#this is all just a spiel again of how in love with this woman i am

[maxlarens]

driver!reader and engineer!george spiel:

I can just imagine if driver had a tyre blowout or smth George just becomes so apologetic and feels terrible-

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice it in the data-“

*driver sighs* “for the a thousandth time, it wasn’t your fault.”

also when driver first moved to the team George had no idea how to comfort them after a bad race, unsure if they wanted space, or just someone to be with them. George decides to keep his distance until one race where driver just sighs and mutters “stay…please.” George’s heart melts and combusts simultaneously at this.

i love this it’s so sweet!!!! hope y'all enjoy!!! i feel so bad for not posting anything recently so i wrote this sooo quickly before i had to get ready for work lol😵‍💫😵‍💫

You know the disqualification wasn’t your fault.

You know that. How could it possibly be your fault anyway? Sure, if you twist it into something utterly unrecognisable you could make it into a personal failing. But you’re trying not to blame yourself for every little thing, and you’re trying hard not to micromanage.

You’re new at Mercedes anyway, you don’t want to come off too strong. Scare them off before they start to really trust you. It's a miracle in and of itself that you're here. A rookie driver, a woman, at Mercedes of all teams. Alongside Lewis Hamilton. You've got Susie and Toto Wolff to thank for that you suppose.

Anyway, you're trying hard not to think about the car just on the other side of the wall. Trying not to grab a tape measure and measure the chassis yourself. Like you'll find anything different than the FIA, like it'll change anything at all.

It's only P8 after all— four points— which is four points you'd have really liked to have to your name. Especially so early on in your rookie season. Toto knows that, had been apologetic on behalf of the team during the debriefing. You'd understood.

You'd tried to understand at least.

He'd said it wouldn't happen again.

Still, it hurts. There this ache in your chest that makes it feel like your hopes and dreams are slipping away through your fingers. This was the first race you felt you'd really begun to prove yourself and your position on this team and now everyone will be able to point to the disqualification and say this is why. She doesn't have the raw skill, it's because of the car—

"There's next week."

You snap your head up, startled at the noise. It's George, in the doorway. You'd not heard him come in, too busy navel-gazing, feeling sorry for yourself. God, you're pathetic.

"Hm", you question, trying not to let on that you're utterly miserable.

"There's next week," he repeats, inching into the room and closing the door gently behind him, "You'll do it again next week."

Your mouth twists involuntarily, skeptical. Even though you know it wasn't you. It was the car, it was some silly mistake from the warehouse. You couldn't have done anything. It just inexplicably feels like the world is crumbling in on you and you can't figure out why.

"You think?"

George nods, expression serious, a little harrowed. But sympathetic, like he understands, like he knows how it feels. You're inclined to believe that he does, he'd not given you a reason to think otherwise in the six odd months you've known him.

"Pretty sure," he says in such a way that you're sure he means 'unequivocally yes', like he believes in you wholeheartedly, like he'd never doubt you.

You're not sure what you've done to deserve that from him. This unwavering loyalty to you that he seems to have already. You just know you feel it too. Inexplicably.

You watch him, long-limbed and slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot under your stare. He makes a move to leave after a long minute, giving you a cursory nod— you feel something open up in your chest at the thought of him leaving right. Some pit of yearning, some ache that you cant quite place.

"Wait," you say, feeling brave.

His hand falls from the door knob, he turns, tilting his head at you in question. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Would you stay? For a bit?"

He's nodding before you've got the words out, crossing the room to sit next to you on the couch. Not too close, but enough that you can feel the body heat radiating off him, smell him, a little sweaty from being out on the pit-lane, but mostly the smell of his cologne.

"Yeah," he says gently, "Of course, I can."

You nod in thanks, feeling a little exposed, a little vulnerable from your shame, from begging for a friend in him.

"Thank you, George. I just—" don't have anyone else, you don't say, feeling like that might be too far. Instead you let you sentence taper off and sigh, letting some tension leech out of you, "Yeah."

George moves closer, fractionally. Feeling brave again, you lean your head onto his shoulder, hoping he doesn't mind too much. You decide he doesn't when his arm comes around so he can rub little comforting circles into the top of your shoulder.

Slowly but surely, you feel all the anger and the sadness make way for some warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach. From then on, George becomes a regular fixture in your driver's room, especially post-race, especially when you feel like your heart has been stomped on. It's hard to feel like shit when George acts like you're capable of anything.

headcanon: george is a former driver turned engineer!

[hoomandoescosplay]

On The Air | Alastor x Reader Oneshot

In the early morning I feel Alastor get up from our bed causing me to slightly groan and pull the covers up a bit more.

I hear a muffled laugh come from him as he walks into our bathroom to get ready for work. I shift my position a bit, getting more comfortable to drift off again.

Eventually he comes back in, one more time, and leaves a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I love you my darling. I’ll be back home before you know it.” I mumble an incoherent response back, still being half asleep, before he leaves heading out to the radio station.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

I wake up noticing the empty, and slightly cold spot, next to me. Sighing I sit up to stretch before getting out of bed and walking into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast.

As I enter the kitchen, I see a tray of toast with butter and jam, an omelette, and a plate of sausages and potatoes. Alastor even prepared my coffee just the way I liked it.

After taking note of the thoughtful breakfast I noticed a note as well. I picked it up to read it as a smile engulfed my face.

Don't worry about breakfast, I prepared it for you, my darling.

I shall be home later today as the radio station has requested for me to stay longer tonight.

I’m sorry I won’t be home as soon as I originally thought today.

I’ll make it up to you darling. Kisses.

- Al ♡

Ever since we started dating, before that even, Alastor always tried his best to make me happy and put a smile on my face.

While I’m a bit sad he has to work a few extra hours today it also gives me more time to get some last minute gifts I wanted to give him today.

I stretch once more before grabbing the plate of sausages and potatoes along with the omelette to heat up over the stove.

I flick on the radio and start humming along with the song that is playing. As I continue to heat up the food, I hear something over the radio. It's Alastor's voice, he's on air at the moment making me smile.

“And that was some wonderful music for you. Now back to your wonderful host, here's me, Alastor!” A clapping track plays after he finishes his sentences causing me to roll my eyes playfully.

“How is everyone doing today? I'd hope well considering it’s Valentine’s Day.” He takes a second to pause. “I'd like to talk with you about something important as always - it's not the time to panic, but I think we should all remain vigilant because of the terrible events happening in nearby cities.”

I turn off the stove and slightly tune out his voice talking about the recent murder spree happening around our city.

Placing my food onto the dining room table I walk back into the kitchen to bring the radio with me into the dining room as I catch the last bit of his spiel on the recent murders.

“As always, I urge you all to stay cautious. And if you want to, you can always call in here and we'll chat. The police have assured us that they are working hard and that we should have no grounds for concern... But still, stay vigilant, my friends, stay vigilant.”

Taking a breath he starts up again. “Onto some lighter news, let's talk about Valentine’s Day. anyone want to call in and tell us what date you have planned for your special someone?” he asks in his radio voice as I start to eat my breakfast.

Not long after he asks for people to call in, someone's voice is already being heard through the radio.

The woman on the line is excited and speaks quickly: “Oh, I’ve got the best plans! My boyfriend and I are going out for dinner at a fancy new place we’ve been dying to try and to top it all off he said he would take me to one of his favorite spots. It's going to be so romantic.” She swoons and I can only assume blushes as well.

“Ah, how romantic. I do hope you have a wonderful time.” Alstor says as she thanks him before hanging up. A he takes a few more callers before he starts introducing the next song he has lined up to play.

I finish my breakfast and start to pick up the tray to bring into the kitchen for me to start cleaning.

I take the radio with me once more back into the kitchen. “Coming up next, the most romantic song I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear. All the ladies, all the men, get ready cause this song is going to just melt your heart. This one’s for you, everyone, and you especially, my love. This song is just for you. I hope you enjoy it.” I blush and roll my eyes playfully as I start to wash the dishes.

“Such a lover boy.” I mumble with a smile starting to spread on my face. The song ends much too soon and Alastor starts to talk on the air a while longer once more.

I shut the radio off after drying my hands and head into our bedroom to get dressed for the day. Getting dressed quickly, I check the time. It's still early morning which gives me more than enough time to do some shopping before he gets home.

I finish getting ready quickly and start to walk to the shops nearby to get a few things. I’ve been eyeing some new bowties I’ve seen and decided it would be a good idea to get him a new one along with some other small gifts.

The short walk ended as I walked into a store. As I browse I immediately see the bowtie I’ve been eyeing for weeks. It's a beautiful piece and I think that he would love it.

I also see some other romantic items, like a box of chocolates, a teddy bear, and a beautiful bunch of flowers. I decide to get all of the items and head to the register to check out.

I am happy with the selection I’ve made, and I feel like Alastor is going to be very happy with his gifts as well. The cashier rings up my items quickly. I pay the cashier and leave the shop with my bag of gifts. Satisfied with the amount of gifts I found I decide head back home.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

Opening the front door I walk inside making sure the door closes behind me before I place down the bag in the living room.

Glancing at the clock I notice I have a bit more time before Alastor said he’d be home. I decided to relax with the extra time I have by reading a book.

I unpack the gifts and set them on our bed for Alastor to walk into as a surprise when he gets home. I grab the book off of my nightstand and head back into the living room, sitting down and starting to read.

A few hours pass and I get through most of my booth until the phone starts to ring. Closing my book, I place it on the table next to me and walk over to the phone.

I picked it up and said a small “Hello?” waiting to see who is on the other end of the line.

“Hello my darling, I just wanted to give you a quick call to let you know that my day is taking longer than expected.” He pauses to sigh as I lean against the wall. “I’m sorry, I had so many plans for us today and it’s just not seeming to work out.”

I put a smile on my face hoping I can convince him I’m not disappointed we probably won’t be doing anything tonight.

“It’s alright Al, I promise. Don’t stress yourself out over this. Well just do something tomorrow.” I can hear him sigh again, clearly disappointed he has to stay late.

“Are you sure?” he asks, “You’re not disappointed?” I feel my heart melt a little at how much he cares. “Not at all,” I reply, trying to convince him.

Alastor pauses and sighs again. “I really wanted to do something special for you today. I wanted today to be special and romantic…”

“I know, I know. But it’s okay. We’ll do something extra special tomorrow alright?” I say trying to make him relax a bit.

He sighs again, but this time he sounds slightly more relieved when I assure him that I’m not disappointed. “Alright,” he says, “You’re right. Tomorrow, definitely. I love you.”

I smile. “I love you too Al. I’ll see you soon.” I hang up after and head back to where I was sitting in the living room.

Sitting back down I decide to go back to reading my book. A few hours pass, and as the afternoon begins to roll around.

Looking out the window an idea pops into my head causing me to grin. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.” I say to myself as I get up and head into the kitchen.

I grab a small basket and start putting together a small dinner. After finishing making the simple meal I pack up the basket with the food, a bottle of wine, and some plates and utensils.

The dinner looks lovely, quite a romantic gesture that he is sure to appreciate. Deciding to bring a small romantic dinner to Alastor at the radio station was a brilliant idea on my part I think as I take one last look around to make sure I’m not forgetting anything before I head out.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

Upon arriving at the station a few of Alastor’s coworkers greeted me and some even engaged in some small talk.

After getting past the lobby and some of the offices I start making my way to where Alastor’s studio and office is. I take a peek through the window connected to his office and see he’s not live right now. Taking the opportunity I opened the door.

He jumps in his chair, quickly turning to me with a surprised look on his face. Seeing me standing there with a basket filled with a romantic dinner causes that surprise to quickly turn into a big smile.

He stands up to come over to greet me, kissing me on the cheek as he wraps his arm around my waist.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here to bring me dinner darling.” He rubs small circles on my waist with the hand wrapped around me as I smile up at him.

“I know but I felt bad that you had to cancel our plans due to working late so I wanted to bring the dinner plans to you.” I grin at him as I lean into his touch a bit more.

He stares at me with utter adoration as he speaks up. “Happy Valentine’s Day my darling. I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise today.” He says pulling me in closer to him as he kisses my lips quickly.

I smile during the kiss and it grows wider as we part. “Oh trust me this isn’t the only surprise.” He raises an eyebrow at me causing me to laugh. “I got you a few more gifts. You’ll have to wait to see what they are until we get home though.”

Alastor’s face lights up when you give him that hint. “This day just keeps getting better and better.” He says excitedly. He gives me another kiss on the lips, but this time it lasts longer.

“I guess being on the air today was worth it then.” Alastor replies as I start to laugh again.

[violetsaffron5]

Dirty Little Secret (1)

Taglist • Ao3 • Social Media • Discord 18+ • Masterlists • Chapter 2 →

↳ 1 | Unholy

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Gojo Satoru is many things: family man, politician, someone the public believes they can trust. It’s how he’s gotten where he is in life. Hidden beneath the façade is a man with many guilty pleasures – you being one of them.

words: 7.3k

cw: explicit drugs use, mention of alcohol, infidelity (not on reader), vaginal fingering, rough sex, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding kink, degradation, dacryphilia, exhibitionism

an: This was just going to be a oneshot based on the song "Unholy" by Sam Smith, but then I had an idea for a small part 2

an2.0: if you would like to read part 2, that one got tagged with a community lable. Please make sure you have those on, this post will tell you how to enable that as well.

His wife probably thought she was the luckiest woman in the world when he got down on one knee, professed his love and said he wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side.

She probably felt even luckier, everything going according to their life plan when she found out she was pregnant with his children, starting a loving family with one of the most prominent politicians Tokyo has to offer.

She’d kick him out if she ever knew the way you stand between his legs, moving your shoulders, chest and hips to the beat of the bass blasting in the club. The way his eyes watch your hands trailing the length of your body before putting his own on your skin.

She’d divorce him on the spot if she knew the way you grind on his hips, the way his fingers caress every inch of your skin when he comes to see you.

She would never let him touch her again if she knew how he touched you, in all the ways she won’t let him do to her, in all the ways he really wants, the ways he enjoys.

Of course you’re aware of the wife - it would be impossible not to be. The picture-perfect family, an ideal trophy wife, two children. That’s his spiel, how he got into office and maintained his position over the years. He’s a father, a family man; understands the struggle and just how hard it is to maintain a happy healthy family - just like the average working person.

A politician you can trust because he’s just like you.

You’ve never seen or met her, steering clear of anything that has to do with Satoru during the day, but from your understanding he spends a lot of time with his kids when he has free time in the mornings and afternoons.

In the evenings he finds himself with you. Long legs spread wide as he sits back on the plush couch, you dropping your hips down onto his, grinding on him until you feel his cock harden from your touch.

It’s a miracle she hasn’t found out about the shit Satoru does behind her back; it’s a miracle nobody has. Sure he tries to be as discreet as possible, entering clubs through the back, paying for private rooms, private dances all the while spending thousands on sex, drugs and alcohol.

That’s how the two of you met. You were on stage, twirling, spinning and sliding your way down and around a pole in the most provocative positions. Satoru walked in with his three best friends; a man with long raven locks, one with a scar over the right side of his lip, and another with several tattoos over his face.

Satoru immediately caught your attention, with his messy hair, white as freshly fallen snow hanging over his eyes, eyes that were covered by dark square sunglasses, shielding them from your view. You watched him lick his lips, talk to your manager and head to a room in the back with his friends.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel his gaze burning into you with every flip of your hair, shimmy of your waist and hips in his direction.

You didn’t realize who he was at this point, not that it has ever really mattered.

It started with him coming to see you, paying to have you as the lone private dancer - sometimes for just him, sometimes with his friends. He’d tip you an exorbitant amount each time, enough of you to buy the Gucci handbag you’ve had your eye on for some time.

Eventually, when he realized you figured out who he is and weren’t talking about the shit you’ve seen him do, he easily charmed you with his honeyed words and wicked ways, inviting you to continue to the party elsewhere when your performances had ended.

Satoru likes to spend money, always seems to have too much of it, if the tips he leaves you with are anything to judge him by. Always enough to buy the latest Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Versace without batting an eye.

All because you’re so good to him, he says.

He likes to get his hands on the finest white powders money can buy; likes to snort lines off your tits before rolling the remaining into dainty joints for you to smoke; likes to watch you with his own lazy, crooked smile as the smooth burn fills your lungs.

You’re consistent, staying out of his life and daily affairs. It’s part of what he likes so much about you.

You never ask for more, knowing he’s not willing to give it. It’s why he keeps coming back to you, there’s no desire to be a part of the drama that would ensue if anyone outside of his circle of friends ever found out about you.

It’s why you had no problem signing the NDA he presented on your first night out together.

Satoru knows when he needs it, you’ll be there; when he wakes in the morning, you’ll be gone. Not wanting any part of the lives you lead outside of the clubs and hotel rooms you frequently find yourselves in.

The bright lights from the city faded from the rear view mirror some time ago. Things are different tonight, seemingly calmer than you’ve ever experienced before with the man sitting to your right over the year you’ve been seeing each other.

He shifts gears while humming along to the tune playing softly in the background as the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. 

The car is extravagant. It suits him and you wouldn’t expect anything less to be honest. It’s the kind of car where the doors open up, rather than out, the leather seats are a dark black while the exterior is a stark white matching his hair.

The small space smells like a mix of his cologne, bergamot and honey, along with the perfume you always put on before going out with him.

This is the longest you’ve ever spent in his vehicle, unless he’s pulled off to the side of the road or in an abandoned parking lot either with you on his lap or spread out in the back seat as he fucks into you. 

Satoru hasn’t spoken a lot tonight, just asked if you wanted to hang out after work and ushered you into his car on an empty street like usual. Obviously he’s taking you away tonight but you’re not sure where and trying not to care too much, so you don’t ask.

Doing that would change the aloof nature of your relationship and you’re not ready for any of those dynamics to be different, nor do you think he would be receptive to it.

“I can’t stay long,” he breaks the silence first, pulling into a hotel roughly forty five minutes away on the outskirts of Tokyo, “and I need to be sober. But, you can have fun and I’ll drive you home later.”

Satoru’s never taken you home before, though with his connections and power you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew where you live regardless. When you’ve stayed the night together before, you’re always up early and make sure to leave before he wakes up. Not only because you shouldn’t be with him, but also because you’ve never been one to stick around for awkward morning conversations or expectations.

You nod with a quiet “okay,” while he hands you a basic black face mask while putting on his own. He also takes off his tie, throwing it in his pocket and undoing a few of the top buttons on his shirt before putting on a matching black sock hat to cover his hair.

Stepping out of the car, you adjust your tiny black dress and hair before looping your arm in with Satoru’s making your way into the glamorous hotel, past the concierge and to the elevator.

Even when trying to be discreet, Satoru and his friends can’t help the luxuries they like to surround themselves with. He says he can’t stay and has to be sober, but that didn’t stop any of them from choosing a hotel with chandeliers, gold decor and marble floors covering every inch of the lobby.

When you get to the top floor of the hotel, there are only a few doors in the hall. Satoru knocks on one a few times before it’s quickly opened, allowing the two of you in. The space is more akin to an apartment than a hotel room - a small kitchen off to one side, a large bedroom with its own door separating the space from what serves as the living room.

There are floor to ceiling windows covering every inch of wall space, overlooking the small, lively city below. Chandeliers hang in this room too, the bathroom has similar marble flooring to the lobby with a shower that could easily fit ten, along with a jacuzzi.

Suguru is sitting on a chair reclined back with a woman who could easily be a model on his lap. He has a joint between his fingers, bringing it to his lips and taking a drag before holding it up to hers. She accepts with a grin, hand on his chest while the other fiddles with his hair.

Toji and Sukuna are sitting on a love seat next to Suguru, doing what they always seem to be doing - cutting too many lines of a soft white powder on a mirrored plate with a credit card before rolling one of their bills and inhaling, taking turns.

There are several other women in the room with a few other guys you don’t recognize - they’re all busy grinding to the beat of the music playing, glasses of champagne in their hands.

You never know who Toji and Sukuna are going to have with them - it’s seemingly a new girl each time you’re around. Aside from yourself and the girl on Suguru’s lap you’ve seen a few times, you’re the only constant.

