Summary: Just a short lil piece about Sylus x non mc (gn reader). The dragon thought a soul pact meant love, until he met you.
Warnings: None that I'm aware of, please let me know if I missed any.
What he once would have described as the love of a lifetime, several lifetimes really, is now sour and bitter flavored.
He thought she saved him, but she was only saving herself.
He thought she cared for him, she only ever cared for herself.
He always said he would die for her, and he always did, over and over and over again. It never seemed to matter.
He was always trying to find his way back to her. She never looked for him unless she needed something. That something was always power and never just him.
He thought this was love because it was all that he had ever known. It was the best he had ever been treated, so he would gladly give her the rest of his soul if she asked.
That is until he met YOU.
You were just as greedy as him, greedy for his attention, his time, his affection, his love, for HIM.
You gladly let him lavish you with gifts and displayed/wore them proudly letting the world know that you were his.
You treasured being his treasure and treasured him just as much in return.
You never tried to change him or his business. You supported each other and both grew more powerful.
You showed him what love really felt like with your gentle words and touches, through unconditional devotion.
You constantly sought him out. Your eyes searching for him in crowds, hands reaching out for him, and lips finding him at every opportunity.
When he proposed, he said “I wish I had the other half of my soul back to offer with this ring, but I will spend my entire life making up for it.”
You said “I don’t need half of your soul when I have your whole heart.”
*This is my second post ever so please don't be too harsh. I am normally just a curator of stories and art that I love and think should be shared. If you like this feel free to like, reblog, or comment. Have a magical day!
P.S. Any tips and tricks for posting on here are appreciated!
“You’re wet, hmm? Pretty lil girl, so slutty for me,” you tremble when he stands, hauling you up in his arms like it’s nothing, kissing you again, over and over. “Did that fight have you wet?”
“Yes,” you whisper, letting him set you down, he moans, spinning you around so that your hands brace against the cold metal of the lockers. He shoves your skirt up, spreading your thighs to find you over your panties, damp already from need. “Kuna!”
“Miss me already, brat?” He whispers, yanking them aside as he lifts you up, the heels you’re in making it just enough for him to bend down and plunge two fingers in your messy cunt. You can feel the heat of his body pressing against your back, feel him taking you over.
“Yes, Kuna,” he moans, teeth sinking into your neck, fingers knuckles deep, your plump pussy lips gripping him so good he moans. “Want you.”
“Want me to fuck you right here?” he whispers those words, breath ghosting against your ear, tickling it, making you tremble. “Gonna fuck so many kids into you, would you want that, brat? All my babies inside, not his?”
“You’re so insane,” you mumble, he laughs then, gripping your chin as he moves his fingers up and down, knowing your every spot. “Kuna!”
“Would breed you over and over, fuck imagine,” you’re lost in his filthy images of that – of you round with Sukuna’s baby, of your tits full as he mumbles it and squishes them.
“Is this y-your kink?”
Sukuna chuckles, a dark sound that makes your eyes roll back, the way he moves against you makes you feel so small compared to him. “Kink? Nah, never before you. None of this shit before you, losing my goddamn mind.”
“I…”
“Want you to smell like me when you go back to him, want you covered in my hand prints, dripping with my cum,” Sukuna yanks those fingers out before you can hit your peak, pulling your hair back and groaning, cock heavy against your ass as he presses it through the thin gym shorts. “Not a kink, just what you fucking do, god what you do.”
You look back with drugged eyes now, hand reaching back to feel him, he hisses at the contact, pressing you further against the lockers, turning you right around and lifting you, hands gripping your ass. “Kuna I…”
“You’re still talking? I need you cumming,” his cock is heavy and leaking when he tugs it out, pressing right against your messy slit, stretched open.
“Need to tell you…” He chuckles at you, kissing you again, fat cockhead and that piercing just pressing on your slick hole.
“Tell me what, brat?” His eyes are dark when he keeps positioned at your entrance, breaths coming quick. “Say it, use your words.”
You swallow nervously.
You’re gonna say it.
“I love you,” he pauses then, faltering at your words, you curse and shut your eyes, wondering if you’ve ruined the moment. “S-sorry it’s sudden and… but I feel so much and… it’s not fair to-”
“Shut up.”
You glare and he chuckles. “What!?”
“Shut up, brat,” he murmurs, softer then, cupping your face as he presses your back against those lockers.
“You… shut up, you… jerk!”
“I love you,” he answers now, with a laugh, shaking his head. “God I fucking love you, even if you’re not all mine, even if I have to share you with a dumb fucking twink that I hate.”
With one brutal, mean fucking thrust, Sukuna is buried fully inside you, so rough and the stretch so insane it’s a blur, his words, the desperation, the stretch of him.
“Feel me? Feel me fucking ruining you?” He whispers now, you just nod, tears spilling as you cry out, the sound echoing in the small space of the locker room, a mix of pain and overwhelming, sinful pleasure with him just pulsing inside you. “Who’s inside you right now?”
“You, Kuna,” your answer makes him laugh, a cruel sound, his lips against yours again. “You.”
can i ask for servant! rafayel x princes! reader free use for the event
congratulations for 2k btw
servant! rafayel x princess! reader + free use
a/n. i always wanted to write a servant x noble, thank you for requesting this! hope you enjoy ❤️
event page | event masterlist
the weight of your huge gown pooled around your ankles, brushing the hard wood floor, falling in layers upon layers of pale pink, embroidered with tiny, gleaming constellations.
you sat before your vanity, the expensive mirror reflecting a princess who looked exactly as the fair maidens that books described:
composed, cheeks faintly flushed, reddish lips slightly parted, eyes soft, fixed somewhere in the middle distance.
no one would’ve ever guessed that your favourite servant was kneeled between your legs, carefully hidden by the skirts of your dress.
rafayel had slipped beneath your gown five minutes ago, just before your chambermaids entered your room.
you remember the heat of his whisper against your wet lips as he broke free from a promiscuous kiss — “don’t make a sound, my princess.”— and the way he kneeled beneath your vanity table, covering himself with your garments.
you remember how his calloused hands parted your legs, how his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your thighs.
taking what he craved so badly, without even caring about anything else.
now tara was brushing out your hair, her movements slow and methodical, while simone was heating the curling tongs by the fireplace. they chattered softly about the evening’s ball, about which lords have arrived at court, about the quality of the new shipment of rose oil from the southern provinces.
you could barely hear them over the thunder of your own pulse.
rafayel’s mouth was on you.
he had your cunt spread open with his thumbs, his tongue working in broad, greedy stripes from your weeping, pulsing hole to the aching bud of your clit.
he was devouring you like a man starved, carrying a shameless hunger that made your thighs tremble against his ears.
you could feel the wet heat of his breath, the firm press of his nose against your clit, the way he moaned into your flesh like you were a delicacy.
all while your chambermaids attended to you.
“ah–”
you let out softly, gripping the edge of the vanity. trying to keep your composure.
“your highness? is the chair uncomfortable?” tara, always so attentive, asked through the haze. she even stopped brushing, leaning in to check on your wellbeing.
you shook your head rapidly, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. “no, no. please, continue.”
your voice came out steadier than you expected, thank gods.
rafayel, listening in, decided to reward your composure by sucking your clit into his mouth, tightening his lips harder around the swollen flesh.
you had to bite the inside of your cheek to not cry out in pleasure.
but what could be hidden... that was none of your concern. as such, your hips jerked involuntarily, pressing yourself against his face, and he let out a sound of approval, vibrating directly into your most sensitive parts.
very pleased by your reactions.
simone returned with the heated tongs as if on cue. tara started to section your hair and, together, they began to curl away, softly giggling at whatever gossip they’ve heard recently.
beneath your skirts, rafayel had lost all pretense of restraint.
he pulled back just enough to see your soaked pussy, his lips slick with spit and arousal. a short guttural moan escaped his throat, but it was not registered by the chatty maids.
rafayel dived back in happily, tongue plunging into your entrance, lapping up every bit of wetness you produced.
the sounds were obscene — wet, sloppy, rhythmic — and you prayed that the rustle of your gown and the hiss of the curling iron masked them.
and to your dismay, the besieging only intensified.
his fingers joined the torture, sliding into your needy hole with ease, curling upwards to find that spot that makes your vision blur in extasy. he scissored them gently, stretching you, while his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit.
good heavens, that combination was lethal.
you were so close. the pressure built in your lower belly, a coil tightening with every stroke, every flick, every breathy exhale of his against your sensitive pussy.
you wanted to grab his hair. you wanted to grind down on his face until you suffocated him.
you wanted to have him just like he was having you.
instead, you sat perfectly still as simone pinned your curls.
“yes, prince xavier is said to be quite handsome.” tara mused, unaware that your legs were shaking, that you weren’t — and couldn’t be — paying attention to their gossip. “perhaps he’ll seek you out.”
rafayel chuckled against your cunt at that. his fingers pumped faster, harder, and his mouth sealed around your clit in a harsh suction.
making his opinion on that neighbouring prince obvious.
your legs clasped around his head violently, quivering uncontrollably from the incoming orgasm.
“your highness?” simone tilted her head. “are you unwell?.”
you managed a breathless laugh. “i am just… a bit anxious.”
beneath your skirts, rafayel doubled his efforts. now he was fucking you with his tongue and his fingers in turns, an unceasing rhythm that left no part of you untouched.
he licked at your entrance, then trailed upwards to suck your clit, only to return to thrust his tongue inside you as deep as possible.
and with that, the coil snapped.
your orgasm crashed over you without warning; your teeth sank into your lower lip until you tasted copper, trying to muffle your erotic moans.
you let out only the softest, quietest whimper, barely audible over the crackle of the fire.
rafayel, ever the dutiful servant, worked you through it, tongue gentle and soothing, collecting every last drop of your release.
“there.” tara said, stepping back to admire her work. “you look perfect, your highness.”
in the mirror, you saw a princess with elegant curls piled atop her head, with very flustered cheeks and glistening eyes.
between your legs, rafayel pressed one final kiss to your inner thigh. his lips, wet when they brushed your skin, quietly mumbled the same verdict as tara:
tags: @yuunileb, @txtworlddom, @xyzsbaobei, @loreleis-world, @demonicangelll, @dreamydaredevil, @glitterykingdomangel, @damianalily, @weirdothatwrites, @cherrytokkiz, @brailsthesmolgurl, @happyshark2222, @velomira, @darkchococwoissant, @remnantsofgildedcages, @starswillseeus, @ninalove323, @lumichella, @amanehyuga, @txtworlddom, @milumier, @someonestopsoren, @lettushi, @jadeloverxd, @hellothisisnanaaa, @ops-esion. if you see this and want to be added to the main taglist, please let me know!
synopsis: you can come to sylus anytime you need him. also, some of his men need better training!
tags: fluff/comfort, anxious reader, onychinus guard is dismissive of reader, reader feels like a burden, sylus has none of it, vague threats against anyone who keeps him from his partner, tiny bit suggestive at the end
word count: 1.4k
one, two, three…
another futile count to four.
no matter how many times you guide the air in and out of your lungs, your heart still thrashes in your chest.
on the nightstand, the clock reads 3:06 a.m.
where was he right now?
in times like this, there was only one person who could soothe you. you hadn’t seen much of sylus this week, but the chances of getting through this without him were slim. you could only hope he hadn’t left for the night.
hugging your sides, you pad through the base’s chilly halls, the echo of gruff voices growing louder with each step. above them all, one seems to soar—the one that sings you to sleep through thunderstorms, that greets you at every dawn.
sylus.
you nearly trip as you round the final corner that separates you. but when you finally reach the room where his meetings are held, the hulking figure looming outside gives you pause.
“you need something?”
he’s one of sylus’s men—bruce, if you remember right—but you haven’t spoken to him much. surely, though, he’s seen you around?
swallowing thickly, you wring your hands out in front of you. “i was looking for sylus. i was hoping i could talk to him.”
if he notices the tremor in your body, he doesn’t say anything. “boss is busy right now. you can come back when he’s done.”
when he’s done?
“um…are you sure?” you protest weakly. “he usually doesn’t care if—”
“i’m sure, alright?” for some reason, he sounds exasperated. “look, this deal is important to us, and he doesn’t need any distractions. just wait for him to finish.”
the words bounce in your brain. they feel wrong. you feel wrong. but if your presence ever sabotaged his work, you’d blame yourself for weeks.
biting your lip, you nod once and turn on your heel, dragging your feet back to your shared bedroom.
you’ve been hugging your knees for what feels like hours when the door creaks open. almost immediately, the scent of home fills the room, wrapping around you like the hug you needed earlier.
“sylus?” you croak, pushing yourself up on the mattress. “are…are you free now?”
he pauses for a moment, then flicks the nearest lamp on its lowest setting. in the warm, reddish light, you see his elevated eyebrow. “what do you mean?”
“i know you were in a meeting. i almost went to see you, but the guard said i shouldn't disturb you. so i’ve been waiting here.”
“disturb,” he repeats, like the word is foreign on his tongue. “you…disturb…me?”
his head is angled to the side, like a puppy’s during its first encounter with the bathtub. you decide against telling him this, only nodding instead.
as soon as you do, the shadows of snarl creep onto his face. “why were you coming to see me?”
“i was just anxious, i guess. it wasn’t that much worse than usual.” the back of your neck warms, and you scratch it nervously. “since you usually help me, i thought maybe you could this time, too. but it’s okay,” you rush. “i feel better now.”
he shuts his eyes, letting out a three-second sigh. then, he comes to the bed, sits down beside you, and tucks you into his side. “he’s fired.”
startled, you raise your head as much as his bear paw of a hand allows. “what?”
“the guard you ran into. he’ll be gone by morning,” he says simply.
your heart hammers in your chest again—this time, out of guilt. “but—i’m sure it was a misunderstanding. he was only trying to make sure your meeting went well, and i could have come in at a bad time, and—”
the wry curve of his lips tells you he’s not convinced. “alright, sweetie. let’s say i keep him on. this first time, you’re upset, and he thinks it’s not worth telling me. what happens next, then? you’re hurt, and i don’t find out until it’s too late?”
he takes your silence as a sign to continue.
“if you were in danger and someone kept you from coming to me,” he begins, voice dipping in with conviction, “i’d do much, much worse than fire them. consider this a blessing, sweetie. you’re doing the man a favor.”
you chew your lip and fiddle with your hands, unable to fully believe him. “i guess.”
gently, he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head until your eyes meet. “i want you to see me anytime, no matter the reason. even if you don't have one. your problems are my problems, and my time is yours.”
you can’t hold his gaze for very long—you never can. but when you wrap your arms around his torso, he knows he’s gotten through to you.
“good. now, why don’t you tell me what you were so anxious about?”
you stiffen against him, but only momentarily. “i don’t really want to.”
he lets out a bewildered scoff. “hmm?”
“you’re here now, and i’m happy. i want to focus on that instead,” you say, shoving your face into his chest.
he lets his body buckle slightly from the force, his rich chuckle setting your mind at ease. “alright, then. how was the rest of your day?”
a week later, a taller, bigger, much nicer guard knocks on the dark oak door. nodding your head in thanks, you enter after a moment’s preparation, and the mix of deep voices falls to a hush.
the meeting is over. you know that as soon as sylus’s eyes find yours, softening from warmth and relief. “thank you, morgan,” he calls to the new guard. then, he cuts his eyes across the sleek round table. “i’ll have the room now. follow up in three days.”
scraping their chairs against the hardwood floors, the other men nod their heads and clear out. once the door shuts behind them, sylus turns his chair toward you and pats his thigh. you rush into his open arms without a second thought.
