Hello comrade ;)

Currently simping for fictional characters

[vilsoo]

𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑺𝑯 𖤐 ‧₊ ˚⊹ ── 𝑷𝑻. 𝑰𝑰

‎ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 || 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈-𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍

𖤐 ‧₊ ˚⊹ ❝ . . . 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 ? ❞ 𖤐 ‧₊ ˚⊹

౨ৎ 18+ mdni, gojo satoru (or wish!satoru) x fem!reader , dark content , psychological horror , yearning , eventual smut , toxicity , possession , semi-inspired by Obsession (2026) and DDLC (2017) part 3 coming soon ! ‧₊ ˚⊹

Oh shit.

Every fiber of your being fell frozen, overtaken by panic staggering in your ribs it felt like you were suffocating. There was something bone-chilling about the way Gojo started walking towards your car— you weren’t prepared for this moment at all. Everything happened in a blink of an eye and you couldn’t register what was going on at this very moment.

When he stood in front of the passenger window, he bends down slightly to look inside, and right there you can see that same genuine smile he had for you this morning, stretching across his face when he sees you. You had no choice but to open your window.

“Hey, um. Sorry for surprising you so late,” he chuckled nervously. “I saw your car passing by from my window and I was hoping to see you before you drove home. Been thinking about you since this morning.”

You blinked rapidly, taken aback by his words and his strange nervous demeanor. “Wait— you saw my car passing by from your window?”

“Uh, yeah. Who doesn’t recognize their next door neighbor’s car?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if this was a very normal thing to say.

You drew your eyebrows together in bewilderment, still unable to process what the fuck is happening right now. Gojo’s expression was softened, relaxed; a smile so unscathed like he was raptured in Heavenly bliss by the sight of you. And the way his pupils dilated wider than a chasm the more he stared at you— you’ve never seen him look at you like this before, but he looked at you as if you robbed him of control, robbed him of speech. As if you alone expelled all the air from his lungs that he couldn’t breathe, either…

“You— you also said you’ve been thinking about me…?”

Gojo folds his arms and rests his elbows on the frame of the passenger window. “Yeah. I mean, uh— Since this morning. After our coffee date— I mean— after we got coffee together and sat down and talked.”

Did he just say it was a coffee date?

“Oh.” Your gaze drifts warily to the bag from the crystal shop, the opened One Wish Willow box peaking out. “Gojo… Are you okay…?”

“Yeah. Why would I not be?” he scoffs again. “I mean— are you okay?”

Even though you were paralyzed with confusion and had no idea why your neighbor was acting so strange, so erratic, you felt uneasy about this happening late at night. Your house was right there, literally right in front of you, wanting nothing more than to get home safely and call it a night.

“Yeah, I’m— I’m okay. I was just on my way home, so—”

“No, no, I meant— are you okay being home alone for tonight?”

The question hangs heavy in the air like an endless tempest of complete bewilderment, obfuscating your mind as if you weren’t sure you heard him correctly. The street was still dead silent around you with the humid breeze stirring the trees overhead. All your focus was on Gojo and his demeanor as if he was genuinely concerned. Not flirtatious or teasing, but as if the idea of you being alone was enough to bother him.

You take one last glance at the broken halves of the willow twig. There was no way in Hell that this One Wish Willow toy had anything to do with Gojo randomly approaching you. It was only a collectible, a toy, a cheap novelty charm that has no way for making your wish come true, but yet—

You couldn’t help but love the way his eyes never left your face.

The way his attention was entirely fixed on you. That look on his face that makes your body awaken with desire, a hunger than you couldn’t satiate for the longest, a thirst that couldn’t be quenched by anybody else, not even by your handsome Tinder hookup from last night. And sure, you may have been conflicted from Gojo suddenly making a move tonight out of all days, but that selfish, greedy part of you absolutely loved it.

“…I’ve never really minded being alone, you know,” you bantered, hiding your smirk.

“Yeah, but… I didn’t know you at all before today. It makes me think what kind of neighbor am I not going out of my way to get to know you. And now that I finally got to, I can’t stand the thought of you being by yourself,” he suddenly consoled. “Please. It’s up to you if you wanna come over or I come over to your place. Either way is fine by me.”

Gojo was practically begging for your company, the same way you’ve been begging for him to notice you ever since he moved in. The irony was delicious; a few hours ago you would’ve killed for this opportunity, but now that it’s finally happening, you ignore that sinking feeling in your gut and only embrace how badly you’ve been wanting him to want you.

“Okay. We can head over to my place then,” you obliged.

The moment you let Gojo Satoru step into your home, you find him standing entirely still while taking in the house with quiet fascination. With your stomach swirling and churning, you didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t even believe this was happening right now— everything that has led up to this point was still too much to register. Yes, you’ve imagined this countless times. You’ve wanted this, you wished for this; your hot next door neighbor standing inside your own home for the first time, crossing the threshold you’ve spent months wishing he would…

In every fantasy, you basked in the thought of him finally entering your world and seeing who you really are. But now that it was really happening, you find yourself highly strung. You couldn’t pinpoint it; the way his gaze fixated on everything you own, from the portraits hung on your wall to the books on your shelves and all your knick knacks, you felt this peculiar sensation that you couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps it was because of that secret, shameful part of you that dreamed of this all along. You couldn’t even explain why the feeling thrilled you as much as it frightened you.

To Gojo, it wasn’t the expensive furniture or the fancy decor that you arranged in your own home that he noticed. This was a very cozy suburban home definitely built for a family of four or five, but it’s only ever held one single person. And although you have stable income, a good career, and you’re an independent woman that enjoys the peace and quiet, there was absolutely nothing tragic about your lifestyle— it was just something about the absence of another person that made him ache.

“…You have a beautiful home,” he beamed. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thank you. I worked really hard for it.”

“I can tell.” As he was roaming around your living room, his attention drifted to a book resting on top of your coffee table, frowning when he analyzed the cover. “Poetry?”

“Oh, um… Yeah. That’s a gift from my friend,” you lied, your heart suddenly stammering if he were to see what kind of poems were on that book. “I only skimmed through a few pages. The poems on there are kinda, um…”

“Oh. No need to get embarrassed,” he chuckled softly. “It’s beautiful, you know.”

“You— you think so?”

The corner of Gojo’s lips slowly curled to a smile when his gaze drifted back onto your face. He looked oddly adorable, yet a little uncanny, as if he was stuck in a trance just having the privilege to admire your existence.

“Yeah. Everything about you is beautiful,” he mutters sweetly, sauntering closer to you. “You’re beautiful.”

Your breath got caught in your throat from the way he stood so close to you. That compliment alone was everything you wanted to hear from him, and hearing it at least two times today was enough to fawn over. But then that uneasy gut feeling contorted in your stomach again, a mix of danger and excitement unwavering within your psyche.

“…Are you sure that you’re okay, Gojo?”

He blinks rapidly, then lets out a small, incredulous scoff. “Of course I’m okay— why, am I acting weird? Is it too much?”

You hesitated for a moment. “No. Sorry, it’s just— You seemed really intense all of a sudden it caught me off guard.”

“Oh…” His eyes began to pool with dismay as if he was hit with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to. I’m just trying to tell you how I felt. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. I just—“

In a blink of an eye, Gojo’s erratic behavior happened right before you again like a snap, instantly switching up from shame to a dismissive snort. He shook his head with a quiet, contempt scoff as if he was trying to laugh if off.

“I’m not acting weird am I? I’m not— wait, what the fuck?”

In that fleeting moment of him snapping like that, leaving you in perturbation, you halted when the words got caught in his own throat. Paralyzing, raw confusion overtook his face just like that. For just a brief moment you see something shifted behind his eyes, as if they were unfocused, distant, sharpened; unable to orient himself as they dart around the room so frantically like he didn’t recognize where he was standing at.

“Gojo, what the fuck—“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Gojo suddenly chuckled it almost startled you, as if the confusion instantly drained from his face so fast you were unable to grasp anything that just happened. His affectionate smile came back again, immediately hiding any sign of confusion while laughing sheepishly under his breath. “Woah, I’m— I’m sorry. Maybe I am acting… weird…”

You couldn’t do anything but mirror his laugh out of nervousness, out of pure shock and bewilderment. For one impossible, intoxicating moment, you finally have your own moment with the hot boy next door you’ve been obsessing over. But now you’re deeply unsettled from him acting so imperceptible and unpredictable that you’ve never thought he’d act this way, especially from how different his demeanor was at the cafe. All you could think about is what the actual fuck is going on right now?

“Okay. Honestly you’re kinda freaking me out right now,” you coaxed, taking a step back. “I know we only met today but I didn’t think you’d be like this, or— I’ve never seen you act like this before. Are you, uh— have you been drinking tonight by any chance?”

His expression fell apprehensively again. “Mm… Maybe,” he fretted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I might be pretty fucked up…”

“Hey. It’s okay,” you reassured while caressing the side of his arm. “Maybe we should just call it a night. I appreciate you coming over, but I’ll be okay alone tonight. You should go and get some rest. We can always pick this up tomorrow.”

You feel your own ribs tighten when he suddenly places his hand warm over yours. “The thing is… I don’t know if I can be alone tonight.”

Once again, you were robbed of speech. “Why…?”

“…Ever since the divorce. I’ve been so lonely.”

Your heart sank down to your stomach when you heard the waver in his voice. After everything that happened tonight, him being this vulnerable and saying how lonely he was this whole time was all it took for your brain to piece everything together. You’ve spent months creating this toxic fantasy, a version of himself in your eyes; calling him a debauched, shameless whore and envying every stranger who got to be where you never were. It never crossed your mind how lonely it must feel for him in his own house and in a new neighborhood. And it was already heart-wrenching enough telling him straight to his face that he was freaking you out.