Then again, you don’t know what goes on, on the other nights of the week that Satoru doesn’t come to whisk you away. You’ve never bothered to ask, never wanting to know how many other women he has, just like you, waiting to have his attention for the night.

Toji walks over, the mountain of a man that he is, emerald green eyes gleaming with mischief as he looks you up and down, biting his scarred lip before saying, “lookin’ great, as always.”

You’re smiling, unable to help the blush that creeps onto your cheeks from his intense gaze, but don’t respond because Satoru has moved his hand to your waist, pulling you in closer to him.

“Can you fuck off and leave my girl alone?” Satoru says without a trace of humor and you’re reeling more from his words than you should be.

His girl.

You don’t let yourself think too hard about it. You know what this is, what it always will be.

What it can never be.

You’re shrugging as Satoru pulls you away, moving his hand from your waist down to your ass, grabbing a handful before removing his hand completely, sitting on the couch next to Suguru, across from where Sukuna was before, who is now missing.

Satoru likes it when you wear the things you buy with his money - showing him you appreciate what he’s given you. Every once in a while you’ll buy a new handbag or jewelry to show off but mainly you spend it on little dresses to flaunt around in front of him, something easily accessible and removable, the way he likes it.

Sitting on the couch, resting your head on Satoru’s shoulder listening to the way his voice reverberates through his chest as he talks with Suguru, you absentmindedly draw little shapes on his chest wondering why he brought you with him tonight. The only thing you’ve been doing since you got here is listen to them discuss things you’re not interested in talking or hearing about, things that have to do with their work.

A soft quiet sigh leaves your lips as you watch Suguru pack and roll another joint for himself and his guest. Satoru hears and cocks his head in your direction before capturing your lips with his own quickly.

“You can join them. I’ll take care of you tonight.”

“It’s not fun without you,” you’re running your thumb across his lower lip, wiping away the lipstick that’s smeared on the corner. He grins before biting the tip of your thumb, swirling his tongue around it.

After a few moments, you pull your thumb away and he clicks his tongue before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and a little clear plastic baggie with a white powder that was embedded deep within, “this would be fun for you. Just need a little.”

Your brows are furrowed; it’s a different soft crystalline powder than you’ve seen him have before, “what is it?”

“A stimulant,” he replies generically, his grin is wide as he puts his wallet back in his pocket. Satoru tells you to take the water bottle that’s on the table beside you and drink it because you’ll want to stay hydrated and then to wet the tip of one of your fingers with your tongue.

You grin, looking up at him through thick lashes before putting your index finger in his mouth. He chuckles before rolling his tongue on it a few times. Listening to his instructions, you dip your finger into the baggie and suck the powder off - it doesn’t taste like anything. All you’re able to taste is the slight spearmint flavor from his spit.

After dipping your finger back into the baggie you hold it up for him. He watches you, eyes dark, stern and unamused. Satoru sees the way your shoulders slump slightly when he doesn’t accept it and the way your lower lips juts out slightly, pouting - it’s barely noticeable, but he sees it.

You’ve never asked for more from him over the last year, and you’ve been so good to him during that time too.

“Fuck, okay, but this is it.”

“Okay.” You reply quietly, the corner of your lip tugging upwards.

The boys continue their conversation and you’re not sure how much time has passed but as you watch Satoru’s sharp jaw as he speaks, the planes of his cheeks and slope of his nose you also realize his pupils have dilated tremendously. They’re more black than blue at this point.

You’ve also noticed you’ve been drawing little circles on the palm of your hand this entire time - the touch of your own skin feels so good that you can’t help but reach for Satoru and run your nails up and down the length of his arm. He tilts his head towards you, smirks and pulls you closer so your legs are resting atop his as he follows suit on your bare legs.

The contact feels incredible, like little tingles of electricity each time his nails run up and down the length of your legs slowly. Every once in a while he moves his hand up your thigh, towards the hem of your dress which makes you gasp, more and more slick pooling in the center of your panties with each pass of his hand.

“So, the wife is finally suspicious about where you go at night, huh?” Suguru asks smoothly as Toji and Sukuna come back over and sit on the small couch across from you.

Sukuna lights another joint, taking a long drag before adding, “everyone is suspicious about what we’re up to. That’s nothing new.”

Satoru sighs before leaning his head against the back of the couch, “just need to make sure nothing gets out. It’ll affect more than just us and our families if it does.”

“Awe,” you coo, “trouble in paradise?”

Satoru is snide with his remark as he glares at you from the corner of his cold blue eyes, “why? Wish I was married to you?”

You grin, leaning up to whisper in his ear, “you wish.”

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, “hiding me from anyone?”

Satoru grabs the little bag of powder and opens it again, so you do the same as you did last time; lick the tip of your index finger, dip it in and place a little on your tongue before doing the same for him.

“Nope, not worth it.”

This is the first time either of you have really acknowledged your lives outside of what you do when you’re together, typically avoiding any and all topics that have to do with personal lives.

Tonight is different and you don’t know why though you’re not exactly putting in any effort to change it.

Satoru has never worried or cared if his friends made a comment about how good you look or showed interest in hooking up with you but tonight he’s more possessive of your interactions. Holding you closer, letting details of his family and day to day life slip in conversation like he never has before.

“This feels so good,” you rasp out, taking in the feeling of his hands moving along your legs and mostly thighs at this point, so you move to straddle him. Satoru runs his large hands up your thighs slowly and under your dress to your ass, gripping hard as you press your body up against his chest, “need you.”

“I can’t tonight,” it’s a whisper filled with desperation because he wants to.

Satoru’s grip on your hips tightens as he lowers you down onto his lap so you can feel just how badly he wants you too. A whimper leaves your lips when he guides you to roll your hips on top of his before moving his hands to the insides of your thighs.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” He hisses when he feels your arousal running down your leg and quickly loses his resolve, moving your panties to the side and running two fingers through your soaked folds.

It’s easy to forget, with the way he’s easily able to insert two fingers into your pussy and find your sweet spot, that the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room. Foreheads pressed together, mouths agape as you cup his cheek, rutting your hips in time with his hand as he brings you closer and closer to the brink of your release.

Satoru moves a hand from your hip to your throat, squeezing gently at the base while your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. Each touch, each pass of his fingers on your g-spot is euphoric.

There’s slick coating his hand, up to his wrist - you’re wet, wetter than you ever have before and you’re doing everything in your power to move your hips with his hand so his palm stays tightly pressed against your clit. You’re mewling, whimpering, never wanting this feeling to end, almost ready to beg him to keep you like this forever.

You’re so taken back with each others touch, the way you hold him close, card your fingers through his hair and drag your nails through his undercut; the way your breaths are mingling with one another as you’re so overcome with desire and pleasure you can’t even warn him that the thread barely keeping you together is about to snap before you’re moaning out his name and he’s whispering “fuck, that’s it,” as you absolutely gush on his hand.

Capturing your lips again the kisses are messy and needy until you’re both snapped back to reality by the sounds of Toji laughing, “damn, that was quite the show. You gonna need some help with her?”

Satoru sighs, running his thumb across your lips before moving you off his lap and standing, entwining his fingers with yours, “fuck off, Fushiguro. Find someone your own age to hang out with.”

He leads you out of the room and back down to the lobby of the hotel. You’re sure you’re about to leave for the night, before he lets temptation ruin him but rather than leading you out, he stops at the receptionist's desk, where a young man is standing, asking for a room.

There’s a smile that spreads across your face and you can’t even help it, a feeling of superiority spreading through your body that he’s choosing to spend the night with you, rather than whatever obligation was holding him back earlier.

“Hi,” you smile and wave at the receptionist while biting your lip. His eyes are flicking between you and Satoru as he looks for an open room.

It’s thrilling, being out with Satoru - there’s always that underlying thought, the excitement around potentially getting caught, even though that isn’t something either of you actually want.

Your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest, either because of the reality of the two of you being caught due to a snap decision on his part to stay the night or because of the drugs you took earlier, you’re not sure but you don’t let yourself dwell on it.

Satoru tilts his head in your direction, eyeing you up and down with a frown, “don’t fucking flirt with another man in front of me.”

“Oh, jealousy is not a good look on you.”

Before Satoru is able to reply, the receptionist cuts in, handing Satoru the keycard to a room along with a pamphlet of information about amenities the hotel provides. When the receptionist finishes his spiel Satoru carefully looks him over.

“If anything leaks from here, I’ll know it was from you and I will make your life a living hell. I will take anything and everything you hold dear to your heart and ruin it. You will be nothing but a broken man by the time I’m done with you. Understood?”

The man stands with wide eyes as he replies in a hurried, shaky voice, “o-okay. Understood.”

And then Satoru grins like an angel before pulling you along with him, to take you up to the room and fuck you like the devil he truly is.

He pulls you into the elevator, hiding both of your faces from the camera by pushing you into the wall of the confined space, lips latched while your tongues glide against one another, hips rutting into the other looking for stimulation.

When the elevator dings, he stumbles backwards dragging you along with him, keeping your lips connected until right outside the space where he lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist while he pulls the keycard out of his pocket. You busy yourself with kissing along his jaw and neck while he finds the room you were assigned, swiping the card and kicking the door closed once he’s walked through the threshold.

The room is large, and grand but nowhere near as extravagant as the one you were in earlier, not that it really matters considering the only focus is the plush king size mattress he lets you softly fall onto.

Satoru doesn’t waste any time unbuttoning his shirt and slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room while you slip the dress off, along with your panties, waiting in the center of the bed for him to join you.

And he does, with a salacious grin spread across his face crawling over to you, pushing you further into the mattress while you spread your legs, feeling his long, thick cock press against your soaked entrance.

“Wait, wait,” you gasp out, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek, “condom.”

He stares at you like you’ve just shot him square in the chest before furrowing his brows, “No. We’ll- I’ll- fuck- I’ll pull out, I have to feel you.”

Satoru doesn’t have many rules - first and foremost, above all else, stay out of the limelight and his family's business and do not talk to anyone about the details of your relationship with him without a lawyer present if anyone should find out.

After that it’s simple, really only two other rules to abide by; take your birth control pills on time and wear a condom. And he’s been adamant about that until tonight. He’s always stated he didn’t want to risk getting anything and passing it to his wife because that would be a fucking nightmare to try and explain his way out of, but it would be an even bigger problem if he were to get you pregnant.

All of that seems to be out of the window tonight because he effortlessly pushes in past your entrance. He moans sinfully at the feeling while your eyes roll to the back of your head and arch your back, “you’re so wet, this- oh fuck- fuck, you feel so good.”

“What about your wife?” You manage to gasp out, mouth open, eyes half lidded, nails digging into his shoulder as he moves so painfully slowly that it’s amazing.

The heightened sense of touch, the feeling of him with nothing in between is intoxicating, makes your head a little dizzy, feeling every inch of his length as he pulls out and pushes back in.

“You jealous, baby?” He mutters, eyes hazy with lust, “want me to fuck you the way I do my wife?”

He pulls almost all the way out before snapping his hips back into yours causing you to stutter out, “fuck, n-no, no.”

“Think I’ll leave my wife, leave my family for a stripper?” His cock twitches at his words but he doesn’t move his hips again, doesn’t give you what you need so you wrap your legs around his waist and rock your hips against him the best you’re able, “I’ve fucking thought about it, having you like this every day.”

His large hands span your hips, halting your movements as he sits back up and pulls out to your dismay.

“Beg me.” He demands, running the red tip of his cock across your hypersensitive folds, nudging your clit a few times in the process just to watch the way you squirm below him, “beg me to fuck you.”

He takes a handful of your tits massaging them roughly before leaning down, swirling his tongue on your hardened nipple. He tweaks the other at the same time he tugs the other between his teeth.

“S’toru,” you whine needy and shamelessly, “I- fuck- please, please fuck me. Just- want to feel you, need you, please.”

Satoru watches you through his lashes the way you wriggle and writhe with your nipple tugged gently between his teeth. Cock is straining, leaking precum from the slit on the sheets of the bed - he’s just as needy as you, dying to be touched, to get the stimulation he’s craving just as badly as you but he’s being incredibly patient tonight.

His length is longer, harder and thicker than usual, twitches with your words and every whimper that leaves your lips but he still doesn’t fuck you - he’s waiting. Waiting for you to say he can fuck you, unimpeded and raw.

“Please, Satoru, baby,” tears are forming in the corner of your eyes, threatening to break free if he doesn’t work to extinguish the fire that’s burning in the center of your belly, to give you the release your body is screaming at you to have, “fuck me, please- so hard- always wanted to feel you-”

He can’t hold back anymore, not when you’re laying so pretty on the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks and begging him to give you what he knows only he can. Before you’ve realized what happened, he has you flipped over lining his cock with your entrance before slamming his hips flush with yours.

You cry out his name as he moves his hips with reckless abandon, finally, finally feeding the flames of desire burning in your core. His crystalline eyes are hooded with lust and desire as he grabs your hair at the roots and tugs harshly, other hand on your hip helping keep you in place as he pumps his hips faster and harder.

“You take all of me so fucking well,” he moans, “nobodies ever taken all of me.”

Wet, lewd squelching noises fill the space of the hotel room. You’re so wet from the jolt of electricity that thrums through your body with every touch and every time the tip of his cock grazes your sweet spot, and you’re only getting wetter as he continues to fuck into your rougher and rougher.

You know he’s comparing you to his wife when he babbles aimlessly like this, but you’ve learned to not let it bother you, not to think too much on it. After all, he’s spending his free time with you.

Sex with Satoru has always been good, he always seemed to know what you needed before you did, but tonight is different. Better somehow.

It’s all so much, so euphoric that there’s no way you’re able to hold back your impending orgasm; unable to help the way your thighs shake when the tip of his length kisses your cervix so deliciously you know it’ll ache in the morning. 

The moment Satoru drapes his body over yours, fingers drawing small tight circles on your clit is the moment the flames erupt, warmth and pleasure coursing through your veins as your walls spasm and constrict around his cock so hard he has to slow his pace and take a deep shaky breath in order to not follow along right beside you.

He lets go of your hair, kissing your shoulders and center of your back several times before sitting back on the balls of his feet before taking both of your wrists in one of his large hands and holding them behind your back.

Satoru moves his hips slowly a few times before pulling you up so your back is flush with his chest. 

“Like it when I fuck you like the filthy slut you are?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before hooking his fingers in your mouth turning your attention to him. Your tongue immediately finds his fingers, swirling over them as you look up to him, eyes so dark and filled with lust you can barely see any of the color anymore. He lets a tail of saliva fall from his mouth into yours and you moan the moment it hits your tongue, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He lets go of your wrist, splaying one hand over your stomach to feel the bulge from his cock each time he recklessly fucks into you, while the other finds its way to your breast, squeezing and gripping as he looses himself to pleasure inside of you.

There’s a mirror across from you, above the dresser in front of the bed - Satoru’s cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink, down his neck to the top of his chest. Lips parted with eyes on you as he watches and listens to the way you moan and whine from each stroke of his long cock.

“Satoru, cum in me,” his hips falter at your words, “fill me up, please.”

“Baby, I can’t.” But he absolutely wants to.

He pushes you back down on the bed, hand in the center of your back keeping your face pressed against the silky sheets. He takes the opportunity to grip your ass and spread your cheeks, watching the way you take all of him down the base without complaint. He lets his spit fall from his mouth, and watches the way you jolt when it makes contact with your other entrance unexpectedly and slides down to his cock, mixing with your arousal.

Satoru feels the way your pussy has a death grip on his cock again, knows you’re about to cum and he can’t bring himself to pull out. Not when you look and sound so pretty for him, not when you were literally begging for him to cum inside you earlier.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” he’s moaning at the thought, getting lost inside you, “I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you so fucking full of me.”

His words are enough to set you off, having your pussy tightening around him like a noose as he paints your walls white, letting out a guttural groan as he rocks his hips back and forth, working you both through your releases.

There’s so much dripping out from between where you’re connected that his efforts to keep it all inside are fruitless. The view is absolutely obscene, cum mixed together and dripping onto the bed sheets below, the sounds are vulgar but it doesn’t stop him from fucking it deep and deeper inside, rolling his neck and head back through the hypersensitivity of his his tip.

Eventually he rolls you over onto your back, both panting, trying to catch your breaths. He’s still half hard, both hissing at the sensation when he runs his cock up through your puffy folds, dragging his wet, heavy cock on your stomach when he leans up and places several languid kisses to the center of your chest.

He licks a strip from your chest to jaw before sucking several small red starbursts on your neck, shoulder and down to your tits. Your nails are on his shoulder and back digging into his skin - he groans, loves the feeling, the sharp to dull pain that comes with it.

There’s been an unspoken rule between the two of you, no marks. Not on him at least. It’s more important his body be free from any unknown scratches and little red marks, should the press decide to have a field day seeing them and decide to investigate.

“Love leaving marks on you,” he whispers, voice low, gravely with desire again. “Everyone knows you belong to someone else, don’t they?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Tell me baby, who do you belong to?”

“You. Satoru, I’m yours.” You answer a little too honestly, holding his face a little too lovingly. He groans at the confirmation, knows he shouldn’t have made you say it but couldn’t resist hearing it.

You place several kisses on his lips and cheek. Everything is getting progressively sloppier, starting to come down from your respective highs. Satoru’s eyes are half lidded, not only from lust but from a tiredness that’s starting to seep through.

He returns the kisses languidly before you kiss along his jaw, sucking a small spot just under his jaw, nipping at the skin playfully a few times in the process. He doesn’t stop you because he knows that despite not being able to give you all of himself, he’s yours too.

Probably even more than he’s his wifes.

Slowly, he presses his tip against your entrance again, easily slipping past the ring of muscles while you wrap your legs around his waist. He hooks one of his arms under your knee, pushing it up so he’s able to get deeper.

Satoru fucks into you hard and fast like this. It’s messy, wet and sticky with your mixed arousal and cum connecting the two of you. Slick wet sounds fill the room again until you’re both on the brink of another imminent release.

“Think I might fucking love you.” He admits, voice low, filled with lust.

You want to say it back, but you know it’s not true, the shit he says when he’s buried ten inches deep in your cunt, cock bruising your cervix as he fucks into you.

“You’re so wet, already so full of me,” he moans at the thought of cumming inside you again. “G-gonna give you a baby, gonna give you part of me.”

“S’toru,” you gasp at his lust filled desires and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want that too so you move your hips up wantonly, eagerly, “yes, please.”

It’s a bad fucking idea, to let him say these things, to agree with him. But you let him move your knees back to your shoulders, holding the heels of your feet for leverage as he presses his hips into you until you’re both cumming again.

He collapses on top of you, heavy breaths fanning your ear. You lay like this, chests rising and falling against one another until you’re overcome by sleep.

There’s light peeking in through semi-closed curtains, a beam of light hitting your face at the perfect angle, right into your eye. Knitting your brows together, you stifle a yawn before stretching out, feeling a warm body pressed into yours.

Your eyes flutter open, focusing on the dim light of the hotel room. It’s the same as it was last night, pristine, perfect. All except the sheets and blankets that are askew on the bed from your passion filled night.

The silky white sheet is covering most of you, but only on Satoru up to his hips. He must have gotten hot last night, threw everything off him in his sleep.

Looking up to him, his eyes are still closed, eyes moving slightly behind his lids. Soft white lashes flutter slightly with each movement while his arm that’s wrapped around your waist twitches slightly.

Your naked body is pressed against him, skin to skin. One leg is tangled between his while one hand is on his chest.

You let yourself take in the sight, not something you allow yourself to do frequently, but last night was indulgent, so this morning might as well be too. Satoru looks peaceful when he’s asleep. He’s always so calm and collected when you’re with him but never quite like this.

Truly without a care in the world with his eyes closed. No stress about someone finding out about you, exposing his lies and his secret life.

You stay like this for too long, watching him sleep, letting your index finger run along the scar on his chest. He says your name quietly, and you smile, just slightly at the thought of him dreaming about you.