“hi, sweetie,” he murmurs into your hair. “what is it?”
heat rushes to your cheeks. you bite the inside of your left one. “i…”
humming inquisitively, he gives an encouraging squeeze to the side of your waist. “you…?”
“i…am bored.”
pulling back a bit, sylus examines you carefully, checking to see if you’re serious. when all you do is stare back at him, fighting the urge to cover your face, a snort builds to a wheeze, then to a bark of laughter. “and we can't have that, can we?” he teases, eyes twinkling like roses in starlight.
sheepish, you shake your head and try to double down. “we can’t. my problems are your problems.”
“they are. you’re a quick learner,” he rumbles, gently bringing your foreheads together. “how lucky is it that i’m bored, too? had that meeting gone any longer, i would’ve had to remove our honored guests from the base.”
shifting on his lap, you squint down at him. “by kindly asking them to leave, right?”
“something like that,” he replies, and you try to suppress the image of fifteen bodies being flown out the front door. “in any case, what should we do instead?”
“well, there’s this rainforest documentary i want to watch. or we could keep watching that vampire drama, or we could play that game i beat you at last time—”
“i have no memory of that.”
“I do.” you steamroll over him. “or you could walk me through the armory again, or…”
as you spew out options, you’re almost oblivious to the way he maneuvers you in his hold. soon enough, though, you’re intensely aware of the kisses he scatters over your cheeks, stealing your focus until your lips tug into a frown. “you’re not listening, are you?”
“of course i am,” he whispers, hands roaming over your skin. “your ideas are great, kitten. it’s just…there’s no need to rush. why don't we start going down the list, say, an hour from now?”
you can barely nod before he pulls you into a searing kiss, any and all boredom going up in smoke. you don’t know how long you stay there with him, touching until your bodies blur together. an hour, two—you’re not sure, you don’t care.
with the room to yourselves and him in your arms, you have all the time in the world.
Summary: You're an independent woman working as a lawyer that is stuck in the capitalistic grind to support your son - Artem the black cat and your reading addiction but quite content with her life. What happens when you run into Sylus with his charm in a chance encounter that is dead set on courting you. Or, in other words, what happens when an unstoppable force (Sylus) meets an immovable object (Non-MC)?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
A/N: A bit of a short chapter because work was hell today but I hope you guys enjoy it :)
You've had a long day. You just got out a very long headache inducing meeting and were recovering from it in your office before you got back to the documents you were reviewing.
That was the exact moment your mum chose to call you. Not regular voice call but a video call. You had nothing against the woman but sometimes (read: most times) she just had the ability to make you get mad in a matter of seconds.
You answered the call before you could second guess yourself. The first few seconds were fine, normal even with her asking you about your day, if you ate and the regular mum stuff.
After around 5 minutes is when she started acting weird like she was trying to figure out how to broach a subject. You could sense what was coming and you realised you were not as prepared as you thought you were.
"Can I ask you something?" You mum said, looking straight at you that felt like she was seeing straight through you.
"You're going to ask even if I say no. So, ask away." You replied placing your pen back in the stand.
"Are you dating someone?" She jumped straight to the point, not beating around the bush.
"What gave you that impression?" You asked, not wanting to reveal your cards early.
"I just had a feeling and I heard something."
"Heard what?"
"That you are dating someone." She stated simply.
"And who told you that?"
"Does it matter? What matters is if its true or not." She was starting to get frustrated with your lack of answers.
"And if it was?" You asked sitting straighter in your chair.
"Is he from our community?"
You had to take a deep breath when she asked that question because of course she did. "No."
"Oh. Why?" She asked and that one word question filled you with incomprehensible rage and frustration.
"What do you mean 'why'?" You asked, shifting to English. "Why am I dating him? Why is he not from our community? I'm dating him because I like him and I don't care if he is or is not from our community."
"Your father is not going to like this." She said and you knew she believed that.
"You don't know that. It's you that doesn't like this." You were really getting tired and you just wanted this call to end.
"Why are you doing this to us?" You mum was starting to tear up and you were losing all sense of propriety and sanity.
"Are you serious right now? You had a problem that I was single all these years and now that I found a guy that I really like you have a problem with that too? You haven't asked a single thing about him beyond whether or not he is from our community and decided that this was bad. I'm not doing anything to you. I am just living my life the way I want to." You were getting angrier and you knew that you were almost yelling but you just could not give a fuck.
But you still decided to take a deep breath before continuing, "I'm not talking about this any further. Regardless of whether you approve or not, I am still going to continue my relationship with him. I have a lot of work to get back to. I'll talk to you later." You hung up, not waiting for a response.
You kept your phone back on the table and decided to go for a smoke before you got back to work.
You were at your usual spot, smoking when you thought back to your conversation with your mum. You should have seen it coming. Of course they would still be the same despite the number of years that passed. You let out the last puff of smoke with a sigh and crushed the cigarette with your heel.
You wanted to go home. To Sylus.
But you went back to your office and you could feel Elijah's eyes on you as you walked past him. You felt him follow you to your office and turned to look at him once you heard the door close behind the two of you.
"You should probably go home." He told you. "You've been complaining of a headache since this noon."
"I'm fine. I still need to review that document before we pass it on to the client." You said as you sat at your desk.
"You know you're not in the right head space for that right now. You're only going to make your headache worse." He tried again.
You knew that he was right. You knew that your brain would see words on that paper and not read them. But a part of you was stubborn - wanting to prove yourself. But to whom? You mum was not here. Elijah already knew what you were capable of. So did everyone on this floor.
You let out a deep sigh. "You're right. You should go home too."
"Right behind you." He said with a smile.
"I hate that you know me too well." You mumbled as you began packing your bag.
"You're welcome." He replied with a cheeky smile making you chuckle.
As you were walking to your car, you saw that Sylus had invited you over for dinner because he was trying out a new recipe. You immediately replied that you would love to be his guinea pig and the thought of seeing him made you happy
As you stepped into Sylus's apartment, you noticed that it smelled absolutely delicious and familiar.
"What are you making?" You aked, walking towards the kitchen.
"Almost done. I tried making that tomato chutney you said you liked. I will make the dosa once you're done showering. He showed you the bowl of chutney he made with a proud smile.
"Come with me." You pulled him towards the living room and pushed him to sit on the couch. Before he could ask any questions, you sat on his lap. You were essentially straddling him as you pressed yourself closer, hugging him. "Thank you."
"It's nothing, kitten." He said, wrapping his arms around you.
The two of you stayed there, sitting in each others embrace in heavy silence. It was the kind of silence that communicated a lot without requiring any words.
After what you thought was close to 10 minutes, you broke the silence, "Did Elijah say something?"
Sylus let out of hum, "He told me that you had a long day at work."
"I did." You confirmed. "I'm so tired." You could feel yourself tearing up even though you did not want to cry.
"I'm right here, kitten. You can let it all go. I'm right here to catch you." He told you, rubbing your back and that just made you let out all the tears you had been holding back.
Even after there were no more tears left, you stayed right there in his warm embrace. "Sylus?"
He let out a hum to let you know that he was listening.
"Will you shower once again before we go make dosa?" You had to ask him that. You had essentially cross contaminated him because you were all over him with your outside clothes and you just had a thing about handling food and touching your bedding with all those dust and germs and what not.
"Of course, sweetie." Sylus chuckled, placing a kiss on your head. "We can take a bath together if you would like."
"I'm hungry. We can shower together. Just shower." You said, turning to look at him.
"Just shower." Sylus confirmed with a chuckle before carrying you to the bathroom.
After the shower, the two of you went back to the kitchen to make dosa and you finally found the one thing he could not do - make a dosa that is round and crispy. That for some reason made you feel vindicated. So, you took over that part as he observed your 'technique' to try another day.
The two of you were cuddling on the bed after dinner and he was telling you about his day - at your insistence - and you just had the overwhelming urge to just stay there and forget the whole world.
You placed a soft kiss on his chest - right over his heart. "You're too good to me." You said in a low voice.
"I don't think so. I think we are just right for each other." He said, pulling you closer into a hug.
You let out a content hum, closing your eyes to listen to his heart beat. That sound always had a soothing effect on you but then again, even being in his presence had that effect on you. You mumbled a quick good night as the warmth surrounding you was pushing you into the arms of slumber. Right before your consciousness faded you realised that you were finally home and there was no where you'd rather be.
A/N: My mouth was literally watering at just me imagining dosa with tomato chutney and now I want it 😭 For those who haven't tried it omg please find a local Indian restaurant and try itt! It's 14349320% worth it
Summary: Osamu Dazai has mastered the art of being a phantom, a man who exists in the spaces between jokes and shadows. He’s terrified that loving you is the ultimate death sentence, but he’s starting to realize that losing you is the only thing he can’t survive.
Word Count: 1.1k+
Warning + Tags: Armed Detective Agency Era | Mission Gone Wrong | Protective Dazai | Hurt/Comfort | Angst to Fluff | Dazai being an emotional coward | Near Death Experience | Established Teasing | Cuddles
The smell of rust and salt air usually didn't bother Dazai.
It reminded him of the Port Mafia, of a life he had discarded like a tattered coat.
But tonight, the scent was laced with the metallic tang of your blood, and it was making his skin crawl.
The mission was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance.
Kunikida had mapped it out with his usual obsessive precision, an illegal shipment of ability-enhancing drugs being moved through Warehouse 4.
But the intel had been a trap.
A set-up by a rogue group that didn't want to arrest the Agency, but to erase it.
You were currently slumped against a stack of wooden crates, your breath hitching in shallow, pained gasps. A jagged shard of metal had caught you across the ribs when the building's support beam gave way under the pressure of a localized explosion.
Dazai stood over you, his trench coat billowing in the drafty warehouse, his usual playful expression wiped clean.
He looked like a statue of a god long forgotten: pale, cold, and terrifyingly still.
"Dazai," you managed to wheeze, clutching the wound that was soaking your Agency vest in a deep, darkening crimson. "Get out... they’re still... coming."
He didn't move.
He didn't even look at the doorway where the sound of heavy boots was echoing against the concrete.
His eyes, those dark, bottomless pools of brown, were fixed entirely on the way your fingers were trembling.
"Don't be silly," he said.
His voice was too quiet. It was the voice that didn't belong in the light of the Agency. "If I left now, who would listen to my complaints about the paperwork tomorrow?"
"Osamu, I'm serious," you coughed, and the sight of blood on your lips caused his hand to twitch.
Suddenly, the doors burst open.
Kunikida and Atsushi slid into the room, the former already shouting commands while the latter transformed his limbs into the white tiger’s claws.
They moved with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, taking down the remaining guards with a flurry of strikes and paper-wrought bullets.
"Dazai! Report!" Kunikida roared, adjusting his glasses while he pinned a man to the floor. "The perimeter is—"
The blond detective stopped mid-sentence when he saw the scene.
He saw Dazai drop to his knees beside you, ignoring the dirt, ignoring the danger, ignoring everything but the way you were slipping away.
Dazai reached out, his fingers hovering over your cheek, hesitant as if his touch would shatter what was left of you.
He was terrified.
For a man who claimed to crave the embrace of death, he was currently looking at it and finding it repulsive because it was trying to take you.
"No," Dazai whispered, so low that only you could hear. "Not you. Anyone but you."
He pulled you into his lap, his bandages unravelling slightly as he pressed his hand firmly against your wound to stanch the flow. He didn't care about the blood staining his clothes.
He didn't care about the fact that he was breaking every rule he had ever set for himself about attachment.
Love, to Dazai, was a death sentence.
It was a curse that had taken Oda, a curse that had left him hollow.
He had spent every day at the Agency keeping you at arm's length with riddles and flirtation, convinced that if he didn't hold you, he couldn't lose you.
But as he felt your heart stuttering against his palm, he realized that he had already lost.
He had loved you since the first day you laughed at one of his terrible jokes instead of rolling your eyes.
"You’re not going to die," he commanded, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "I won't allow it. My ability... it nullifies everything. I’ll nullify the pain. I’ll nullify the dark. Just stay."
"Dazai... you're... being dramatic," you murmured, your hand reaching up to weakly grasp his tie.
Two days later, the Agency was unusually quiet.
Yosano had worked her "magic", a process you preferred to forget and you were now confined to the infirmary bed with strict orders not to move.
The sun was streaming through the windows, making the dust motes dance in the air.
The door creaked open, and instead of the usual bustle of Ranpo demanding snacks or Kenji bringing flowers, it was Dazai.
He wasn't wearing his coat.
He looked smaller in just his vest and shirt, his hair a mess as if he hadn't slept since the warehouse.
He was carrying a single, slightly wilted camellia and a bag of the expensive crab meat he usually hoarded for himself.
He pulled a chair to your bedside, sitting down with none of his usual flair.
He just stared at you, his eyes scanning your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail to ensure you were still real.
"I thought about joining the afterlife while you were asleep," he said, his voice attempting a light tone but failing miserably. "But then I realized they probably don't have this specific brand of crab there, and it seemed like a waste."
You smiled, reaching out to take his hand.
His fingers were cold, and you could feel the slight tremor in them. "Thank you for staying, Osamu."
He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb tracing the line of your knuckles.
The silence stretched, but it wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence of the warehouse. It was soft.
It was the sound of a man finally putting down his shield.
He leaned forward, his face inches from yours, the scent of antiseptic and his spicy cologne filling your senses.
He looked terrified, like a boy about to jump off a cliff, but the warmth in his gaze was undeniable.
"I’m a very difficult man," he whispered, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. "I’m a ghost who happened to find a body.
I don't know how to do this properly. I’ve spent my life wanting to end, but when I saw you on that floor... I wanted a hundred years. I wanted a thousand."
He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before his lips finally met yours in a touch that was tentative, sweet, and desperately honest. It wasn't the kiss of a man who wanted to die; it was the kiss of a man who had finally found a reason to breathe.
He pulled away just an inch, his eyes soft and glowing with a light that had been missing for years, and he let out a small, relieved laugh as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.
"If you ever scare me like that again, I’ll be forced to write a very long and very annoying poem about it, and you’ll have to listen to me recite it every morning for the rest of our lives."
The dust from the cursed spirit’s final, desperate expansion hadn’t even settled before the silence of the abandoned warehouse was shattered by a sound that absolutely did not belong on a high-stakes sorcery mission: the high-pitched, lung-bursting wail of a terrified toddler.
You had been standing only a few feet away when the curse a spindly, wretched thing that fed on the concept of "unrealized youth" had lunged at Satoru.
Usually, nothing touched him.
The Infinity was an absolute barrier, a law of the universe that dictated Satoru Gojo was untouchable.
But this curse hadn’t aimed for his flesh; it had aimed for his timeline.
It had bypassed the space between them by targeting the essence of his very existence, dragging the "Strongest" backward through the years until the man who stood six-foot-three was gone, replaced by a pile of oversized black fabric pooling on the concrete floor.
"Satoru?" you called out, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Your hand was still gripped tightly around the hilt of your sword, your eyes darting through the settling soot. "Satoru, where are you?"
A frantic movement came from beneath the heap of the high-collared jujutsu uniform.
A small, pale hand poked out from the sleeve, followed by another, and then a head of snowy white hair emerged.
When those eyes met yours, your breath hitched.
They were still the Six Eyes; vast, infinite, and startlingly blue but they were set in a round, soft face with chubby cheeks that were rapidly flushing a deep, distressed pink.