“Oh… Shit, I’m so sorry, Gojo,” you murmured softly, wrapping your arms around him. “I didn’t mean to say you were actually freaking me out… It must be hard for you right now.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled weakly. “You know, things happen. And I just want to forget about it.”

But right there and then, that greedy, selfish part of you cascades your mind again when you glance down your hallway. You hated yourself a little bit just thinking about, that sense of empathy inside of you corrupting.

Out of all those people he probably saved on his phone, he came all this way to me. I don’t want him to leave just yet.

You wanted this.

He’s vulnerable and alone and hurt. I shouldn’t take advantage of him, that’s fucked up. He can take care of himself he’s a grown man.

But you fucking wanted this.

This will be your only chance with him. Take it or leave it.

“You could stay here if you want,” you suddenly blurted out, as if the words slipped out of your lips before you could stop them.

After leading him down the hall and opening the door, you flick the lights on for the cozy guest bedroom, letting Gojo walk in and look around. “Nobody’s been here since last Summer so everything’s pretty much clean,” you say. “There’s also pajama sets in the wardrobe and you get your own personal bathroom.”

You seem him suddenly inhaling deeply and letting out a soft sigh. “Smells just like you,” he beamed.

Your eyebrows twitched to a frown. “Really? I’ve never slept in this room before.”

“Well, everything in this house smells like you. I like it.”

You had no idea if you should feel flattered or weirded out, but you decided to just brush it off. As the silence stretched between you two, it was already late and your body was ready to call it a night. “Well, uh… Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

The shadows of the guest room softened from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow while the rest of the lights in your home were all turned off. After Gojo freshened himself up and changed into comfortable sleepwear from the wardrobe, he was already settled onto the guest bed but unable to fall asleep.

After you had finished your nightly bedroom routine, you head downstairs to check up on him once more. “Hey. I’ll be going to bed now. Goodnight, Gojo.”

“Wait.”

You halted right before you could hold the knob to close the door, your heart starting to pound rapidly again from anticipation. “…Yes?”

“Can you sleep here with me…?”

The way he gently murmured to you, so timid but at the same time hinting of desperation. Yearning, that’s what it felt like, and the air around you two was haunted with it. An uncontrollable eruption detonated in your chest, seethed in your gut. After every single incomprehensible thing that happened the moment Gojo walked in your home, your intoxicating hunger for him still remained. Insensate with longing, imprisoned by a degrading devotion.

Without uttering a single word and still quivering with anticipation, you sauntered towards the bed. You can hear his heavy and deliberate breathing, your chest cinching tight, unable to fathom snuggling underneath the same blanket or sitting on the same bed as him. You tried your best to relax but the goosebumps kept seeping into your skin— it didn’t help seeing Gojo suddenly strip his shirt off so suddenly, either. This white-hot sensation that made your body grow hotter ignited like a fire, threatening to combust right there.

His body. His body was the most ethereal, sublime body you’ve ever laid your eyes on the very moment you saw him naked from your bedroom window. Seeing it up close, you soaked in the sight of his toned chest and biceps, his skin contrasting with the honey-colored lighting from the lamp. How you were writhing to run your fingers down his abs like a canvas, to finally admire him like he truly belonged to you.

“…I’m sorry that I was never there for you, Y/N,” he murmurs again, this time inching his hand closer to yours on the bed.

You let out a chuckle. “Hey. That’s way past us now, it’s okay.”

No words. No words at all except that silent, violent desire clawing inside you from his lurid gaze, those icy blue eyes piercing through the dark that you never got to see up close until tonight. It felt as if you were surrendering to it, as if he was hypnotizing you, burning every molecule of desire in your body from the way he looked at you and subtly grazed his fingers against yours.

“I wasted all those months after moving here… when I could’ve been with the pretty girl next door this whole time,” he professed ardently, as if he spoke right into your soul.

Gojo draws his head closer, his lips inching ever so slowly towards yours, invading your space and stealing the air you breathe. You find yourself inching closer towards him too, those sweet, saccharine lips you’ve been dreaming of finally pressed against yours. This tingling, blossoming sensation was something you’ve never felt in your life that it made your own blood freeze, rendered docile to how tantalizing his lips felt on yours for the very first time.

You were enthralled, exhilarated, and ecstatic all at once. Your hands slither up his chest to his neck, feeling him deepen the kiss. This was everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve ever desired, manifested, fantasized, or dreamed of. To finally caress his body, to finally savor his sweet kisses, you were raptured in a complete bliss; finally letting go of that unbearable gut from earlier that you couldn’t wait to—

“What the fuck? What the FUCK?!”

“Oh my God!” you sputtered in alarm, backing up into the headboard with a loud thump while Gojo lurched backward so violently that he tumbled off the bed. But right there, for a very fleeting moment before he fell backwards, you saw it again in his eyes, widened in horror and raw with confusion.

You scrambled to the edge of the mattress. “What the Hell was that, Gojo?! Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” he suddenly perturbed, hastily standing up from the floor. That confusion that paralyzed him once again instantly dissolved away again. “I don’t know what that was, I— I think I had a panic attack. I’m so sorry!”

“Gojo... Look, I know you’re going through a tough time right now and you said you’ve been drinking, but these panic attacks that you’re having right now are concerning,” you lamented, extending your hand out for him to sit beside you on the edge of the mattress. “I don’t even know what happened. What made you… react like that?”

He sighed deeply, gently squeezing your hand. “…I think I’m just tired and hungover,” he utters weakly. “You don’t have to sleep here with me if you don’t want to… I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t want to freak you out again.”

“You’re not freaking me out,” you assured sweetly, once again sweeping your gut feeling and your bewilderment under the rug just to maintain this moment with him. “How about I stay with you right here until you fall asleep? After that, I’ll go to sleep in my room. We’ll pretend that it didn’t happen.”

Gojo nodded meekly, then stared down at his lap in dismay. “I’m so sorry that I ruined our first kiss together.”

It took only ten minutes for him to fall asleep beside you, snuggled underneath the same covers again. You just laid there staring at the ceiling, your eyes feeling heavy while your mind kept replaying everything that just happened. How Gojo just saw you from outside his own window, how he ended up coming over for the first time and staying the night.

These sudden moments where Gojo’s emotional instability comes out lasting less than a heartbeat… Was he always this erratic? Is this how he really is at home where you can’t see? Was him bringing all those people into his bedroom and having a ridiculous amount of sex his unhealthy way to cope with the divorce? Does he even drink alcohol like that?

…Was the divorce really that bad for him?

You don’t want to shame Gojo nor take advantage of him, even though deep down you were so ready right there and then for him, letting him make the first move in taking off his shirt and kissing you. Sure, his sudden emotional whiplash might’ve killed the mood, but there was nothing else you could do except comfort him after all he’s been through.

With Gojo in a state of serenity, you give one last look at him sleeping so soundly, then slipped out of the bed quietly. But right before you could even make it to your stairs down the hall, another thought came across you; one of those late night thoughts that piques you with curiosity, making you want to Google something only to end up down a rabbit hole online. You decided to head to your office adjacent to the guest room and flipped open your laptop.

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⌕☰ what is a one wish willow|

✦ What is a One Wish Willow? Vintage Toy or Mysterious Collectible?  https://www.threddit.com/onewishwillow  Discover the mysterious backstory of One Wish Willow, the 80s novelty toy that sparked fascination and wonder. Known for granting “wishes,” this collectible item has gained…

✦ Does the One Wish Willow Actually Work?  https://mythologyweekly.com > articles > one-wish-willow  Historians believe the One Wish Willow became popular in the late 1800s as a parlor game among wealthy families. While many claim the charm grants wishes, no historical evidence…

✦ One Wish Willow | Buy Now!  https://www.onewishwillow.com  Grants one wish. No Multiple Attempts. Using additional One Wish WillowsTM will not change or affect your wishes. Only one wish per life per person.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You clicked on a random Reddit page, scrolling through threads, comments, and replies about using a One Wish Willow, including photos of that same prism-shaped box. Some of the top comments claimed they don’t work, saying it’s nothing but a stupid novelty toy while some swear that they do work, only to find deleted replies underneath a creepy archived forum from 2008 and locked threads.

It was just too exhausting for this; urban legends about the novelty charm and people trying to make sense of coincidences. You closed your laptop off and sighed deeply, ready to call it a night and go to bed like you were supposed to hours ago. With the house completely silent and Gojo asleep, you headed down the hall towards the stairs.

“What were you doing?”

Your body jolted from hearing Gojo’s soft voice reverberating down your hall, suddenly frazzled with panic and fear that your heart felt as if it slammed into your throat. You slowly turn around, seeing him still in the guest bed through the door frame, but holding strong eye contact with you.

The way he stared at you was the most uncanny thing you’ve ever seen in your life that your chest fell numb in horror. His icy blue eyes piercing right through you again, as if his pupils suddenly had no natural dilation, not contracting naturally with light. Struck with silence, your chest thrummed loudly while the nerves of your body failed to oblige. It was unsettling; straddled between the precipice of safety and danger, where your brain toiled with fear struggled to respond.

“Sorry, I was… checking an order on Amazon… It was supposed to be an overnight delivery but… it got delayed,” you lied, unable to move your own body at all.

“Oh… Were you also heading to bed?”

“Y— yeah. Like I said earlier, remember…?”

“Oh… Yeah, I remember…” The tone in Gojo’s voice was melancholic and wistful as if he was hesitant on what to say or what not to say. “…Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re tired and I’ve asked a lot from you tonight, but I don’t know why I can’t go back to sleep.”

