

The girls giggle before your friends spot you and they wave you over. Kento feels nervous about this. He knows what others think of him. They all think of him as a loser, a loner and someone who doesn’t fit in. What makes him fall so deeply for you is that you see him for who he truly is.

“Hey girl, glad you made it!” One of the girls comments, her eyes darting towards Kento. “You too! Nice to see you out of class.”

Kento shrugs. “Is there a reason for us to meet like this?”

You bite your lip in an attempt to stifle your laugh. “Awh, be nice, you.”

Kento smirks when he notices how some of your friends are trying to hide their laughter too. Maybe he could truly be a part of your fold. He holds your hand a little tighter.

You two make it to the counter where a large stash of booze is displayed. Kento grabs the bottle of whiskey, pouring some into a red solo cup. He hands you one, and the two of you sip on your drinks. It’s nasty and strong, but you two long to get a little fucked up tonight.

Throughout the night, you two drink your fair share of booze. Kento keeps a tight hold on you, preventing you from stumbling over or ramming into anyone accidentally. 

And finally, the moment comes when the two of you find a room that’s unoccupied. Your mind is a hazy mix of alcohol and lust for the man who’s been glued to your side this entire night. You kiss him first; it’s sloppy and hungry. Kento follows your lead, cupping your face.

The two of you make it to the bed, and you pull him on top of you. You giggle as he groans, then he kisses you again. His tongue feels a little tied, but he wants to tell you just how much fun he’s having.

“Such a good time when I’m with you,” he slurs between kisses. “I wanna…fuck I wanna show you just how much you mean to me.”

The minute you squeeze his hardened cock through his jeans, it seems to sober him up a little. He then realizes maybe he needs to cool off before he does anything else. Kento pulls away despite your protests.

“Just gonna get us water, ‘kay? Stay here, beautiful.”

When he steps out of the room, he’s wondering if he should even be leaving you in the room like that. You’re clearly drunk and anyone could enter. He decides to make it super quick. He goes into the kitchen, quickly swiping two bottles of water before making his way to the room again.

But before he can go inside, he hears girls giggling. Kento looks over his shoulder at the group of girls that you two had been talking to earlier.

“So,” the leader starts. “You’re the virgin, huh?”

The word sounds so nasty on her tongue. Kento knows you don’t care that he’s a virgin. You’ve been so patient and sweet with him this entire time. You’ve shown him the right way to explore each other. But the way she’s saying it now, it makes him feel ashamed of being a virgin at his age.

“You really think she likes you, huh? Come on, you’re just a pity fuck.”

The words cut him deeply. “Shut up, you don’t know her.”

The girl smirks, “And you think you do? Come on, get over yourself! She’s only using you as a pity fuck…or well not even cause you’re still a virgin.”

His blood boils and his heart is in his stomach now. He thinks back on all the things you two have been through together. Would you really do that to him? He thought that you two were really becoming close and things would progress really soon.

“See ya later, you fuckin’ virgin.”

With his stomach in knots and tears of frustration in his eyes, he enters the room. There you lay, on the bed. You look so fucking beautiful and he wants nothing more than to make you his. But now, he knows that maybe he’s been nothing but a joke to you this entire time. He gives you the bottle of water.

“I won’t be bothering you again.” He states. He hates that he’s doing this, but it was to protect himself. He watches as you slowly come to terms with the words coming out of his mouth.

Your heart flutters in a panic. You sit up, but you’re so dizzy. Kento wants to help you, but he’s hurting. He doesn’t want to let this continue if all you were doing was stringing him along. 

“Just forget we ever met, okay? You and I are done. There wasn’t anything between us anyway. Just continue your perfect fucking life without me.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You swore that tonight would be the night that you two would finally go all the way. And if not, you were ready to tell him how much you loved him. You feel tears stinging your eyes.

“Kento…wait…” You cry out. He shakes his head and turns away from you.

But before you can continue, he storms out. It’s only a few minutes later that your friends come in, sitting with you and consoling you as best as they can.

Kento walks home alone, his heart pounding and his mind racing with thoughts of regrets. He just messed up the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Crazier Bastard's Chapter 309

Brief summary: Black castle vs empire's castle. Tang Yu wants to poison the empire's castle to avenge her clan. Cale's group enters Neo's lair and is greeted by a surprise.

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There were lots of funny moments today, and a sudden twist at the ending. Any Rasheel appearance was bound to be funny after all. 😂😂😂

Rasheel: Oh yes! Those boomers allowed me to do whatever I want today! *excited to fight* Mila: Who's the boomer? Rasheel: ... Eruhaben: Is it you? (Are you the dragon Cale said that wanted to eat him?) Gluttony dragon: Who are you? *frowns* Eruhaben: Yes. It was you. (You wanted to eat OUR unlucky bastard, huh?) HAHAHAHAHA! Rasheel: *hides behind Mila and whispers* Hey, isn't he supposed to come out later? Why is that boomer here now? Why is laughing like crazy? I'm scared! That boomer has rejuvenated and gone crazy! Mila: Rejuvenation is definitely nice. *happily smiles* Rasheel: *steps away from Mila*

Poor Rasheel... 🤣🤣🤣 At least he punched, kicked, and stepped on that traitorous Emperor Alt. But him being scared of the "boomers" Eruhaben and Mila acting like gangsters... 😂

Meanwhile, Tang Yu was hellbent on avenging her clan by planning to poison the entire empire's castle (and the dragons). Tasha and Ron accompanied her while Exion guided them to a secret passage. DHB and Mary were on standby in the sky to help them escape later.

The twist at the end of the chapter was surprising. Cale's group entered Neo's lair and were shocked when they entered the basement. Because a translucent window appeared with the following words:

[You have entered the 7th Evil, Hell of Time Dungeon.]

Everyone was confused, and Cale tried to explain about the game and the background setting of the Eight Evils. It seemed like Neo's lair was similar to a portal that connected Aipotu to New World (the game).

Was Neo connected to the 7th Evil in some way? Was he a boss there like how Cale was the 3rd Evil's hidden boss? Given that it was called the Hell of Time dungeon, and Neo's attribute was Time, him being a boss there was highly possible.

Raon, On, Hong, and CH's confused reactions to the window were hilarious though. Especially when Cale explained that he was actually the 3rd Evil's final boss... 🤣🤣🤣 Raon was like, human, did you cause trouble again? 😂😂😂

Ending Remarks Today was actually a battle chapter, but the funny moments made me forget it was one. Next chapter would be Cale's group conquering the game dungeon. But wait... Cale was the only one who had an account, right? Would the others be able to enter? Would Cale be going solo then?