You’re still high, you can tell, feeling light and airy and great about everything, but you know better than to let it last. You’ll be coming down again soon and everything will feel mundane, pointless, bothersome.

So you go to move, push yourself away from him to do your normal routine of getting ready for the day, pretending you were never here with him. His grip around your waist tightens, halting your movements.

“Stay…” Satoru whispers so quietly it’s barely audible.

Pursing your lips you look up at him, eyes still closed, no identifying feature signifying he’s woken up and is really, truly asking you to stay by his side, despite all the shit that would come along with it.

Your heart is beating fast, irregular, but you’re sure it’s from the stimulant. It has to be. Any other reason would be less than ideal.

After all, he probably thinks you’re his wife right now. Laying next to him, snuggled in close like she probably is every other day of the week.

You let out a single low wry chuckle at the morbid thought, licking your lips and shaking your head and whispering, “that’s not a good idea.”

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down and you mentally kick yourself for leaving the incredibly obvious fucking hickey just below his jaw. Satoru’s grip loosens just enough for you to wriggle out of his grasp.

Something you quickly learned after getting involved with Satoru is to have a bag packed at all times. That way in the mornings you can shower, removing the sweat and scents of not only the alcohol or drugs but also his cologne from your skin. It’s important to make it appear like you were never with him, to never leave in the same clothes you’ve arrived in.

After showering, you do your normal daily routine. Moisturizers, hair products, make up. You bring it all and you do it all - it would be no different if you were sitting at home, getting ready for your day.

That’s all this is, isn’t it? Just a routine. Meet a man, party, have mind blowing sex, act as if you’ve never met each other afterwards. Over and over again.

When you step back into the living space of the room, Satoru is no longer lying on his back, but rather his stomach, face buried into the pillow you used last night. His own overnight back is open, evident he had rifled through it for some reason when you were in the shower before climbing back into the bed, ignoring your presence.

Sitting on top is a black Versace sweatshirt. Looking back over to him, he’s unmoving aside from his back raising and falling slightly with each breath. Pursing your lips you quickly decide to grab it out of his bag and throw it into yours.

It’ll smell like him, even if only for a few days.

Picking up your garments from last night, you throw them into your bag before pulling out oversized sunglasses to hide your obviously still blown pupils and throw them on before turning the knob of the door to exit the room.

You don’t bother turning around, checking to see if Satoru watched you walk out. There’s no point. You know he didn’t. This is all routine.

After ensuring the door closes completely, you take a few steps down the hall while the elevator dings and a woman steps out of it.

She’s tall, in a pressed black pencil skirt and blazer. She looks classy with the way her ebony hair falls over her shoulders in soft curls.

She heads down the direction you’re coming from. Neither of you acknowledge the other as you pass by, on your own separate missions. Your breathing picks up, and the air feels tense after noticing the scowl spread across her features. And you all but jump at the sound of her banging on the room door you just walked out of moments prior.

You press the button to the elevator a few times, palms growing more clammy by the second, afraid the two of you might have been caught, that the boy from the front desk didn’t heed Satoru’s warning.

You watch from the corner of your eye as Satoru groggily opens the door, complaining about the loud sound. At least he had enough sense to put on a shirt beforehand, hiding the marks you left across his chest and back.

“You missed our counseling appointment. Is this some kind of joke to you?”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes adjusting to the bright light of the hall and you could swear his eyes flicker to you for a split second before finally speaking.

“No, of course not. I went out with the guys last night and lost track of time. You know how it is.”

“All too well.”

She pushes past him into the room and you know he didn’t have enough time to do any clean up of his own, that the room still reeks of alcohol, sweat and sex. And if she even bothers to look around, he’ll have to explain why the shower is wet from having been used when he clearly hasn’t washed up.

“Good lord. What have you been doing here? And what is on your neck?”

His hand goes to his jaw instinctively to try to hide the mark you left last night, “uh, cigarette burn. The guys were messing around last night and I got mixed up in the fray.”

He doesn’t seem to be too worried about his wife’s line of questioning because he looks over to you, just as the elevator dings, giving you a smirk.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, biting your lip as you return the sly smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open knowing he can’t and won’t stay away from you for long.

Taglist: @petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin

[little-diable]

Twin Flame - Dean Winchester (smut)

Inspired by the song "Twin Flame" by Brennan Story. I love love love this fic, and I hope y'all will love it too. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Months ago Dean had broken the reader's heart, a desperate try to protect her. But he no longer manages to stay away, needing to find his way back to her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, makeup sex, some heartbreak in the beginning, a very very happy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.8k words)

Well this road don't get no shorter, I would've drove the whole thing for you, my tank down to a quarter, and it'll be gone soon

„What is up with you lately, Dean?” Sam’s voice filled Baby, worried eyes watching his brother. No reply left Dean as he kept driving on, caught in his memories like a fly trapped in the web of a spider set to kill. He was stuck, without a way out, and yet, deep down inside he prayed that he’d never be able to leave those memories behind. 

Whenever he got a moment to let his thoughts wander, he had to think of her, the one who still holds his heart in her hands, even after all these months. Being with her had been something he had never experienced before, a new sensation he longed for like a man dying of thirst dreaming of any water he could drink. Loving her had been everything Dean wasn’t, it had been sweet, easy, it had been too good to be true. 

Whenever he was lying awake at night, eyes staring at the dirty ceiling of the motel rooms he and Sam found shelter in, he imagined her laying next to him, head resting on his chest, listening to his calmly beating heart. Dean still felt her weight on him, if he closed his eyes he could feel her right there with him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, words that had been etched into his mind. 

“Dean?” Sam tried again, worried eyes flickering back to the dark road ahead, knowing that it would take them at least a couple more hours to make their way to the bunker. “Hey man, c’mon, talk to me, I can tell something is going on.” 

“It’s nothing, Sammy.” His voice told Sam everything he needed to know, exposing the hurt, the sadness flushing through Dean’s system. Dean’s green eyes were hazy, no longer filled with that special glint spurring him on whenever they were on a hunt, it felt as if he was no longer in the car with Sam, just a body without a soul tied to it. 

“Is it about her? Dean, you should just call her, reach out, it’s never too late.” A sharp inhale of cold air was forced into Dean’s lungs, teeth grazing his lower lip to stop his angry words from rolling off his tongue. He couldn’t reach out, couldn’t call the one whose heart he had broken, leaving her behind without looking back once, choosing the life with his brother over her, a hunter just like him and his brother – a woman Dean wanted to protect from being hurt because of him.

The cold words he had spoken to her were still ringing in his ears, how he had pushed her away, nothing but a stupid spiel Dean stuck to, in order to save her from a life filled with uneasy times, with hunts that would leave their marks on her. Dean Winchester would do everything to keep her safe, even if it meant breaking (y/n)’s heart, and his own. 

And my drink been feelin' lighter, 'cause I'm a lover not a fighter, and I seen that you caught fire, when you put me out

“Sammy, wake up, we’re home.” Dean’s rough voice filled the dark night, hand shaking his brother’s shoulder. It took Sam a moment to wake, hands rubbing his tired eyes. Slowly did the younger Winchester brother undo his seatbelt, halting his movements as he noticed that Dean wasn't moving. 

“What’s wrong?” Worry dripped from the tip of Sam’s tongue, watching his brother’s gaze flicker between the steering wheel and the phone Dean kept clinging to. 

“I have something to do, I’ll be gone for a few days.” Silence filled Baby, a silence so loud, Dean started to shuffle around in his seat, waiting for his brother to speak up or to start moving, already annoyed with the time they kept wasting just now. Dean was feeling antsy, nervousness filled his system, a sensation so unfamiliar he couldn’t help but curse it. 

“Dean,” Sam whispered his brother’s name, hand finding his shoulder. “Get her back, stop worrying about dragging her down with you, she’s stronger than the both of us combined, she’ll do just fine being around us.” 

Dean couldn’t reply, throat too tight, mouth too dry to produce any sounds, unsure what to say to the brother of his that looked at him with so much hope swimming in his pupils. Sam didn’t know much about the night where Dean had left her, he didn’t know of the words he had spoken, hurtful words that have left their scars on his and her soul, it’d be a miracle if she’d take Dean back. But he couldn’t breathe without her near, couldn’t live on without her by his side. 

……

“Absolutely not.” (Y/n)’s eyes met Dean’s desperate ones, body turned from him as she tried to close her door, without any luck, wood caught by the boot he had pushed past her entrance. A string of curses left her, jaw ticking in anger as her eyes found their way back to his, reading the pleading swimming in his pupils before she slowly took a step back, inviting him back in. 

Dean followed her through the all too familiar four walls he had once started to call his new home, the house they should grow old in, the house they should raise their children in, nothing but mere dreams that have evaporated into nothing but a hazy dream both could no longer recreate. 

“I always knew you’d step low, but turning up here is ruthless, even for you, Dean Winchester.” (Y/n) had her arms wrapped around herself, eyes not daring to leave his once. Slowly he sank down on her couch, right next to her, not giving (y/n) a chance to move away. Without thinking he reached for her hand, moving faster than she had anticipated, catching her fingers before she could move them away as if he was a flame she burnt herself on. 

“I wasn’t planning on coming here, hell, I wasn’t planning on ever setting my foot back in this house.” His whispers were torn between sounds reminding one of cries for help and a voice so quiet one could have problems understanding what he was saying. An angry huff left (y/n), glassy eyes focusing on the calloused fingertips stroking the back of her hand, pushing an all too familiar sensation through her body. She was trembling, begging for whoever was listening to relieve her from the pain she had never been able to let go of, and yet she had tried to keep on moving, without looking back once. 

“You broke my heart, you left me without an explanation, just your awful words. One day you were here, and the next you were suddenly gone. It took me a while to give my life a new meaning, to adjust to hunting on my own, but I managed just fine for the past months, Dean. Why do you have to return the second I’m finally okay on my own?” Her tears started rolling down her cheeks, dripping from her chin like a once dry waterfall regaining its impressive strength. With his other hand finding her jaw, Dean started drying her tears, heart clenching in his chest as he was once again reminded of the pain he had pushed her through. 

“I know, and I’m so sorry for being so fucking selfish, but I can’t stay away. Every second without you by my side is pure torture, you’re the only thing I can think of, no matter when or where I am. I’m sorry sweetheart, I really am. All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe, after watching you getting hurt because of me, because I couldn’t step back from a hunt we should have called backup for, I knew i had to get away from you. I can’t be the reason you get into any more danger. But as much as I hate myself for saying it, I can’t live without you, not any longer.” A heavy sigh left (y/n) as she looked at Dean, focusing on the pain filling his green pupils, on the lifeless expression tugging on his features. He was no longer the Dean she had once been with, no, he had changed, their breakup had left its marks on him, as much as it had left its marks on her. And yet she still longed for him, after all the sleepless nights she had cursed him for. 

“I need time to think this through, you have hurt me so much, Dean, so much. But I still love you, a lot. You can sleep on the sofa and we can talk in the morning.” Slowly Dean let go of her, pulling his hands away to give (y/n) enough space to rise to her feet. With one last glance thrown his way, she disappeared down the hallway, letting the door to her bedroom fall shut with a soft thud. 

And as Dean sat on the sofa he had once put together with (y/n), he couldn’t help but give into the tears welling up in his eyes. 

And I'd set fire onto, these boots running from the hard truth, that you don't need me the same way I need you

……

Dean woke with a groan leaving him, back aching from the uncomfortable position he had been sleeping in. It took him a few seconds to remember the past hours, how he had turned up at (y/n)’s place, how he had cried into his hands as she had parted from him. His green eyes shot open, finding a pair of all too familiar eyes already staring at him. (Y/n) was sitting on the edge of the sofa, wearing the same shirt she had worn hours ago. Only now did Dean realise that the shirt had once belonged to him, pushing a very welcomed heat through his aching body. 

“I made some coffee.” Her soft voice left his heart skipping beats, needing to cherish these moments should she ask him to leave in the upcoming minutes. Slowly did Dean sit up, stretching his neck and arms before he murmured a “Thank you, sweetheart”, taking the cup of warm coffee (y/n) pushed into his direction. 

“I didn’t catch any sleep, but I got enough time to think.” Dean braced himself for the words she was about to speak, teeth grazing his lower lip. His heart was racing way too fast for the early hour, and yet Dean didn’t manage to calm his system, palms growing sweatier with every second. He struggled to look into the eyes he’d see whenever he closed his at night, desperate to feel her close, pupils that were once so familiar, so loved, pupils that felt like nothing but a fever dream now. “I love you too much to push you away, but it’ll take me some time to trust you again, Dean. You have to accept that we’ll both get hurt on hunts, with or without Sammy. And you’ll accept that I’ll join you on all hunts I want to join, you won’t get a say about my decisions. Are we clear?”

He looked at her for a few more moments before his hand found the back of her neck, pulling (y/n) in for a bruising kiss. With a gasp leaving (y/n) she moved closer, arms finding their way around his neck, allowing Dean to pull her into his lap. The kiss was fuelled by their longing for one another, hearts begging them to never part ways again, unable to endure another wave of heartbreak. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back, whatever you need. I love you so much, sweetheart, I don’t want to live another day without you by my side.” Dean murmured his words against her lips, pulling her in for another kiss as his hands disappeared underneath the comfortable shirt of his she was wearing. Her breath hitched in her chest as Dean shuffled them around, pressing (y/n) against the sofa with him nestling between her thighs. Moans clawed through the two as Dean began to roll his hips, rubbing his hardening bulge against her damp panties. 

“Been dreaming about you touching me, as much as I hated myself for it, I couldn’t help but miss you, your lips, your fingers.” A soft, throaty laugh rumbled through Dean as he pushed her shirt up to expose her chest to his hungry eyes, lips finding her hardening nipples almost instantly, leaving his marks on every inch of her warm flesh. 

“Fuck, no matter what I tried, my mind always wandered back to you. I imagined the words you’d moan, how you’d wrap your fingers around my cock. Can’t believe I’m getting another chance to love you.” No longer could she reply to his words, (y/n) had almost forgotten the loving words his mouth and mind were able to create in moments like this one, set on making her feel the love his heart pumped through his system. “I need to be inside of you, it’s been too fucking long. Do you have a condom?”

“No, but I’m clean, I didn’t sleep with anybody but you.” She was almost scared to ask Dean if he had touched another woman, struggling to form the question that now rang through her mind, leaving her breathless. Dean pushed another kiss against her lips before he shuffled out of his clothes, exposing his twitching cock to her wandering eyes.

“Good, you’re mine to touch only, forever mine. I didn’t touch anybody else, just the thought of it made me sick, no matter how much alcohol I needed to try and forget about us.” With her hand finding its way back to  his neck, and with her legs slowly wrapping themselves around his hips, (y/n) chased his slightly swollen lips.

The sound of their moans leaving them in unison was drowned by their kiss, Dean moved slow at first, needing to hold back before he’d cum right there and then, no longer used to feeling her tightness wrapped around his cock. Both clung to one another as he fucked her into the sofa, with one hand placed on the arm rest and the other on her waist, leaving marks with his fingertips digging into her skin. (Y/n) arched her front against his, trembling legs not daring to loosen their hold on his waist, wondering if she was only stuck in a dream, or if Dean was truly fucking her, reminding her that she was his.

And no matter how hard I try, I'll never learn to say goodbye, you say it's okay to cry, baby that river done ran dry 

“God, how I missed feeling you, feels so perfect, so fucking perfect.” With his forehead pressed against hers, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, growing rougher as her walls fluttered around him, tensing every now and then. Dean had lost count on the amount of times he had dreamt of feeling her again, of loving her just like he had always promised he would. 

“Same, fuck, don’t ever leave me again, Dean.” (Y/n) choked on his name, hand disappearing between their bodies to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves. Both knew  that they wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer, it felt as if they hadn’t been able to let go for months, unable to touch themselves without thinking of one another. But both had tried to make themselves cum for weeks on end, unable to do so, since their minds painted pictures too painful, pictures they could now finally leave behind.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart? Fuck, I won’t be able to hold on for much longer.” Another moan left (y/n) as Dean’s lips found her jaw, kissing their way down her neck. It took her a moment to reply, choking on her breaths, unable to think clear with her thoughts growing hazy. 

“Inside of me, please, Dean, fill me up.” She felt his cock twitching inside of her, forcing her to add more pressure on her clit, crying his name as she came. Dean followed her down the edge, eyes rolling back into his head as he came with a “Fuck” leaving him.

Both were heavily breathing, not daring to part with their bodies still joined, just like their jumping hearts. (Y/n) murmured his name as she combed a hand through his hair, eyes finding his, “I love you Dean, no matter what will happen between us, I belong to you, as much as you belong to me.” 

[sugarpea12345]

Remember My Name (Short story inspired by Saintobio)

Hello! This is a little thing I wrote inspired by @saintobio's work. This is directly inspired by they're sincerely yours and sincerely not .

To read and understand this, you must be caught up with sincerely not 's latest chapter (Chapter 8). I would consider this an AU, as I don't know what will happen in the next story. @saintobio 's is heart wrenching, so I had to write my own mini happy ending. Once they update, this whole thing probably won't make much sense lol.

I have received permission from @saintobio to post this

Again, this is directly inspired by @saintobio's work: Sincerely Yours and Sincerely Not.

Word count: 11.8 k

trigger warning: mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of cheating, curse words used, angst

_____________________________________________________________

It had been a year since the coparenting arrangement. 

Via emails and business calls, you would arrange weekly pick up times. It was strictly professional. The way you wanted it. Right?

Wrong

You knew that you were being selfish. Maybe you always were. Everyone was right. Sera, Eula, Getou, Satoru’s mom, and Satoru. You were a black hole. You pulled people into your problems and destroyed them. You spent so much of your life fighting to be half the woman your mom was. And you could never be. You knew this now

“Mama!”

Bending down, you opened your arms. Hugging him tightly, you thanked the chauffeur for picking him up from school.

“Hi baby! How’s my little star?”

“Good! School finished early?” It was a statement, but you knew he was asking. Why did you take him out of school early? You really didn’t know. This whole day had felt strange. The air felt heavier. Your fingers felt numb. Something was going to happen and you didn’t want to be alone for it.

“What? My star prefers to be with teachers than with me? You’re making mommy sad!” You playfully nuzzled your head against his cheek and dramatically pouted. 

“I’ll never let you go to school again! Ha HA HA” You laughed evilly as you stood up and spun him

“Nooo!” He screamed between laughing.

After a good second of smiles and laughter, you finally set him down.

“Baby, I took you out of school because I wanted to spend time with you. Mommy is being selfish, so I won’t do this again. School is very important, ok?”

“Hmm… but mommy isn’t selfish. She’s a good mommy!”

You almost burst out in tears. He was too young to see how awful you were. His innocence and love for you blinded him. He would someday see you for the monster you are.

Allowing silence to fill the room, you stared into his eyes. God, those eyes. Your whole world could be found in them. Ruffling his hair, you grabbed the nearby scarf and wrapped it around him. Like any kid he grumbled at the added layers.

“Let’s go get ice cream and have fun today. Ok, baby?”

“Ice Cream! I love ice cream! My friend always, they always like laugh at me but not like mean laughing. But they say it’s so weird to eat ice cream when its winter. They think it’s funny. I think it’s funny too! Is snow different from ice cream? Because there’s like all this ice cream on the floor because it’s all snow. I just grab some sometimes and it doesn’t taste the same!”

As he got older, he has gotten a lot more talkative. He spoke incoherently and in run on sentences, but you understood him, nonetheless. You listened attentively when he would spend 30 minutes telling you about a funny thing his friend said. You listened when he would explain his entire school day the entire dinner. You listened the whole time.

“Yes baby, ice cream is yummy! I’m glad you and your friends laugh a lot. And no baby, snow is not the same as ice cream. Snow is made from the water on the earther getting colder, becoming clouds, and falling down. Remember I was teaching you about the water cycle? Ice cream is made from milk!”