“Gojo. You don’t have to apologize, okay? It’s alright.”

He reaches over to turn the bedside lamp back on. “I know, but I just don’t want to make it sound like I’m taking advantage of you, which I’m not,” he affirmed. “I just— I seriously can’t be alone right now. Please, if you could sleep with me. I promise I won’t scare you again. I’ll even keep the lamp on and I won’t touch you at all. I promise.”

Was Gojo ever this… clingy? Now I really want to know what happened that caused his divorce.

Even though every instinct of yours screamed for you to go upstairs and just go the fuck to sleep, you really can’t resist this man. Your hot next door neighbor that you’ve been obsessing over, begging for your company again, yearning for you to sleep beside him, as if he couldn’t breathe when you are not near him... Suddenly you remembered why you fell for him so badly just by watching him through your bedroom windows; how sick and twisted he makes you, how he awakens your primal desires, how badly you’ve craved him to crave you. No matter how many mantras of apologies he bursts out, Gojo Satoru alone was your definition of desire, and you’d follow him to the ends of time just to have many more moments like this with him again.

You’re underneath the same covers again, laying beside each other with the luminous moonlight peeking through the curtains. Limbs interlocked carelessly with the sheets and the blanket sprawled all over the bed. Your breathing synchronized with his. His body warmth filled most of the space in this bed. You were finally, finally able to close your eyes and drift to sleep, finally letting go of everything from tonight.

“… I like when you watch me, Y/N ...”

“… I've always liked it when you watched me from your window ...” 

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, repost elsewhere, or use my work for ai training purposes. this is not proofread, so forgive me for any grammatical errors!

𖤐 ‧₊ ˚⊹ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 :: @thatswhatshesaid00 @warmfy @hipsdofangirl @cathy-1997 @hunterthefish @husbandb3at3r @st4rka1sennn @kizrumi @unikittykiller @dreasalty @ninistranaut @mrs-xia @miuangel @rikiswifeyyy

[sweetcalebb]

ᯓ★ your scent turns valko on at the worst times

Top 3 worst places to get a boner:

1. On a public transport

2. During a presentation

3. At a family gathering!

Obviously, he didn't want his family to see his boner, but there it was already, hiding underneath the random throw pillow he grabbed.

It wasn't Valko's fault.

It was yours.

You'd been sitting beside him, listening to his cousins talk about God knows what. To be honest, he wasn't listening. He was too focused on you.

You looked so nice today; all cute and modest because you were nervous to see his family. He just wanted to be closer to you. So, he dragged you in by your waist and leaned toward you, simply wanting to rest his head on your shoulder.

But then your scent hit him—that sweet cloying smell that made his insides burn.

He shifted on the couch, his skin feeling like it was being pulled taut. Then, slowly, he saw it; a very obvious tent forming in his jeans. Great. Just great.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks burning as he grabbed the nearest throw pillow and pulled it over his lap.

And then you said something. He wasn't sure what.

"Hello? Did you hear me?" you said.

Go away, go away. If he thought it enough, maybe his boner would ... you know, go away.

"What?"

"Can you come with me to the bathroom?" you repeated.

Fuck. Of course. Just his luck.

"Uh…" His eyes flicked away. "It's down the hall. Second door on the left."

You frowned at him. "I asked if you could come with me, Valko. Just wait outside the door. Please?"

"Just go with her, man," one of his cousins said.

Valko ignored him. He sighed, his face growing hotter. "I can't…" he mumbled.

You squinted. "What?"

"I can't," he said louder, but quiet enough that only you could hear.

"Why not?"

He sighed, grabbing you by your arm and pulled you closer to speak into your ear. Big mistake. Because now he had the overwhelming urge to bury his nose in your neck and pretend his cousins weren't here. "Because you smell too good," he muttered, his voice strained.

Your brows pinched together. "What? Valko, what the hell are you talking about—?"

He huffed—an annoyed little sound—not at you, at the situation. "I have a boner," he finally said.

You gawked at him. "From what, smelling me?"

His ears flattened against his head. When you said it out loud, it sounded ridiculous. But he swallowed his pride. His hand tightened on your arm, keeping you still. "Just… Just sit here for a minute."

"A minute?! Valko, I really need to p—"

"It's not my fault you smell so good!" he huffed.

His cousin barked out a laugh. "Valko, you dirty dog."

"Hush."

a/n: i want valko guys.

[himbo-kuto]

been seeing those "climbing my boyfriend to see if he'll notice" videos and valko would 1000% let you climb him like a jungle gym while not batting an eye. he doesn't even notice you setting up your phone and pressing record because he's so locked into his work. you would start climbing up onto the back on his chair and fully swinging your legs over his shoulders to the front of his chest. and the only thing he thinks to do is to hold your legs and stabilize you and as you continue your ascent to fully sit on his shoulders.

his eyebrows are still furrowed but softer now that you're in his presence. you tug on his hair like ratatouille and he's so surprised by the force that he yelps and actually goes with you. of course, he catches you and steers you back to center. the giggles are off the charts as valko has been accustomed with your silly ways. you comb his hair back and scratch his scalp as he taps away on his keyboard.

you try and ask questions to see if you can rile him up but he is genuinely so happy with answering them.

"whatcha doin?" i'm just finishing these reports honey bunches of oats, i'll be done in 10 minutes max.

"what does that mean?" it's just an identifier we use for the different types of metals we have.

"what should we have for dinner?" mmm, maybe that yummy chicken you made last week. i thought about it this morning.

"who's my pretty boy?" you reach under his chin and give him the lightest scratch. his eyes sparkle as he looks up at you, giving you that love sick puppy smile that shows his canines.

"meee!"

[totallynotashieldagent]

so idk about making it a whole proper fic but i'll do drabbles and little one shots about this specific storyline- Valko and his mate. So- you can ask for specific events with these two as well if you want! <33 love you!

The First Meeting

This was going horribly. You were talking, Valko was nodding, pretending to listen but he was not catching a single word.

You were here. In his office. But so were a handful of other people in this stupid room because this was a meeting and they had an agenda to fix the authentication layer of the new health care app.

He hated how there were so many scents overlapping your smell. He was pretty sure his employees noticed his very grumpy face. But much to his relief, they assumed that he was angry about this mishap. Not the fact that they were all crowded around his mate and talking to her and being in her vicinity- All the things that even he had barely gotten the privilege of!

"Alright." He spoke suddenly, and the room quieted down. "I think we've covered plenty of ground for now. Why don't we follow up the rest on Slack?" He asked. "Someone will add you to the company channel." He said so sweetly to you.

"Uh- Sir- Slack is only for employees-" Someone asked with confusion.

It took everything Valko had in him to not snarl at his employee and throw him out for even implying that you weren't to get access to everything and anything-

Don't these idiots realize they're speaking about my future wife? He glared at them, his back tingling as his tail wanted to be let loose.

"Consider this special circumstances." Since she'll own half of this company soon enough. He said through gritted teeth.

Everyone nodded and started to shuffle out when he asked for you to stay back.

Once the room was empty, and the last person left, leaving just you and him, he took a deep breath. Finally, just your scent. He sighed, then looked at you with a smile.

"I had a proposition for you." He was doing his best to be smooth. "How would you feel about me buying your company? You could be head of cyber security here?" Oh- And I'd get to see you everyday. Work with you all the time.

You stared at him with raised brows. "Excuse me?"

Uh oh- That's not the reaction I wanted. He almost pouted.

"I- Uh-" You gathered your thoughts to articulate yourself as kindly as you possibly could. "I think we've misunderstood one another." You looked at him.

His wolf cowered inside him. No- No- No- Mate is angry. Why is mate angry? Fix it!! Fix! Fix!

"I came to you as a favour to help you secure your app better. I'm not interested in selling or being absorbed into another company." You said firmly and Valko's wolf whined pathetically in his head.

"I'm- I'm sorry- I-" He stammered, a lump already forming in his throat.

You stared at him in confusion. Was this man about to cry because you said no to selling?

"I just- I wanted to-" He tried but what was he supposed to say? That he wanted to make sure you'd never want for anything. He cleared his throat and forced himself to calm down. "I apologize for assuming. Can I make it up to you?" He asked. "Perhaps, a dinner?" Yes- Yes. That was good. Very smooth.

You exhaled a soft laugh, zipping up your bag. "I don't think that would be appropriate. Considering we're working together at the moment."

Valko wanted to sob. "Maybe after we're done with this?"

"Maybe?" You said shyly.

Success!! His wolf jumped around. Valko smiled at you. "Maybe is good. I like maybe."

.

.

.

LADS Drabble Masterlist

[totallynotashieldagent]

Valko's Mate

Valko had grown up being told that when he'd meet his mate, he'd know. He would stay up so many nights, asking his mom to tell the story of how she met his dad, how she knew that his dad was the one. No matter how many times he'd hear the story, he'd never get tired.

Maybe that was why he believed in love stories. Because how could he not? His parents' was the love story for the ages.

However, seeing how old he was now, he was starting to lose hope.

He had travelled the world, met countless people, and never once had he ever met someone that made him pause. That stole his breath, that made his wolf go wild, that pulled him as if they were meant for him.

Sure, there had been relationships, good fucks- some were genuinely nice women. One relationship had even lasted two years because it was so comfortable. But that was all it was. Comfortable. No one ever captured his heart. No one ever made his soul burn. No one ever made his wolf yearn for them.

Not the way his mother had always told that she did for his father.

So he told himself that love could wait. It would have to wait. He just focused more and more on the company. On his career. On everything other than what he wanted to seek out.