He looked no older than three.
For a heartbeat, Satoru just stared at you, his tiny chest heaving.
Then, his lower lip began to tremble. It was a slow-motion disaster. His face crumpled, his brows knitting together in pure, unadulterated terror. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know why his clothes were eating him alive. He only knew you.
"Uwaaaaaa!"
The sound was ear-piercing.
He scrambled out of the mass of black fabric, tripping over the hem of his own undershirt, which now trailed behind him like a bridal train.
He didn't run away; he ran straight for you.
He collided with your shins, his small arms wrapping around your knees with a strength that was still unnervingly high for a child his size.
He buried his face into your trousers, sobbing so hard his entire frame shook.
"Hey, hey, it’s okay," you whispered, quickly dropping your weapon and kneeling into the dirt.
You didn't care about the grime or the lingering cursed energy.
You scooped him up, and the moment his feet left the ground, he let out a panicked shriek, his little hands flying up to clutch at your shirt, his fingers digging into the fabric like talons. "I’ve got you, Satoru. I’ve got you."
"No! No go! Scared!" he wailed, his voice muffled against your shoulder.
He was hyperventilating, his small heart drumming a frantic rhythm against your chest.
He wasn't the cocky, untouchable sorcerer who flirted with you over coffee or leaned too close into your personal space just to see you blush.
He was a little boy who looked like he’d just seen the end of the world.
You managed to wrap him in his own discarded jacket, swaddling him like an oversized, expensive burrito to keep him from shivering.
As you walked out of the warehouse, he refused to let go of your neck.
His grip was borderline choking, his small face tucked firmly into the crook of your collarbone.
Every time you tried to adjust him to get a better grip, he would let out a sharp, jagged sob and tighten his hold, his legs wrapping around your waist.
"Satoru, I need to breathe, honey," you murmured, rubbing soothing circles into his back.
"No!" he yelled, the word punctuated by a hiccup. "Stay! Mine!"
The possessiveness sent a strange jolt through your chest.
Even as a toddler, he was claiming you.
You had spent months, maybe years, dancing around the tension between you.
Satoru was a man who gave everything to everyone but belonged to no one.
To hear him claim you so desperately, even in this state, made your throat tight.
By the time you got him back to the car, the "menace" phase had officially begun. He wouldn't sit in the seat.
The moment your hands left his torso to try and buckle him in, he shrieked as if he were being burned.
"I want you! Hold me!" he demanded, kicking his tiny feet against the leather.
When you tried to reason with him, explaining that you had to drive, he used a flicker of his technique, a tiny, uncontrolled burst of Blue to attract your sleeve back toward him, nearly pulling you into the backseat.
"Satoru! No techniques!" you scolded, though your voice lacked any real bite.
He stopped instantly, his big blue eyes filling with tears again. "Mean," he whispered, his lip wobbling. "You’re being mean to Satoru."
"I'm not being mean, I just need to get us home," you sighed, reaching out to wipe a stray tear from his cheek.
He leaned into your palm immediately, closing his eyes and let out a long, shaky breath.
He looked so vulnerable, so stripped of the arrogance that usually shielded him.
You realized then that the Six Eyes must be absolute torture for a three-year-old. He was seeing everything, every atom, every flow of energy without the mental maturity to filter it.
"Does it hurt?" you asked softly, gesturing to his eyes.
He nodded miserably, reaching up to rub at them with his fists. "Too much. Everything is too much."
You reached into your pocket and found your spare silk scarf.
You folded it carefully and tied it around his head, creating a makeshift blindfold. "Is that better?"
He went still, then slumped forward against your chest, his forehead resting on your collarbone. "Better," he murmured. "Don't leave."
"I won't leave. I promise."
The drive back to Jujutsu High was a test of endurance.
You had to drive with one hand because Satoru insisted on holding your other hand, his tiny fingers interlaced with yours, squeezing periodically to make sure you were still there.
If you shifted your hand even an inch to turn the steering wheel, he would let out a warning whine that promised a full-blown tantrum.
When you finally reached your quarters, you were exhausted.
You had decided against taking him to Shoko immediately, you knew the curse would wear off in twenty-four hours, and honestly, the thought of Satoru being poked and prodded by doctors in this state felt cruel.
He was too fragile.
The moment you stepped into your room and tried to put him down on the bed so you could change out of your dirt-stained uniform, the "Clingy Pro Max" mode activated.
"No! No, no, no!" He scrambled up your body like a little monkey, his knees digging into your hips.
"Satoru, I’m just taking off my jacket! I’m covered in dust!"
"I don't care!" he screamed, bursting into fresh tears.
He buried his face in your neck, dampening your skin with his tears. "You’ll go! You’ll go and I’ll be alone and it’s dark!"
The sheer raw fear in his voice broke you.
You stopped struggling and just held him, rocking him back and forth in the center of the room. "I’m not going anywhere, Satoru. I’m right here. I’m yours, okay? I’m right here."
He went quiet at the words 'I'm yours,' his breathing hitching.
He pulled back just enough to look at you from under the edge of the scarf, his face messy and red. "Promise?"
"I promise."
"Cross your heart?"
You smiled, despite the chaos. "Cross my heart."
He seemed to accept this, but he still wouldn't let you put him down.
You ended up having to maneuver yourself out of your tactical gear while holding a fifteen-kilogram toddler.
It was an Olympic-level feat of coordination.
Eventually, you settled onto the sofa with him, tucked under a heavy wool blanket.
He was restless.
He was a menace.
He wanted snacks, but only the specific strawberry sweets he knew you kept in the top cupboard.
When you stood up to get them, he wailed until you picked him up and carried him to the kitchen.
He insisted on "helping," which mostly involved him trying to use Infinity to bring the bag of candy to his hand, resulting in a box of cereal exploding across the floor.
"Satoru!"
"It was an accident!" he wailed, hiding his face in your shoulder again. "I'm just a baby! I'm little!"
"You are a manipulative little genius is what you are," you muttered, though you were already reaching for the strawberries to stop the waterworks.
As the sun began to set, the manic energy finally started to fade, replaced by a heavy, quiet exhaustion.
Satoru was sitting in your lap, his head lolling against your chest as you read him a book you’d borrowed from the school library.
His small hand was fisted in your shirt, never letting go.
"Hey," he whispered, his voice thick with sleep.
"Yeah, Satoru?"
"When I'm big again... will you still stay?"
The question caught in your throat.
You looked down at the top of his white head, feeling the weight of all the things you hadn't said to the adult version of him.
The way you stayed up late waiting for him to come back from missions.
The way he always bought two of every treat just so he had an excuse to give you one.
"I'll always stay, Satoru," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "Big or small. It doesn't matter."
He shifted, turning around in your lap so he could press his face into your chest.
He took a deep breath, smelling the familiar scent of your detergent and something that was just you.
"Good," he mumbled. "'Cause I love you. Big Satoru loves you too. He told me."
Your heart stopped. "He did, did he?"
"Mm-hmm. He thinks about you all the time. It’s loud in his head. Just you, you, you."
He fell asleep seconds later, his breathing evening out into a peaceful rhythm.
You sat there in the dark for a long time, holding the world’s most powerful sorcerer in your arms, knowing that tomorrow he would wake up as a man again, arrogant, untouchable, and brilliant.
But you also knew that the little boy who was afraid of the dark was still in there, and for the first time, you weren't afraid to let him in.
You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his snowy hair. "I know," you whispered.
"I love him too."
The morning light had barely begun to creep through the curtains when you felt the weight on your chest.
It wasn’t the heavy, solid presence of a grown man, but something much smaller, warmer, and significantly more fidgety.
You opened your eyes to find Satoru still a tiny, white-haired toddler sitting squarely on your stomach.
He had managed to wiggle your silk scarf down so it sat like a crooked headband around his neck, and those crystalline blue eyes were staring at you with an intensity that was both adorable and slightly unnerving.
"You're awake," he whispered, his voice popping with the soft, high-pitched lisp of a three-year-old.
Before you could even offer a morning greeting, he lunged forward, collapsing his small body against your chest and burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Finally. You slept forever. I thought you died."
"I was just sleeping for six hours, Satoru," you groaned softly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes while your other hand instinctively found its place on his back.
He was already trembling slightly, his tiny fingers fisted into the fabric of your pajama top. "And you're heavy. Get off my stomach, little guy."
"No!" he shouted, the volume of his voice far too loud for the early hour.
He squeezed you tighter, his knees digging into your ribs. "If I get off, you’ll go to the kitchen. And then you’ll go to the door. And then you’ll go away."
"I'm just going to make coffee," you sighed, though you couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "And breakfast. Don't you want those strawberry pancakes?"
He went still, his internal struggle visible in the way his little shoulders tensed. "Pancakes... and you stay?"
"Pancakes and I stay. I'll even carry you the whole time."
That seemed to be the magic phrase. He let you sit up, but he refused to let his feet touch the floor.
He climbed onto your back, his arms looping around your neck in a tight, slightly restrictive chokehold, and his legs hooked firmly around your waist.
You looked like a hiker carrying a very expensive, very temperamental backpack.
As you shuffled toward the common area, hoping to find the kitchen empty, you realized luck was not on your side.
The smell of toasted bread and cheap coffee hit you first, followed by the sound of muffled arguing.
You rounded the corner into the lounge, and the room went dead silent.
Megumi was mid-sip of his coffee, his eyes widening as they landed on you or rather, the miniature version of his teacher currently chewing on the shoulder of your shirt.
Yuji was frozen with a piece of toast halfway to his mouth, and Nobara looked like she was about to drop her phone.
"Uh... ?" Yuji was the first to find his voice, his eyes darting between you and the toddler.
"Who... who is the kid? He looks like... wait. No way."
"Is that a mini-Gojo?" Nobara shrieked, leaning forward with a mix of horror and fascination. "Why is he so small? Did he finally reach his final form?"
Megumi just set his coffee cup down with a trembling hand, his face paling. "Please tell me that isn't him. Please tell me I don't have to deal with a toddler version of that man."
Satoru, sensing the attention, didn't react with his usual flair for the dramatic. Instead, he let out a soft, frightened whimper and hid his face deeper into your neck. "Scary," he muffled against your skin. "Make them go away."
"He’s okay, guys," you said, patting Satoru’s leg to soothe him.
"A baby curse hit him during the mission yesterday. Shoko says it should wear off by tonight. He’s just... a little sensitive right now."
"Sensitive?" Nobara scoffed, standing up and walking toward you. "He looks like a doll! Look at those cheeks! I bet I can finally make him listen to me if he’s this size."
She reached out a hand, intending to poke Satoru’s chubby cheek, but the moment her fingers got within three inches of him, they hit a solid, invisible wall.
The faint shimmer of Infinity rippled in the air.
Satoru peeked over your shoulder, his eyes narrowed behind his messy hair, a tiny, defiant pout on his lips.
"No touch!" Satoru snapped, his voice trembling but firm. "My y/n. Only mine!"
Nobara blinked, pulling her hand back. "Did he just... did he just use Infinity to keep me from touching him? That’s cheating! He’s a toddler!"
"He’s a menace," Megumi corrected, rubbing his temples.
He stood up and walked over, peering at the boy. "Gojo-sensei? Do you even know who I am?"
Satoru squinted at Megumi for a long time.
A flicker of recognition crossed his face, but instead of the usual "Megumi-chan!" greeting, he just pointed a small, accusatory finger.
"Spiky hair. Grumpy. You make the dogs."
"Close enough," Megumi sighed, looking more tired than usual.
Yuji, ever the optimist, bounced over with a wide grin. "Hey! Little Gojo! Do you want to play? I have a ball! Or we can go see the cursed corpses, they’re basically like big teddy bears!"
The offer of play seemed to pique Satoru’s interest for a split second, and he loosened his grip on your neck.
But as Yuji stepped closer, Satoru’s eyes darted to your face, and the fear returned tenfold.
He realized that "playing" meant being put down. He realized it meant space between him and you.
"No!" he wailed, his voice cracking into a sob.
He scrambled back around to your front, forcing you to catch him as he buried himself in your arms. "No play! Stay here! Y/n, tell him no! Tell the pinky one to go away!"
"Satoru, honey, it's just Yuji," you murmured, rocking him gently. "He's your student. He’s nice."
"I don't care!" Satoru cried, his little fists thumping against your chest in a tantrum.
"I don't want nice! I want you! You’re the only one who doesn't look loud! Everyone else is too loud!"
The Six Eyes were clearly taking their toll again.
The presence of three high-level students was likely sending a flood of information into his underdeveloped brain.
You looked at the students, who were all watching with varying degrees of pity and shock.
"He's overwhelmed," you explained softly, shielding Satoru's eyes with your hand.
"The information from the Six Eyes is a lot for him right now. I think I need to take him back to the room."
"Wait," Megumi said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of small, dark sunglasses the ones Gojo usually kept as spares in his desk.
He must have grabbed them on the way. "Try these. They might help."
You took the glasses, sliding them onto Satoru’s face.
They were far too big, sliding down his tiny nose, but the moment the tinted lenses covered his eyes, his breathing began to slow.
He went limp against you, the tension draining from his small frame.
"Better?" you whispered.
Satoru nodded weakly, reaching up to hold the frames in place with his small hands.
He looked toward the students, then back at you. "Can they stay?" he asked tentatively. "If they stay over there?"
"Yeah," you smiled. "They can stay over there."
For the next hour, the common room witnessed the strangest sight in the history of Jujutsu High. 
The "Strongest Sorcerer" was sat on a kitchen stool, safely ensconced within the circle of your arms, while you fed him pieces of pancake.
Yuji and Nobara sat three feet away, performing a silent puppet show with some random kitchen utensils to keep him entertained without being "too loud."
Megumi watched from the sofa, a look of profound realization on his face.
"You know," he muttered, "he’s exactly the same. Even when he’s three. He still demands that the entire world revolves around him."
"Except now he has an excuse," Nobara whispered, watching Satoru stubbornly refuse to eat a piece of pancake because it didn't have enough syrup.
Satoru suddenly looked up from his plate, his blue eyes peering over the rims of the oversized sunglasses.
He looked at you, then at the others, and then back at you.
With a sudden, surprising burst of affection, he leaned over and pressed a sticky, syrup-covered kiss to your cheek.
"I like it here," he declared loudly. "When I'm big again, Y/n is going to feed me every day. And you guys have to watch."
"Don't get used to it, Satoru," you laughed, wiping the syrup from your face.
But as he leaned his head back against your shoulder, a look of pure, smug satisfaction on his face, you knew Megumi was right.
Whether he was thirty or three, Satoru Gojo knew exactly how to get what he wanted. And right now, all he wanted was you.
The sugar high from the strawberry pancakes finally crashed, leaving Satoru a heavy, blinking mess in your arms.
His head was nodding, those oversized sunglasses sliding further down his nose with every drowsy tilt of his chin.
Even as his eyelids grew leaden, his small fingers remained white-knuckled, twisted into the fabric of your shirt.
"Time for a nap, Satoru," you whispered, standing up from the stool.
"No nap," he mumbled, though his eyes were already closed. "If I sleep... you’ll disappear. I know how it works. People go away when I close my eyes."
The raw honesty of a toddler’s fears, stripped of adult ego, made your heart ache.
You didn't answer with words; you simply tucked his head under your chin and carried him back toward your quarters.
The students watched you go in silence, even Nobara refraining from a parting quip.