At the mention of the water cycle, Sachiro excitedly launched into another spiel. He talked about the cycle, reexplaining it to you. He talked about how his teacher says he’s smart and how he got a toy. He talked about how his friends always ask him for help. He talked all the way to the ice cream parlor. As soon as you two ordered your ice cream, you settled down. Listening to him talk about his dreams. You always set your phone on Do Not Disturb whenever you are with him. He loved attention. If for one second you were to look away, he would immediately deflate. He was a carbon copy of his father. Sometimes you contemplated getting rid of your phone for this reason.

You spent the rest of the day chasing him through the park: pretending to be a dragon he fought, teaching him how to do cartwheels, looking for bugs. You took as many pictures as you could. Filming his smile, his voice, his eyes. 

The day came to an end, and you carried him on your back to the apartment you were staying in. 

After showering him and singing him a song, you finally took your phone off of DND.

Immediately, you were bombarded with millions of messages from everyone. 20 missed calls from Gen. 11 from Ian. 6 from your dad. 120+ text messages in total. 1 from Gojo.

Was everything ok? Please don’t let something be bad. Please. Please everyone be safe.  You heart beat increased. You were immediately transported to when you received news of Satoru’s accident. When the world learned about you running out of your wedding. When Satoru’s affair came out to the world. When you first got the calls of your mother’s sickness...

No. I can’t be selfish right now. If something happened, I have to be strong. Swallowing your fears, you opened the message you thought was the most important right now

Satoru: I’m sorry

No no no. He can’t do this again. He can’t! No please God no… You were almost about to call him, when you received another message from Gen. She was incessantly messaging you. Accidentally clicking on it, you read her last message

Gen: Please answer. Are you ok?

Now you were confused. Why was she asking if you were ok? You weren’t the victim. Doing some simple sleuthing, you looked at all the previous messages. Your eyes widened. You heart stopped. Tears filled your eyes. Looking over at Sachi, you took in a shaky breath. You had to be strong. Or at least strong enough to leave the room before you broke down. You had to do this for him. Stop being selfish Y/N

Shakily you walked out of his room. Looking back to make sure he was asleep; you closed the door gently. Before falling to your knees and letting all the tears fall. They pooled in the floor. You made sure to be quiet, but you were inconsolable. You hugged yourself tightly. You were being selfish right now. You knew that. But you were alone, and it was dark. It was ok to be selfish right now. Your heart was racing as you consoled yourself.

After half an hour of crying on the floor. You took a deep breath in and stood up. You went to the bathroom and stared at yourself.

“You need to stop being such a selfish monster, Y/N. You can’t keep ruining people. You can’t always be the victim. You need to make amends for everything you’ve done.”

You started your nightly ritual. Tears would occasionally mix in with cleanser or the water, but you didn’t stop. You had to be normal. You had to be happy. You owed everyone that. Sometimes it felt like you were caged behind your smile. Your joy had become a prison: a way to pay off all the bad things you’ve done.

Settling in bed, you grabbed your phone and responded to almost everyone. Finally, you reached Satoru’s message. 

Y/N: No worries! Congratulations! I expect an invitation lol :)

Satoru proposed to Akemi.

(Flash back to a year ago)

After that New York trip, you hated everyone. You hated your dad for pushing you into this marriage. You hated Getou for helping Satoru cheat on you during your marriage, but not understand why you wouldn’t want a baby with Satoru. You hated Satoru’s mom for projecting her self-loathing onto you. You hated your mom for dying. 

Above all else, you hated Satoru for what he did to you. He blamed you for a marriage he agreed to. He gaslit you into staying, knowing your selfless nature would do anything for his forgiveness. Even if that meant being a wife to a man in love. You hated him for taking you to the Bora Bora trip. You hated him for choosing your only friend to date. You hated that you had to go through months of emotional neglect and abuse for him to be kind. Just for Akemi to get it immediately. You hated that he became a better person only after using you. You hated him. You HATED him.

A spiteful part of your heart almost laughed. You were right! All the reasons he loved you, he found in her. You saw all the pictures he had of her. You saw the way he would caress her fingers. You saw him waiting for her. He never loved you! You were just convenient. And that’s why he loved her! Because she was convenient. Had you never sent her to meet him, they wouldn’t have fallen in love. If anything, he would be dating the nurse! Gojo Satoru doesn’t love. He just clings on to what’s closest. 

You spent a month marinating in these thoughts. In the week where you didn’t have Sachiro, you wouldn’t leave the office. You had begun sleeping there. You lost weight. Your face was pale. You were a walking corpse. You got assistants to pick up and drop off Sachiro. You never spoke to Satoru. 

This was to be your life now. After spending three days in the basement of the office creating, cutting, and sowing, Nobara finally convinced you to leave.

“Seriously Y/N, this is the 4th time I’ve had to get you gauze instead of bandages. I know you’re hurt, and I know you’re trying to distract yourself. But this is getting dangerous. Not only for you but for the clothes! We can’t sell anything if it has your blood all over it!” She tried to joke at the end

 As you finished wrapping the gauze around your forearm, you pitifully looked at her. She was so young and innovative. Despite being an intern, you had already set aside a permanent spot in the company for her. Stop burdening her with your problems.

Blinking away your sorrowful expression, you laughed. “Guess I gotta wrap myself in gauze and bandages before getting to work right?”

“Or you could just take a break. Jeez, I never thought workaholic millionaires existed.”

Ruffling her head as you walked towards her. “Thank you for waiting for me. You really didn’t have to. I promise, I won’t take advantage of your kindness. Go ahead and go home, I’ll lock up.”

Stunned, she took a second to respond. Your eyes were different right now. They were vulnerable and sad, but they were so kind at the same time.

“It’s no problem! Really! Thank you Y/N. Let’s work hard together.” Bowing, she made her way out of the store. Maybe you were going to get better?

After cleaning up, you placed the small stuffed bear you were working on in your small bag. Locking the store behind you, you headed towards your apartment. You had made the choice to move out. You were so filled with anger all the time. It would kill you if you were to accidentally lash out against the people you treasured. It was a tough conversation, but you needed space. 

As you walked, you decided last minute to head into a craft store. You needed a simple heart locket. Then you could gift the toy to your son.

With only one mission and energy drinks fueling you, you almost didn’t notice them. It wasn’t until you heard your son’s gleeful laughter did you perk up. Peering through the aisles, you saw him. No, you saw them. They both held your son’s hands as they looked at the toys. Letting go only when he would rush over to the loudest or brightest thing. Finally, he settled on a small plush. It had no lights and didn’t make any noise. They encouraged him to get something more expensive. Something flashier. But he didn’t. He wanted the light pink bunny. 

“It makes me think of mama!”

You saw Satoru and Akemi falter. It seemed that even the mention of your name silenced them. Your heart was beating so loud, you were sure they could hear it too. Leaning down Satoru ruffled his head. 

“Aren’t you a sweet little munchkin! Oh, but look at this!” 

You heart almost stopped. You saw Satoru redirect Satchiro’s attention to a cooler, bigger toy. As any kid would, he dropped the stuffed bunny and ran towards the huge toy. Gojo and Akemi exchanged relieved expressions. After purchasing the toy, they headed out. 

Walking into the aisle, you picked the bunny up. Holding it, you inspected its simplicity. Looking at the face, you realized why the bunny reminded him of you. The bunny had little tear dops in its eyes. Rushing to the cashier, you bought the bunny and the heart locket. It appears that you rushed too fast, as by the time you exited the store, they were still there. 

Sachiro, the spoiled child he was, was throwing a tantrum at having to be put in the car seat. As if he could detect your presence, Satoru immediately looked up. He saw you holding the bunny toy. His eyes filled with guilt and embarrassment. He knew that you were going to be upset. Of course you were. You were always angry at something. Nonetheless, he called you over. You were still the mother of his child.

After seeing the domestic moment in the store, you wanted to go up to them and give them a piece of your mind. You wanted to yell at them at the very least. But no, you walked over to them. Refusing to look up. 

At the mention of your name Sachiro perked up. Although he was already strapped into the seat, he did his best to peek out of the car door.

“Hi Y/N”. the tension was palpable. Choosing to ignore him, you approached Sachiro.

“Hi my little star! How are you? Did you have fun today?”

“Hi mommy! I missed you! Wanna go home! We did a lot of stuff-hmm mommy what are you holding?”

Remembering you were holding the bunny, you quickly hid it behind you back. “Just work stuff baby. I’m happy to hear you had fun! Mommy has to go, but I’ll see you this Sunday, ok baby?”

Giving him a big kiss, you did your best to hug him and said goodbye. 

Without looking up, you thanked Gojo and Akemi and began walking away. As soon as you got home, you set the plush down and pulled out your own. They both looked so ugly in your bandaged hands. Gently setting down the plush bunny, you tightly held onto the bear’s neck. Slowly, the pressure increased, and you were chocking the bear as tears streamed down your face. It was so ugly. This ugly bear in your ugly hands in your ugly home. Everything was so ugly. 

A beep from your phone broke you from this trance. It was from Satoru. 

Satoru: Hey

Satoru: Just wanted to let you know that we meant no harm in not getting him the bunny.

Then why? Why not get him that stupid toy! Sachiro is my kid! I am his mom! If he wanted that toy, then you should have gotten it! You almost wrote everything you thought. But no- no you were wrong. Sachiro wasn’t yours. Satoru had every right to get his son whatever he wanted. You kept Sachiro away from him for three years. You were the bad guy. 

Trembling you came to the realization. Rushing to the bathroom, you stripped yourself of all the clothes and the bandages. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You almost barfed. You were a monster. You were disgusting. Disfigured. Non-human.

Is this how Satoru felt?

The worst part of you were your eyes. They were so dead. Did you always look like this? How could anyone even stand to look at you? You were vile.

You had change. You spiraled into an abyss of anger and resentment. You lost yourself. Where was the sweet girl you once were. Growing a backbone didn’t mean you had to change. After a quick shower filled with tears, you got dressed and headed into the spare room. You spent the rest of the night making a light blue bunny. Unlike the store bought one, this one was smiling. It was happy. Sowing the heart locket onto the chest, you put in a small image of you and Sachiro. 

You had to be better. You had to be kind.

Grabbing the phone, you replied.

Y/N: Thank you for reaching out, but really, I didn’t mind! 

Y/N: Good night!

The next day, you didn’t go to work. Instead, you were at a café, waiting for someone to show up. You felt awful, but you knew this was the best thing to do. You had to be kind. Even if that meant being a villain. If being evil is the price you pay, then you will gladly pay it. Even more people would hate you. Everyone would. But you knew what you were doing was good. You had to be good. 

As soon as he walked in, you knew that he knew. His furrowed brow and tight jaw made it obvious that he was upset. And he had every right to be. Any anger and hate he harbored for you, you would accept.

“Toji, here’s your coffee. I’m so incredibly sorry for calling you at the last minute. I appreciate the time you took out of your day to meet with me”

He didn’t even sit down. He didn’t take the coffee.

Its now or never. Getting on your knees, you placed your hands on the floor and bowed. Your forehead was almost touching the floor. 

“Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for being a shoulder to lean on. Thank you for letting me join your family. Thank you for everything Toji. And I am so sorry for not giving you an ounce of it back. I am a selfish monster. I took everything you gave me and more. I was never a good fiancé. I wasn’t even a good friend. I took advantage of your loneliness. I will never forget the time we had together. But I ask you to forget about me. You deserve a more honest person. A person who can give you everything you deserve and more.”

People were looking and many taking pictures. Noticing this, he grabbed you by your arm, and headed out of the café. His grip was strong; it was sure to leave a bruise in your forearm, he nearly threw you into the passenger side of the car, slamming the door. He walked over to his side and began driving. The car was silent. You took refuge in it. You knew what he was going to ask. And you had to lie. You had to make him hate you. 

Soon enough, he parked in a desolate park. He refused to look at you. You didn’t want to look at him either, but you did. You had to. 

After minutes of harrowing silence, he finally spoke in a low voice

“Did you sleep with him?”

You knew he was going to ask this. A tear slid down your cheek. Your hands had begun to bleed as you kept them in closed fists.

“Yes”

He still didn’t look at you.

“Bullshit. You forget that I can see through your lies. I know why you’re doing this. You love him. You never stopped. Even after all the shit he put you through you still want him. Why now? Three years and I wasn’t enough for you. I defend you; I support you... all for what? For you to run back to your abuser. Every time I think your mine, you disrespect me. You humiliate me. You’re doing to me what that fucker did to you.”

“…Yes. I am. That’s why you have to leave me Toji. I can’t stand my reflection. I am so selfish-”

“Shut up. Don’t play the ‘pity me’ card. God, you really are something. The forever victim.”

You stayed quiet. In a perfect world, you would defend yourself. You would tell him that you aren’t trying to be the victim. You never were! You see that now. 

“You’re right.”

“All those fucking articles were right about you. I spent so much time, so much energy telling you they were lies. Turns out strangers know you better than I do. You are a two-timing bitch. You are selfish. You’re insatiable. Why couldn’t I have been enough for you. How the hell was I competing with the man who never loved you? And losing! You deserve nothing, you know that… You never left that room, did you?”

“W-what room?”

“That hospital room. Sure, you’re older now. You’ve been to a million places. But mentally? Mentally, you’re still in that hospital room. There is no cure for your loneliness. Face it Y/N, the problem has and always will be you. If you want to die next to your mom, be my guest. But you need to leave that room Y/N. If not for you, for your kid.”

He stayed quiet. It was your turn to speak. He didn’t want to hear you, but his patient nature told him to give you a chance. Not to defend yourself. But rather explain yourself.

“You’re right Toji. I think that’s why I always look for you. You always have the wisest things to say. And I know that. I’ve let the world pass me by. I have a void in my heart and its rotted me from the inside out. I’ll spend my entire life working for your forgiveness. And my lifetime might not be enough for that. You are everything to me. And that’s why I can’t let myself continue to poison you. I’ve changed you for the worst.”

You two sat in silence. You could hear his uneven breath. Reaching out you put hand on his shoulder. For the first time he turned to look at you. And there he saw it. Your eyes. 

Red and puffy with tears, your face for once didn’t look as haunted as usual. There was always this air of anger around you. Your shoulders were always tense. Eyebrows always furrowed. Not now. You looked younger. Instead of the anger that had clouded your eyes, he could finally see his reflection.

You didn’t look happy per se, but you looked aware. He looked at the hand on his shoulder. Even after everything he said, you were comforting him? This was the old you. The selfless to a fault Y/N. He couldn’t tell if this was a good or bad thing. 

He then noticed the mark on your forearm, already purple. In the shape of his hands. Reaching out he gently caressed the bruises, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips. 

“Don’t worry about it. I love you Toji. Please, forget me.”

When the news broke out that you had ended your relationship, Ian did his best to remove a lot of the posts. It was hard since there were so many shots of you on the floor begging for forgiveness. If you didn’t look guilty then, now you did. Why else would you be apologizing? But you didn’t mind. Instead, you focused on removing any article that spoke badly on Toji. Especially after some pictures of you and that hand-print bruise were published. 

Fortunately, your brand had already been established. And while the coverage halted some planned promotions and runways, by the end of the month everything was normal again.

You changed your phone to a flip phone. You did your best to text Satoru about pick up times. Most often he wouldn’t respond. Instead, you would have to call Miwa. On the rare occasion that he did, you would spend the rest of the day crying. You cried so much. You couldn’t help but remember that way they both held Sachiro’s hands. The domestic life you would never provide for him. 

Often you would contemplate if you should have accepted him. Did you really love him? Or was it just easier to love him? You couldn’t trust yourself. Your mind was in ruins. You had no one. Since your change in attitude, people have become nicer to you. But you weren’t happy. And you stopped letting people get close. You even began to push away Gen and Ian. Monthly, you would meet with your dad and that was it.

Was life good? No, but it was better. You would be content if life stayed like this. But now, a year after your failed marriage, Satoru was going to prepare his own.

(Present time)

The day after receiving that message, it was published everywhere. It was the only thing articles were talking about. With the mentions of Satoru’s new marriage, you were put into the spotlight again.

The paparazzi swarmed you. Leaving your house had become difficult. They harassed you. Pushing you while demanding you answer questions. You smiled. You thanked them for their time. You would bid them farewell. It was too dangerous that you could no longer pick your son up. Not that you minded. You didn’t want to see how happy they were. Not until you were done healing at least.

You spent the weekend doing everything Sachiro wanted. Breakfast in bed? Of course. Quick trip to the local festival? Duh. Building a fort? Obviously. 

By the time Sunday night came he was so tired. All he asked was that you sing to him before his dad picked him up. Now you sat with Sachiro’s head on your lap. Normally, a bodyguard would meet you at your door and take your son downstairs as to not garner attention. 

As soon as the knock came, you gently laid his head on couch. Slowly you opened the door, expecting to see the normal guard.

“Thank- oh. Good evening, Satoru. Are you here to pick up Sachiro?”

He looked past you and saw Sachiro sleeping. Letting himself in, he sat on the couch and petted Sachi’s head. After moments of silence, he finally spoke up. 

“Yes, but I also came because I need to talk to you.”

Solemnly, you nodded. “I actually have something to say as well. I was planning to email it later, but if you’re here then we should discuss. Would you like anything?”

Satoru couldn’t help but stare at you. Just a year ago, he had buried the old you. It was his fault he knew that. If you were mean and angry, it was because he made you that way. The damage was irreparable. But here he saw her again. Or at least a glimpse of her. 

Even though he didn’t respond, you still handed him a water bottle.

“Did you want to go first?” 

“Um, yes. I just... I just wanted to apologize for not letting you know. I was planning on calling you, but I got distracted. I’m sorry you had to learn that way.”

“Silly. We all flub up sometimes. I would have appreciated knowing so that I could explain it to Sachiro. Thank you for apologizing.”

Even though you were smiling, he could tell you were sad. Your eyes were distant. It was like you had detached yourself from everyone. Somehow, he already missed that angry Y/N. At least he knew what you were thinking. Now, it felt like when you two had gotten married. How you smiled every time he yelled at you. He expected you would say the “I don’t care what you do with your life” speech and spitefully kick him out. He could sleep well knowing you hated him. But seeing your smile, it felt like he was cheating again. No. No, you asked for him to forget you. This is good. You’re getting better. But is returning to your selfless self better? That’s when you suffered the most. That’s what changed you. 

You didn’t give him much time to think as you started to speak. 

“Satoru, can I ask you for a favor?”

He knew what you were going to say. This nice act can’t last forever. This was the angry Y/N he knew. 

“Can you take care of Sachiro for a couple of months? I know it’s a lot, but I have some... business to take care of. I would take him with me, but I don’t want to separate you from him anymore than I already have.”

Oh? 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll take care of him. I can’t believe you had to ask. He’s my son, of course I will take care of him.”

His tone had changed. He had gotten angry at the mention of the three years. You didn’t react. You just thanked him.

Gojo enjoyed his week with Sachiro and Akemi. It felt like they had a family. This is what he wanted. Sure, you were Sachiro’s real mom, but Akemi was also kind of like a mom. He noticed how well the two got along. He sought comfort in her and laughed with her. Yes. This is good. 

Yet, he couldn’t help but think about you. 

Every time Sachiro offered the first bite of his food to him. Every time Sachiro defended the annoying people at the mall. Every time Sachiro smiled, Satoru saw you. Yes, Sachiro looked exactly like him, but everything about him was you. It was all you.

His heart almost broke when he saw Sachiro singing to his stuffed animals. 

“Hey munchkin. BedTIME!” He joyfully grabbed Sachiro and swung him around the room. Instead of laughing, Sachiro began to pout. 

“No playing at bedtime dada. No”

“Oh, my bad Sachi.” He was a replica of you. 

Satoru sat on the bed as Sachiro headed to the bathroom, pulled out his step stool and began cleaning his face. After finishing his regiment, he waddled back into the room and settled himself into bed. 

“Is dada going to read me a story?”

“Can I sing to you instead munchkin?”

“Hmmm… no thank you dada.”

“Aww you’re a meanie! Um, but actually I need to talk to you about something serious.”

“Mhmm”

“You like Akemi, right? Dada likes her a lot. But it’s very important that you like her.”

“Yesh! Akemi is nice!”