Even now, he was sitting at his desk, overseeing some papers when his assistant knocked.

"Sir?" He popped his head in the office. "We have a bit of a situation downstairs."

"What now, Simon?" Valko sighed and looked up.

"Uh.. there's a woman downstairs. In the lobby. Won't leave until she sees you." Simon explained.

"So? Call security or whatever-" Valko waved him away.

"That's the problem part." Simon swallowed. "She's not doing anything. She's just sitting there. Says that she needs 5 minutes only. Says that she'll wait."

"Wait?" Valko's brows furrowed and Simon nodded. He inhaled deeply and paused. "I'll handle it." Valko said slowly and then took another deep breath.

There were the usual smells. Office cedar, air fresheners, stale coffee, and something new. Different. Sweeter.

Valko closed his laptop and took out his nasal blockers. He usually wore them so his sense of smell wouldn't constantly be assaulting and distracting him. He took another deep breath and suddenly felt his wolf pawing at the back of his throat.

That was new. His wolf never did that. Had never done that.

He walked out of his office and the smell grew stronger. He followed it all the way down to the lobby and there you were. His heart stuttered, his wolf practically tried to claw out of his chest. He had to put his nasal blocker back in so to not lose control and show the whole building his tail.

"I heard you were looking for me." He said smoothly with a smile, offering his hand.

"Mr Ao! Hello!" You smiled brightly and his knees almost buckled. "I'm so sorry for showing up like this but I called and no appointments were available until next month and-"

He wasn't listening. He couldn't. You were shaking his hand and that's all that mattered. All this time he'd spent looking- Somehow you'd come to him. Just shown up out of thin air.

"But anyway- I found a backdoor vulnerability in your new healthcare app-" You pulled away from his hand and he almost reached out to grab you again. You didn't notice that. You were too busy opening your laptop to show him what you'd found. "I have a small cyber security start up." You explained. "And I thought that if I'd emailed you about this, it might look like a scam or something -"

You were still talking but all Valko was doing was looking at you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, the way your mouth moved as you spoke, your hands as they glided over the keys on your laptop. Whereas his wolf was purring because he was just near you. A soft chant churning in his head. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

"See?" You smiled, showing him your laptop screen. "That could lead to potential data leaks." Valko nodded. He had heard absolutely nothing you'd said. "Whoever built the authentication layer probably forgot to tie up the loose ends- It's nothing catastrophic. Yet." You turned to him and he was just... There. Without a single working braincell.

"Right... Can you show me the code again please?" He tried to piece together what you'd said.

You nodded and put your laptop on the receptionist's desk. Valko moved closer to look at your laptop over your shoulder and definitely not to smell you.

The nasal blocker was there but this close, he could still smell you. Like pine after rain. Like a warm beach day. Like midnight after a thick snow. Everything was so crisp and you were showing him a code that looked like hieroglyphics at the moment.

"Mr Ao?" You asked, unsure if he was even listening.

"I'm sorry." He gave an easy smile to cover up the torment inside him. "I'm a little distracted. Work and all-" He lied. Oh god I just lied to my mate what would mother say? He cleared his throat. "If you could give me your number, perhaps we can arrange a proper sit down and discuss this?" And then afterwards I'll throw you over my shoulder and we'll disappear for at least a month.

You smiled again and his wolf preened. You were smiling at him. For him.

"Of course." You handed him your business card.

"I'll take very good care of this." And you. Oh god I'll take such good care of you. He slipped the business card into his pocket.

You nodded, "Well.. um- I should go- I'm sorry for causing a scene and-"

Cause as many scenes as you want. Anything you want. His brain was burning up. This was everything and more than what his mother had told him would feel like.

"Thank you." He breathed out as you put your laptop on your bag. "For finding this." And me. Thank you for finding me. "We would have landed in a lot of trouble and lawsuits if you hadn't."

"It's really no problem. You're doing good work. I didn't want it to stop just because someone made a mistake." You assured him. "Thank you again for your time, Mr Ao."

"Valko. Please, call me Valko." He said softly. You'll be saying it for the rest of life, soon enough.

"Valko." You repeated and his wolf purred in his chest.

He shook your hand again, his other hand coming to cover yours completely. "I hope to see you again soon." And then never let you go.

.

.

.

Drabble Masterlist

[sveraia]

you hit different // ep 8 : plus one

PREMISE : sukuna ryomen is the university's undefeated boxing star, but his reputation might cost him the career he's been fighting for. you’re just a student trying to write the article that could make your name, until he offers you a deal : fake date him.

he gets the image he needs. you get the story of a lifetime.

it's supposed to be temporary. just an arrangement. just for appearances. but when the season ends and the cameras are gone… what happens when they have to figure out what's real?

PAIRING : boxing!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

GENRES / TAGS / WARNINGS : modern college au, athlete!sukuna, boxer!sukuna, fake dating, senior sukuna, slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, angst, smut, lots of jealousy, mutual pining, smau with written chapters, emotionally constipated sukuna, reader who talks back, competitive tension, campus drama series masterlist

There should have been a moment when things changed. Something obvious. A fight, maybe. A conversation dramatic enough to point at months later and say, there. That's where everything went wrong.

Instead, it just happened quietly.

One day, Ryomen Sukuna was just your assignment. A name in an email followed by several warning signs disguised as athletic achievements. The next, you knew he skipped breakfast before morning practice but always bought coffee afterward. You knew he hated interviews and tolerated questions with the same enthusiasm people reserved for dental appointments. You knew that after bad sparring sessions, he'd disappear for twenty minutes and come back with fresh bandages and an even worse attitude.

You knew these things the way people knew the route home after taking it often enough. Without realizing you'd memorized it. Campus had changed too.

For the first week after the gossip account's post, people stared. Some whispered. Others skipped subtlety entirely.

"How long have you guys been together?"

"Did he ask you out?"

"Is he actually nice to you?" As though Sukuna was some kind of campus cryptid and you were the unlucky idiot who'd gotten close enough to survive the encounter.

Then, eventually, the novelty faded.

Not completely. You still caught strangers looking a second too long in lecture halls and there were still comments under his posts from people determined to uncover the mystery of Sukuna Ryomen's nonexistent love life. But the university had accepted your existence the same way it accepted surprise quizzes and broken vending machines.

You blamed the article for how much time you spent around him. It was much easier that way.

Because technically, you did need to be there. The feature wasn't a one-time interview. There were practices to observe, matches to attend and schedules to work around.

That was why on a random Thursday evening, you found yourself sitting alone on the bleachers with your laptop balanced on your knees while the rest of the team slowly filtered out of the gym.

At least, that's what you told yourself.

The place sounded different once practice ended. Without teammates yelling over one another and gloves crashing against punching bags, the gym became strangely quiet. The squeak of sneakers against polished floors echoed louder, bouncing off the walls and disappearing into the empty stands.

Across the room, Sukuna was still training.

He moved differently when nobody was watching.

Less like the undefeated boxer plastered across campus sports pages and more like someone chasing something only he could see.

You weren't entirely sure when you'd started noticing the difference.

"You planning on finishing that tonight?"

The voice startled you enough that your laptop almost slid off your legs.

Sukuna stood at the bottom of the bleachers, towel hanging loosely around his neck, dark hair damp from training. Without the gloves and the ring and the permanent scowl he wore around everyone else, he looked uhh unfair. Annoyingly attractive, actually.

The kind of attractive that explained why half the girls on campus lost their minds whenever he walked into a room.

Unfortunately, the moment he opened his mouth, that illusion shattered.

"You walk like a serial killer."

"And yet, you keep getting surprised."

"Because you appear out of nowhere."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

You narrowed your eyes. "Did Gojo teach you that phrase?"

"No. I'm naturally gifted."

"At being annoying?"

"Among other things."

You rolled your eyes and shut your laptop.

The two of you left the gym together, falling into step without really discussing it.

Outside, campus buzzed with the usual evening chaos. Students crossed the courtyard in clusters, hurrying toward dorms and late-night study sessions.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

Then, mostly because silence around Sukuna somehow felt stranger than arguing with him, you mentioned that you'd run into Gojo earlier.

Sukuna adjusted the strap of his gym bag.

"That explains why he was insufferable at practice."

You laughed. "You say that like he's specifically difficult around you."

"He is."

"Maybe he just enjoys making your life harder."

"Then he's got terrible hobbies."

"Bold statement coming from someone whose hobbies include getting punched" you added.

"It's called a sport."

"It's called concerning behavior."

He glanced at you, unimpressed.

"You watch it voluntarily."

"Unfortunately, journalism requires sacrifice."

"Sure."

You hated that stupid little sure.

Because somehow, after weeks of knowing him, you'd learned that Sukuna had an entire language made up of single-word responses.

There was the dismissive sure, the sarcastic sure, the 'I'm pretending not to care but absolutely care' sure.

This one, annoyingly enough, was impossible to read.

By the time you got back to your dorm, the conversation had already lodged itself somewhere inconvenient in the back of your mind.

You opened your laptop more out of habit than necessity.

When you'd started the feature, your notes had been painfully predictable. Statistics, rankings, achievements. Everything anyone could learn with a quick search online.

Now, entire paragraphs had nothing to do with boxing at all.

You'd written about how he stayed behind long after practice ended, about the way he answered personal questions only after pretending he wasn't going to answer them at all. Somewhere between interview transcripts and match schedules, you'd started noticing smaller things too. The fact that he remembered details people assumed he ignored. The fact that his indifference often felt suspiciously deliberate.

At some point, you'd stopped writing about the boxer and started writing about him. The realization sat uncomfortably in your chest.