They could feel the shift in the air the curse was reaching its limit, the energy around Satoru beginning to flicker like a dying candle.
Once inside the quiet sanctuary of your room, the shadows were long and cool.
You tried to peel him off you to lay him on the bed, but he let out a sharp, jagged cry, his eyes flying open in a panic.
"Don't put me down! Stay! Stay right here!"
"I'm just putting you on the pillows, Satoru. I’ll sit right next to you," you promised, your voice a low hum.
You managed to settle onto the mattress, keeping him tucked against your side.
He immediately crawled into your lap, his small body curled into a ball, his head resting on your chest so he could hear your heartbeat.
"Sing," he demanded, his voice small and fragile.
"I don't know any lullabies."
"Just... anything. Talk. Just make sure I know you're there."
You began to speak, a soft stream of consciousness about nothing and everything, the way the light hit the training grounds, the taste of the tea you wanted to drink later.
Slowly, his breathing leveled out.
His grip on your shirt loosened, just a fraction.
He fell into a deep, heavy sleep, his small face finally peaceful, devoid of the overwhelming input of the Six Eyes.
Then, the air in the room began to vibrate.
It started as a low hum, a frequency that made the hair on your arms stand up. T
he space around Satoru began to warp, the Infinity flickering like static on an old television screen.
You felt a sudden, massive weight press down on the mattress.
The toddler in your lap began to grow, his limbs lengthening, his frame broadening with a terrifying, supernatural speed.
You didn't move.
You couldn't.
You watched as the soft, round features of the child sharpened into the high, elegant cheekbones of the man.
The snowy hair grew thicker, the small hands that had been clutching you transformed into the long, scarred fingers of a warrior.
The transition was silent and seamless. Within seconds, the three-year-old was gone.
In his place lay Satoru Gojo, the Strongest Sorcerer, his long legs hanging off the end of your bed, his heavy head still resting on your chest.
He didn't wake up immediately.
He remained still, his breathing deep and rhythmic.
He was dressed in his dark uniform again, the curse having reset his physical state entirely.
But the way he was holding you hadn't changed.
Even in sleep, his arm was draped protectively across your waist, pulling you flush against him.
You stayed there, pinned beneath him, your heart racing.
You wondered if he would remember.
You wondered if he would wake up and immediately revert to his cocky, untouchable self, making a joke about how "lucky" you were to have him in your bed.
Satoru’s eyelashes fluttered.
A soft groan escaped his throat, and then, slowly, he lifted his head.
He didn't pull away.
He didn't jump back in surprise.
He simply shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you.
The blindfold was gone, and his blue eyes were clear, focused, and devastatingly human.
The silence between you stretched, heavy with the weight of the last twenty-four hours.
You waited for the mask to slide back on the grin, the wink, the arrogance.
It never came.
Instead, Satoru reached out, his thumb grazing your lower lip with a tenderness that made your breath catch.
His expression was one of profound, soul-baring vulnerability.
It was the look of a man who had been stripped to his core and found that the only thing holding him together was the person lying beneath him.
"I remember everything," he whispered. His voice was no longer high and piping; it was the rich, low baritone that always sent a shiver down your spine, but it was cracked with emotion. "I remember being small. I remember being terrified."
He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his presence.
"I remember how you held me," he continued, his voice dropping to a jagged breath. "I remember how you didn't leave, even when I was a nightmare. Even when I was a menace. You stayed."
"I told you I would," you managed to say, your voice trembling.
Satoru let out a shaky laugh, his eyes searching yours.
There was no Infinity between you now. Not just the technique, but the emotional wall he spent his entire life building. It had crumbled. In its place was a raw, aching love that he was no longer trying to hide.
"I've spent so long being 'The Strongest,'" he murmured, his fingers tangling in your hair. "I forgot what it felt like to just be... seen. To be taken care of. To be loved without having to do anything to earn it."
He looked at you then, truly looked at you, with a depth of affection that was almost painful to witness.
It was the look of a man who had finally come home.
"I don't think I can go back," he said, his voice thick. "I don't want to be the guy who doesn't need anyone anymore. I need you. I think I’ve needed you for a long time."
You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. His skin was warm, his gaze unwavering. "Satoru..."
"Don't say it yet," he whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch. "Just stay.
Just for a little longer. Let me be the one to hold you now."
He pulled you back down against the pillows, wrapping his large frame around you, tucking your head under his chin just as you had done for his smaller self.
And as the sun fully rose, illuminating the room in gold, you knew that the dance was over.
The Strongest had finally let someone in, and he had no intention of ever letting go.
Summary: When Jujutsu High’s most sensible teacher transforms into an impossibly round, fiercely indignant ball of fluff, Satoru Gojo decides it is officially the best day of his life.
Warnings + Tags: Fluff | Absolute Mush | Romantic Comedy | Established Relationship | Accidental Cat Transformation | Cat Tendencies & Logic | Morning Zoomies | Satoru Being Loud and Whipped | Pure Domestic Bliss
The corridors of Jujutsu High were usually filled with the damp, heavy scent of old wood, incense, and the lingering, metallic tang of residual cursed energy.
But on this particular Tuesday morning, the atmosphere in the faculty lounge was thick with something entirely different: sheer, unadulterated, blinding panic.
Shoko Ieiri exhaled a long, slow stream of cigarette smoke out the open window, her dark-circled eyes tracking the frantic, blur-of-white motion occupying the center of the room.
"Satoru," Shoko said, her voice dropping into that flat, exhausted register she reserved exclusively for when the universe was being particularly absurd. "If you don't sit down, I'm going to lace your next batch of kikufuku with muscle relaxants."
"I can't sit down, Shoko! You don't understand the gravity of the situation!" Satoru Gojo spun on his heel, his towering six-foot-three frame practically vibrating with frantic energy.
His iconic black blindfold was pulled up just enough to expose one brilliant, sky-blue eye, which was wide with an alarm that looked entirely unnatural on the strongest sorcerer alive.
"Look at her! Just look at her! How did this even happen? Who did this? I swear to God, if this was the work of some minor curse, I’m going to hollow-purple their entire lineage."
"It wasn't a curse," Shoko sighed, rubbing her temples. "We already established this. It was a misplaced relic from the storage vault that Utahime asked her to catalog. It had a minor, non-lethal transfiguration technique bound to it. A safety mechanism from the Heian era to incapacitate thieves without killing them. It wears off in forty-eight hours."
"Forty-eight hours?!" Satoru shrieked, clutching his head, his white hair standing up in even wilder spikes than usual. "That's two whole days! Two days of this!"
He pointed a long, trembling finger down at the low coffee table in the center of the lounge.
There, sitting precisely on top of a stack of ungraded student evaluations, was a ball of fluff.
It was, without a doubt, the roundest, softest, most ridiculously immaculate cat Satoru had ever seen.
The fur was a rich, glossy hue of white so thick and plush that it looked less like an animal and more like a high-end decorative pom-pom.
Two large, extraordinarily expressive eyes, exactly your shade, carrying the distinct, unmistakable glint of your usual intelligence and current immense irritation, glared up at him.
You let out a soft, sharp "Mew."
It wasn't a majestic roar.
It wasn't even a standard cat meow.
It was a tiny, high-pitched, indignant squeak that sounded like a squeezed plush toy.
Satoru froze.
The air in the room seemed to lose all its tension in a fraction of a second.
His hands dropped from his head, his fingers twitching.
The fierce, terrifying sorcerer who could tear apart special-grade curses with a flick of his wrist suddenly looked like he had just been hit by a localized stun grenade.
"Oh," Satoru whispered, his voice dropping an octave, completely melting into a puddle of mush. "Oh, my god. You're... you're so tiny."
You glared harder, your tiny, pink-nosed snout twitching.
You tried to cross your arms to project your absolute displeasure at the situation, but because you currently lacked collarbones and possessed four stubby, furry paws, the gesture resulted in you merely shifting your weight and rolling slightly to the side like an oversized cotton ball.
Realizing your dignity was rapidly eroding, you let out a low, warning hiss. Or, at least, you tried to. It came out as a breathless “Pfft.”
"Did you hear that, Shoko? She threatened me!" Satoru dropped to his knees beside the coffee table, his face mere inches from yours.
He dropped his blindfold completely, letting it hang around his neck so he could feast his eyes on your new form with the full, unfiltered clarity of the Six Eyes.
"She's trying to be scary! Look at those little ears! They're twitching! Are you mad at me, sweetface? Is the big, bad relic making you grumpy?"
You lifted one tiny, pristine paw and smacked him squarely on the nose.
Because Satoru’s Limitless was always active, your paw didn't actually make contact with his skin; it stopped precisely a millimeter away, pressing against the invisible infinity that separated him from the world.
But the sheer audacity of your tiny, furry slap caused him to gasp dramatically, clutching his chest as if he had been pierced through the heart.
"Betrayed by my own lover," he groaned, collapsing his forehead onto the edge of the wooden table, making it rattle. "The pain is unbearable. The infinity can protect me from everything, but it can’t protect my heart from your cruelty."
You rolled your eyes, a feat that looked incredibly ridiculous as a cat and turned your back on him, deliberately sitting on the paper that contained Megumi’s mid-term marks.
You tucked your paws beneath your chest, instantly transforming into a perfect, seamless loaf of bread.
"See? She's already adapting," Shoko muttered, gathering her medical papers. "She's occupying the most inconvenient spot possible, ignoring you, and radiating pure judgment. She’s a natural. Now, get her out of my office. I have autopsies to perform and a headache to nurse."
"Come to papa, princess," Satoru cooed, reaching out with both hands.
You immediately tensed, your ears flattening against your round head.
You liked Satoru.
You loved Satoru, actually.
You had been dating the idiot for over two years, enduring his endless antics, his loud mouth, his boundary-crossing affection, and his occasional bursts of terrifying possessiveness.
But right now, your newly acquired feline instincts were screaming that being picked up by a giant, white-haired titan was a threat to your sovereignty.
As his large, calloused hands - hands that usually held yours so gently during quiet nights in his apartment reached down to scoop you up, you let out a sharp squeak and bolted.
"Ah! Wait! No!" Satoru scrambled forward, but you were surprisingly fast.
You scrambled off the table, your little claws clicking against the hardwood floor.
You didn't just run; you did that sideways, arched-back hop that kittens do when they’re startled, your tail puffed up to three times its normal size until you looked like a bottle brush.
You scrambled straight toward the nearest sanctuary: the heavy, dark velvet curtains draping the faculty windows.
With a frantic, uncoordinated scramble, you climbed.
Your claws dug into the thick fabric, and you hauled your round, fluffy body up, inch by inch, until you were perched precariously on top of the curtain rod, looking down at the room like a gargoyle of pure spite.
Satoru stood up slowly, a massive, incredibly delighted grin spreading across his face. "Oh, this is the best day of my life."
"Mew!" you hissed from the ceiling.
"Satoru, take your cat and leave," Shoko said, her voice deadpan as she walked out the door, closing it firmly behind her.
Getting you down from the curtain rod took exactly twenty minutes, mostly because Satoru insisted on taking multiple photos from every conceivable angle first.
"Look at the camera, babe! Give me those fierce, apex-predator eyes!" he had cheered, the flash on his phone going off repeatedly until you actively turned your face to the wall, ignoring him completely.
Eventually, he had simply floated up using his cursed technique, gravity ceasing to apply to him as he hovered level with the curtain rod.
He hadn't used force.
Instead, he had reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped piece of strawberry mochi he’d been saving for a snack.
He unwrapped it, holding it just out of reach of your pink nose.
The sweet, rich scent of sugar and rice dough had done something terrible to your brain.
Your stomach had let out a loud, rumbling growl, and before you could remind yourself that you were a respected, high-grade Jujutsu sorcerer who taught advanced curse theory, you had leaned forward, sniffed the pastry, and let out a pathetic, pleading little mewl.
Satoru had chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated right through your tiny ribs as he finally wrapped his large hands around your middle and pulled you into his chest.
Now, you were in his personal quarters at Jujutsu High.
His apartment was surprisingly spacious, given how little time he actually spent sleeping, but it was exactly as disorganized as one would expect.
Stacks of fashion magazines, half-finished boxes of sweet treats, and expensive designer jackets were scattered over the furniture. But the bed, a massive, king-sized mattress with high-thread-count black sheets was pristine.
Satoru set you down on the middle of the bed.
The contrast was immediate.
You were a small, bright ball of fluff against a sea of dark silk.
"Alright, let's establish some ground rules," Satoru said, clapping his hands together as he sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed.
He had taken off his jacket, now wearing just his tight black long-sleeve shirt, his white hair falling softly over his forehead without the restraint of his blindfold or glasses.
"Rule number one: No scratching the leather couch. I imported that from Italy, and if you ruin it, I’ll have to make Megumi pay for it out of his allowance."
You gave him a flat look, blinking slowly.
"Rule number two: You are not allowed to be this cute when I have a meeting with the higher-ups later. If I bring you into the council chamber, I’m going to spend the whole time making you do the little paw-shake thing, and Principal Yaga will hit me." He leaned forward, propping his chin in his hands.
"Rule number three: You still have to love me, even if you're a cat."
You sighed, a tiny, shuddering breath that puffed out your chest fur and walked over to him.
Your paws sank into the soft mattress with every step.
You reached the edge where he sat and, driven by a sudden, overwhelming urge that you couldn't control, you leaned your head forward and hard-bonked your forehead against his kneecap.
Thump.
It was a headbutt of pure, territorial affection.
Your cat brain decided that since this giant white-haired man belonged to you, he needed to smell like you immediately.
You rubbed your cheek against his knee, over and over, scenting him with the glands near your mouth, purring so loudly that your entire body vibrated.
Satoru’s breath hitched.
For a man who could command the very fabric of space, he looked entirely defenseless.
"Oh," he whispered, his eyes wide and shining with something akin to reverence.
"Oh, you like the knee. You’re scenting me. You’re marking your territory." He reached out, his long, pale fingers hovering over your back, hesitant for the first time in his life.
"Can I pet you? Is it allowed? Am I authorized?"
You looked up at him, let out a soft “Prrt?” and flipped over onto your side, exposing your round, impossibly fluffy belly.
It was a trap.
Every human knew it was a trap.
But Satoru Gojo was not an ordinary human, and he possessed the hubris of a god.
"Belly!" he cheered, diving in.
The moment his large, warm hand touched the soft fur of your stomach, a switch flipped in your brain.
Danger! Overstimulation! Attack!
Your rear legs instantly started rabbit-kicking his wrist, your front paws wrapping around his hand as you bit down on his thumb with your tiny, sharp kitten teeth.
"Ow! Ow! Hey!" Satoru laughed, not pulling away.
His skin was perfectly safe behind his infinity, but he turned the technique off just enough to feel the dull, harmless pressure of your teeth.
"You absolute gremlin! You lured me in! You’re a little predator!"
You bit him again, just to prove a point, before suddenly losing interest.
You let go of his hand, sat up, and began to vigorously lick your right shoulder, pretending the entire violent episode had never happened.
Satoru sat back, watching you with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration.
He reached out again, more carefully this time, and scratched the spot right beneath your chin, the golden zone.
Your eyes drifted shut.
Your head tilted back automatically, your throat opening up as a loud, rumbly, engine-like purr erupted from your chest. Your front paws began to flex, digging into the black comforter, extending and retracting your claws in rhythmic, blissful kneads.
You were making biscuits on his bed.