He knew that this was wrong, but he had to ask. “Do you ever think Akemi could be like momma?”

Immediately tears sprouted from the boy’s eyes. He started frantically grabbing and throwing some of his toys. 

“NO! Mommy is Mommy! No one else is mommy! I hate Akemi! I hate her! I want mommy! Mommy!!”

Sachiro was screeching. Gojo was thankful that Akemi was in another room. She really did love Sachiro, and it would have broken her heart to hear him say that.

He held Sachiro close, trying to console him. “Shhh, baby. Daddy didn’t mean that ok? No one will replace mommy. Mommy is all yours.” Sachiro cried until his tears tired him out. No, I can’t tell him. Not today. Maybe Y/N should tell him instead. Sorry Y/N. I’m using your selflessness again. 

Soon enough the week ended, and he passed him back to you. Instead of showing up in person, as he did last time, he sent the bodyguards to take him. He was being cowardly, he knew. But he couldn’t risk Sachiro hating him. It’s your fault their relationship is so weak. It should only be right that it’s your job to explain everything to Sachiro. Right?

Satoru: Hey, I tried to tell him about me and Akemi. He didn’t respond very well. Could you explain it to him?

You almost rolled your eyes at the message. You were being punished. You knew that. But you responded with a simple ‘Ok’ anyway. 

Switch offs happened at night to make sure that each parent spent the majority of the day with Sachiro. You and Sachiro headed to the bathroom and completed your nightly routine all while dancing and occasionally teasing each other. This is what you lived for. Yes, you were lonely all the time. But you weren’t lonely with him. He was your reason to exist. It was going to hurt you being away from him for so long. But this would be good for everyone. This would be your last act of selflessness. This would atone for every bad thing you did.  

By the time you cleaned up all the splashed water, Sachiro was already in bed ready for his song. Instead, you sat on the floor. 

“Hey star boy, I need to talk to you. It’s going to be serious, ok?”

As soon as you finished the sentence, he burst into tears. Hugging you close he shook his head in a no motion.

“NO! I hate her! I hate her! She’s not mommy! Mommy is mommy! Mommy is my star and I’m her star! Not Akemi!”

Confused you held him tight. You cooed and brushed his snow-white hair back. “No Akemi won’t replace me baby.”

He pulled away to look up at you. “Daddy asked me! He asked me if Akemi could be mommy! I said no!”

You sighed dejectedly. This is why it didn’t go well. Your son was naturally altruistic. He would have understood and accepted had Gojo explained everything normally. But it seems that Gojo had made a selfish request. Why is it always my job to clear up Satoru’s name? Why can he be selfish and be the victim, but I can’t? No! No, I can’t think that! I’ve been selfish my whole life! Satoru is a victim. This will all be solved soon…

“My star, he didn’t mean it that way. Listen to me Sachiro. Me and you are a family, right? Me and you were also part of Toji’s family. Sometimes, when you love someone, you can add them to your family. Mommy messed up with Toji, and I’m no longer part of their family. But Satoru has someone he loves. Is it ok for her to join our family?”

You had dumped a lot of information on him. It took a second to process everything. 

“So, we aren’t family with Toji?”

“I’m not baby. But you will always be, ok. That’s how love works. They love you a lot.”

“Are you and daddy family?”

“Yes, we are. You make us a family.”

“But does mommy love daddy?”

You were stumped. This is probably why Satoru didn’t want this conversation. So, you answered honestly.

“Yes, mommy loves daddy.”

“Then why does daddy love Akemi?”

“Love is strange, baby. Sometimes you love people more. And he loves Akemi more. Is that ok?”

He took a second to think

“I guess…”

“Thank you for being so selfless Sachiro.” You stopped to think. “But if you’re ever not okay, then you have to tell someone, ok? Its ok to be selfish too.” You were just projecting, but you knew it was important for him to hear that too.

“Ok?”

“Speaking of being selfish… Mommy is going away for a couple of months.” As expected, he started bawling. He started kicking and throwing. He was loud. He was angry. He was betrayed

“NO! NO! Mommy can’t go! Mommy can’t leave me! She can’t! I’ll be a good boy I promise! I’ll eat every veggie! I won’t cry anymore! Mommy can’t leave!! It’s Akemi’s fault! Her fault! That’s why mommy cries so much! Its daddy too! Mommy never cried!”

You started crying too. All those times you thought you hid your tears he saw. He saw everything. This was the worst-case scenario. You had to leave. You couldn’t let him see you like that anymore. You had to leave that hospital room. Toji was right.

You held onto him. Even when he began to hit you. Even when he rubbed his snot over you. You waited until he calmed down, Silent tears were streaming down his face.

“Can we go back to New York mommy? I hate it here. Daddy is mean to mommy. Mommy cries all the time. Mommy is lonely and sad while Daddy is happy. It’s not ok.”

You wiped his tears away. 

“Sachiro, don’t say that. Mommy is paying the price for being bad. Daddy deserves to be happy. He loves you so so much. Please forget everything bad, Sachiro. Daddy wasn’t mean to me. If he was, I wouldn’t let you stay with him, right? Mommy isn’t lonely. She has you. Mommy will never be sad as long as Sachiro is here. You’re like my superhero! Mommy is struggling and she needs to fix some stuff so she can be a better mommy for you ok, baby? None of this is your fault. I have to go, but I promise you, this will be better for you and for me. I promise with my whole heart. The second I get everything sorted out, I’ll pick you up. This hurts me too, baby. But I need to be a better mommy for you. None of this if your fault. Don’t you ever think that. Hey, to help my little star, I have present for you.”

You stood up and presented him with a white, sleek box. It had beautiful light blue ribbon on it. He held it but refused to open it. 

“I even got myself a present so we could match!”

You pulled out your own white box. Seeing that you both had a present, he was more willing to open his. It was a phone. You had a matching one. You really didn’t want another phone, as you were content with the flip phone you already had. It made ignoring all the evil things people said about you a lot easier to manage. 

“When mommy’s gone, we can call each other all the time. I’ll respond to every text. I’ll answer every phone call. I promise. I won’t be gone for long. But I’ll text you so much you’ll wish I was.”

This garnered a small giggle from him. 

“Don’t worry baby, we have the rest of the week. We’ll do everything you want.”

He nodded glumly. He wasn’t too happy, but he felt a lot better knowing he could reach out to you. 

You slept with him. Holding him close, you did your best to treasure these moments.

When Sunday night finally came, you asked Satoru to pick him up personally. This was a big change, even if it was temporary. You wanted Sachiro to be as relaxed as possible. You and him sat on the couch. You had packed a bunch of his valuables and even some pictures so that he wouldn’t feel so lonely.  He was again on your lap, fighting to stay awake as you ran your fingers through his hair.

The serene moment was disrupted by the loud knocks coming from the door. Expecting to see Satoru you opened the door, only to see Akemi there. You did your best to keep your smile. It wasn’t that you hated her. No, she was your friend at one point to. But an evil part of you knew you could never forgive her. Not for dating Satoru, but for choosing him over your friendship. You told her everything, but because she never experienced it, she could ignore it. That is selfish.  As if you can critique others for being selfish. 

You welcome both of them. Sachiro already stood up, holding the blanket closely. He refused to look at his dad or Akemi. His eyes were already brimming with tears.

Bending down to his level, you caress his face. “It’s ok to cry, my star. But before you do, I have a gift for you.”

Reaching behind the couch, you presented him the light blue bunny you had made. His eyes widened and he squealed in joy Running to hug it he struggled opening the locket. One he did, he looked at you with the biggest smile on his face. He ran and hugged your knees. 

“Whenever you miss mommy, give that bunny a big hug, and I’ll feel it. Have fun with Daddy. You must be a good boy. Call me whenever you want, but I promise to call you every day. Mommy just needs to get some work done and then everything will be back to normal ok?”

After a couple minutes of holding each other, he finally walked over to where Satoru was. He raised his hands asking to be picked up. 

“Thank you, Satoru. Thank you, Akemi. I trust you two will take wonderful care of him.” You bowed at a 90-degree angle. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you leaving?” You hadn’t spoken to Akemi in a while. For a couple months, she stayed employed with you. Yet, after your official break up with Toji, she immediately resigned. You always wondered if she thought you did it because of Satoru. 

Smiling gently you respond, “I’m sorry, I can’t say. It’s nothing crazy, I promise! I just need some time.”

“It’s not because of…”

“Goodness no! I know I haven’t been the most supportive. I’ve been downright awful. I hope both of you forgive me for how I acted. It was selfish and attention seeking. I don’t expect any special invitation, but please know that I support this relationship. I’m glad you two found each other. Truly”

Satoru almost flinched at the words you used. The guilt of you actually believing all the nasty things he said to you weighed heavy on him. He almost regretted bringing Akemi here. If she wasn’t, he would have consoled you. Even if it only would have been a hand on your shoulder. 

The worst part about hearing you subscribe to all his insults was seeing the honesty behind it. You did think you were a terrible person.

Before either of them could say anything, you started ushering them out. 

“You guys must head out now! Sachiro still needs his night routine. He has school tomorrow, and he’s already stayed up so late. If you guys feel like he’s too tired, I don’t mind if he doesn’t go. It’s your call. Thank you both for everything!”

You nearly pushed them out of the apartment. As soon as that door closed, you broke down. This was going to be one of the hardest things you’ve done. But you had to do it. 

Nearly two months have passed. Satoru relished every second he had with his son. He has never felt more like a family than he did now. Everything was perfect. 

If it weren’t for the bunny he carried everywhere. Or the fact that Sachiro couldn’t do anything without having to send his mom a text. Sending a sleepy blurry selfie was more important than getting dressed. He would facetime you every night before going to sleep. There were times where he even ignored Satoru in lieu of sending you a selfie with a filter on top of it.

Satoru heard and saw more of you now, than he did in the last year. 

Even Akemi was getting a little frustrated. 

Yet, Satoru wasn’t just frustrated. He felt guilty. Your presence at the house had become so abundant, that he would often stay in Sachiro’s room just to hear you sing. He did his best to mind his business, but in the cases where he saw the silly selfie you would send back. It would plague his mind for the rest of the day. 

From the few glimpses he got, he could tell that something was changing. You weren’t in the office, or in any modern building it seemed. You were a lot livelier. You were happier?

How could a mom be happier away from her child? He would nearly scoff out loud at the thought. Maybe this was your way of giving him full custody? No there was no way. 

The next day, after sending Sachiro to school, he headed to the office. It was a usual day. He was glad he was able to save the company. He really was going to lose all this over you? No. He loved you. And you didn’t love him. But Akemi did. And his workers needed him.

As he continued working, suddenly Miwa and Nanami both presented themselves. Miwa was always easy to read. She was skittish and nervous. Nanami, on the other hand, was harder to read, but he could tell he was a little unsure as well.  “Nanami! Miwa! What bring you in here? I reviewed my schedule already. Is there something I missed?”

Miwa cracked first. “Um... Mr. Gojo, have you been in contact with Ms. Y/N recently?”

“She calls Sachiro nearly every day. Did something happen?”

“Well, have you been in contact in the last hour?”

“Miwa may you please get to the point?”

Nervously, she looked up at Nanami. Sighing and pushing his glasses up, he handed Satoru the iPad. “None of this means anything. And if something did happen, it is not your responsibility. It’s just rather strange.”

Gojo looked over the screen. In big bold letters there it was:

Y/N STEPS DOWN FROM HEARTS COMPANY. 

Y/N SELLS OVER A MILLION IN STOCKS

HEARTES INTRODUCES NEW CEO AND CREATIVE DESIGNER

Y/N RESIGNS FROM COMPANY

Y/N’S APARTMENT UP FOR SALE?!

Gojo looked at the headlines frantically. He knew what all this was implying. Yet, he needed verification. He couldn’t fathom the thought that you would have… No there’s no way. You have Sachiro. You wouldn’t do this.

“Um... what exactly does this have to do with me Nanami?”

“It means nothing. It seems that Y/N has done some irrational choices that garnered some attention from the media. That’s all this is. Unfortunately, you know how convoluted your history is with her. Some people might assume that since she’s acting out in such an illogical and hysterical manner, that she may be going through a manic episode. A manic episode that may precede…” Nanami couldn’t finish the sentence. 

His heart was beating. No, there’s no way you could be gone. No. No. You made a promise! You promised to return for Sachiro. Right Sachiro. That’s why Gojo is feeling so bothered and anxious. He’s worried for the mother of his child, that’s all. 

“I think… I think I’ll head home. If she has been in contact with anyone, it would be my son. Thank you for letting me know.”

As he made his way to the car, he couldn’t help but speed. He needed to make sure you were ok... for the sake of Sachiro.

On the way, he received a phone call from Akemi. Normally, he would have pulled over and answered her. But not today. He drove, breaking most speed laws all the way home. He barely turned his car off as he rushed the door. Yet, as he got to the door, he found a box. It was for Sachiro Gojo. Without hesitation, he looked at the sender’s address in the corner and typed it in. It was a two-hour drive, but he didn’t care. This box didn’t prove anything. You must have sent it days ago. If you had planned to do this all at once that meant only one thing. You were planning to commit. There was no other option. With only this one mission fueling him, he unknowingly kept ignoring Akemi’s calls

After an hour and a half of driving, Gojo started to notice his surroundings. This was an older city. There were multiple shrines and elders. There were very few cars. A lot of cats.  This was weird. He continued following the GPS. He passed the city and made his way up the mountainous region. By 5 pm. He had reached an isolated house on top of the hills. The land was relatively flat once he got up there. There was an impressive house. It looked new. The house wasn’t a mansion, but it was still large. The lights in what he assumed the kitchen were on. Hesitantly, he knocked.

Soon enough someone opened the door. No, not someone, you did

There stood you. You looked younger, happier, kinder. Unlike last time, your happiness didn’t feel like a mask. It felt genuine. He couldn’t marinate in his confusion as you grabbed his hand and pulled him in. 

“Hi Gojo! I’m shocked to see you here! Come in! Let me get you a lemonade. It must have been a long drive.”

You sat him down on your couch. He couldn’t help but think about that mansion. The one where you were supposed to start and raise a family. This one was a lot cozier, with the architecture of it being rounder in a way. It felt like a cottage despite its massive size. There were a lot of plants. On the walls were framed pictures. Mostly of Sachiro. A lot were ones he’s never seen. There were a lot of selfies of you two. And hidden between all of them was that Disneyland photo. It was when he had amnesia. When he thought you were cheating. Before he knew of all your lies. That instantly ruined his mood. 

Placing a coaster, you set his drink down. He couldn’t help but notice that the coasters were made with images of Sachiro’s drawings. 

“The lemonade is rather tart since the lemons are homegrown. So, I went ahead and added a bit of sugar. But here’s some more if you like. I don’t know if you still have the same sweet tooth. So, if I put too much sugar, let me know! I’ll get you another cup!” You set down a jar with sugar. You were so talkative. The last time you spoke this much with him was when you were kids. 

He didn’t move. Noticing his discomfort, you kept talking. “I was going to call you tomorrow. But I’m glad to see you. Did you come alone?”

“Y/N, I thought you committed suicide.”

You deflated slightly. Somberly you looked around the room. With a gentle smile, you looked at him. It was like you had puppy dog eyes. He could get lost in them. It had been a year since he was attracted to you, but he couldn’t help but want to lean closer to you. To breathe your air. He stopped himself in time

“It all happened kinda fast right? I was hoping that by doing it all at once, it would be like ripping the band aid off, y’know? People are bound to talk, so instead of doing it slowly and reigniting interest in my life every couple of weeks, I thought it would be easier if I just made one big splash and let the water settle from there.”

It felt like he was in a different dimension. You spoke so casually to him. It almost felt like he was the weird one. In disbelief, he stayed quiet.

Taking a deep breath, you continued. “Honestly, I did plan to. To commit suicide, I mean.  So, I guess you weren’t completely wrong.”

He stared at you. How you casually admitted to your suicidal ideations.

“What? You can’t be the only one to be suicidal right?” You joked, hoping to ease the tension. It did the exact opposite. 

“Y/N I need you to fucking explain everything. No jokes”

Your gaze hardened. “Gojo, you do not disrespect me in my house. I have welcomed you because you are my child’s father, but I will forbid you from coming here again if you speak to me like that again.”

He remained silent but nodded. It was weird. You definitely had grown a backbone since he last saw you in your apartment. Just a couple months ago, you looked like the submissive, docile, doormat you once were. But now? Now you confident and strong without sacrificing your trusting and selfless nature. You were a perfect blend of your youth and your experience. 

“This is my way of asking for forgiveness. From everyone. I’ve done a lot of awful things. Since that New York trip, I became vindictive. I became evil. I didn’t know why. How could I be jealous that the man I encouraged to move on moved on? I was changing Satoru. I had thought that being mean and cold was a way to protect myself. But in reality, I had gotten worse. I couldn’t stand my reflection. Then, I saw you Akemi and my star at the store. You remember right? With the pink bunny? You all looked so happy. It was the life Sachiro deserved. I went home and saw myself. Really saw myself. I couldn’t recognize who that person in the mirror was. Since then, I was determined to seek forgiveness from everyone I wronged. My first thought was to kill myself. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to my star. Even now, I find myself fantasizing about just jumping off that cliff… I even planted flowers there so whenever Sachiro visited, he would feel safe. But I can’t. That’s why I have all these photos and drawings of him. If I keep thinking of him, I’ll never have time to contemplate killing myself.”

Gojo couldn’t stop his eyes from watering. He almost reached out to grab your hands. He closed his hands harshly, forcing himself not to move. “But Y/N... you didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, you have done wrong. But we all have. You shouldn’t have to punish yourself for existing.”

Always and empath, you leaned forward and placed a cute octopus squishy in his hands. He quietly accepted it, showing the indents his nails made on palm “You don’t want to accidentally cut yourself. I learned that a little too late.” You laughed gently as you showed him your own palm. There were small scars in the shape of your nails. 

Holding the squishy in one hand, he used the other hand to inspect your hand. They were different. It was obvious that you still took care of your hands: soft, supple, perfect nail beds, trimmed nails. But upon further inspection, he could see multiple scars littering your fingers. His gaze drifted upwards to your forearm. There he saw some bigger scars. Some still scabbing. He could feel his own scar throb at the memory of the pain. Gojo couldn’t stop himself as some tears fell out. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing their outline.

“Why- why would you do this? You were alone the whole time? Then why? Y/N I don’t understand you? You were going to…”

He was interrupted by your melodious laughter. You pulled your hand away. “You’re too sweet Gojo. No. No these aren’t what you think they are. It’s just some office mistakes. I jumped into my work to fill that void of loneliness. But you know, it’s pretty dangerous to be handling sharp rotary cutters when you haven’t slept for days.” 

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him up. “Let’s go for a walk!”

Leading him to the back door, her couldn’t help but stare at your interlinked hands. The tips of his ears turned pink. He felt so young right now. No. No I can’t think like that. 

The back yard was like a Ghibli fantasy forest. It had plenty of lush green plants and flowers growing everywhere. In a corner there was a cute gazebo with two easels ready. One noticibly smaller than the other. There were plenty of trees a reasonable distance from the house. They provided a nice area of shade. Some grew peaches, others grew limes.  A stone path led to another corner where a sand pit was already set up. The entire perimeter was protected with a gorgeous white fence. Tall enough that Sachiro wouldn’t be possible to scale it. There was one exit. You headed there still holding Gojo’s hand. Typing in a security code, the door opened, and you headed into the forest. After a 5-minute walk, the forest cleared and presented a cliff side. Undoubtedly it was gorgeous. The ocean was beautiful. Flowers and clovers surrounded the area. 

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until he saw that the sun was setting. You let go of his hand and sat down, resting your head on your knees. You always had that curious habit of returning to a fetal position. Settling next to you, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at you. You looked ethereal. With the sun in your face, the wind in your hair. There was a gentle smile playing on your lips as you stared at the ocean. 

“Gojo…”

He couldn’t help but squish the little octopus. He didn’t know why it hurt him to hear you call him only by his last name.