You snapped your laptop shut.

The next afternoon found you in the exact same place.

Practice had ended almost twenty minutes ago and you were still on the bleachers, pretending to organize your notes while Sukuna wrapped his hands for tomorrow's match.

You didn't notice Coach until he stopped beside you.

"Back again?" he asked.

You looked up from your screen. "Turns out writing an entire feature is weirdly time-consuming."

He laughed quietly, glancing toward the ring.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then Coach shook his head, almost amused.

"Funny."

You frowned. "What?"

"I've worked with Sukuna for three years."

You waited for him to continue.

"And I've never seen him let someone stick around this long."

Before you could ask what he meant, your phone buzzed in your lap.

You glanced down automatically.

sukuna ryomen🥊: you busy saturday?

Your eyebrows knitted together.

Usually, Sukuna texted because he needed something. Interview schedules. Match timings. Complaints.

You typed back.

depends. why?

The typing bubble appeared.

Disappeared and appeared again.

got a match.

That message sat on your screen longer than it should have.

Because for the first time since this entire disaster had started, you weren't sure whether Sukuna was texting his writer, his fake girlfriend or just you.

first taglist : @mrskamikazekaito @galagcica @slasherscream @sleazysaltedcat @monacosprince @shankzs @callmekda @badtrinia @spookyeomgoose @degagethot @winkii @mindaysha @mellsfern @alebrasil0101 @aiko-oba @princess-rueee @silentfriday @corvid007 @whotfisaba @audreygottheautism @luxxsoda @soggyfeetandcoldtoes @kn1n3 @xoscrumcheousxoxo @d1tsyngel @annicishana @dkrjghfnsn @doucheflamingo @bananananana07@siilentniightiingale @livvyxliv @elliegj-xx @snapesdaughterrr-blog @riikisworld

[sveraia]

you hit different // ep 7 : collateral damage

PREMISE : sukuna ryomen is the university's undefeated boxing star, but his reputation might cost him the career he's been fighting for. you’re just a student trying to write the article that could make your name, until he offers you a deal : fake date him.

he gets the image he needs. you get the story of a lifetime.

it's supposed to be temporary. just an arrangement. just for appearances. but when the season ends and the cameras are gone… what happens when they have to figure out what's real?

PAIRING : boxing!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

GENRES / TAGS / WARNINGS : modern college au, athlete!sukuna, boxer!sukuna, fake dating, senior sukuna, slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, angst, smut, lots of jealousy, mutual pining, smau with written chapters, emotionally constipated sukuna, reader who talks back, competitive tension, campus drama series masterlist

first taglist : @mrskamikazekaito @galagcica @slasherscream @sleazysaltedcat @monacosprince @shankzs @callmekda @badtrinia @spookyeomgoose @degagethot @winkii @mindaysha @mellsfern @alebrasil0101 @aiko-oba @princess-rueee @silentfriday @corvid007 @whotfisaba @audreygottheautism @luxxsoda @soggyfeetandcoldtoes @kn1n3 @xoscrumcheousxoxo @d1tsyngel @annicishana @dkrjghfnsn @doucheflamingo @bananananana07 @siilentniightiingale @livvyxliv @elliegj-xx @snapesdaughterrr-blog

[sveraia]

you hit different // ep 6 : rumor has it

PREMISE : sukuna ryomen is the university's undefeated boxing star, but his reputation might cost him the career he's been fighting for. you’re just a student trying to write the article that could make your name, until he offers you a deal : fake date him.

he gets the image he needs. you get the story of a lifetime.

it's supposed to be temporary. just an arrangement. just for appearances. but when the season ends and the cameras are gone… what happens when they have to figure out what's real?

PAIRING : boxing!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

GENRES / TAGS / WARNINGS : modern college au, athlete!sukuna, boxer!sukuna, fake dating, senior sukuna, slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, angst, smut, lots of jealousy, mutual pining, smau with written chapters, emotionally constipated sukuna, reader who talks back, competitive tension, campus drama. series masterlist

TAGLIST : @sherizaraiyah @ara-2306 @mrskamikazekaito @idekjo-jo @love-d-luxe @amorluvv @tinyforrestfairy @awkw4rdblkg1rl @derpydimple @userlovesff @snowstriper101 @scorpiankh @emluvsgetou @sal1mav @chosoprettygirl @thegirlulike @oikawasabc @sukunasunflower @iridescentshine @raccoonlover-11 @vimzya @nyanglock @heeknow @sukubusss @m3owr3ow @goosemamas08 @saturnzo @l3em0n-ee @skye209sblog @aveeniexoxo @yennamakannusowkiyama @crimsonfangel @ughdontbeboring @zoyayayay14 @snoopisa @ivansdih @chosoficreader @lunaisdeaddd @aenn00 @kawaiisplash @exclusiivelyd @meikozzus @peysdeliveryservice @bam-boozledx

[sveraia]

you hit different // ep 5 : terms & conditions

PREMISE : sukuna ryomen is the university's undefeated boxing star, but his reputation might cost him the career he's been fighting for. you’re just a student trying to write the article that could make your name, until he offers you a deal : fake date him.

he gets the image he needs. you get the story of a lifetime.

it's supposed to be temporary. just an arrangement. just for appearances. but when the season ends and the cameras are gone… what happens when they have to figure out what's real?

PAIRING : boxing!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

GENRES / TAGS / WARNINGS : modern college au, athlete!sukuna, boxer!sukuna, fake dating, senior sukuna, slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, angst, smut, lots of jealousy, mutual pining, smau with written chapters, emotionally constipated sukuna, reader who talks back, competitive tension, campus drama. series masterlist

taglist : @sherizaraiyah @ara-2306 @mrskamikazekaito @idekjo-jo @love-d-luxe @amorluvv @tinyforrestfairy @awkw4rdblkg1rl @derpydimple @userlovesff @snowstriper101 @scorpiankh @emluvsgetou @sal1mav @chosoprettygirl @thegirlulike @oikawasabc @sukunasunflower @iridescentshine @raccoonlover-11 @vimzya @nyanglock @heeknow @sukubusss @m3owr3ow @goosemamas08 @saturnzo @l3em0n-ee @skye209sblog @aveeniexoxo @yennamakannusowkiyama @crimsonfangel @ughdontbeboring @zoyayayay14 @snoopisa @ivansdih @chosoficreader

[sveraia]

you hit different // ep 4 : the offer

PREMISE : sukuna ryomen is the university's undefeated boxing star, but his reputation might cost him the career he's been fighting for. you’re just a student trying to write the article that could make your name, until he offers you a deal : fake date him.

he gets the image he needs. you get the story of a lifetime.

it's supposed to be temporary. just an arrangement. just for appearances. but when the season ends and the cameras are gone… what happens when they have to figure out what's real?

PAIRING : boxing!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

GENRES / TAGS / WARNINGS : modern college au, athlete!sukuna, boxer!sukuna, fake dating, senior sukuna, slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, angst, smut, lots of jealousy, mutual pining, smau with written chapters, emotionally constipated sukuna, reader who talks back, competitive tension, campus drama series masterlist

taglist : @sherizaraiyah @ara-2306 @mrskamikazekaito @idekjo-jo @love-d-luxe @amorluvv @tinyforrestfairy @awkw4rdblkg1rl @derpydimple @userlovesff @snowstriper101 @scorpiankh @emluvsgetou @sal1mav @chosoprettygirl @thegirlulike @oikawasabc @sukunasunflower @iridescentshine @raccoonlover-11 @vimzya @nyanglock @heeknow @sukubusss @m3owr3ow @goosemamas08 @saturnzo @l3em0n-ee @skye209sblog @aveeniexoxo @yennamakannusowkiyama @crimsonfangel @ughdontbeboring @zoyayayay14 @snoopisa

a/n : pls ignore the timestamp issue, it's too late to fix it 😭😭

[sveraia]

you hit different // ep 3 : first impressions

PREMISE : sukuna ryomen is the university's undefeated boxing star, but his reputation might cost him the career he's been fighting for. you’re just a student trying to write the article that could make your name, until he offers you a deal : fake date him.

he gets the image he needs. you get the story of a lifetime.

it's supposed to be temporary. just an arrangement. just for appearances. but when the season ends and the cameras are gone… what happens when they have to figure out what's real?