"Look at you," Satoru murmured, his voice softening into that rare, tender tone he only used when the two of you were completely alone, far away from the responsibilities of being the strongest, far away from curses and death.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your furry head, right between your twitching ears. "Even as a little fluffball, you're the best thing in this whole damn school."
By afternoon, the novelty of being a cat had slightly worn off, replaced by a profound, heavy drowsiness that seemed to consume your entire being.
Cat bodies, you realized, required an absurd amount of sleep.
You had spent the last three hours curled up in a sunbeam that fell across Satoru’s desk, completely dead to the world.
Satoru, meanwhile, was supposed to be grading papers.
Instead, he had spent the last three hours drawing tiny crowns on sticky notes and gently placing them on your head while you slept, taking pictures each time.
A sharp, firm knock on the door broke the silence.
You startled awake, your ears flying forward, your tail puffing up instinctively.
Satoru smoothly slid his blindfold back over his eyes, his demeanor shifting instantly from doting pet-owner to his usual nonchalant, cocky self.
"Come in~!" he called out.
The door opened, and Megumi walked in, holding a stack of leather-bound books.
The teenage sorcerer looked as exhausted and serious as always, his dark hair messy, his uniform immaculate.
"Gojo-sensei, Shoko-sensei told me to bring these historical texts regarding Heian-era transfiguration relics to..." Megumi trailed off.
His dark eyes traveled from Satoru, down to the desk, and landed squarely on you.
You were currently sitting upright, a tiny neon-pink sticky-note crown slightly askew over one of your ears, staring at him with wide, defensive eyes.
Megumi stared at you.
You stared at Megumi.
Satoru grinned broadly, leaning back in his chair and throwing his arms behind his head.
"Ah, Megumi! Perfect timing! I want you to meet our new assistant principal. She's very strict, very fluffy, and if you don't turn your assignments in on time, she will bite your thumbs."
Megumi blinked slowly.
He looked at the books in his hands, then back at you.
He was quiet for a long, agonizing moment before he let out a heavy, world-weary sigh. "Is that... Y/n sensei?"
"The one and only!" Satoru beamed.
"Isn't she beautiful? Look at her posture! Tremendous. Iconic."
Megumi closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why does something ridiculous happen to us every single week? First, Itadori gets hit by a sleeping curse, then we get attacked by special grades at a goodwill event, and now one of my only competent sensei has been turned into a household pet."
You let out an offended "Mew!" and hopped down from the desk.
You trotted over to the edge of the floor where Megumi stood, your tail held high in the air with a slight crook at the tip, a sign of greeting, though you were mostly just glad to see your student was safe.
Megumi froze as you stopped at his boots.
He looked down, his expression softening just a fraction, though he tried desperately to maintain his stoic facade.
"Don't touch her, Megumi! She's mine!" Satoru whined dramatically, leaning over the desk. "I'm the only one allowed to receive the royal headbutts! If you get a headbutt, I’m failing you in hand-to-hand combat!"
Ignoring his tutor entirely, Megumi slowly crouched down.
He extended a hand, keeping his fingers loose and low, letting you sniff him first.
Your pink nose twitched as you caught the familiar scent of shadow-cursed energy and the faint aroma of the Divine Dogs on his clothes.
Satisfied that he was a friend, you leaned forward and rubbed your cheek firmly against his knuckles.
A tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Megumi’s mouth.
He gently scratched behind your ears with two fingers. "She's... actually really soft."
"Hey! Hands off the merchandise!" Satoru was suddenly there.
In the blink of an eye, he had used his speed to appear right beside Megumi, scooping you up from the floor and cradling you against his chest like a furry infant.
You let out a disgruntled squeak as your legs dangled in the air. "Go on, shoo! Take your books and go practice your domain expansion or something! Leave us to our marital bliss!"
"You aren't married," Megumi said flatly, standing up and setting the books on the desk.
"Not yet, but look how well we look together! We match! White hair, black clothes, white fur, black sheets! It's aesthetic destiny!" Satoru nuzzled his cheek against your face, his blindfold scratching against your fur.
You tolerated it for exactly three seconds before pushing your front paws firmly against his lips, muffling his nonsense.
Megumi shook his head, turning toward the door. "Good luck, Y/n-sensei. I hope you turn back normal soon. For all our sakes."
As night fell over Tokyo, the Jujutsu High campus grew quiet.
The students were in their dorms, and the heavy silence of the mountain settled over the old wooden buildings.
In Satoru’s room, the lights were dimmed, casting long, soft shadows across the floor.
Satoru was sitting on the floor, surrounded by three different takeout bags.
Because you were currently a cat, your regular diet of rice, fish, and vegetables had to be altered something Satoru had taken as a personal challenge.
"Okay, I bought premium sashimi from that Michelin-starred place in Ginza," Satoru announced, laying out tiny, perfectly cut pieces of raw tuna and salmon on a small porcelain plate.
"And just in case your human stomach rejects raw fish in this form, I also bought high-grade, organic, free-range chicken breast, gently poached with absolutely no salt. Behold! A feast fit for a queen!"
You trotted over, your nose twitching wildly.
The scent of the tuna was overwhelming, hitting some primal, deep-seated part of your temporary anatomy.
You didn't even hesitate.
You walked right up to the plate, lowered your head, and began to eat.
It was a strange sensation.
You were hyper-aware of the texture, the rich, fatty flavor of the fish satisfying a craving you hadn't known existed an hour ago.
Satoru watched you eat, his chin resting in his hand, a soft, incredibly gentle smile on his face.
He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away a tiny speck of fish from the corner of your whiskers.
"Slow down, beautiful. No one’s going to take it from you," he murmured.
His tone was surprisingly grounded, devoid of the loud, theatrical bravado he usually projected to the world. "You know... it's kind of nice. Having you like this. Usually, you're always running around, worrying about the students, worrying about the higher-ups, worrying about me."
You stopped eating, looking up at him with a piece of tuna still in your mouth.
Satoru’s blue eyes were soft, reflecting the dim light of the room. "You carry a lot of weight on your shoulders, my love. You're always the responsible one. The one who cleans up after my messes, the one who makes sure the kids don't get killed by conservative old men. Seeing you just... sleep in a sunbeam all day? It's kind of a relief. You deserve a break. Even if it takes a weird Heian relic to give it to you."
You swallowed the fish, staring at him.
For all his arrogance, for all his infuriating antics, this was the man you loved.
The man who saw everything with his Six Eyes, but chose to look at you with the purest kind of devotion.
You walked away from the plate, stepping right over the remaining salmon, and climbed into his lap.
Satoru blinked in surprise as you settled down in the fold of his crossed legs.
You curled your tail tightly around your body, tucked your nose under your paw, and began to purr, a deep, steady rhythm that vibrated against his thighs.
"Ah," Satoru breathed, his hands hovering over you before gently lowering to stroke your back, his long fingers tracing the line of your spine.
"The royal lap-nap. I am truly honored."
He leaned back against the base of his bed, continuing to stroke your fur in long, rhythmic strokes.
The warmth of his body, combined with the safety of his Limitless keeping the rest of the cold world away, sent you drifting back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, the cat tendencies had reached their absolute peak.
Satoru woke up at 6:00 AM to a strange, heavy weight sitting directly on his chest.
He cracked one eye open, shifting slightly, only to realize that you were sitting squarely on his sternum, staring down at his face with wide, unblinking eyes.
"Morning," Satoru mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his white hair a chaotic bird's nest on the pillow.
"Did you miss me while I was sleeping?"
You didn't answer.
Instead, driven by a sudden, inexplicable burst of morning energy, the infamous "zoomies" you let out a sharp squeak, leapt off his chest using his face as a launching pad (which, thankfully, was blocked by his infinity), and bolted across the room.
You ran up the wall, bounced off the back of the leather couch, skidded across the hardwood floor, and began to furiously attack a loose thread on the rug, your back legs kicking wildly.
Satoru sat up, staring at you in absolute disbelief before bursting into loud, booming laughter. "Oh my god! Look at you go! You're a maniac! A tiny, fluffy maniac!"
You ignored him, suddenly spotting a new target: Satoru’s discarded blindfold on the nightstand. You leaped up, grabbed the black fabric in your teeth, and hauled it down to the floor, wrestling with it as if it were a dangerous curse, rolling around in a chaotic tangle of white fur and black cloth.
"Hey! That's my brand!" Satoru laughed, sliding out of bed and dropping to his knees beside you.
He reached out to pull the blindfold away, but you let out a fierce little growl, your tiny claws clamping down on his hand.
"You're vicious in the morning," he noted, his voice full of amusement as he easily lifted both you and the blindfold into his arms. "Come on, let's get you some breakfast before you decide to eat my shoes."
The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion.
You were a ball of pure, unpredictable fluff.
You spent two hours hiding inside an empty cardboard box Satoru had left in the hallway, popping your head out to swat at his ankles every time he walked past.
You insisted on sitting on his shoulder while he made coffee, your tail draping over his collarbone like an expensive, living scarf.
But as the afternoon began to fade into evening, the heavy, magical weight of the transfiguration technique began to shift.
You were curled up on Satoru’s chest while he lay on the couch, watching a movie.
The purring in your chest felt different now, less like a mechanical vibration and more like a deep, human heartbeat.
Your paws felt heavy, your skin tingling with a sudden, warm rush of cursed energy.
Satoru felt it instantly.
His Six Eyes tracked the rapid, sudden restructuring of the atoms around you, the transfiguration technique finally breaking under the weight of time.
"Whoa," Satoru said, his voice dropping as he quickly stood up, lifting you in his arms and placing you gently on the large bed just as a bright, soft glow of cursed energy enveloped your entire form.
The white fur began to recede, expanding, shifting.
The stubby legs elongated into smooth, familiar limbs.
The tiny, round head reshaped itself, long strands of your natural hair spilling across the black sheets as your human body materialized out of the light.
Within seconds, the cat was gone.
You lay on the bed, blinking against the ambient light of the room, your hands expanding and contracting as you stared at your fingers.
You were human again.
A completely naked human
"Welcome back, princess," a low, familiar voice cooed from above. He throws his white T-shirt at you.
Without questioning you pull it over your head.
You looked up.
Satoru was leaning over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, his white hair falling around his face like a frame.
His blue eyes were bright, sparkling with mischief, but beneath it lay that deep, fierce warmth that always made your heart skip a beat.
You let out a long, heavy breath, your voice finally returning to its normal, human register. "Satoru."
"Missed me?" he grinned, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.
"I was with you the whole time, you idiot," you mumbled, your arms aching with a sudden, overwhelming desire to hold him.
You reached up, wrapping your hands around his neck, pulling him down into a proper, deep embrace.
Satoru let out a soft sigh, his large arms wrapping securely around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.
"Yeah, but you didn't have arms to hug me with. And you kept biting my thumbs."
"Because you were being annoying," you complained, though you were smiling, your fingers running through his soft, white hair.
"I was an exemplary pet owner!" Satoru protested, lifting his head to look down at you, his thumb gently tracing your lower lip. "I bought you Michelin-starred sashimi. I let you sleep on my face. I gave you a sticky-note crown! You were royalty!"
"I remember," you whispered, your expression softening as you looked into those endless, beautiful blue eyes. "Thank you. For taking care of me."
Satoru’s grin softened into something incredibly tender.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of sweetness and familiarity.
It was a slow, deep reassurance that you were back, that the world was normal again, and that you were safe in his arms.
When he pulled back, his eyes traveled down to your hands, which were still resting on his shoulders.
"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
Satoru smirked, a wicked, teasing glint in his eyes. "Nothing. It's just... your fingers are still flexing a little bit. Are you... are you still making biscuits on my shoulder?"
You froze, realizing with absolute horror that your hands were indeed rhythmically kneading the fabric of his shirt, driven by a lingering, phantom cat instinct.
Your face flushed a brilliant, burning red. You immediately pulled your hands back, slamming them over your face to hide your embarrassment. "Shut up! Shut up, Satoru! It's a muscle spasm!"
"Oh, it's a muscle spasm?" Satoru laughed loudly, throwing his head back as he collapsed beside you on the bed, pulling you tightly against his side.
He began to scratch the spot right beneath your human chin, making you gasp. "Does the little kitten want some more chicken? Does she want to sit in a sunbeam?"
"I am going to exorcise you," you muffled into his chest, though you didn't pull away. Instead, you let your head rest against his heart, listening to the steady, comforting beat, your fingers subconsciously tightening against his shirt once more.
Satoru chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, holding his favorite ball of fluff close to his heart, completely content to let the rest of the world fade away.
The steady, methodical rhythm of the cardiac monitor is a sound that Dr. Zayne, has gotten use to.
It was a predictable cadence in a world that was often chaotic, a reassurance that life was maintaining its steady, stubborn march.
But tonight, the silence of his office at Akso Hospital felt heavier than usual.
The neon glow of the Linkon City skyline bled through the floor-to-ceiling glass, casting long, sharp shadows across his desk.
He leaned back, his fingers tracing the edge of a medical tablet, his gaze drifting not to the charts, but to the empty space across from him.
You weren’t his patient.
You weren’t an Evol hunter risking your life in the deepspace rifts, nor were you someone tied to the complex, dangerous web of his past.
You were, by all accounts, a beautifully ordinary part of his otherwise structured universe, someone who had stumbled into his life by sheer coincidence, yet managed to anchor him more deeply than he cared to admit.
A soft knock broke the quiet.
Zayne didn’t need to look at the clock to know it was past midnight.
He didn’t need to ask who it was, either.
The hesitant rhythm of the knock belonged to only one person.
"Come in," he said, his voice deep, carrying that familiar, cool composure that usually kept the rest of the world at a distance.
The door pushed open, and you stepped into the room, carrying a paper bag that smelled faintly of cinnamon and roasted coffee bean tea.
You looked tired, the exhaustion of your own day visible in the slight slump of your shoulders, but the moment your eyes met his, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face.
"I figured you’d still be here," you said softly, closing the door behind you to shut out the white noise of the hospital corridor.
"You always forget to eat when you're reviewing surgical reports."
Zayne’s expression didn't dramatically change, he was a man who wore his emotions behind a professional calm but the sharp, guarded edge in his eyes melted instantly.
The subtle tension in his shoulders unraveled.
"You shouldn't be out this late," he chided gently, though there was no real bite to his words.
He stood up, stepping around the grand mahogany desk. "Linkon City isn't exactly hospitable after midnight."
"I knew you were here. That makes it safe enough," you replied easily, setting the bag down on his desk and pulling out a warm pastry and a thermal flask.
Zayne stopped a few inches away from you.
Up close, he could see the faint dark circles under your eyes.
A sudden, sharp pang of protectiveness flared in his chest, a feeling he often tried to rationalize as a doctor's concern, though he knew it was entirely, helplessly personal.
He reached out, his long fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your forehead.
His touch was cool, a constant reminder of the ice Evol coursing through his veins, but to you, it felt incredibly grounding.
"You look more exhausted than my residents," Zayne murmured, his thumb lightly tracing the line of your jaw. "Who is looking after you while you're busy worrying about me?"
"I can handle myself, Dr. Zayne," you teased, leaning slightly into his cold palm, unbothered by the chill.
In fact, you welcomed it. It was uniquely him.
A rare, faint smile tugged at the corner of Zayne’s lips.
It was a fleeting thing, the kind of smile he reserved exclusively for you, hidden away from the rest of the world.
"Is that so?" He lowered his hand, but he didn't step back.