“I disagree with what you said earlier. I should be punished for my existence. I’ve done nothing good. Born into a life of luxury, and I still managed to want more… When Toji broke up with me, he told me something very valuable. He told me that I was stuck in my mother’s hospital room. That I never left. And he’s right. Ever since my mom died, I became a walking corpse. I cursed myself with eternal loneliness. And yet, I so wanted to fight that loneliness. So when my father mentioned the marriage, I was ecstatic. Although we haven’t spoken in years and you refused to answer any messages I sent, my loneliness convinced me that you wanted it. I mean technically you did, but you didn’t really want it. I wonder, if I had never accepted that proposal, would you still be with Sera? Would any of this happened?”

The wind filled in for Gojo’s silence.

“My selfishness blinded me. I so badly wanted to be loved that I ignored any sign of resistance. Even when you told me that I would never compare to her, I wanted you to change for me. How pretentious. Had I just given up, then maybe you wouldn’t have thought that you loved me. When you couldn’t vanquish my loneliness, I searched for it in Toji. I abused his friendship just so that I wouldn’t be alone. When I figured out the real reason you married me, the reason you bought that house, the betrayal. That almost killed me Gojo. Imagine that. Even at my lowest I couldn’t stop seeking attention. I put myself over you, as usual. I lied and kept you from your child. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. It was okay that you didn’t love me. As long as you loved our child. But no selfish Y/N strikes again. Then, even though I knew I wasn’t ready, I still accepted when Toji proposed. I’m a monster. Just a year ago, I almost lost it. I was becoming unrecognizable Gojo. I couldn’t look at you and Akemi without getting angry. How was it fair, that I had to go through months of humiliation, which in hindsight, I did deserve, just for her to get the perfect boyfriend. I cried for months before you even held me. The first time we had sex, I had to beg you to kiss me. I hated her and I hated you. But that’s not your fault. Nor is it her’s. It’s mine. If I wasn’t so selfish and I didn’t think you loved me then none of this would have happened. I ruined so many lives because I couldn’t see past myself. If I didn’t use people to fill this abyss I have in my heart, I wouldn’t have caused you to almost commit suicide. I wouldn’t have taken Sera’s boyfriend from her. I wouldn’t have wasted Toji’s time. I wouldn’t have hurt your mom. None of this would have happened. I should have stayed in that hospital room. I should have asked them to bury me with her.”

You were crying now. Your hands shaky as they gripped tighter. You were curling in on yourself, wanting to disappear. 

“If I hadn’t been so awful, Sachiro wouldn’t have seen me cry so much.”

Gojo’s heart broke. All those lies. All those insults. You believed them. No. No you weren’t selfish. You were the opposite. You always put other above yourself, even if it hurt you. Of course, you’ve committed your share of sins, but never maliciously. You were too trusting, too eager to please. And to think he didn’t love you? That nearly shattered him. He may have moved on, but the love he had for you was real. Even though he may have forgotten how to love you: even though he may have abused you: even though he didn’t deserve to love you, he has never stopped loving you since you were young. 

He reached out a hand to soothe your back as you hiccupped through your gentle tears. You had a special charm that made everything you did look beautiful. But he paused seeing how stunning you were despite the tears on your face. He almost kissed you. But he didn’t. Not because he held himself back, but because he saw your eyes. 

As you stared into the ocean, your eyes changed from their vulnerable and kind state to a detached, disconnected gaze. Almost like you were hypnotized by the sea. The waves calling you. It was the same gaze he had when he was suicidal. 

“After seeing you at the store, I realized that I needed to atone for my sins. I needed to seek forgiveness. That night was actually the night I realized I needed to commit suicide. Not to ease my own pain, no that’s a selfish reason. I wanted to commit suicide so that everyone’s bad thoughts, everyone’s problems, and every bad thing I did could die with me. If everyone took turns spitting on my grave, I wouldn’t mind. As long as I was no longer causing problems, it would have been worth it. I spent the whole night making a new stuffed animal for him. I cut myself a lot by accident, but I didn’t mind. That was going to be his last gift. My existence is a mistake. Me dying would be a gift to the world.”

“And?”

“And I clearly decided not to. I owe my life to Sachiro. As long as he needs me, I will live for him. I want to die, Gojo. I want to give everyone the life they had before they met me. I want everyone to be happy again. But I can’t. Because I have my little star. I’m evil Gojo. I’m a black hole. I pull people in, only to destroy them. I’m afraid one day I might do that to him too.”

You turned to look at him, tears streaming down your face. 

“It kills me to know that one day I’ll hurt him too. But he loves me so much. He fills the void in my heart. I’m not lonely when I’m with him and I know its selfish, but the way he looks at me... The way he looks at me almost makes me think I’m a good person.”

Gojo continued staring at you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Hearing you talk about yourself this way hurt him immensely. It almost felt like he was drowning. No, you didn’t get better. None of your problems were solved. You just learned to live with them. 

You leaned close to Gojo. The honesty in your eyes almost scared him. “Gojo, if you ever notice that Sachiro is suffering being with me, I need you to tell me. The second I start poisoning him, I’ll kill myself.”

The conviction behind your words paralyzed him. You two sat there for a minute. He didn’t know what to say. He knew what this felt like. He knew the exact emotions you were drowning in. But he couldn’t help but think that you were a lot worse. You have begun to hate your entire existence. You had no one. The amount of self-hate you had was shocking. 

After a couple minutes of silence, you wiped your tears away. Standing up you offered your hand to him. 

Looking at you now, it felt like he was in an alternate dimension. One where he confessed when he was younger. One where he never met Sera. One when he got on a knee and properly proposed. And he almost believed it. Just as he reached to grab your hand, he finally noticed how his phone was ringing. Looking down he saw Akemi’s number. He looked at you apologetically. You smiled kindly and continued to offer your hand. As his bigger hand enveloped yours, he imagined pulling you in close and kissing you in the sunset. Just like the romance novels you loved. As soon as he stood up, though, you released his hand. Walking past him you headed back to you house. 

You were giving him privacy. He was at crossroads; stay here and answer the phone or chase after you. All those times he didn’t. Maybe he should this time. No. He’s going to get married. He’s made his choice. And like usual, he didn’t chase after you. 

He spent some time with Akemi on the phone. He explained the entire situation to her. He omitted everything you told him, though. That was for him only. He calmed her down and promised he would be home by the end of the night.

Walking back to your house, he smelled the pasta you used to love so much. You only ever cooked it for him once. He saw you humming as you stirred the pasta with the sauce. 

“Y/N, I’m going to head out now. Akemi is worried. You should call your family too. They’re probably worried too.”

You turned to him. You looked like a picture-perfect housewife with the apron you had on. You hummed in agreement. 

“They already know, but thank you for the suggestion. It was nice seeing you. Would you like some food to take for the trip?”

He should say no. There’s no way to explain leaving work to spend the whole day with your ex-wife to your fiancé. Much less if he brought food with him. 

“Sure.”

You packed it into some cute tupperware. It had little duckies on the lids. He just realized how much you changed financially as well. Besides the large house, one would never assume you came from wealth. There was very little name brand stuff. A lot of the decorations were local. 

Noticing his curious gaze as you handed the Tupperware to him, you giggled.

“If we see each other again, feel free to ask any questions. We’ve both changed a lot. I hope next time you talk a bit more. I kinda hogged the whole conversation today huh?”

You walked him to the door and waved him goodbye. 

He spent the next two hours just re-living that time. Already he missed being in your house. He could already imagine you, him, and Sachiro painting outside or going to the local city for festivals. Despite all the heartbreaking things you told him, all the awful things you thought of yourself, you managed to make a sanctuary. It was always in your nature to find the silver lining in every circumstance. You obviously needed a therapist. But a selfish part of him was glad that he was your confidante. As far as he was concerned, only he knew of how you felt, where you lived, why you did what you did. It was like you were still his.

As soon as he recognized these thoughts, he pulled over. There is no way he can think like that. No that would be unfair to Akemi. He’s already hurt you so much. He pushed you to the point of trauma. He changed you. Even now, the scars of hos he treated you were present. Everything you thought was because he had told you it at one point. No. He couldn’t do all that to Akemi either. 

Grabbing the cute Tupperware with the pasta, he almost threw it out. 

Instead, he took a second to look at it. It was two big ducks and little baby one. You had used a ribbon to tie some utensils on the top. Everything your hands made had some care and love imbued into it. Opening it, he aggressively ate it all. It was delicious, as expected. While he ate, he started crying. Why? Why did seeing you like that hurt him so much? Why did he use Akemi’s name instead of calling her his fiancé? Why didn’t he hold you as you cried? Why do you use his last name? Why?

He drove home that night. He kissed Akemi before she could even greet him. She immediately melted into the kiss, even if she was still peeved at being ghosted the whole day. He playfully pleaded for her to forgive him. He smiled. He laughed. But for some reason her couldn’t look her in the eyes like he used to. A part of him wished it was you he was holding. 

He went to Sachiro’s room. It was messier than usual. He noticed a bunch of crocheted toys he had never seen before. I guess that’s what was in the box. He reached his son, and he stopped to stare at him. Sachiro was holding two things as he slept. The bunny, per usual, but also a note. In big letters Gojo could make out Momma’s Ready! Sachiro was still learning to read, so you hadn’t written much. Still, just seeing those two letters had excited Sachiro so much that he slept with it. On his little tummy laid the phone. Close to dead, Gojo picked it up to charge it. There he saw that Sachiro had been listening to a video you recorded of yourself singing to him. Oh right. Since you had spent the whole evening with Gojo, you couldn’t call Sachiro. 

For a reason Gojo couldn’t explain, he sent the video to his own phone. He plugged the phone in and walked out of the room. 

Akemi had already headed to their own room. Before Gojo could, he had to organize some stuff.

“Hello, I know its late. I’m just letting you know not to pick up Sachiro tomorrow. I’ll handle the drop off.”

Gojo had to see you. Just for answers. He just wanted you to explain yourself. That’s all

At least that’s what he told himself. But when he slept that night, he dreamt of living in that house with you. He dreamt of cooking breakfast for Sachiro and you. He dreamt of a world where you were his. 

[gghostwriter]

Yours Truly, Romeo

Chapter 5 __ Paris

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing.

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

“Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee.” - Act 5, Scene 3. Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare

As Spencer drove off earlier that same day, the remaining two members of the team—the steely unit chief and the specialist in obsessive crimes did just the same. They headed to Random House Washington, Olivia’s publishing label, to interview her agent for possible matches to their profile.

“Ms Amanda Miller, we’d like to ask questions regarding male personnels at your office,” Agent Hotchner stated as he pulled out his FBI credentials. “The man we are looking for doesn’t stand out in a crowd. He’s introverted and shy when it comes to approaching his female counterparts.”

“You described almost all of the men who work for the publishing,” the publicist lightly scoffed. “The publishing industry is filled with introverts, Agent Hotchner.”

“He may be quiet but there’s something about this man that seems off-putting. Something that puts the women on edge,” Morgan explained further as he observed the employees around the office.

“Uhm—there are maybe seven men working in this office that our female employees tend to avoid alone—something they tell newly hires, nothing untoward had ever happened though,” she grabbed a piece of paper and started scribbling down their names and company positions. Once done, she reached out to hand it over to Hotch. “Here you go.”

“Thank you. By any chance, is Ms. Hollie Taylor currently in the office? We’d like to ask for her own observations.”

Her black office chair swiveled to face the computer for access to the company log in and she shook her head. “No, she’s scheduled to work from home today.” 

Thanking her again for her time, the duo exited the premises and drove towards Ms. Taylor’s residence which was a thirty minute drive.

The dark skinned agent, seating on the passenger seat, dialed Garcia as the ex-prosecutor turned right to on the intersection. “Hey Sugar, I need you to run background checks for me.”

“That’s easy work, Hot Stuff. Tell me their names and I can even tell you their last grocery purchase.” 

He smiled as he listed off the names written on the piece of paper.

Before long, the SUV pulled into a stop in front of the red bricked apartment. Both FBI agents exited the government issued vehicle and entered the building, flashing their badges to the security personnel, and rode the elevator up to the 11th floor.

“Ms. Hollie Taylor, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is SSA Derek Morgan. We’re with the FBI, Behavioral Analysis Unit,” the stern unit chief spieled out once more. “We’d like to ask you some questions regarding Ms. Olivia Hill.” 

The brunette haired woman gestured for them to come in. “Call me Hollie, please. How can I be of help?” 

“We’d like to ask you about your male colleagues in relation to Ms. Hill’s stalking case. Do any of them stand out to you?”

Morgan added on. “Did any of them flirt with her? Try to ask her out on a date?”

She wrapped her arms around her body, clearly intimidated by the presence of two imposing agents in her home. “Not that I know of. Olivia rarely comes in to the office—only there for urgent meetings regarding new book ideas or promotional book signings prepared by the marketing team. The only male colleagues that she has contact with on a daily basis is Robert, Amanda’s assistant, and Elijah, her senior cover illustrator—”

Her voice drifted off into silence as her brows knitted together in thought before continuing. “We did have a new junior illustrator come in recently—the team met him once since the management wanted to get him on board working with romance writers. Nothing untoward happened but he did seem a little bit flirty with her but he went AWOL after that first week so I’m not sure if that’s much of a help.”

That piqued their interest. “Is his name perhaps Ian Cromwell?”

She nodded her head slowly, a slight furrow on her eyebrows, confused as to why his name had already been known. “Yes—yes that’s right. How’d you know?”

Morgan shared a look with Hotch, not keen on informing her the reason as to why his name has been brought up. Ian Cromwell was the third body found floating in Maryland—he possibly had a connection with the unsub. The latter subtly tilted his head to the side as if to silently instruct Morgan to wrap up the interview. 

“He’s not the stalker, is he? I mean, Olivia met him once and never interacted with him again,” she questioned, the silence further rattling her nerves. “Right?”

“Thank you for your time, Hollie. If there’s anything else you remember—anything at all, give us a call,” Morgan said as he handed his card and hastily exited the apartment.

———

The sun was beginning to settle on the horizon when they arrived back at the station.

“There’s got to be some type of connection there, Hotch,” he said closing the passenger door with a thud.

Rounding around the vehicle and pushing the precinct door open allowing themselves inside as the cool air blasted around them. “I agree, Morgan. Call up Reid and tell him to—”

Hotch cut himself off when he noticed an unopened white envelope with the letter cutouts that spelled ‘For the FBI’ on the meeting room table where their case papers and images were situated. He brought out his own set of latex gloves from his pocket and quickly picked it up, walking up to a nearby man in uniform. “Who delivered this?” 

The officer’s eyes widened as he stuttered to explain. “It—It was found taped on one of the police cars situated at the end of the parking lot. We checked surveillance cameras but that area is hidden by the trees and—and we also ran prints but there was none.”

Hotch deeply sighed, clearly frustrated with not being kept in the loop with the happenings in their own backyard, and dismissed the man in front of him. He returned to the conference room where Morgan stayed behind. Curious as to what had rattled his unit chief, he peeked at the envelope, catching the address, and his eyes widened. “That’s pretty ballsy of the unsub to deliver it here, a deviation from our profile.”

“He’s devolving. Something we did that disturbed his fantasy with Ms. Hill,” Hotch commented before carefully cutting the envelope and pulling out two letters inside. The first was a type written line from Romeo & Juliet.

“I must indeed, and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone. Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head By urging me to fury. O, be gone!”

“Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy!” - Romeo. Act 5, Scene 3

Derek scratched his forehead, silently wishing that Spencer was nearby to translate the lines into modern English. The other flipped to the second page that contained magazine letter cutouts, similar to his first and second letters to Olivia. 

You have provoked my blood coated hands.

No longer must Paris be and come in between me and my beloved Juliet.

He has been struck I tell you. Struck! 

The two agents exchanged stares before bolting out the station and swerving out of the parking lot without so much of a word uttered. 

Ring. Ring. Ring. Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system—

Derek noticed the way his unit chief’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter with every unanswered call. The surrounding lights dashing past the SUV faster as he stepped on the gas further. 

“Garcia, I need you to track Reid’s number for me now,” Morgan urged on the phone without any pleasantries.

Having heard the frustration laced with concern from his voice, she typed on her keyboard quickly without a quip back to lighten the mood. “His phone last pinged on Olivia’s residence. I also tracked her phone and it says that she’s also within the premises.” 

He hung up and cursed under his breath before redialing and painfully hoping for Reid to pick up. The tension inside the vehicle increasing with every automated message. He swore again, wishing he should have gone with him instead and that the boy genius was alright.

———

“FBI!” Hotch shouted as he entered the unlatched front entryway with Morgan right behind. They continued moving forward in darkness with just their flashlights illuminating the way, checking every area, until they reached the staircase landing. The ex-prosecutor pointed upwards with his gun indicating to his team member that’ll he’ll take the upstairs while the other continues the search downstairs. 

Derek nodded once before progressing on inwards on the first floor. He rounded every room with his flashlight darting to every corner looking for any sign of Spencer and Olivia. As he entered the kitchen, a pair of distressed black Converse were caught peeking behind the counter near the ajar pantry door. It was Pretty Boy, lying face down, unresponsive. 

“Reid, Reid!” Morgan rolled him over to check for any bleeding, breathing a slight sigh of relief having spotted none. “Hotch, Hotch! He’s here!” 

Reaching over to where his phone was clipped on his belt, he called for an ambulance and indicated that there was an agent down at their location. Bruises were starting to form near Spencer’s temple possibly from a blunt force object to the head and an empty syringe lying nearby—the unsub was getting sloppy, leaving such evidence that may contain prints at a crime scene. 

As Hotch rounded the corner with the paramedics seconds behind him, there were two things they concluded that were unaccounted for. The first was Spencer’s standard issue gun and the second was Olivia Hill herself.

[not-goldy]

jimin has always been the one showing his attraction to jungkook while jungkook was the one who was shy about it. jimin was the one bringing up the hickey, saying he was with jungkook on his birthday, posting pictures about jungkook, while jungkook did none of those things. it's really interesting how you have persuaded yourself into thinking that jimin was the shy one and jungkook was the one encouraging jimin because it was absolutely not like that until jimin decided to take a step back from posting and engaging with jungkook. even in 2023, it was jimin who was the one consistently commenting on jungkook's lives while jungkook did it once! jungkook didn't visit any of jimin's promotional activities, yet you celebrate jimin flying to new york. you know jimin has always been the one to show up. when did the narrative change to fit your "jungkook is the best boyfriend" spiel?

Okay..... but Jimin didn't bring up the hickey Jungkook just snitched on him on his own.

Jimin is.... kinda shy though ....

I mean underneath all that rah rah

Sure he is extroverted but being extroverted don't mean you are impervious to shyness or vice versa.

Let me tell you a story

I met a beautiful older woman we talked we flirted we crossed certain lines flash forward 6 months and we are sort of seeing eachother but it's not official.

I wasn't fully out only a few people knew AND I wasn't prepared to come out not to anybody.

She seemed out out more so out than I was but for some reason she wanted to keep us a secret. She had divorced her husband because she admitted to him and herself she's gay.

Some how being with me was a bit embarrassing for her- she didn't say this but I just could tell. Me and her kids get along well and they all think I'm just a younger colleague of their mom.

Her ex husband thinks we are dating but he's always looking at me as some toddler and even joked a couple of times he would have agreed to a threescore with me if she wanted something "young and fresh"

One time he said now my ex can appreciate why men prepare younger women.

She doesn't say it bothers her as certain topics are off the table and we don't broach into that at all.

She's done well for herself over the years worked hard and climbed up the ladder and She's top gee in the work place. Everyone respects her but particularly so because she represents this conservative Christian family woman living the traditional life style.

She's been with others before me that's for sure but I'm the first after her divorce.

Now do I want to come out to everyone about my sexuality- no. But we were always arguing because I also didn't want to be kept a secret especially to people meaningful to us.

I wanted our relationship to be seen as valid and respected for what it was.

Saying this to explain the complexity of the concept of outing and showing- its not as simple as oh this person is bold and brazen and isn't afraid to hold hands and show affection.