PAIRING : boxing!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

GENRES / TAGS / WARNINGS : modern college au, athlete!sukuna, boxer!sukuna, fake dating, senior sukuna, slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, angst, smut, lots of jealousy, mutual pining, smau with written chapters, emotionally constipated sukuna, reader who talks back, competitive tension, campus drama series masterlist

you spend the entire morning convincing yourself that meeting sukuna ryomen is not going to be a big deal.

which is funny because it very obviously is.

not because you're nervous about interviewing him. you've done this before. you've sat across from students who treat a club presidency like a seat in parliament. you've listened to professors spiral so far off topic that your original question becomes a distant memory. you've dealt with people who think answering three questions for a student article entitles them to a full fledged feature.

people are people. you can handle people. that's kind of the entire point of journalism. you listen, you observe, you find the story underneath whatever version of themselves someone wants the world to see.

the problem is that sukuna ryomen already has too many versions.

the athletics department sees an undefeated boxer with an incredible future ahead of him. the students on campus see someone intimidating enough that his name is usually followed by a warning. the forums see a debate. half the comments praise him like he's the greatest athlete TJ university has ever produced. the other half make it sound like talking to him is a personal safety hazard.

which is exactly why this feature exists. behind the win. not just the victories or the medals but rather for the person behind them.

and unfortunately for you the person behind them is sukuna ryomen.

you're standing outside the boxing facility with your phone in your hand, notes app open, staring at your prep list for probably the hundredth time. you're not even reading it anymore. you're just looking at it because somehow appearing prepared makes you feel more prepared, which isn’t real, but fake confidence is confidence nonetheless. technically.

your eyes land on the last bullet point.

public perception.

you've gone through old interviews, match clips, campus discussions, everything. and somehow every piece of information only makes you more curious because the weird thing about sukuna ryomen is that everyone talks about him and nobody actually seems to know him. they know the boxer and his reputation, not the person.

and maybe that's why you're excited about the assignment.

not that you'd admit that out loud. admitting you're interested in a story is one thing. admitting you're interested in a person who has a reputation for being difficult is something else entirely.

the moment you walk inside the facility you realize you imagined it wrong.

you expected chaos. loud voices and people moving around with too much energy, the kind of place where everyone is trying to prove something. instead it's controlled, focused, almost calm. the sound of gloves hitting bags echoes through the room. someone calls out instructions near the ring. a few athletes move around quietly.

and then you see him.

you understand immediately why people notice him and the strange part is that he's not trying to be noticed at all. he's not looking around to see who's watching, not putting on a performance for the room. he's just training. completely focused, like the entire world could disappear and he'd still be doing the exact same thing.

which is honestly a little annoying.

you had prepared yourself for arrogance, for someone who knows he's talented and wants the whole room to know it too. you hadn't prepared yourself for someone who is simply, quietly good at what he does.

"ryomen"

the coach's voice pulls his attention. sukuna looks over and then his eyes move toward you.

you understand the intimidating part immediately. it's not that he looks angry. he doesn't. he just looks like he notices everything, like he's quietly cataloguing the entire room without needing to say a single word about it.

"i know" he says.

you blink. "you know?"

his expression doesn't change.

"wow" you say. "very welcoming."

his eyes narrow slightly. "you're here to write."

you glance down at your notebook then back up at him. "yes. that's usually what writers do."

the room falls silent. he responds with nothing. you smile a little because apparently you are already trying to make a man with the personality of a locked door react and this is going to be a very long semester.

the interview starts a few minutes later. you sit across from him with your notebook open while he leans back slightly, looking completely at ease with silence in a way that most people aren't. most people hate silence during interviews. they fill it, they rush, they start explaining things they never intended to say.

sukuna does the opposite. he lets silence exist like it doesn't bother him at all. which makes every question feel like it matters more and that is exactly the kind of pressure you did not need.

"your record speaks for itself," you start, looking down at your notes. "but something that gets mentioned almost as much as your wins is your reputation." you look up. "do you think people misunderstand you?"

for a moment he says nothing.

then he speaks "depends."

"on what?"

"whether they're actually trying to understand."

you hate that answer. not because it's bad because it's actually good. you had prepared yourself for something defensive, something easy to write around. instead he gives you something complicated.

"so you think people judge you unfairly?"

"no." the answer comes instantly.

you pause. "no?"

"people judge what they see."

you look at him for a second longer than you mean to because that answer doesn't sound like someone arguing against criticism. it sounds like someone who has already accepted it, made peace with it, moved on. you write it down. not just the words but the feeling underneath them.

you move on. "do you think your reputation affects opportunities outside boxing?"

something in his expression shifts. not much but enough.

"you came here expecting a certain answer," he says.

you look up. "did i?"

"yes."

you almost laugh. "you're very confident."

"you're very obvious."

that catches you off guard because he's managed to insult you and make it sound like a calm observation which is somehow worse. "you always analyse people like this?"

"that's literally my job."

"sounds exhausting."

"trust me," you say, "interviewing you is making it worse."

and there it is. the smallest thing. not a smile but something close to one. a tiny crack in the completely serious expression.

you notice. you immediately wish you hadn't.

by the time the interview ends your notebook is fuller than you expected which is a problem because your original plan was simple. observe him, write about him, finish the feature, move on.

except sukuna ryomen is not what everyone described. he's blunt, yes. difficult, also yes. but he's not careless. and that is so much more interesting than careless.

you're packing your things and heading for the door when you remember.

"wait" you stop. he looks over. "i'll need to contact you if i have follow-up questions."

"use athletics communications," he says immediately.

you stare at him. of course. because directly contacting the person you're writing about would be too convenient. "i would," you say, "but they take forever to reply."

sukuna looks at you for a second. completely unimpressed. "not my problem."

"unfortunately," you say, adjusting your bag, "your entire season is my problem now."

for a moment he just looks at you. then he pulls out his phone. "your number."

you pause because that was not the reaction you expected. "wow."

his eyes lift. "what."

"nothing. i just didn't think you were capable of a normal solution."

"are you giving me your number or not?"

you smile slightly. "you are genuinely terrible at conversations."

"i've heard."

you type your number into his phone.

you glance at his screen before handing it back. just your name. no nickname, no comment, nothing else. of course.

you open your own contacts on the walk out.

sukuna ryomen🥊

you know the emoji is unnecessary but you're not removing it.

your phone buzzes a few minutes later.

sukuna : send the remaining questions

you stare at the message. no hello. no introduction. nothing.

y/n : do you always text like you're assigning tasks?

the reply comes after a few seconds.

sukuna : do you always talk this much

you look at the screen and give a quiet chuckle out there on the pavement by yourself.

somehow that's the first actual conversation you've had with sukuna ryomen. and somehow you already know it's the beginning of your problem.

taglist : @sherizaraiyah @ara-2306 @mrskamikazekaito @idekjo-jo @love-d-luxe @amorluvv @tinyforrestfairy @awkw4rdblkg1rl @derpydimple @userlovesff @snowstriper101 @scorpiankh @emluvsgetou @sal1mav @chosoprettygirl @thegirlulike @oikawasabc @sukunasunflower @iridescentshine @raccoonlover-11 @vimzya @nyanglock @heeknow @sukubusss @m3owr3ow @goosemamas08 @saturnzo @l3em0n-ee @skye209sblog @aveeniexoxo @yennamakannusowkiyama

[sveraia]

you hit different // ep 2 : full access

PREMISE : sukuna ryomen is the university's undefeated boxing star, but his reputation might cost him the career he's been fighting for. you’re just a student trying to write the article that could make your name, until he offers you a deal : fake date him.

he gets the image he needs. you get the story of a lifetime.

it's supposed to be temporary. just an arrangement. just for appearances. but when the season ends and the cameras are gone... what happens when they have to figure out what's real?

PAIRING : boxing!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

GENRES / TAGS / WARNINGS : modern college au, athlete!sukuna, boxer!sukuna, fake dating, senior sukuna, slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, angst, smut, lots of jealousy, mutual pining, smau with written chapters, emotionally constipated sukuna, reader who talks back, competitive tension, campus drama series masterlist

taglist : @sherizaraiyah @ara-2306 @mrskamikazekaito @idekjo-jo @love-d-luxe @amorluvv @tinyforrestfairy @awkw4rdblkg1rl @derpydimple @userlovesff @snowstriper101 @scorpiankh @emluvsgetou @sal1mav @chosoprettygirl @thegirlulike @oikawasabc @sukunasunflower @iridescentshine

[analoggedin]

sukuna and his mean bratty gf

(again ignore time on top pls guys 😞😞)

[ghxstrobins]

Heat Wave

Summary - During one of the worst heatwaves in Gotham’s history your boyfriend decides to turn his clinginess up to a thousand

Pairing - Jason Todd x Reader

“Come on baby-” Jason tries to argue with you as you inch away from him on your couch.

“No! It’s too hot.” You stay firm in your resolve as you push at his arms that you usually love wrapped around you.

Most people wouldn’t believe you if you told them that Jason Todd, the Red Hood, was clingy. They would probably scoff at that or just give you a small placating smile.

But it’s true!

And usually you love that. His body touching yours makes you feel like two pieces of a whole clicking together. He also runs hot in the winter which is a plus since your apartment can get cold in the winter but when summer rolls around it’s a completely different story.

“You are depriving me of love.” He crosses his arms.

You groan into your book as you put it on your face, “Can’t I love you from over here?”

You hear him shift closer and his hand slowly takes the book off of your face so you can see him. He has a slight grin to his lips as he looks down at your scowl.

“Just a twenty minutes than I will be all good to go.” He lies to you like the liar he is.

You know that twenty minutes will turn into three hours because for some reason when he cuddles up to you, your body decides it is the perfect time to nap. You know that you are going to wake up covered in your boyfriend and sweat but looking down at him you sigh dramatically.

“Fine!” You open your arms and he slots himself between them like he was made for it. “But only twenty minutes Jason.”

“Of course baby.”

Four hours later you wake up to the soft evening light and Jason snoring softly on your chest. But you can’t bring yourself to be angry at him so you run your hands through his hair and settle in for more sleep.

Only Jason Todd would cuddle you during a heat wave.

Blue’s Notes - Greetings from in front of my fan lol, a bad heat wave has been making my life hell for the past day and a half so have a little drabble based off of my suffering!

[karvokr]

what remains

in a world built from fractured pieces, how do you protect the one thing that makes you feel whole? especially when he’s the reason you weren’t supposed to survive.

pairings/tags: satoru gojo x reader, fallout 4 au, SLOW BURN (like devastatingly slow), allies to lovers, eventual smut, mutual pining, TENSION, complicated relationships, trust issues, angst!, trauma bonding <3, big bad villian suguru, big bad villain institute, canon divergence (jjk and fo4), post-apocalyptic (duh it's fallout) content warnings: mdni, violence and gore, psychological trauma, scientific/medical abuse and experimentation, death and loss, mature themes... this fic is not intended for all audiences!! series playlist << one • series masterlist • three >>

fo4 overview

two - mercy

The Brotherhood didn’t forget.