The proximity between you felt deliberate, a shared quietude that neither of you wanted to break. "Then sit down. If you're going to force me to take a break, you're joining me."
You gladly took the seat across from his desk, watching as he poured the jasmine tea.
He moved with a practiced, elegant precision, yet there was a softness to his movements now that only appeared when the white coat was metaphorically shed.
He handed you the cup first, ensuring your hands wrapped around the warmth before he took his own.
For a long time, neither of you spoke.
You didn't need to fill the void with meaningless chatter.
With Zayne, silence was never awkward; it was a sanctuary.
He spent his days fighting life-and-death battles, listening to the fragile heartbeats of humanity.
With you, he didn't have to be the infallible surgeon or the powerful Evol user.
He could just breathe.
"The snow is supposed to start early this year," Zayne said quietly, breaking the silence as he looked out at the city.
His dark eyes reflected the distant lights, looking deep and unfathomable.
"Do you like the snow?" you asked, cradling your tea.
Zayne turned his gaze back to you. T
here was a profound, bittersweet depth in his eyes a weight born from a lifetime of freezing things to keep them from breaking, of watching the world turn cold around him.
"I used to think it was just a reminder of isolation," he admitted, his voice dropping an octave, raw and honest. "A force that numbs everything it touches."
He paused, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He reached across the desk, his bare hand covering yours where it rested against the warm porcelain of the cup.
"But lately, when it snows, I find myself wondering if you're wrapped up warmly enough. I find myself wanting to be the one to keep the cold away from you."
The admission was quiet, but it carried the immense weight of a man who rarely spoke of his own desires.
Zayne was someone who gave everything to his duty, leaving very little for himself. Yet, in the quiet of his office, under the cover of the night, he was giving you the most vulnerable pieces of his heart.
You shifted your hand, slipping your fingers between his, squeezing gently. "You don't have to worry, Zayne. Your hands might be cold, but you aren't. Not to me."
Zayne looked down at your intertwined fingers.
The contrast was stark the slight flush of life in your skin against the pale, cool touch of his.
A soft, breathless sigh escaped him, a sound of pure surrender.
"You are incredibly foolish," he whispered, though his grip on your hand tightened, refusing to let go.
"Giving your warmth to an ice doctor."
"Maybe I just have some to spare," you replied softly slightly teasing him.
Zayne didn't answer with words.
Instead, he stood up, guiding you to stand with him.
Pulling you gently into his space, he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He held you tightly, as if anchoring himself to the only solid, unchanging thing in his turbulent world.
You could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart against your chest, a rhythm that, for the first time that night, felt perfectly at peace.
"Stay a little longer," Zayne murmured against your skin, his breath a warm contrast to his cool touch. "Just until the city wakes up."
I highlighted a line in this, I genuinely loved it so much so I had to.
The air in the command center was usually thick with the hum of servers and the low, disciplined murmurs of strategists.
For Caleb, it was just another Tuesday.
He was reviewing coordinates on a holographic map, his expression calm, grounded, and entirely focused.
Then, the comms channel didn't just beep; it shattered the quiet with a high-priority override signal.
"All units, be advised. Deepspace Hunter squad Echo-4 has sustained heavy casualties in the Akso ruins. Wanderer activity was underestimated. Medical evac is en route."
Caleb’s hand froze mid-air. Echo-4.
Your squad.
The tablet in his grip groaned under the sudden, involuntary pressure of his fingers. For a fraction of a second, the steady, reliable commander vanished, replaced by a man whose entire world had just suffered a seismic shift.
He didn't ask for permission.
He handed his data pad to a stunned subordinate, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet, commanding tone.
"Prep my jet. Now."
The flight back was an agonizing blur of gray clouds and suffocating silence.
Caleb spent the entire trip staring at his reflection in the dark glass, his mind racing through a gallery of worst-case scenarios.
He knew the risks of being a Hunter, he lived them every day and much worse.
But knowing the risks did absolutely nothing to dull the sharp, terrifying edge of realization that you were vulnerable. That he hadn't been there to step between you and the danger.
By the time he threw open the doors to the central hospital, the smell of antiseptic and ozone hit him like a physical blow.
He moved through the corridors with an intense, quiet urgency that made the nursing staff scatter out of his way.
When he finally pushed open the door to your room, the sudden silence of the space caught in his throat.
You were propped up against the pillows, looking frustratingly small beneath the stark white hospital blankets.
Bandages wrapped tightly around your shoulder and forearm, and a faint, purplish bruise was blooming along your jawline.
You looked exhausted, pale, and thoroughly battered but you were breathing.
You were alive.
At the sound of the door, you turned your head, offering him a tired, slightly guilty smile. "Hey," you croaked, your voice rough. "You're back early."
Caleb didn't answer right away.
He just stood at the foot of the bed, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a heavy, ragged exhale.
The sheer relief that washed over him was so potent it made him look almost angry.
He closed the distance between you in two long strides, but as he reached for you, his hands levitated in the air, trembling slightly, terrified of hurting you further.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
He finally let his hand settle gently on the uninjured side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with an aching tenderness.
"They told me Echo-4 got ambushed. They told me..." He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.
"It was just a rogue Class-S," you tried to downplay it, wincing slightly as you shifted. "We handled it. I just... took a bad hit protecting the extraction point."
Caleb’s eyes darkened, a flash of fierce protectiveness flaring in his gaze before dissolving back into pure, raw worry. He carefully sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning down until his forehead rested gently against yours.
You could feel the heat radiating from him, could hear the frantic, uneven rhythm of his heart.
"Don't do that," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.
"Don't 'just' it to me. When I heard the broadcast... when they said your squad took heavy hits and I was half a province away... I've never felt so useless in my entire life."
He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that laid his soul completely bare.
Caleb was always the steady anchor, the one who cooked your favorite meals, joked about your stubbornness, and kept you grounded.
But right now, he looked entirely undone by the thought of losing you.
"I know it's your job," he murmured, his fingers wrapping with delicate, fierce certainty around your uninjured hand, squeezing it just enough to feel your pulse.
"And I know how strong you are. But you have to remember... you're carrying my heart out there with you. If you break, I break too."
You softened, sliding your fingers through his, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry I scared you, Caleb. I'm okay. I'm right here."
He let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension finally beginning to drain from his frame.
He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, right at your hairline, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the rest of the world.
"You're grounded," he muttered against your skin, a faint, familiar trace of his playful warmth finally returning to his voice, though his grip remained tight.
"As soon as they discharge you, I'm locking the doors, making soup, and you're not leaving the couch for a week. Deal?"
You couldn't help but chuckle, a sound that made his chest ache with profound, overwhelming gratitude.
Warning: brief religous symbolism.. not healthy depiction of a relationship(?)
5....
You've had 5 boyfriends....
5 ex boyfriends you have dated and 3 summer flings. You easily flirted like it was breathing. Any guy that was handsome enough, fun enough for you was good enough. You weren't aiming for anything serious.
You were always looking at anyone but him. No, not Caleb.
Caleb indeed was popular, has the brains and the body. Every auntie would line up to match him with their nieces or nephews. Everyone would wage a war just to be close to him. But never you.
Caleb had seen you with different types of guys. The nerds, the sporty ones, the bikers, maybe financial guys, the ones with multiple piercings and tattoos. You name it.
But never him....
What about him did you not find interesting he wonders. Was it the hair? Maybe his personality? Was it that he was not manly enough?
Why do you never look at him? He heard through MC that they have been having fun with another guy.
Did you think he may not be a good kisser? He can work on that? Maybe the way he dresses? He can change that. He shift to whoever you want him to be like. With you, he can toss hus dignity just so he can please you.. Hold you... Keep him as yours....
All this thoughts stirred inside him until it reached a boiling point.
Which landed here.. 12 in the midnight... At your front door...
Caleb pleading to you like a man who has nothing left to lose, praying to his god ...The words he always wanted to say has left his lips. He begged,
"Want me please. I need you to want me".
-----
Pick me choose me love me Caleb? Absolutely..
This shorty work is shit and mine.. And no AI thank yeeeeeewwwwww
Imagine the transfer should have been temporary, that was what Caleb told you six months ago when the reassignment orders first arrived. "Just a different unit." He reassured you softly while standing in your kitchen. "I'll still come home." Home, not your apartment. Home. Because Caleb started calling your place home long before you even got engaged.
Imagine he kept that promised too. No matter how brutal the new schedule became, he still drove back to the city whenever he could. Sometimes arriving past midnight exhuasted out of his mind only to leave again before sunrise. You used to scold him for it constantly. "You need sleep." "I need you more." Ridiculous man. Ridiculously sincere man. That was the problem. Caleb loved you too honestly for this situation to make sense. Which is why the past week had been slowly driving him insane.
Imagine the operation had reached critical stage faster than expected. Months of investigation finally narrowed into something tangible. Dead fleet officers, missing intel, internal corruption, targeted executions disguisedas accidents. At first the unit suspected isolated incidents. Then patterns started emerging. Officers connected to specific classified transport routes kept dying one after another. Some vanished entirely, others were found dead before they could testify. The newest victim finally gave them a lead. A newly married fleet officer murdered in his own home, except his wife survived, barely. She escaped before the shooter fnished clearing the house.
Imagine now she was their only living witness. Which meant she was also a walking target. The problem? The leak was internal. Someone inside the fleet kept feeding information outward. Meaning, nowhere offical was safe. No military housing, no secure holding facilities, no predictable movement. So the witness got moved constantly between trusted personnel, including Caleb.
Imagine he hated it immediately. Not because of the responsibility, but because of you. Because suddenly, the operation stopped being dangerous only for him. Now there was possibility of collateral. And the moment collateral became possible, Caleb's entire perspective changed violently. You became the center of every tactical decision in his head. Could this route expose you? Could this operation lead people toward your apartment? Could someone follow him back home? Could someone use you against him? That last thought alone nearly made him sick.
so Imagine, he started pulling away slightly, not enough for you to notice fully. He tried so hard not to. God, he tried. Because Caleb physically didn't know how to function properly without you anymore. You were woven too deeply into his life, routine, and sanity. After brutal shifts, hearing your voice grunded him. Sleeping beside you kept him human somehow. You were the only place where Colonel Caleb stoppped existing. Where he could just be your fiance instead of someone constantly responsible for life and death.
but Imagine lately, the pressure became unbearable. Every move mattered, every mistake could get people killed. And Caleb was good under pressure, exeptionally good. But not when it involved you. Never you. So yes, he became distaracted. Quieter sometimes, checking his surroundings more often, sleeping lighter, watching doors automatically. You noticed, of course you noticed. You noticed everything about him too. And Caleb hated himself every single time he saw concern flicker across your face before you smiled anyway and kissed him like you trusted him completely. Because you did trust him. That trust became the knife slowly twisting inside his chest all week.
Imagine then tonight happened and everything finally exploded. The witness was sitting quietly in the kitchen when Caleb stepped into the shower. He planned to finished paperwork afterwards then drive back to the city to see you. He missed you so badly it physically ached. The past few days had been hell. He needed you. Needed your voice. Needed your hand in his hair while he pretended the world wasn't collapsing round him. Instead the bathroom door opened and Caleb walked straight into his worst fucking nightmare.
Imagine the way you stood frozen inside his apartment staring at the witness like your entire world had just been ripped out from under you. And fuck, the look on your face. Shock first, then confusion, then heartbreak. Real heartbreak and Caleb felt actual panic slam through him instantly. Not suspicion, not irritation. Panic. Because immediately, he understood exactly what this looked like. The witness was wearing his shirt. Fresh marks still on the witness neck from injuries sustained during the attack days ago. The apartment looked lived in, intimate, domestic. And Caleb himself just walked out looking comfortable as hell inside the environment. Fuck.
"Baby-" Then your expression changed. And Caleb's stomach dropped violently because he recognized it instantly. That look, the moment someone stops feeling safe. You ran. And everything inside him snapped. "Baby!" He sprinted after you immediately, not caring about protocol, not caring about surveillance risks. Because nothing mattered except stopping you before this misunderstanding destroyed everything.
Imagine the apartment hallway blurred around him. Then came a movement, tiny, brief. A red laser dot flickered against the far wall behind you. Gone immediately but Caleb say it. Years of training wired his brain too sharply not to. And suddenly all the blood drained from his body. No. No no no no. They found the apartment. The operation was comprimised. And worst of all, you were here. Exposed, visible, vulnerable. For one horrifying second, Caleb imagined the laser moving slightly upward. Straight to your head. And his chest nearly fucking stopped.
"Baby wait!" You kept running, crying. Completely unaware someone potentially had a scope trained on your body right now. Caleb caught your wrist at the parking lot. Then you hit him, hard. The impact split skin across his cheek instantly. His head snapped across his face. He barely regustered it. Because you looked shattered. And Caleb realized with horrifying clarity, you genuinely thought he betrayed you. "Listen to me." He said immediately, breathing hard. "That's not what it looked like." "Then what is it?" He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Because his brain was screaming too many things at once.
Imagine there was the witness, the leak, the fucking laser. Get her out of here. Protect her. Then your voice cracked. "What is it, Caleb?" God, you looked desperate. Not angry yet, just desperate. Like you were begging him to give you something, anything, that would make this make sense. And that almost destroyed him more than the slap because even now, you still wanted to believe him. You still trsuted him enough to ask explanation instead of immediately condeming him. That trsut fucking wrecked him. Because he loved you. Loved you so much it bordered on insanity sometimes.
and Imagine now he was standing here watching that love get twisted into pain because of a mission he couddn't explain. "Tell me." He looked at your face. Then beyond you. The laser flickered briefly again against your car window. Cold rage exploded through him instantly. They were sending a message. Talk. Talk and she dies first. Caleb understood that perfectly. And suddenly, something terrifying woke up inside him. Not fear but murderous rage. Because these people weren't just threatening him anymore. They were threatening you. Using you. Cornering him into hurting you himself.
"Tell me!" You begged now, tears falling harder. "Because right now it looked like you've been lying to my face for weeks hiding another woman in your apartment." Every word hit like a bullet. Because on your perspective? You were right. You had every right to think that. And Caleb hated himself for putting you in this position. "It's not like that." "Then explain it!" "I can't." The second those words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Imagine the way your face collapsed completely. Not dramatic, not explosive, worse. It was quiet devastation. Like your heart physically cracked open in front of him and fuck. Caleb would rather take a bullet. 'I can't' sounded guilty, cowardly, suspicious. He knew that. But what was he supposed to do? Tell you there were armed eyes watching right now? Tell you people died over less information than this? Tell you your life had potentially become collateral damage the second you walked into that apartment? He coudn't risk it. Not with you. Never with you.
Imagine then your voice dropped smaller. "You're hurting me." And there it was, the thing tat finally broke him. Because you weren't screaming. You weren't insulting him. You just sounded hurt, disappointed, heartbroken. Like you couldn't understand why the man who loved you most was suddenly becoming the source of your pain. Caleb's grip loosened slightly around your wrist. His breathing became uneven. Because he knew. God, he knew he was hurting you and worse, he was doing it knowingly. Chosing silence while watching tears run down your face because the alternative could get you killed.
"Please." You whispered desperately. "Just tell me the truth." He wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to so badly. Wanted to grab your face and explain everything. Wanted to beg you not to leave him. Wanted to promise this wasn't betrayal. But then the laser appeared again brieflt against the concrete, then to your forehead. And Caleb saw red. Actual red. Something violent surged through him so fast his vision sharpened dangerously. Someone was aiming at you. At you. And suddenly every protective instinct inside him turned monstrous.