My ex could do all that but still recoil in front of a different crowd. She doesn't mind being intimate and showing around her kids but she as a different person around her ex husband and their mutual friends.

She didn't mind being showy around my friends and family but around her colleagues she acted as if I'm just one kid who likes to bother her.

When I see Jungkook I don't see him picking and choosing or even reading the room most times- save for a few random instances. It can be frustrating dealing with someone like that who wants consistency to the point they become reckless.

When I was with her I was always accused of being reckless and wanting to ruin her hard earned reputation as a respectable woman. One time I kissed her in front of our colleagues and everyone cheered. But we didn't speak for a whole month afterwards because she said I embarrassed her. She said it wasn't meaningful because I was drunk blah blah blah. Fuck her. Hope she never finds love again.

In retrospect may be I could have been more thoughtful and considerate but geez I don't really play into respectability politics ion give a fuck what no one thinks of me or us.

Anywho try not to oversimplify some of these issues two things can be true at once it's not always either or and try to catch the nuances of some of these things.

And why can't they both be best boyfriends😩

They are both best boyfriends

Say it with me

[lovemyromance]

Let's talk about the dreaded pliant bones argument in ACOTAR

First of all, I don't ever want to see this stupid argument anywhere, especially after HOFAS. Second of all, none of the Archeron sisters are Illyrian so they do not have Illyrian anatomy suitable for childbirth. And yet, we see Feysand and Nessian as mates. So it's not like SJM even cared about that herself.

Then ACOSF happens, and oh no, c-sections don't apparently seem to exist and it becomes a BIG DEAL™ that Nesta changed only her own body and Feyre's body to have Illyrian anatomy.

People have been latching onto this argument like Rose on the goddamn Titanic, anything to cling to their sinking ship.

Let's not forget that Elain & Nesta had their bodies changed already once before, against their will. Why the hell would Nesta change Elain's body without obtaining consent after that traumatic experience? That would be a gross violation of bodily autonomy.

And Nesta was shown how to change the bodies. Which could hint that she still knows how, should a similar situation arise again.

But none of that even matters! What matter is that it's 2024 and we are still saying a woman can't be with the man she loves because she can't give him biological children. That is the crux of the argument Gw*nriels always try to skip around and say without saying. Like "oh no!! She can't have his babies!! Ship sank. It's over. The End."

As if a woman should be reduced down to her ability to procreate. This is not the middle ages people! Wake up!

Also, not to mention, even if we use that disgusting logic - The only other female in this series that is mentioned to have Illyrian anatomy is Emerie. Are we shipping Azriel with Emerie now? Because she can FOR SURE have his babies, if that's all that matters. Who cares about her own desires and personality and sexual preferences if she can have illyrian kids??

Now let's consider what people have been latching onto:

Gwyn...is flexible and adapts to training moves quickly. That's why Nesta commented she had "pliant bones", that's IT. She is part nymph and "has different anatomy than high fae", sure, but is that anatomy in any way, Illyrian? Water nymphs don't have Illyrian leathery wings either so I don't understand why insisting Gwyn has "pliant bones" is in any way endgame ship material. Why would her half-water nymph heritage give her the anatomy to birth a full grown illyrian-winged baby??

And then there's the cowards that use this argument by hiding behind SJM herself by saying "Well, I hate it too, but SJM is *kinda* known for writing like this and her characters are all male-dominated, fae-territorial blah blah, she is *kinda* hinting at endgame because the womb thing–" NO. No.

Don't hide. Tell the room exactly what you are saying. Which is the exact same misogynistic spiel as above, where you try to use gross medieval logic to justify your mf fictional ship, but you hide your faces when you say it. Because you know it's wrong, but you're still not above using that as "evidence" in your ship's favor.

I've even said before, I don't care what SJM says. If I don't like a misogynistic take, I am not using that as evidence in any capacity for any reason.

I'm not even being biased by my preferred ship. I genuinely just want people to stop using this argument because it's hurtful to women as a whole. Ship wars are fine, but ffs, when did we get to the point where we are pitting two women against each other based on whose uterus is more suitable??

And before you even say "I just have a problem because I ship Elriel" No. No.

It's about these kinds of cheap arguments in general. I have also never been one to go off saying how Gwyn can't be a valid love interest because her past SA trauma - That argument is also archaic and hurtful. I've never once used it. I don't like seeing it.

Can we just - Not do it? The only reason such arguments have gained traction is because they're constantly echoed by the toxic sides of the fandom online. It's gross and I don't want to be a part of a group that condones that.

Ship who you want, but let's just be respectful about it. We should not have to resort to cheap arguments like the above.

[henke-penke]

Ask for Alenoaheather headcanons and ye shall receive:

At one point, Alejandro and Heather realize that going to the spa frequently is not in fact a universal experience, only a rich kid one. Noah's never gone, and he doesn't see any need to.

His partners absolutely do think their boyfriend who's never use face, hair, or body products in his life could use a spa day for his dry chapped skin.

Heather steals her dad's credit card to take the three of them to a spa with the full package. They go to Alejandro's regular spa so they don't get caught immediately.

Noah's insistent on just getting this over with but my god this robe he's changed into is the fluffiest thing he's ever felt. When it comes time for his first treatment, a facial, he's told to close his eyes and he just knocks out into a nap. The only thing that wakes him up is when the attendant is done and has to shake him awake. The only reason he's not as discontent is because he realizes he can just nap again during the massage.

Meanwhile Alejandro, who comes here often, has a rapport with all the staff. When the staff are familiar with people they start opening up, and they are gossiping hens. He knows this, and he loves this about them. He used to love to trick them into revealing gossip that he could use against others if he ever needed to. He used them as practice for being a manipulator. With Noah and Heather's influence he no longer puts up the charming, gentleman he thinks he needs to be to impress adults. ...But at the same time he very much does still want the gossip and just switches to asking directly rather than tricking them into it.

Heather's also a gossip, though since this isn't her usual spa she doesn't have the usual rapport with them. Though rapport isn't exactly the best word to describe the relationship she has with the people who work at her regular spa. When they worked on her, they'd constantly give her backhanded compliments about her appearance. As a result, she picked up some things. And turned into a rather infamous client who'd ruthlessly criticized the appearance of the people taking care of her. But here they don't know her as the queen bee. And they don't immediately go for trying to complisult her. They lay on compliments pretty thick that makes it so very clear they're trying to poach her as a client given how much money she's just spent and how she isn't hiding the fact she's been to another spa. But...it's a very big improvement to her previous spa environment. So for once, she just doesn't say much and lets them do their thing. And she relaxes.

In between treatments they chat. Well, Alejandro and Heather chat. Noah is a bee that's been doused with smoke and is just sleeping at every given opportunity. Even in the in between room he's just laying on the shoulder of whichever one of them comes out next and sleeps.

All in all it's a fun day for them, and they will do it again.

Yessss !!

I love the idea of one of the staff members giving Heather a compliment and Alejandro being like "I know right !!" and goes on this whole spiel about how she's the most beautiful woman in the world and Heather's just "Can you behave yourself while we're out, once ? That's all I'm asking."

(He won't, Alejandro takes every opportunity he can to gush about his partners)

Ugh and they have to drag/carry Noah everywhere cause he's on a different plane of relaxed <3<3<3 and he'll deny it afterwards but he enjoyed it a lot

[grogusmum]

Hey Lovely Hazel! 🖤

Happy Saturday evening to you and sending lots of love your way!

I'm here to challenge you with Pedro Boy ficlet, let's see now... let's go for Dieter!

He's excited!

Love you! 🖤

Thank you my darling Jett! I hope you are having a good Saturday! 💚

Okay, this is connected to another lil 300-word doodad I wrote soon after The Bubble came out.

I got carried away, I had some of this worked out before, so a 300-500 word thing turned into 1300 oops!

Dieter was excited. He was trying to keep his cool, but it had been weeks since he had seen his sweet pea! But this time, he notices someone else... you.

🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

“I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Anika looks up expectantly.

“Do you have the number for the therapy animal people?”

In his suite, Dieter looks around at the mess, turning a circle at the center of the room. The paint, the drugs, wine and liquor bottles, his clothes, KitKat wrappers. The only area clean is the space set aside for his fitness mirror, which he looks at sheepishly, then throws a towel over it. 

Pressing his lips together as he makes his decision, he gets to work. He cleans up the most offending messes, then calls housekeeping for new sheets and towels, and a bathroom clean up and vacuuming, before heading back to the lobby to meet with the goat lady.

Dieter had called right away, and asked about Skipper, and if he could book another session with him. The woman he spoke with was very kind. She was the main trainer and creator of the therapy program, she explained it ran out of a larger farm owned by her family. She wished aloud that he could come to the farm, he would get an earlier slot… Dieter told her he would happily pay any fee for expediting his session. She relented, telling him she remembered how he connected with Skipper and she thought he could miss the next group and go to visit Dieter. She would bring him herself.

You drive your jeep since it's just one small animal, Skipper bleats quietly back in his crate. Thinking back to the day at the hotel, Dieter's reaction to the baby goat was not entirely unusual, especially these days. But you felt for him, it seemed like he was releasing a lot. So you weren't surprised to get his call. He had offered an exorbitant amount of money, but you told him you'd gladly accept an additional fee, but that his offer was far too much. You thought, sure it's a business and it has to keep making money but it is for helping people. And he seemed to need it.

Before you know it you are on the grounds, at the gate you show your credentials, get the Covid rapid test, and the safety protocols spiel. You park, pull a large duffle out of the backseat, and put Skipper on a leash. You let him relieve himself, then put a water bowl down so he can have a drink before getting to work.

You look up at the front doors and you see Dieter watching, his body language tells you he is excited but trying to be patient.  

Skipper finishes his water break and you start up the gravel drive toward him.

Dieter has been practicing his spiel to convince you to sell Skipper to him. He doesn't know if he's going to pull the trigger on it, but he wants to be ready. 

You put on your mask and approached the actor. 

"Mr Bravo, nice to see you again."

"Hey, uh, hi," Dieter says looking a little needy. 

You don't usually do this, but since its one on one, you hand him the leash.

Dieter lights up like a Christmas tree, so different from the first time. He starts talking to Skipper as the three of you walk to the side lawn-

"Hey Sweet Pea! I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you." 

He gets ahead of you so you can't quite make out all he says. But it's animated and happy.

Skipper was still determining where he was going but he likes to be with you, so having you on his own was exciting. When he was taken out of the jeep he recognized where he was a little. The smell, the cobblestones. He saw you look toward the big building so he looked to… was that the Fluffy Guy? 

It was. Well, he needs all the help he can get from what Skipper could see. 

The goat looked from you to Dieter as you passed the leash to him. 

Is this wise, mama? he thought. 

"...I've missed you." 

It's okay, guy. I'm here, what are we doing today?

"I really want to adopt you… but I don't know if the therapy woman will let me."

This is nothing new, pal. Everyone wants to adopt me…

Skipper bleats up at Dieter and Dieter is beside himself. He sits down on the grass and starts to pet Skipper's flank. You soon catch up and sit down with him. When you've both settled, Skipper climbs onto Dieter's lap. The man's eyebrows lift and his mouth is a small "o". Then his eyes get wet. As Dieter tries to pull himself together, you put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to go over and sit on the patio. Mr. Bravo, you be you, talk to Skip, and if you want to cry, cry. This is what he is here for."

Dieter gives a grateful nod and hugs Skipper, the goat bleats happily. 

"Would you want to live with me?" Dieter wonders. "No, why would you… fffu- sorry Sweet Pea, I shouldn't curse. I just, it's only-"

Dieter growls in frustration. Skipper bleats and twists his head to see him.

You watch from the patio, Dieter's body language has changed, so you stand. 

“Mr Bravo, is everything alright?”

Dieter lets out a breath, continuing to scratch the kid’s rump.

“I want to buy Swe- ah Skipper. I’ve really never- I don’t know I just- I will pay you anything!”

“Mr Brav-”

“Dieter, please, call me Deiter.”

“Dieter”, you say gently, putting an equally gentle hand on his arm. “I am not going to sell you Skipper, I’m very sorry.” 

His crest-fallen face pulled at your heart. 

“Okay let's do this-” You open your duffle bag and pull out two yoga mats. “Do you do any yoga, Mist- I mean Dieter?”

Dieter shrugs, his pout makes you smirk, a man who is used to getting what he wants if he throws enough money at it, but he does stand and assume a stance with his legs shoulders width apart. Skipper knows the drill, he did the moment you unfurled the mats- he loves goat yoga!

Soon enough Dieter is giggling as Skipper insinuates himself in all of Dieter's poses. But far from getting in Dieter's way or anything, Skipper finds where he needs to balance, and its not unlike getting a massage at the same time, as Skipper’s hooves dig into knots. But Dieter was starting to be taken by you as well, your quiet praise, and with a completely unnecessary request for permission to touch him, some hands-on adjustments to some of his poses. Soft and warm but also assertive, you touched his hips shoulders, and back with assured purpose. 

After some water and downtime, Dieter paints with Skipper in his lap, and finally, you hand him a stiff bristle brush to groom Skipper with.

Yes, fluffy Guy! My favorite!! Now just let me nibble your fluff and we are golden.

Dieter brushes the little goat and you and he chat idly. 

Dieter feels fantastic, but sad, as you leash Skipper and hoist your bag over your shoulder. You decline when Dieter offers to take it and hand him the lease. His boyish grin gives you a little jolt of something, you aren't quite sure about. He’s handsome, and you truly enjoyed your time with him today, but you’ve seen the articles - he is a walking Hollywood disaster story… but-

He reluctantly hands you the lease as you come to the jeep. 

“Thank you,” his voice is low and quiet, “That was- that was amazing.”

“You and Skip did some great work together.”

“You were great too.”

Why is heat rising in your cheeks? Skipper looks up curiously at you and if goats could smirk, he would.

“Thank you.”

“How much would it cost to convince you to come once a week?” 

🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

thanks for this ask, Jett! It kind of kicked my butt in gear to get this little thing out of my WIPs, for good or bad. lol 💚

[unecoccinellenoire]

I wish you would write a fic where Gabriel, Adrien, and Nathalie get ice cream from Andre Glacier and Gabriel’s ice cream reflects Nathalie, not Emilie

It had seemed like a good idea; Nathalie had needed reassurance after being akumatised so Adrien thought to ask, and his father was being unusually attentive and indulgent so for once he could ask an expect a yes.

In fact the sound of André Glacier calling out his wares in front of the manor had seemed like fate.

Nathalie hadn't been happy with his father at breakfast, Adrien wasn't stupid enough not to see that, but his father had clearly been making an effort to win her back over- including finally acknowledging her as part of the family even if he wasn't quite ready to admit they were dating yet despite the ring he'd given her.

The two of them sharing ice cream meant for lovers should have been the ideal way to get them to reconcile, keep Nathalie from being akumatised again in her fragile state and prevent his father from falling back into the pit of grief he'd only just managed to claw his way out from.

But even as Adrien was staring at his own familar bowl of blackberry, blueberry, and strawberry choc chip and trying to convince itself that it wasn't necessarily Ladybug- that the it could be Marinette's hair and eyes and the spots in the red meant nothing his father's hand slammed down on the counter.

"That's the wrong one," He snapped at the ice cream seller. "Peach and Mint, that's what you always give me." Adrien looked up to see a bowl that looked nothing like that.

It actually looked not dissimilar to his own, the same small scoop of blueberry sat on top but-

"No, this is right," André said, "you need something a little different now, cranberry for-"

"How things have soured between us? I'm no fool I can see who this is meant to be,"

Nathalie, it had to be. As if there was any question that it those colours for his father could be anyone else the swirl of red sauce on the dark blue sorbet matching the streak on her hair made that clear.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He interupted his father, "that,"

"That it can change?" His father snarled back, "all that establishes is that this whole thing is a marketing strategy. That it's not your soulmate or the love of your life or whatever ridiculous,"

"Love is not ridiculous," André interrupted, "you can find love again Monsieur Agreste. It finds us all."

"That's-"

"Father," Adrien tried again, "if we don't hurry up then Nathalie will come looking for us."

"I'm sure Nathalie is already watching us," Gabriel spat.

Adrien blinked and stared at his father, "you said all of that knowing she might hear it? How could you? Nathalie loves you, and she's already scared because of her illness- she was just akumatised. How could you be so horrible to her?"

"Nathalie would probably say,"

"That you forget to think about other people." The woman herself startled them.

"You shouldn't be out of the house," Adrien said, feeling his cheeks go hot with embarassment.

"Your father bought me this so I could leave the house," she said, and she held out some notes to André, "here. Give me mine and we'll be gone."

"Ah, mademoiselle," he went to scope up a white ice cream, "for his icy-"

"I don't need the spiel. You've already upset one of us. Just give me something that tastes nice."

The ice cream seller handed it over. Nathalie sighed as she took it.

Once again it was easy to know who it was. Though Adrien wondered at the scoop of what looked like raspberry ripple. It looked just like one of the cravats his father used to favour, but he wasn't wearing it now.

He hadn't in fact ever since he'd finally reached out to Adrien. It didn't make sense that it was the version of his father who hadn't moved on who André had given Nathalie. Maybe Ladybug and his father were right. Making this ice cream man just put the combinations together he wanted. Maybe there was no magic.

"Thank you," Nathalie said. "Let's go."

His father stomped his way back to the house and Adrien just did not get it. No one was saying he didn't love Adrien's maman. And he'd been looked so concerned for Nathalie after his akumatisation. He didn't know how he could treat her like this, react like this now.

"Adrien," he father said suddenly, "go find us napkins. There's some in the kitchen. Nathalie and I will meet you in the garden."

He did as he was told but his father must have misjudged because Adrien was still in earshot when he heard him say, "this means nothing."

"If you say so Gabriel."

"Don't."

"I thought you asked me to call you that."

"You know," his father said, "if I was to believe in this rubbish then that cone of yours would say you still loved me."

"Does it? Or does it say that I loved the man you were."

"You're not-" his father suddenly broke off, "oh god. You are."

"Using that is cheating." Nathalie said.

Adrien frowned and peeked out the door but he couldn't see what "that" she was talking about. It just seemed to be his father and Nathalie holding nothing but their ice creams.

"But then," his father's hold on his ice cream was tight, and Adrien feared he break it, "no. No no, these things can't be real. That's just coincedence. Yours being right doesn't mean mine is."

"Thanks for making it so clear to me," Nathalie says sounding like she's making a company annoucement, "I always wanted to hear you tell me I'm not good enough for you."

His father suddenly burst out laughing. The ice cream fell from his hands to the floor.

Adrien stared in horror. This wasn't even cruelty from his father. There was no taunting in his laughter, it was all hysteria. He looked insane. Possessed.

"You think that's the problem," he said, "oh the things I could do to you Nathalie. They'd make you blush."

"Monsieur Adrien could hear you."

"I told you not to call me that." He grabbed her arm, and Adrien almost throught he was going to kiss her from how close their faces were, "don't you get it Nathalie? I could kill that man for giving me that ice cream today. I could have had this weeks ago and- and things would be different. But he gave it to me when it's too late. When I don't have the time left to-"

"Adrien," Nathalie hissed. "He might still be in the kitchen."

His father let go of her and straightens up. "It doesn't matter. This changes nothing. The only way out is the way it always has been."

Adrien didn't understand. What way out? Why didn't they have time, Nathalie's illness? Or something else?

"You should clean up that mess." Nathalie's eyes flicked to the split ice cream on the floor, the mess that had been supposed to be love for her her, "I'm going to go out after Adrien."

Her words had his feet moving, terror at getting caught moving him despite his broken heart. Something was very wrong, but all he was sure of was that them knowing he'd heard would only make things worse.

[painedpen]

Hiiii <33 how's your day going?? I hope good :)

I saw that you wanted People to request, so here's my idea:

A fluff Mondo Owada x fem!Reader (If possible her Appearance being shy, short and a bit chubby) where he wants to approach her more but she instead distances herself from him NOT because she doesn't like him back but because she also finds him intimidating :,)

He would be desperated to ask for advices to his brother or close classmates(??)