Two days after Gojo spared their patrol, a Vertibird passed overhead your camp. Then another. Then four in formation, circling like vultures with steel wings.

“They’re scouting,” you murmured, peering through your scope. “Looking for the unnatural anomaly. You.”

Gojo lounged on a crumbling concrete wall, legs swinging lazily as he chewed Fancy Lad Snack Cakes like they were gourmet. “Anomaly?” he grinned. “They say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing, Gojo.” You turned toward him, feeling the heat rise behind your eyes. “They’re going to come back. In force. Maybe with Liberty Prime. Maybe with synth-hunting Paladins. They’ll see this place as compromised.”

“And I’ll deal with it.” He stood, stretching with a casualness that didn’t suit the situation. “Trust me– there’s nothing they can throw at me I can’t handle.”

“I know that!” you snapped, louder than you meant to. “But what about the rest of us? What about me? I’m not a god, Gojo. We’re not gods. We bleed. We die.”

The silence that followed was thick. Gojo’s expression faltered just slightly. You didn’t finish the thought. Neither did he. Instead, you turned away, nails pressing into your palms until it stung. He didn’t leave that night, like you thought he might. Instead, you found him lying on the ground next to your sleeping bag, one hand tucked behind his head.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. “Back home, I was called the strongest. And I wore that like armor. Still do, I guess. But here?” His voice dipped. “Here I’m just… alone.”

You walked over and sat beside him, knees pulled to your chest. “You’ll always feel alone here.”

Gojo turned his head toward you. In the firelight, the corner of his blindfold had slipped again, revealing a corner of his eye– bright, strange, infinite. They weren’t meant for this world. And yet they were here.

“You could go back home. If we found the right tech– Institute portals, pre-war quantum crap, even some old-world Vault experiment– maybe you could open a door,” you said, head tilted toward him.

His lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’d help me leave?”

“I’d help you choose.”

Silence again. He stared up at the sky like it held the answers he couldn't find in his own mind. “You’re not what I expected when I landed in this hellhole,” he said finally. “I figured I’d be some wandering myth, blowing up ghouls and flirting with robots until I died from boredom.”

“You still could. I know a guy,” you muttered, and he huffed a laugh.

“But then you aimed at me.” He looked at you now, really looked. “And you didn’t shoot. Everyone else did.”

“They had the right idea,” you teased, and his smile deepened.

“I’m afraid, you know,” he said. “That I’ll forget what I was trying to get back to.”

That was the first time you saw him vulnerable. The first time he looked less like a myth and more like a man who’d lost everything– and didn’t want to lose anything else.

You didn’t speak. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t crack the quiet. The fire crackled between you, carving flickering shadows into the ruins around the campsite– broken walls and twisted steel, a half-collapsed billboard watching like it knew your secrets. Beyond, the Commonwealth slept in its usual unrest: distant gunfire, a grumbling radstorm out by the Glowing Sea, the static hum of turrets someone forgot to turn off, or maybe they didn’t.

Gojo’s words sat heavy in the air. Not like a confession– more like a crack in the mask he always wore. A flash of something real underneath all the jokes and impossible power. You poked at the fire with a rusted rebar rod, watching the sparks drift up like stars trying to escape.

“Home isn’t a place anymore,” you said. “Not here. Maybe not anywhere.”

He didn’t reply. His gaze drifted back toward the flames, and the light danced in that one uncovered eye– infinite, yes, but also tired. Quiet. Like someone who’d held the whole world once and watched it fall through his fingers.

You took a breath. “But maybe it’s not about where you came from. Maybe it’s about what you’re willing to protect now.”

That made him blink. “You sound like the protagonist of a superhero movie.”

“I’m not. I’m just someone who crawled out of a freezer into hell and kept walking.”

His smile came back, this time with a little warmth. “You make surviving look easy.”

“You should’ve seen me cry over irradiated Salisbury steak. Real glamorous.”

He laughed again, softer now. “So what are you protecting, Vault Girl?”

You looked past him, out toward the horizon, where old cities melted under distant skies and the remains of humanity tried to rebuild themselves out of nothing but scrap and stubbornness. You thought of Preston. Of synths like Glory. Of Piper and Nick. Of Dogmeat. Of Codsworth and the settlers in Sanctuary hammering boards onto homes that would never quite be whole again. You thought of Gojo– clever and unfamiliar and not of this world– sitting across from you like the Commonwealth had already started to make a place in him, too.

“People who still believe it’s worth it,” you said. “Even if they’re scared.”

Gojo was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached up slowly and adjusted his blindfold, covering his eye again– that impossible piece of him folding back into the shadows. A mystery that you couldn’t solve, even if you tried.

“I’ll stay a little longer,” he said.

You smiled. “Good.”

The wind shifted. The fire flared. And somewhere deep in the ruins, the Commonwealth held its breath– like it knew a storm was coming, and its name was already being whispered in the dark.

You woke before dawn. The fire had burned to embers, casting everything in a deep red glow. Gojo was still there, sitting upright with his back against a crumbling wall, legs stretched out, arms folded loosely over his chest. He didn’t sleep– not really. He said sleep barely touched him anymore– like gravity, time, or exhaustion couldn’t quite pin him down. But you’d seen him doze before, slipping into half-silence, expression unreadable, names and places slipping in broken pieces from his lips.

This wasn’t that. He was awake– watching.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked quietly.

“Didn’t want to.” He tilted his head toward you, blindfold still in place. His voice was calm, but something in it buzzed beneath the surface, like distant static on an old radio. “Something’s coming,” he said.

You felt it, too. In your bones. The pressure shift. The hush in the wind that meant you weren’t alone anymore. You reached for your rifle out of instinct. “Raiders?” you asked.

He shook his head slowly. “Not this time.”

A sound echoed down the highway. Not shouting. Not gunfire. Boots. Heavy. Disciplined. Marching in perfect unison. 

The Brotherhood.

You swore under your breath and scrambled to your feet. Gojo didn’t move– just let his body relax into the ground, waiting. Watching. You scanned the distant ridge. They came into view slowly, outlines gleaming in the early light that started to cover the sky behind them. Power armor squads, at least six of them. Vertibird overhead. This wasn’t a patrol. It was a response.

“They tracked us,” you muttered. “After the last encounter, they probably flagged your energy signature, or, hell, maybe they just followed the stories.”

Gojo smiled without humor. “It’s hard to stay low-profile when you stop bullets with your face.”

You turned to him. “You need to go. I can hold them off– scramble their sensors, lead them the wrong way, something.”

But he didn’t move. “No,” he said.

You grabbed his arm, harder than you meant to. “They’ll kill you. Or worse– take you. Study you. Use you.”

His expression didn’t change, but his hand came up, gentle on yours. “They’re not after me,” he said. “They’re after the idea of me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they don’t just want me gone. They want everyone afraid of anything that doesn’t fit in their world.”

You stared at him, your throat dry. The Brotherhood didn’t deal in nuance. You knew that better than anyone. And Gojo? He was a walking contradiction– power without war, strength without cruelty. He didn’t fit into anyone’s system. He never would.

“Then what do we do?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer. He just stood, brushing off the dust and dirt. The blindfold stayed in place, but you could feel the weight of his gaze all the same. The space around him shimmered faintly, like the air couldn’t quite hold still near him. He stepped forward and the wind shifted again– rising behind him, curling like a wave building on the horizon. The Commonwealth had no gods. But maybe, just this once, it had something close.

The first shot split the air like thunder. Gojo didn’t flinch.

You barely had time to drop behind the wall, rifle in hand, before the world turned to fire and noise. The Brotherhood came down the hill like a tidal wave: power armor humming, weapons charged with precision only fanatics could afford. No shouts. No demands. They weren’t here to talk. They were here to erase.

Gojo moved with that same calm that always unsettled you. Not slow, but measured. Like gravity bent for him. Like the world paused to make room. He didn’t strike first. He never did. But when the minigun spun up and the first barrage of bullets tore toward him… they stopped midair, suspended like flies in a trap. For a split second, the air warped around him– like the world didn’t know how to process him.

Someone cursed over the comms. The gunfire stopped. The soldiers hesitated.

“Stand down!” one barked. “That thing is manipulating gravity! He’s a threat to all human life! This is a priority kill order from Elder Maxson himself!”

Gojo tilted his head.

“Thing?” he said softly. The bullets dropped to the ground with a metallic rattle. He raised one hand, and the shimmer in the air tightened around him, like invisible threads pulling taut. “I’m not just a thing,” he whispered.

He snapped his fingers. The world folded.

You’d seen it once before– quickly, fleetingly, a heartbeat of infinity carved into the air around him. This time, it didn’t stay hidden. Light fractured. The air twisted like a kaleidoscope held up to a black hole. Every Brotherhood soldier froze, caught mid-step, mid-breath, suspended in a veil of his power.

You stood slowly, rifle slack in your hands, watching as Gojo walked forward through the impossible. One step. Then another. He stopped just shy of the nearest Paladin, eye to visor. The world was quiet. Not the kind of silence that follows battle– no, this was deeper. Primordial. The kind of silence that came before sound itself. The soldier didn’t move– couldn’t move– locked in a moment stretched thin by power that defied comprehension. You saw the trembling in his armor, the faintest flicker of terror in his stance, frozen not just by force, but by awe.

“I know what you see when you look at me,” Gojo said. His voice didn’t echo, didn’t boom. It simply was– clear and unshakable, like it was being spoken into the roots of the world. “You see something unnatural. Something too strong to fit inside your rules. You think that makes me dangerous.”