"I can't." He repeated hoarsely. You went still, then slowly... You pulled off your enngagement ring. The world stopped. No. No no no. Not that. Anything but that. Caleb genuinely panicked. Real panic. "No- baby, please-" "What am I supposed to do?!" You asked shakily. "Stand there pretending I didn't see another woman wearing your clothes?" He couldn't tell you anything, and that helplessness made rage build hotter inside him. Not at you. Never at you. At the situation, at the operation, at whoever forced him into this impossible corner, at the bastards watching from the shadows while the woman he loved cried in front of him because of their fucking mess. You shoved the ring into his chest. "Get out of my way."
Imagine he stared at the ring in his palm. Your ring. The one he spent months secretly carrying around before proposing because he wanted the perfect moment. The one you cried over while saying yes. Now it's sitting cold and unwated in his hand. Something inside Caleb cracked violently, but he stepped aside anyway. Because keeping you near him tonight suddenly felt more dangerous than losing you. And God, that realization nearly killed him. So he watched you get into the car. Watched your hands shake against the steering wheel. Watched you avoid looking at him directly because if you did, maybe you'd break harder.
Imagine Caleb stood there bleeding from the cheek, engagement ring clenched painfully tight in his fist, feeling completely fucking helpless. You looked at him once before driving away. And the devastation in your eyes would haunt him forever. Because despite everthing, you still loved him. He could see it. Which somehow made this infinitely crueler.
Imagine the second your car disappeared, Caleb snapped, completely. He stormed back upstairs so fast the witness physically recoiled when he entered. "She okay?" She asked quietly. Caleb ignored her and grabbed his phone immediately. The moment the line connected, his voice turned terrifying calm. "We've been compromised." Silence, then movement. "I want every surveillance team active now." "Sir?" "There was a fucking laser sight pointed at my fiancee." The room went dead silent. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Every emotion inside him mutating into something colder, meaner, more dangerous.
"Get covert protection on her immediately. Twenty four hour surveillance." He was silent for a moment. "My family too. I want every possible tail identified before sunrise." "Sir we still need authorization-" "Then authorize it." Caleb snapped viciously. Nobdy argued after that tone. Colonel Caleb angry was dangerous. Colonel Caleb angry over you was catastrophic. "They touched the wrong fucking person." He said coldly. The witness stared silently from the kitchen while listening to the conversation. And honestly? She looked scared of him now. Good. Because Caleb himself felt terrifying right now. Not because he lost control but because he still had it.
Imagine every ounce of rage insdie him became focused, precise, lethal. He wanted names, faces, bodies. He wanted everyone involved in this operation dragged into the light personally. No more patience, no more careful politics. These people made you cry. Made you take off your engagement ring. Made you look at him like he betrayed you. For that alone, Caleb wanted them ruined.
Imagine that night, long after orders were issued and surveillance confirmed you reached home safely, Caleb sat alone on the edge of his bed staring at his phone. The apartment felt unbearably empty now. Tiny traces of you everywhere. And now, he didn't know if he lost you forever. The engagement ring sat beside him. Caleb kept staring at it like maybe if he looked hard enough, tonight would undo itself somehow. His cheek stung where you slapped him. He welcomed the pain. He deserved worse. Slowly, Caleb unlocked his phone.
You: I love you. seen
You: Please trust me. seen
then Imagine, it took him a few more seconds and one message for the message to failed and realized you had blocked him. And for a several seconds, he just stared blankly at the screen. Then he laughed, one horrible breathless laugh. Because of course you blocked him. Of course you did. And somehow the reality of it finally crushed him completely. You, his fiancee thought he betrayed you. The woman he planned his entire future around. The woman he wanted children with. The woman he loved so much it scared him sometimes. And now, you were gone. All because he couldn't protect both the mission and your heart at the same time.
Imagine the way the laugh broke midway. Then Caleb lowered his head into his hands and finally cried. Quietly, violently, completely alone. Because there is nothing could do right now except finish this opertion. But afterwards? Afterwards he was getting you back. Even if it destroyed his pride entirely.
Imagine he would kneel, he would beg, he would crawl if he has to, and he would explain everything. Spend years rebuilding your trust if necessary. Because Caleb knew one terrifying truth with complete certainty now. He woud survive gunfire, war, blood, death. But losing you? That would be the thing that finally fucking killed him.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026°
: if I have typos, just think I can't spell. Cuz maybe i really cant XD
Tags kasi decisions ako sa life: @moltensceptergambit @scoupshushushu @ceceoboro @younghideoutberserker @sleepykittyenergy @spiceandsass @younbeanz @multi-fandom-fanfic ;p
Description: You, Macy and Caleb were out on a walk after you reunited with the presumably dead man. Macy had moved on, but your feelings only came crashing back for the boy you once had a huge crush on back in your childhood.
Word count: 2.4k+
A/N: The prolonged part two is finally here. Idk how to feel about it but I hope I did it justice. Will try and make it a trilogy or maximum four chapters, lets see how this goes.
P.S, Macy here is mc!
Reblogs and comments are really appreciated!♡
You sighed for the upteenth time as your eyes flicked between your two options. Will you buy the box of cereals, or the box of noodles?
Currently, you were grocery shopping and because of your low budget, you were forced to only get the necessities for survival which consisted of cereals or a pack of noodles.
The convenience store was a treasure gem tucked away in the corner of your neighborhood with its bright lights penetrating the small parking lot in front of it. It held all the necessities and even had amazing discounts that you would be notified for via messages. Sadly though, there were no current offers, except for buy one and get one free but for cat food.
Unfortunately, you don’t have a cat.
So when you opened up your fridge to see the embarrassing sight of a mostly empty jar of jelly and some bread, you decided it was about time you restocked. Which places you in your current predicament.
You liked cereal but honestly didn't have the energy sometimes to eat before your morning shifts so you opted for the noodles. You never go wrong with a pack of noodles. You set the cereal back on the shelf and tucked the pack of noodles in your shopping basket.
You turn around to head to the next aisle until your body collides into someone. You let out a yelp and step back, about to apologize until you hear a snicker.
“Damn. Didn't think I would run into you here.” Your body locks up. Standing in front of you with all the arrogance in the world is your ex-boyfriend. The one guy you never expected to see again and especially not in the convenience store you always frequented.
“Sorry, you got the wrong person.” You speak with as much indifference as you can muster up and side step him but you purse your lips and furrow your brows when he blocks your path. Your grip on your basket tightened, your knuckles for sure turning white at the strain as you fought to keep your composure.
“No I don't think I do. I'm pretty sure I would recognise the person that ruined my life.” There's a hint of poison dripping from his tone, and you looked the other way, letting out a strained sigh under your breath.
“Look, let's not bring up the past in a convenience store. Just let me by and let's forget we ever saw each other-” As you're saying that, your foot takes another step before you're yanked back because of a tight grip on your forearm. You wince and get dragged into a corner, a blind spot for the multitude of cameras planted around the building.
“Let go-!” You try not to make a commotion by keeping your voice down but jump when his crazed eyes bore at you with all the hatred and anger that swelled up for the months you hadn't seen each other. You were slowly coming to realise you might not have a way out of this situation without it escalating.
You swung before you could think as your vision turned red. The basket holding your little groceries cracked on his head, causing him to let out a pained groan and with this little distraction, you took it as your cue to run. You side-stepped him and ran out of the store, sending a sad goodbye to the food you never got the chance to welcome home in your head. You kept running after you left the store, speeding your way down the pathway until your lungs screamed for air which forced you to gradually slow down until you stopped a good distance away and crouched down on the sole of your feet, trying to catch your breath.
Your phone rang with an incoming call as you struggled to get your breathing back in check. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and inspected the random number calling you. After just escaping from a crazy ex, getting a call from a random number would typically mean bad news, but you answered it anyway.
You gulped before raising the phone to your ear. “Hello?”
“Hey honey! Finally got a hold of your number!” You blink at the sudden one eighty flip of emotions and you let out a long sigh away from the microphone before bringing it back to your ear.
“Caleb? Hey, uh, how are you?” You cringe at your breathless tone and hope he doesn't catch it through the call.
“I'm well, I'm well. Though I wanted to call to arrange a dinner with you. That is if you accept, of course.” Your lips tilt slightly up in a smile and you nod but realise he can't see you so you verbally answer back.
“Yeah I'm down. Will Macy be there too?” You gather yourself up and continue your trek back home, still glancing back every now and then, just in case.
“No actually, I was planning for just us.” Even though it's a statement, it comes around as a question from his side and you blink at the hint of nervousness you could detect in his tone. He only wanted to go out with you alone?
“Oh.” You rub the back of your neck with your free hand in contemplation as you consider his offer. You had only reunited once that last time with mc and thinking it over, he might have wanted to see you alone so he can make up for lost time. Either way you couldn't deny his offer, partly because you also wanted to make up for lost time and mend things with your childhood friend.
“I would really like it if we could meet one on one again. Like old times.” His soft voice spoke and you let out a sigh with a smile on your face.
“Of course, Caleb. Like old times.” You hummed in confusion when he didn't answer and moved your phone away from your ear. You tapped the screen to wake it up but frowned when it refused to light up. You clicked on the power button on the side but still, nothing.
“Really? Now you decide to die?!” Your exaggerated accusations are uttered under your breath as you grumble about the old and barely functioning phone in your hand.
You're so absorbed in trying to get your phone to work that you don't notice footsteps closing in until a hand grabs your forearm and yanks you back, stealing the air from your lungs. You let out a strangled cry and drop the phone, hearing the sound of a screen shattering on the pavement. Your attempt at yelling out for help is muffled when a dry and rough hand clamps over your mouth tightly.
You strike out with your free arm and elbow the person behind you, but other than a few grunts, his grip stays tight as you lose your footing when he continues to drag you backwards into a dark alley.
Your eyes widen and your body frails in panic as you jump and try to loosen his hold but to no avail. The person was visibly way bigger than you and by the strength he displayed, your chances of escaping were slim.
You still tried to scream but were cut off when the hand that was locked on your mouth moved up and covered your only other way of breathing or making sounds, your nose. His thumb and the top of his forefinger pressed down on your nostrils, blocking your airway.
He continued dragging you backwards until your view of the outside was all but a dark area in the distance. Your hands were flailing, desperately scratching his arms in an attempt to lose his hold but to no avail. Spots begin infiltrating your vision and your struggles become weaker against the immense strength of your attacker.
“Not so confident in your swinging now are you, you bitch?” You finally realized just who exactly snuck up on you due to the ugly sneer that left his mouth but you were losing air quickly. Your arms were gradually becoming weaker at the loss of oxygen.
You were teetering on the edge of consciousness when a sharp yell resounded from your attacker. His earlier grip on you abruptly vanished, snatched away which left you stumbling forward.
Your knees buckled and slammed down on the cold concrete. You coughed and took wild breaths in through your mouth and nose while your arms held you up, palms flat on the ground as you tried to slow your breathing.
“Touch her again and you won't have only your bones broken.” A dark voice spoke out lowly, so low you would have missed it if you hadn't recognized the person it belonged to. However the person you knew in your childhood and the one standing in front of you, were two completely contrasting personas. The one you were so familiar with never showed you any energy other than a golden retriever's. This one emitted a darker aura, one so scary you would hate to be on the receiving end of his wrath.
“Who the hell-” The strained voice of your attacker speaks up but before he can finish his sentence, the loud scrunching of bones resonated through the alley. You flinched at the violent sound and coughed a few more times until your airway fully opened up and breathing finally came easy.
“You don't get to speak. Or scream. It would be a shame to taint her ears with your filth.” That familiar-unfamiliar voice speaks out again in a low, threatening tone. When you finally glance back, all you see is his broad back, shielding you behind him from the sorry sight of the man facing the consequences of his actions. Your savior's stance was tall and intimidating, one of his fists clenched tightly, a form of energy oozing out which you could only guess was his evol in action.
Caleb.
“C-Caleb?” You struggled to push his name out, confused and scared as much as you hated it. Nevertheless, no one in their right mind wouldn't be terrified in your position.
At the mention of his name in your hesitant tone, his head whipped around and you caught that dark, almost empty look in his eyes before a complete transformation occurred in that millisecond.
“Honey! Hey, hey, you alright? Does anything hurt?” You got whiplash by the sudden turn of emotions and dumbly shook your head, speechless and still processing the past few minutes. He knelt in front of you in seconds, his hands steading you from your shoulders and eyes scanning you from head to toe for any injuries.
“How did you…” You don't finish your question before he lets out a relieved sigh and looks back at you with a gentle gaze.
“That's not important right now, honey. I need to get you somewhere safe until I'm sure no one else is with him.”
“It was just him though.” He shakes his head at your response and slides his arms underneath your body. You squeak when your body goes airborne and is then resting against a warm chest. Your arms automatically circle his neck and with that, he starts walking with steady footsteps so as to not jostle you in his arms.
Your brain was scrambling to make sense of things while Caleb looked nearly unbothered. You couldn't fathom just how he was able to come here so fast only minutes after the call was cut off.
You knew of his current position as the Farspace Fleet's Colonel, you just weren't aware of the kind of terror he instilled into those who got on his bad side.
“W-Wait, what about him-?” Your curiosity gets the better of you as you try to look over his shoulder but all you see is the pitch darkness of the deep alleyway. No trace of your attacker to be seen.
“He'll be dealt with shortly. He will never dare come close to you again.” You furrow your eyebrows at the ease of how he speaks and frown.
“Caleb-”
“Don't worry about a thing, honey. Everything is handled.”
“Caleb you don't-”
“I'll never let what happened back there be repeated ever again.”
“Caleb, you're not listening to me!” He seizes his footsteps at your outburst. Your lips part in an unsteady breath before catching yourself a second later and force yourself to regain control of your breathing. He kept on droning about saving you, protecting you, as if his whole goal was to distract your brain from the big elephant in the room.
He's looking ahead, his expression blank, devoid of any emotion. Somehow, it's worse than before. There was an expression back when he faced your ex. Rage. Frustration. At least there had been something. This expression was fully blank, with no emotion visible on the surface, as though he shut the gates of his mind to everyone. Even you.
“I'm not listening?” His voice was low, breathy and you gulped but stared at him unwaveringly and nodded. If you weren't so close, you wouldn't have noticed the slight twitch in his face before his eyes redirected to you, following the tilt of his head to stare down at you in his arms.
“I knew you were outside because of the static from the wind. You were also out of breath. You never run, especially not so late into the night. So when your side of the call was abruptly cut off and I couldn't reach you anymore, you know what was scrambling in my head?” He paused to let the question linger.
“All the worst case scenarios. I reached many ugly conclusions for most of them.” Your lips parted as he murmured, his tone gradually turning frustrated.
“So when I got here and witnessed you about to pass out because of that lowlife? That's when I decided that his blood will be shed.” He was frowning in frustration, his brows furrowed.
“Caleb, what are you saying…” Your fingers began trembling where you held onto his shirt.
“It doesn't matter right now. I need to get you somewhere safe. I promise I'll tell you everything I can but until then, please let me do this.” There is a pleading look in his eyes, making you concede with a defeated sigh and nod begrudgingly.
Seeming satisfied with your willingness to cooperate, he lets a small smile slip out and carries on walking with sure and steady footsteps, meanwhile your brain was going wild at the past events and what this meant for you now.