Write what you think would be cute ^^

Just in time for his birthday!! Thanks so much for the request, anon!

—

Request: Mondo Owada x Shy!Chubby!Reader

Warnings: Discussions of weight/insecurity about weight. Mentions of teasing/bullying.

Genre: Fluff!

—

The first time he looked at you, Mondo thought you were adorable.

It took him forever to even approach you, cause he’s pretty shy himself.

When he finally did, he messed up pretty much immediately.

The poor man can’t control his volume when he’s nervous, so he ended shouting his confession at you.

You jumped, and made a frightened, squeaking noise that just broke Mondo’s heart.

He all but ran away once he realized he’s scared you.

He immediately ran to Daiya and Takemichi for advice. Their advice was quite simple: “Don’t yell at her, you fucking disaster of a human.”

So he approached you again a few days later, this time focused on his volume.

He ended up over correcting, as his words came out as incoherent mumbles that you couldn’t understand.

You picked up a few words, such as “sorry… yellin’… didn’ mean ta… like…”, so you were able to get the gist of what he was saying.

You told him— in a very quiet, shaking voice— that it was okay, and that you forgave him.

Then it was your turn to run away.

This dance went on and on until eventually Kiyotaka stepped in, beyond frustrated with Mondo’s constant moping.

He told you very plainly that Mondo thought you were cute, and was just really bad at talking to people.

In spite of your blushing and stuttering, you could relate to him in that regard. You’d always been incredibly shy and insecure, so you suddenly found Mondo’s fumbles… really cute.

You gathered up all your courage, and approached Mondo yourself.

You were barely able to get the words out, but you told Mondo that you felt the same way.

Mondo could have died on the spot.

He just thought you were so beautiful, especially when your face was tinted that dusty pink color.

He ended up not saying a word, because he really didn’t wanna yell at you again. He just nodded, and gave you a nervous, wobbly smile that melted your heart.

And thus marked the beginning of the world’s best relationship.

Mondo is nothing if not a gentleman. Growing up, his brother taught him everything about how to treat a woman.

“Real men treat their gals right. If I find out yer treatin’ future girlfriend as anythin’ less than a princess, I’ll beat yer ass.” — Daiya Owada

His main love language is physical affection, but he’s too nervous at the beginning to initiate that, so he settles on spoiling you instead.

He just loves making stuff for you. Jewelry, food, a cool chair, you name it and it’s yours.

A little roadblock here is that you have no idea how to accept gifts, so kinda just hands things to you and then runs away before you can start with your “oh, I couldn’t take this! You worked so hard on it!” spiel.

Later in the relationship, when he’s more confident, you can’t pry him off you.

He just loves to hold you so much! He adores how soft and fragile you seem, he can’t help but keep his arms around you at all times.

If you’re insecure about your weight or your appearance, he’s going to be absolutely scandalized.

How could you possibly think you were anything less than perfect? You were clearly the most gorgeous girl in the world! He’d have to put a stop to that thinking.

He’d hug you so tight, and tell you very seriously to never think of yourself that way again. That if you’re ever feeling lesser, to come to him, and he’d throw those thoughts out the door.

And if anyone dared to tease you about it? Oh, he’d go batshit.

He doesn’t like to get violent around you, especially knowing how easily frightened you are, but he would simply have to commit a crime.

He introduces you to the Crazy Diamonds, and they all adore you.

They take a solemn vow to protect you for the sake of their boss, who has never gotten a girl to date him before.

The two of you are flustered disasters around each other, but it never stops you from letting each other know how much you love them<3

—

[anpanbun]

There's Nothing In The Water

"How long has he been fishing for?"

They ask her of the man on the dock. They see him out there before the sun has crested over the mountain. They see him out there long after the sun has slipped below the waves.

"Since I was young. Sometimes it feels like that's all he's ever done."

They laugh off her replies, just an exaggeration by a young woman. Unseeing her long looks off towards the fisherman, an unnamable emotion in her gaze.

They always leave. Satisfied with her spiel about the historic buildings and the still functioning lighthouse of the town, and of the hospitality of the residents during their visit.

No one stays. It has been a long time since someone stayed. Joel was the last. Joel and his lovely wife. He stays, she does not. She comes when the snow clears and leaves as it rolls down from the mountain and fog creeps in from the sea.

When did Lizzie last visit? Gem can't recall.

----

She sleeps on the sea. The boat rocking gently beneath her feet is an unchanging comfort.

She ignores the persistent scratching along the outer hull.

In the morning, she paints over the fresh gouges.

----

The only time he stops fishing is when the Man From Out of Town arrives.

"Mumbo." He insists.

The Man comes and goes as he pleases. Regardless of the snow and fog.

They make an odd sight, the fisherman in his grubby waders with his rod set aside and the Man in his posh but old fashioned black suit sitting together on a rickety old wharf.

She looks out towards the sea.

When she looks back the Man is gone and the fisherman has his line cast again.

----

From up on the lighthouse she can see further into the forest.

She can see False.

She's down at the edge of the forest by the time False breaks through the tree line.

"Anything new?"

False studies the historical settlements within the forest. There hasn't been anything new there in a long time.

She doesn't know why False looks, they both know what happened to those places.

"No."

----

Cleo catches her on the path to the lighthouse.

"Can you help me put up the signs?"

The snow is clearing, soon the people will come.

Please do not drink the tap water.

She takes down the old notices and pins the new identical ones in their place on each door.

She sets the old notices on reception desk.

"I don't get why we have to do this everytime."

They sigh.

"The guests always say it tastes bad. Fresh signs draw attention which means I get less complaints."

She takes a long drink from the tap that night.

"I don't get why they complain. There's nothing in the water."

----

The snow coming is back.

The last of the tourists have fled before the only pass out snows over.

She hears shouting from Joel's store.

It's Lizzie.

It takes her a moment to place Joel's wife.

Through the glass store front she can see Lizzie's hair is streaked with gray now.

"Lizzie, you need to leave!"

"Joel, give me the water! I need the water!"

"Lizzie, please!"

"You don't understand, I barely found my way back Joel! If I leave now I don't know if I can again!"

"Well its better than being stuck here like me!"

She makes it to the door in time to see Lizzie lunge for the glass pitcher Joel keeps behind the register.

She gulps down the water with a feverish desperation around Joel's frantically grabbing hands and her own gagging.

The first snowflake falls to Gem's shoulder as Lizzie collapses, choking on the blood spilling from her mouth.

[carolinahope]

I was right about the double whamy of a cliffhanger. And about the ceremony taking all of 5 minutes of the episode. But that's about it.

They better not kill Bobby off. His whole spiel at the beginning felt like the last montage of a series finale. Not like the penultimate episode of an already renewed show. He is the heart of the 118. And he still has so much to give. Seeing the guilt eating him up again was heartbreaking. Neither Buck nor Eddie nor Athena and even Hen are not in a place where they could lose him. Athena trying to help backfiring and causing harm is so sad. But it felt very understandable from Amir's perspective. That he would spiral after all these years at seeing Bobby's seemingly perfect life. But at least we got a scene with Maddie and Athena.

And poor Hen and Karen and Mara and Denny. I know grief can make people do stupid things but that woman is just plain cruel. But I loved the scene at Casa Buckley-Han.

And Eddie, my poor boy. He really stepped into it now. I was hoping for at least one feelings realization by the end of the season. But Buddie aside, I really wonder how they plan on getting out of the hole they dug for Eddie and themselves. Unless getting out is planned for S08. And in the last episode we are only digging a little deeper. But this should at least lead to the nun being gone *fingers crossed*

I still think Eddie calling Shannon the love of his life is part of the problem. And he won't be able to move on until he acknowledges it, that he is remembering and wishing for what-ifs. I'm not sure what Kim did was the healthiest but Ryan killed it as always when he can really sink his teeth into Eddie's emotions. I'm confused and scared. And I can't even think about the Christopher of it all.

I loved the talk Buck had with Eddie and the way Buck approached it. With so much care and worry and support. And Eddie opening up. They are so perfect for each other. They are not in the right place yet to see it. But we are getting closer.

I do fear the last episode more than ever. I would like to trust the process but I think I will need to borrow some trust till next Thursday.

[bowiebond]

Robin and Steve both failing at love so badly as they get well into their thirties and deciding to just marry each other since they’ve already been living together since they were 20 and share a mortgage. Steve had original planned to just have Robin as his roommate until she found someone, and he had like seven kids coming and going but would be out to college in just two years, so a decently sized place (much smaller than his original, empty mansion) filled with Robin’s knickknacks didn’t sound half bad when he was 20 and making the plan to use his inheritance to make the down payment.

They go through the whole she-bang; mostly because Steve always wanted a big wedding and Robin had assumed she’d never have one so she simply made it a big party they could both enjoy. Everyone was invited, and people who didn’t know Robin was a lesbian said their congrats, that they always saw it coming, and they both bare through it with false grins and sneaky eye rolls.

It’s an excuse to get drunk and confess their undying platonic love for each other, even if the ceremonies kiss was awkward and quick, the pair snickering about it later like teenagers even though Robin had kissed Steve plenty of times on the cheeks and Steve on her head when he left for work.

They’re 36 and 37 when Steve asks Robin if she ever considered kids of her own. Robin goes on a long spiel about how terrifying child birth seems but like, she was raised to want one you know? That having a kid is both terrifying but weirdly comforting as an idea.

Steve agrees. They get hammered beyond belief at 37 & 38 and fumble through the most awkward sex know to mankind and they cry-laugh for weeks about each others sex habits and how bad they both are in bed because “let’s never do that again, oh my god, I definitely like girls, Steve” and Steve’s not even offended because it was purely for one purpose and while he likes girls, Robin doesn’t do it for him. Not like that. Not since he was maybe 19 and had a weird lingering crush on her that faded after she came out and he started experimenting with guys.

Steve’s 38 when he finds out he’s gonna be a dad. He cries. A lot. Robin does too, mostly because she’s cries when he does, like how his laughter infects her too.

They argue a lot over the design of the nursery, and Robin complains that she’s too old to be carrying a baby as Steve rubs her feet while they watch a movie.

Robin sleeps in his room more often during the pregnancy. Says it helps her nerves, because she overthinks a lot and it’s kind of terrifying because there’s no going back now. They’re having a kid. An actual human being they’ll have to raise together. A lesbian woman and a bisexual man who are strictly platonic with a capital P, are having a baby in their late thirties, and are married by law but not by heart, and it’s kind of crazy to think about.

“I never imagined my life like this.”

“Honestly, Rob? Neither did I.”

Robin starts attending swim classes with pregnant ladies after El insists it helped her through hers, and there’s where she meets Heather Holloway again. She’s a full time swim instructor at the pool now, unmarried and thriving, and Robin has the biggest heart eyes known to man over her.

Steve hears all about her and encourages her to test the waters with Heather.

“Steve, I’m literally carrying your baby. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Say it’s an open marriage if she asks. I sleep around still, why can’t you?”

It’s enough to convince her to follow her heart. Heather is around the house a lot more after that, just to check in on Robin’s pregnancy of course, she must be exhausted after all!

Steve knows Heather is fucking his wife/best friend. Robin had a dopey grin on when she told him. Heather doesn’t beat around the bush either about Steve and Robin’s relationship.

“So Robin’s a lesbian, you’re gay, and you’re basically each other’s platonic soulmates right? So you got married?”

“I’m bi, but yeah. Basically. I can’t see myself living without her, honestly. She’s my soulmate just not…romantically, you know?”

“I get it.” Heather grins when she goes on about a certain blond up in California who’s planning to come visit real soon. That Steve should meet him.

Steve is shocked to see Billy Hargrove again; Heather’s own platonic soulmate.

“I mean, we fooled around once or twice back in the day, but that’s because he has mommy issues, not because he wants to settle down with me.” She joked and Billy has a ball flirting with Harrington until he’s red in the face like a teenager again instead of an almost 40 year old man.

Robin has a girl in the Summer. They name her June, the month she was born and the month they met decades ago. It feels fitting.

Of course, June ends up with a step mom, Heather, who somehow worms her way into their house. Steve’s got the room for it, so he’s not complaining. He likes a full house, likes knowing his daughter is being cared for when he’s at work by Robin and Heather (when she’s not working).

Somehow, Billy worms his way in too. It starts with visiting to see his ‘niece’ as he’d joke with a wide grin. Then slowly, he’s joining them for dinner more nights than he doesn’t, and the guest room starts to fill with his things and Steve catches Billy bathing June because Heather and Robin were exhausted and needed the rest and…

God, he’s falling in love with the blond, deep and so much harder than back in high school. Falls in love with the smile lines around his mouth and eyes, the silvery greys that streak his dark blond hair he cut shorter a few years back. Falls in love with the way he laughs at Robin’s jokes and snarks with Heather and coos at June, calling her ‘daddy’s little princess’ as he bounces her in his arms, Steve watching and always blushing when Billy catches his eye and grins, kissing the tuffs of light brown hair upon her head.

Robin tells him to go for it.

“To think we finally met our romantic soulmates after getting married and having a kid, this has to be God’s way of pulling our legs.” She snickers as they cuddle in Steve’s bed. Because that’s just how they were, touchy and close, and Steve loves her so much. She’s his best friend and the mother of his kid and he doesn’t regret marrying her at all. They’re not in love with each other, but they love each other.

Robins in love with Heather.

And Steve is pretty sure he’s in love with Billy.

“Maybe we should get married.” Billy says one night at dinner, driving an airplane towards June’s mouth. “Robin and Steve got a bunch of benefits. I want benefits. We could do our taxes together.” Heather laughs and looks at Robin.

“You think I should marry him? I could do better, right?” Robin snorts.

“He smells like a dirty gym bag.”

“Your husband likes how I smell.” Billy wriggled his brows and Steve flushed red as the words, head in his hands.

“Not in front of Junie, please.”

“She’s like, not even a year old. It’s fine.” Billy waved it off. “Back to the tax benefits,”

“It is easier when you’re married, in my opinion.” Robin chipped in and Heather sighs, long and loud before looking at Billy.

“…Fine. I want a nice ring though.”

“Well so do I, so I say we have a deal, babe.”

Steve thought he’d be jealous, at least a bit, but he’s grinning when Billy makes a show of dipping Heather at the altar, the pair laughing after their obnoxious kiss that has Robin and Max hollering.

June is cooing and squealing when she gets to dance with Billy and Steve later that night, clinging to her father and grasping at Billy’s curls that are starting to grow out again. Steve thinks he might be doing it just for him since he said he liked them, and it makes his stomach wild with butterflies.

“We should get married next.” Billy hums and Steve chokes on his own spit.

“You’ve barely taken me on a date, and now you’re talking marriage?”

“Didn’t take Robin on a date, now did you?” Billy grins, holding him close around his waist. “Come on, Harrington. Robin and you, Heather and me. Robin and Heather, you and me…it all works. We’re far from conventional. I’ve fucked Heather more than once, I’ve heard Heather talk about jumping you to her own girlfriend, and I know you want me.” He knocks their heads together and smiles, eyes soft. “This thing we’ve got going…it works. You don’t have to hold back on what you want out of this after giving Robin the option of anything and everything.”

And maybe he had been holding back a bit. All he ever wanted was June, a kid, and Robin gave him that, and in return he got her to date Heather, he let Heather drag Billy back into their lives, he let their daughter call Robin and Heather mom and mama before he even got called dada, worked hard to provide them the lifestyle they had with Heather and Billy chipping in and he…

He wanted more now. He wanted Billy. He wanted him to move in properly, for Heather to just come out and say Steve and Robin’s home was her home too, to put a bigger bed in the master bedroom so they could all share some nights because he wanted that. He wanted a big family since he was young and in a way — he was getting it. In Robin and Heather, in Billy and June. In the kids who still visited when they could.

“Take me on a date first, okay?” Billy grins.

“That can be arranged.” He kissed June’s head between them and Steve chuckled. “The little princess has to stay home though. I want her daddy all for myself.”

Steve laughed.

“Don’t call me daddy, you’re gonna make it weird.”

“Princess can share. Yeah? June, you can share right? Stevie can be both our daddy.” June giggled and wriggled between them, reaching for Billy with a small ‘Bibi’. The blond laughed and took her from Steve’s arms. “I’m afraid she can share you but not me, Daddy.”

Steve rolled his eyes before grinning deviously with a shrug.

“Whatever. I’ll teach her how to share, Mommy.”

Billy’s cheeks burned.

“Don’t make me pop a boner with a baby in my arms, Steve. People are gonna think I’m a creep.” He grumbled and Steve snorted.

“I’m going to go dance with my wife. Have fun with June.”

“Bitch.” Billy clicked his tongue as Steve walked off to find Robin on the floor.

Steve found his soulmate at 18 in an ice cream parlour. They were platonic with a capital P, and content. She made him laugh, they shared secrets, and they had no boundaries keeping them apart. Hell, they got married. Had a baby.

Now, at 39, Steve re-met his other soulmate. The kind that made his stomach twist and flutter, that made his cheeks hot and his heart full. Made him hot under the collar with his teasing.

And maybe, Robin and him share a soulmate in Heather, and maybe Heather and Billy are linked by a red string too, and maybe they’re just a tangled mess of strings with no definite end. Knotted up in the centre of the four of them.

Steve doesn’t know what the hell he’s gonna make of all of it. Where it will lead him. But for now, he’s happy.

His soul had been split into a dozen pieces at birth, and he had pieced every part back together.

Only took him 40 years to find every fragment.

[sgiandubh]

"These people are not your toys"

you are right, Cait is not a toy, she chose the man (Tony) she loves, and decided to marry, and have a baby

and sam is not a toy, he chose the life of celibacy and engaging in commercial and investment work

They are not a toys, we insist on making our dreams come true during them, ignoring their complete free will.

Dear Free Will Anon,

Since you people keep on coming back over and over again with the same points of talk, when - again - you cannot, by now, reasonably expect a different feedback, especially from that coin flipping, bizarre woman you just love to call a lunatic every single day, I am going to take another angle. We all know how you, people of Mordor, like a good debunking, and this is exactly what I am going to do tonight, with you.

Over time, I have watched this kind of interaction repeating itself ad nauseam, over and over and over again. I have also read a massive amount of comments to this type of antics, and came to the conclusion that most of them thought "Anon is stupid and must go away immediately". A banal, convenient conclusion. Your efforts deserve way better.

Anon, you are anything but stupid, when you behave like this, trolling around like a headless chicken, waiting to ignite something, anything. You also know perfectly well that you are not going to change anybody's mind and can at best count on people cursing you (my two native languages have very colorful idioms for these situations, so you get double trouble) in different time zones.

What you are trying to do, Anon, is use a classical assertive technique, called the broken record method. Since you all think we are professional liars, I will just quote some easy, website material that explains it very clearly (available here: https://www.revolutionlearning.co.uk/article/the-broken-record-technique/):

What that does tell me about you and your ilk is, however, not very glorious for you:

It's rich that you try to do that with a diplomat and a former government negotiator, Anon. It's like trying to sell cucumbers to the gardener, to quote a proverb from my country and it is always met with a snort. I use the broken record almost daily - albeit more politely and considerately than you - especially when I reach a stalemate in a difficult point of talk.

Unlike me, you do have an unsavory agenda. While doing some research for a future post, I came across this very interesting article about sealioning, a new form of online harassment : https://www.forbes.com/sites/marshallshepherd/2019/03/07/sealioning-is-a-common-trolling-tactic-on-social-media-what-is-it/?sh=4df0169f7a41

This spiel is old and tired by now, Anon. Along with some cleverly planted calumny, it has made a pariah out of the whole shipper community and led to frictions, schisms, conflicts, broken fandom experiences, people leaving in droves, people being doxed, attacked, pressured, strange interviews of the female lead, etc.

You are the last Mordor Anon bringing up McSideburns that is going to get my attention. And it would be wonderful if we'd stop feeding the trolls once and for all and not answer this question anymore, all of us. At least get your act together and diversify, Mordor. You are very good at lying : Stalin would be proud of you, chickies.

And now, to quote Boney M, show me your motion, Anon. Enough is enough: guess what, editorial policy just changed.