The soldier didn’t respond. Couldn’t. But you watched Gojo’s shoulders tense, just slightly, like he was holding something back.

“But the truth is… it’s not the power that makes someone dangerous. It’s what they believe they’re entitled to do with it.” He turned his head, looking now to the whole frozen battalion, to the Brotherhood listening over the comms, to the sky and the Vertibird still hovering like a vulture with nowhere to land.

The shimmer in the air pulled inward– a slow collapse, like gravity remembering how to behave. The light bled back into normal, settling like dust after an explosion. The soldiers dropped to their knees, gasping, some vomiting, others scrambling to get their bearings. But none of them reached for their weapons. Gojo turned away. He didn’t look back. You followed.

Behind you, the Brotherhood called for medevac. Their comms were chaotic, disbelief in every voice. Words like “containment breach” and “Level Zero anomaly” crackled through the static. They hadn’t just lost. They’d been shown mercy.

You could feel them watching– everyone was. Settlers. Factions. Survivors with radios tuned to crackling Brotherhood broadcasts. They’d all hear about this. Not a massacre. Not a battle. A choice.

You stepped up beside him. The dust hadn’t cleared yet, but the message had. “They’re going to come back,” you said.

He nodded. “Let them.”

“They’re going to call you a monster.”

He looked at you, the corner of his blindfold still fluttering in the wind, just enough for you to see that infinite blue behind it. “Let them.”

taglist: @riveredmoon @siennayaps @indiewritesxoxo @dazed-lavender @lolitamermaid123 @ryutotsukai0824 @evii1e @levifiance @zurakoofgintama @yamadramallamaqueen @anothergojostan @msrinnnn @man1cslut @ethereal-moonlit @mmari-07 @honey0hooves @mutsu422 @applepi405 @gahh346951t7

<33 ily guys thx for reading

[pluvial-lake]

✶ HATE YOU SO MUCH!

synopsis ⠀:: ⠀ when you tell them you hate them.

including ⠀! ⠀ dick grayson. jason todd. tim drake. damian wayne. ✶

contents ⠀! ⠀ fem reader. obsessive characters. angst. english is not my first language. ✶

DICK GRAYSON

He's smiling when you start talking.

It's alright.

Dick is alright.

By the time you finish, the smile is gone.

You don't shout.

"I don't love you anymore, Dick."

His breathing catches.

"I don't even like being around you."

Why?

Why?

Why?

"..."

"I hate you."

Stop.

Please stop.

The silence is unbearable.

You're joking, right?

Haha, funny.

You're joking, baby. Right? Say sike. Say anything but that word again. He'll tickle it out of you if he has to, pin you to the couch and kiss that lie right off your lying, perfect, hateful mouth—

"...No."

It's barely a whisper.

He feels like he's drowning.

"No, you don't."

Deny it.

Deny it.

Deny—

"I do."

"You don't."

His voice starts shaking.

"You can't. You... you know me."

"I know you."

Good. You know him. You know every good thing he's ever done, every time he held you after a nightmare, every breakfast he burned because he was too busy looking at you, every time he—

"And that's exactly why I hate you."

You look him straight in the eye.

It's like something inside him caves in. His ribcage. His spine. His stupid, hopeful, pathetic heart that still thought he could charm his way out of this.

He can't breathe. His head is spinning. The room tilts.

Get it together, Dick. She's still here. She's still in the room. As long as she's still in the room, there's a chance. There's always a chance. You just have to say the right thing. You just have to do the right thing. You just have to—

He sits down because his legs suddenly don't work.

He doesn't cry immediately.

He just... stops.

There must be a way.

"...Tell me what to fix."

Fix it.

He can fix it!

He's Dick Grayson.

Of course he can fix it.

He'll carve off every part of him you don't like and hand you the bloody pieces in a box with a bow if that's what you want.

You don't answer.

"I'll fix everything."

His voice is too high. Too eager. Like a dog who just heard the leash rattle.

"I don't want you to."

His eyes become glassy.

DON'T CRY. DON'T CRY. DON'T CRY.

"...Then tell me how to become someone you don't hate."

He can be anyone. He can peel himself out of his own skin and wear whoever you want. Just don’t leave himself alone in it.

Just tell him what you want.

Please?

JASON TODD

He laughs.

"Hate me?"

He shakes his head, slow, like you just told him the sky is green. Like you're cute. Like you're his silly little thing who sometimes says words she doesn't mean.

There's no way his doll hates him.

No fucking way.

"Nah."

"I'm serious."

"You don't hate me."

"I do."

"You don't."

His voice becomes rougher with every word.

Of course you don't hate him.

You're just confused.

It must be your friends.

Especially the one with pink hair.

He should have killed them when he had the chance. Would’ve been cleaner. You would’ve cried on his shoulder and he would’ve licked the tears off your chin and told you you’re safe now, you’re always safe with him—

"I know you, babydoll—"

"I'm not your fucking babydoll."

You fold your arms.

"And I hate you."

Fuck.

He really wants to rip his hair out when you talk back to him like that.

Or your clothes.

One or the other.

Jason's jaw locks so hard it hurts.

Should he break your legs?

He looks away.

No.

You will hate him.

Looks back.

"You mean that."

"...Yes."

For several seconds he says nothing.

Just keep your cool. It's fine. It's no big deal.

Jason expected it anyway. Of course you hate him.

Who can even love a corpse with a rotten heart? Who can love something that crawled out of its own grave? He stinks of dirt. He always has. He's been dead for years and he just keeps forgetting to lie down.

Then he nods once.

"...Okay."

His voice is frighteningly calm.

He's handling it so fucking well.

Look at him. Emotionally mature. Not breaking anything. Not screaming. Not crying. Not begging on his knees like some pathetic dog even though his legs are seconds away from buckling.

"I can't make you love me."

Another pause.

"But I also..."

His hands clench.

"...can't stop loving you."

It's almost pathetic.

Almost.

"You can hate me for the rest of your life."

His eyes never leave yours.

"I'm still going to keep the door locked."

TIM DRAKE

He doesn't say anything.

Not immediately.

You're lying.

Tim knows you're lying because it's not your first time.

You always lie when you're trying to get his attention.

"I hate you."

You look calm.

His face loses all color.

You're breathing easily. Looking normal. Acting normal. Perfect.

You're not lying...

"...Since when?"

"A long time."

Then why are you here?

Why are you still in his life?

You should have left.

He would’ve found you. Obviously. But the fact that you stayed—that means something. That means you still want him. That means you still love him, want him to love you, to—

"And you stayed..."

"I hoped you'd change."

"And?"

"You didn't."

Yeah.

He never changes.

He knows.

He’s got spreadsheets of his own failures, timestamps of every time you flinched away from his touch.

But he tried. He tried so fucking hard.

Tim nods slowly.

Like he's writing down a fact.

"...I understand."

No, he doesn't.

He doesn't fucking understand. At all.

You know he doesn't.

You know him better than anyone.

"I made you miserable."

"Yes."

"...I'm sorry."

His voice cracks on the last word.

It's the first genuine apology you've ever heard from him.

Then he quietly asks—

"If I leave..."

He swallows.

"...would that make you happier?"

You don't answer.

That hurts more than anything else could.

DAMIAN WAYNE

He becomes perfectly still.

Almost regal.

Like every emotion has been locked behind iron walls.

"I hate you."

He looks directly at you.

Very brave.

Very brave indeed.

"I see."

"You don't."

You're acting foolish.

Just like a child.

And he's too tired to deal with a child.

"I do."

"No."

You shake your head.

"You think this is another argument."

Of course.

You always want to argue with him.

It's something normal in your relationship.

He's used to it.

He remembers every fight, every reconciliation, every time you touched his face after and he pretended he didn’t shiver.

"It is not."

"I genuinely hate you."

A long silence follows.

Finally—

"...Why?"

You tell him.

Everything.

Every reason.

Every moment that pushed you further away.

He listens without interrupting.

Because that's the last thing he can do to keep his dignity.

When you finish...

He closes his eyes.

Only for a second.

Control yourself, Damian. You are not a child. Be mature. Be respectful. Be normal.

Just. Be. Normal.

When he opens them again, they're strangely empty.

"...Very well."

He turns to leave.

Stops at the doorway.

Without looking back, he says quietly—

"There's a ring in the closet. Under your red dress."

Another pause.

"It's worth enough for a year."

His voice becomes almost inaudible.

"Take care of yourself when I'm not here."

He walks away before you can see the tears gathering in his eyes.

From down the hall, the sound of something shattering against a wall.

Then silence.

Then a single, inhuman scream, muffled by a closed fist.

If you want to be in my DC taglist let me know :)

© pluvial-lake 2026 : do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[menmadeofwarninglabels]

waking up before Leon Kennedy would be beautiful

when he's awake, he's all sharp instincts and quick reflexes and huge muscles

and then morning happens

and soft grey light comes through the curtains

his arm is heavy across your waist like even asleep he isn’t willing to let you get too far away

his hair is a mess

his face still creased faintly from sleep

one of his legs is tangled with yours beneath the blankets in a way that would probably embarrass him if he were awake enough to notice it

and he looks so peaceful like this

like the world has finally stopped asking things from him for a few hours

“quit staring,” he'd mumble, voice rough with sleep.

except he says it while pulling you closer against his chest

like he doesn’t mean it at all

and suddenly it becomes very difficult to remember that this is the same man people warn each other about in hushed voices

because right now he’s just leon

warm sleepy domestic leon

the kind that reaches for you before he’s even fully conscious