Content: college!AU, f!reader, academic rivals to lovers, angst, fluff, no mention of y/n, reader has a bad case of eldest daughter syndrome and former gifted kid, reader might come off as a bit childish, one sided hatred, family drama, mentions of MC.
Word count: 1k
a/n: hi! :D thank you so so much for giving me the confidence to keep writing! Sorry for the delay I was sick and swamped with work D:
Caleb was just walking out of class with a smile on his face since he just got great feedback on his latest calculus assignment. He could even see her walking ahead a bit agitated. Oh this could be good.
He hurried his step and followed the familiar heap of hair. He frowned when he saw her take a turn to a quiet hallway. He slowed down and moved his head discreetly to peek at her.
She had her hands to the wall and was clearly agitated. “Stupid…Stupid! Stupid!” She said and hit the wall with her hand. She seemed on the verge of panic so he walked up to her.
“…Hey?” He called her name softly and she turned to look at him with wide eyes and frustration. It startled him and he took a step back so she wouldn’t launch at him with punches. “Are you okay?”
Her week had been a shitshow. Truly. It started with a call from her parents who just had to tell her how hard her siblings were working. She even tried to get a word in about her own achievements so far but she was constantly interrupted by praise after praise for everyone but her.
And then she started failing her calculus quizzes. She had never been a genius at math but she had always done well enough to be confident she could do well at the DAA. It worked with calculus I and II and III. But recently, partial differential equations have been kicking her ass. She had been on a high in other courses, only to be hit with whiplash from the series of failures that came right after.
She hadn’t even enjoyed bickering with Caleb lately. It was grinding her gears whenever she got a peek at his grades. He truly was flawless and incredibly smart. It was a growing envy that felt like it might explode any second.
And today, he had been laughing with his friends and gloating loudly for her to hear about how good he was doing. Also about how some professors were considering writing great recommendation letters as soon as he graduated. She swore she even heard that he got a contact with the Farspace Fleet.
She was furious, it was like the weight of a whole truck pressing on her chest. She felt the weight of her worries, the immense pressure to succeed and be the best to impress everyone, and her heavy envy. It was suffocating. So when she slumped against the wall and heard “Are you okay?” From the number one sources of her predicament, she snapped. She could not help it or stop it.
“Am I okay? Why? So you can laugh with your stupid friends about how silly little me was so dramatic! And then gloat once more about how great Caleb Xia is! Oh Caleb! Everyone likes him! Caleb, can you help me with this? Caleb, aren't you just so smart? How easy it must be to be you!” Her voice kept getting higher and higher. Even some students passing by looked at them with surprised faces at the commotion but kept walking.
“Easy? What are you talking about?” He frowned and looked all innocent and supposedly confused. She felt her anger rise even more as she took some steps towards him.
“Yeah! Easy! Not all of us can be innate geniuses and breeze through every single thing they come across! Some of us have giant pressure and sometimes we struggle! Unlike you!” She yelled at him as she dug her finger on his chest with sharp taps. He looked at her with wide eyes. She probably looked insane to him.
“Struggling? Do you need help? I can share my notes—“ He was halfway done rummaging his backpack when she made a loud frustrated noise.
“Share your notes?!” Just the idea of it felt insulting to her. It was rubbing salt on the wound. “Don’t you dare insult me with such a thing! What you should do is keep your stupid mouth shut and leave me alone!”
She stomped away from him and didn’t stop walking until she got to her dorm. Where she sat on the floor and finally, she let herself cry.
Caleb was stunned. He froze in place for a while after she left. He felt like he had just failed and greatly.
He felt like he was 10 again, trying his best to make sure everything was perfect for MC. Back then, whenever she came back to him crying despite his best efforts, he had felt like a complete failure.
And after today’s fiasco, he felt like the worst of the worst once again. He never intended this game of push and pull. The stupid bickering about grades and ‘who is the best’. It wasn’t supposed to make her feel small. It wasn’t supposed to hurt her.
But he did. And now he had no clue how to fix it.
He went back to his dorm and thought of sending a text. He had her number from a group chat for a party from ages ago. But what was he supposed to say? How could he apologize for fucking up this badly?
If he apologized and offered help once again, she would be furious. She might actually kill him on the spot.
At around 7 pm he was about to text her the cheesiest apology in the world when he heard a knock on his dorm door. He frowned since he didn’t remember inviting anyone today. And MC would’ve let him know if she was visiting. So he walked over to the door feeling a bit wary.
He did not expect to see her on the other side of the door. “Gideon gave me your address. Maybe I do need your notes.” She said with a beet red face and looking directly at the floor.
a/n: a bit of a shorter chapter i apologize!! It was not my strongest and I felt like I self inserted too hard with the reader snapping. but i hope you enjoy it anyway! :D what do we say? Do I make them friends and then make Caleb go through the whole explosion and colonel Caleb or do I give Caleb some happiness? Should I give them comfort then angst or just comfort? Let me know :D i have all sorts of ideas for these two!!
Imagine after four whole years with Caleb, not once had he ever made you questin whether he loved you. Maybe that was what made this hurt so much. Because the cruelest part wasn't the possibility that Caleb stopped loving you. No. You knew him too well for that. Even now, even later, even after everything that would happened tonight, you knew Caleb loved you.
Imagine you knew it with terrifying certainty, you knew it in the way he always reached for you first in crowded rooms. In the way he memorized your routine better than you did. In the way exhaustion never stopped him from driving hours just to spend a night beside you. In the way he still kissed your forehead absentmindedly while half asleep.
Imagine Caleb loved you. Which was exactly why your chest hurt so badly these past few days. Because something was wrong and you could feel it. It was not obvious enough for accusations. Not dramatic enough to start fights. It just felt wrong. Tiny things, small pauses in conversations, moment where Caleb looked distracted before immediately covering up. How he checked his phone more often lately, and sometimes went quiet in the middle of your conversations like he was thinking too hard about something.
and Imagine every single time you noticed it, he would pull you closer afterwards, kiss your temple, then ask about your day. He looks at you with so much warmth it made you feel guilty for doubting him at all. Which only made your anxiety worse. Because if Caleb had been cold, distant, cruel... This would have been easier, but he wasn't. He was still loving you exactly the same. Still calling you endearing nicknames in that soft voice that always melted you. Still showing up at your apartment carrying your favorite food after long shifts. Still sleeping with one arm wrapped tightly around your waist like he physically couldn't rest properly otherwise. Still loving you.
so Imagine, why does your chest feel so heavy? You hated yourself for overthinking. Hated the way old conversation started resurfacing in yout mind again. Military wives whispering warning during gatherings years ago. "Distance change people." "Sometimes they stop telling you things first." "Men stationed far away get lonely." You used to brush off those comments confidently because Caleb wasn't like that. Your Caleb wasn't careless with hearts.
Imagine he loved too deeply for that. Still, the anxiety stayed. Quiet and persistent like your instincts were trying to warn you about something your heart didn't want to see. For an entire week, sleep became difficult, finding yourself rereading old text at night like reassurance, listening to his voice messages repeatedly, trying to convince yourself everything was fine. And maybe, maybe if you had just stayed home that evening, maybe things would have been fine, maybe ignorance really woud have been kinder. Because a part of you would spent the rest of the night wishing desperately that you had never gone there at all.
Imagine the way you just wanted to surprise him. That was all. Caleb had been stuck near base almost nonstop lately because of his transfer to the new unit and you missed him terribly. So after work, you bought dinner and drove toward his apartment near the base with the spare key he once pressed into your hand months ago.
"For emergencies." He told you back then and you laughed. "What counts as emegency?" "You missing me." God, you almost broke down just remembering it.
Imagine the drive there felt normal. You even smiled stupidly at red lights thinking about how surprised Caleb would look seeing you unexpectedly. Maybe he would pull you into one of those crushing hugs you secretly loved. Maybe he would complain dramatically about how exhuasted he was until you played with his hair. Maybe the anxiety would finally disappear once you saw him again. You wanted that desperately, wanted assurance. You wanted your Caleb back.
Imagine the hallway outside his apartment was quiet when you arrived. You balanced the food carefully in one arm while unlocking the door. And then your entire world titled sideways. Because there, right there was a woman sitting inside his kitchen. Wearing Caleb's shirt. For one horrible second, your brain genuinely failed to process what you were seeing. She looked comfortable there. Too comfortable sitting casually at his dining table with coffee in hand like she belonged in that apartment. Like she belonged in his space. In your space. The oversized shirt hanging off her shoulder was unmistakably his too. You knew it immediately becasue you bought that shirt for him last winder after he complained about the old one fading.
Imagine the way your stomach dropped so violently it hurt. The woman looked up at the sound of the door opening. Then blinked in surprise seeing you. And somehow, seeing her expression looked more curious than guilty like she genuinely didn't know who you were. That made your throat tightened painfully. No. No no no no. This didn't make sense. Because Caleb loved you. He loved you. You knew he did. So why? That was when you noticed the marks near her neck. Your vision blurrred instantly. Love bites, fresh enough to still look angry against her skin. Your breathing became uneven immediately. The room suddenlt felt too small. Too hot. Too loud despite the silence.
Imagine the way the woman slowly lowered her coffee cup while studying you carefully. "Caleb didn't tell me a friend was visiting." Friend? You open your mouth. Nothing came out. Because your thoughts were crashing too violently against each other. Who is she? Why is she here? Why is she wearing his clothes? Why does she look so comfortable? Why are there marks on her neck? Why... Why? Why?! You wanted Caleb to walk out right now and laugh. Tell you this was ridiculous. Tell you there was explanation. Because there had to be. Then the bathroom door opened.
and Imagine there he was, fresh from the shower, hair damp, towel around his neck, relaxed, domestic, comfortable. The exact imagine of a man at home with someone. Then his eyes landed on you and you watched everything change instantly. Shock, real shock. Then immediate panic, not guilt, not exactly. Panic. You knew Caleb well enough to recognize it immediately. His eyes widened sharply as if his brain was calculating too many things at once. You saw him realize what this looked like and saw the fear hit him in real time.
"Baby-" something inside you snapped. Because innocent people explained immediately. Innocent people didn't look terrified like that. So you turned and ran before he could say another word. "Baby!" You ignore him. Your chest hurt so badly it felt difficult to breathe. The hallway blurred around you as tears burned instantly behind your eyes. You heard the apartment door slam open violently behind you. Then footsteps, fast, panic filled. "Baby wait!" Your thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. All those insecurities you thought you outgrew suddenly came flooding back at once.
Imagine he's handsome, successful, and surrounded by people constantly. Maybe eventually someone better caught his attention. Maybe distance really did change things. Maybe those women years ago were right. But no... Because even now, even while running away crying like your heart was being ripped open. You still couldn't fully believe Caleb cheated on you. That was the worst part. You didn't think he stopped loving you. You thought he was hidding something. Something big enough to hurt you anyway. And somehow that pain felt deeper. Because if Caleb cheated, at least the betrayal would make sense. But this?
Imagine this felt like watching the person you trusted most slowly drown while refusing to let you help him. Then a hand suddenly grab your wrist. You spun instantly and slapped him hard on the face. The sound cracked violently through the parking lot. Your nails scratching his cheek deeply enough to leave blood behind. Your own palm burned afterwards. And Caleb barely reacted. He didn't even defend himself, he just held your wrist carefully, breathing hard like he had run after you without thinking. Purple eyes frantic, devastated.
"Listen to me." He said immediately, voice rough. "That's not what it looked like." Your laugh came our broken. "Then what is it?" Silence. Not long, but long enough to destroy you. Because you watched Caleb struggle, actually struggle. Like the truth physically sat there inside him clawing to come out. "What is it, Caleb?" His jaw tightened painfully. "Tell me." Nothing. Tears finally spilled fully down your face. "Tell me!" Your voice cracked violently. "Because right now it looks like you've been lying to my face for weeks while hiding another woman in your apartment!"
"It's not like that." "Then explain it!" His expression twisted. God, he looked horrible. Not defensive, not angry. He was horrified. Like every second of this conversation was killing him too. "I can't." Your entire body went still. Not I won't but I can't. And somehow, that hurt worse. Because you believe him. You believe he physically could not tell you. And that realization shattered something inside your chest completely. You stared at him through tears. "Do you understant how much that hurts?" Caleb's face crumpled slightly. "Bab-" "You're hurting me." Your voice came out smaller now. Broken. "And you know you're hurting me."
Imagine that made his grip on your wrist loosened slightly. Like the words physically wounded him. You cna see it all over his face. That was the cruelest part. You knew Caleb loved you, even now. Even standing here bleeding from the cheek after you slapped him. Even now while watching your heart break apart in front of him. Because of him. He still loved you. You could see it so clearly. Which only made this unbearable. Because if he loved you this much. Then whatever secret he was protecting had to matter more than your relationship right now. And that thought destroyed you.
"Just tell me the truth." You whispered desperately. "Please." Caleb looked wrecked. Actually wrecked. Like he wanted to say it so badly. But instead he just whispered again. "I can't."
Imagine the way something inside you gave up. Not angrily, not dramatically. Just... Collapsed. "I see." You tried pulling your wrist away but he still held on weakly, desperately. Like if he let go now, he would loose you forever. And maybe he would. Your hans trembled violently as you reached for your engagement ring. The second Caleb realized what you're doing, real fear crossed his face. "No." You pulled the ring off slowly. The skin beneath suddenly felt enbearably empty. "No- baby, please-" "What am I supposed to do?!" You asked shakily. "Stand there pretending I didn't see another woman wearing your clothes?" His breathing became uneven.
"This isn't what you think." "Then what is it?" Silence again. And God, that silence hurt more than screaming would have. Because you knew Caleb was choosing this silence for a reason. Which meant he believed he had no choice. And maybe that was what truly broke your heart. Not betrayal. Not cheating. But that there was a wall between you neither of you knew how to cross. You shoved the ring weakly against his chest.
"Get out of my way." He looked destroyed, but eventually stepped aside. You got into your carnumbly. Your shared car. Everything suddenlt felt shared, painfully. Outside, you watched Caleb paced near the vehicle helplessly, back and forth. Hands shaking slightly. The cut on his cheeks still bleeding. He looked like he wanted to drag you into his arms and never let go. But he didn't, maybe because he no longer had the right.
Imagine you looked at him through blurry vision and somehow, even now, you still loved him so much it physically hurt. Which made everything even worse. Because a part of you desperately wanted to rewind tonight entirely. Wanted to unknown what you saw. Wanted to go back to his morning before anxiety pushed you here. Because if you never visited, maybe you and Caleb would still be happy right now. Maybe tonight would have ended with him holding you in bed enstead of watching you leave him behind. Maybe ignorance would have sabved you both. That thought haunted you the entire drive home.
and Imagine, later that night, as you curled motionless in your shared bed, staring blankly into the darkness while his scent still clung to the pillows, you phone buzzed.
Apple: I love you.
Apple: Please trust me.
Imagine the way you chest caved inward. Because the thing is you did trust him. Trusted that he loved you. Trusted that whatever happened tonight wasn't a simple betrayal. Trusted him enough to know he was suffering too. And somehow that made this infinitely more painful. Because you knew love wasn't enough to fix this. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. Tears blurred your vision completely. Hands shaking violently, you blocked his number. Then buried your face into the pillow and cried until breathing hurt.
: advance happy birth day my loveeee! This is one of my bday gift for you :)
: hearing Hawks talk give me flashback of both my exes and lovers lmao all i can hear is, and i need you now tonight edit on tiktok. Ps. Sorry for the typos :( i think i cant spell XD
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