Said “oh!! My Ovulation Isn’t That Bad This Month!!! ^^” And Then Was Hit With The Beam Of Endless

That girl with the fat tummy and loud laugh will save you

Can't even tease Suguru by calling him your guard dog cuz his go-to response is "oh really? Does that make you my puppy then?"

eres mia by romeo santos w suguru. yeah.

"You know-"

Tomura can't stand when you take that tone. The high, wobbly nature of it means you are about to say something to aggravate him, most likely on purpose. He's always pretty frazzled with the situation without your comments. You are laid out on his tiny bed, pussy freshly eaten, legs spread in wait for him. Tomura wants to be back on you, but he's too busy trying to get this fucking strap to stay on. the side won't tighten and his chosen cock of the evening keeps threatening to fall out right on to the floor.

"What?" he asks with a snit. Sweat is already dotted though his white tank. He shouldn't be doing this in a binder, but he almost likes to way his ribs ache when he breathes in too deeply.

"Never really thought I liked pussy-" You wiggle your knee back and forth, legs opening and closing. "But I'm kinda really into yours."

"Don't say--" Heat runs down the back of his neck. "Why are you even fucking looking at that?"

"You're about to fuck me and I like bush," you say. "And it's kinda hot that you're like, fucking dripping down your legs. I'm just saying, if you ever wanted some 'lip service', I'd be down."

Touch had always disgusted him. The discomfort in his body, the way hands only see to exaggerate the places he hates.

But there's a flicker. A flicker of want when you say that. A tightness in his core that he can't ignore.

Tomura swallows deep. His hands are still fumbling with the strap. "Don't call it that."

"Pussy?"

"Yeah."

You tilt your head in thought for a long moment, then a pointed smile creeps up over your face.

"I really wanna suck your dick, Tomu."

Oh, his body crawls, but this time, it's alive with pleasure. He can practically imagine it, your tongue gliding over his cock, working between his folds, fingering his--

With a final tug, he tightens the strap. The cock is cotton candy blue-- something you had picked out for yourself.

"Get it wet before I fuck you," Tomura says, no confidence in his voice.

When you lazily crawl over and open your mouth, he swears he can actually feel your tongue against the plastic when he closes his eyes.

i want to make suguru call me daddy. mhmhmhmhmhmhm

suguru x f!reader ~ atonement!au

cw: angst mainly, some fluff(i think?), suggestive, one(1) consensual almost sex scene w suguru (someone walked in), historical setting(wwll) likely with many inaccuracies, lying, misunderstandings, romance (childhood friends trope), war, major character deaths. mentions of injury, disease, sexual assault, prison. hopefully not but probably confusing timelines, etc.. . a/n: i apologize in advance and so sincerely about hiromi

ah, summer. the sun burning bright in the clear blue sky of the lovely morning. the warm air, warm earth, warm skin, all being warmed by its light. all except for you in this moment.

your body shivers, drenched. cool water soaked through the thin fabric of your undergarments and doused in your hair. little goosebumps have formed on your skin now.

no words are spoken as you hold your glare at the man who stand only a few feet away. no words are spoken but there is communication of sorts that you cannot comprehend. your eyes pour all the emotions you are yet to understand onto the other. it's a language you don't have the knowledge to translate. a fruit yet to ripen enough to fall from its branch, it's holding on. barely, but still holding.

although you are in open air, there is an incredibly low ceiling weight down on you. crushing. your spine can only carry so much weight before it shatters; the the delicate porcelain of the fine china you dine from.

there is a piece of the the broken vase in your hands, and one in his. your clothing, a skirt and a blouse, lay in messy pools on the ground near the fountain where you left them.

it's an easy moment to misinterpret, and it feels so much longer then it truly is.

bravely, you take the first step and break that odd connection. the link severed and conversation of no words interrupted.

pulling your skirt back up to rest at your hips, and your blouse over your shoulders, you dress yourself quickly; it's rather hard to do even simple things with quick efficiency when frustrated. you pick the almost whole vase of the stone side of the fountain; the smaller piece that got you here, clutched tightly between your fingers. through out, your lips are pressed tightly into themselves in a firm unmoving line.

you nearly bump into him as you walk past. just close enough to grab the last piece of the broken vase held between his fingers. there isn't a moment where you look back or try to find his gaze again.

he can't even get a word out, you didn't wait to hear it — didn't bother to. you miss the way his hand clenched at his side. tightened into a white knuckled fist with his nails digging into the warms of his palm before relaxing.

there are still ripples in the water of the fountain you were just in. it's angry and along with something else he can't point.

suguru extends his hand reaching for it. hovering over the disturbed water before touching the whole of his hand to it as gentle as he would you. resting on its surface, he's quelling it, it's anger and frustration. soothing it in the way he is unable to do for yours.

it may well only be his imagination, but the warmth of you that had been stolen by the fountain, leaving you shivering and cold, he could still feel it against his palm.

the touch of his hand to the water in the fountain suddenly feels incredibly perverse.

~~

she was clever.

though she did give herself too much credit for how clever she could be. in all her cleverness she still had a lack in experience and was filled to the brim with naïveté and ignorance she failed to recognize.

a rather lonely young girl who found solace in the click click of her typewriter. fingers moving fast over the keys. it's always in the background of her mind. so far removed and far in her own world, the young girl felt like a god amongst the simple people. the all knowing narrator; the all powerful author.

she found solace in the printed word. something that cannot be taken back once the mark on paper had been made.

she's in her room now, listening to the words of her cousin as she confides in her (staying with them because of her parent ongoing divorce.)

unfortunate as it may be, it's a story she's heard before. it's been done countless times and is just eo overused. it provides no novelty and no inspiration. it is of no interest to the young writer as it does nothing to support her pursuit for a good story. that won't come from her aunt and uncles divorce.

~~

suguru's back home, greeting his mother on his way in. he's been invited to dinner with your family tonight; although.. he was not a part of it, only the son of your family's housekeeper. he was raised like he wasn't one — grew up being treated kindly and raised along side you and your siblings. suguru felt at home in your home. he felt at home in the company of your family, he felt at home in the company of you.

he decides he'll write you a letter of apology to give you before dinner. to clear the air and avoid any unnecessary awkwardness or tension at the table. you're both adults, good friends, it was a small conflict (though he could hardly even call it that).

you will work this out.

he sits at his little desk, sliding a piece of paper into his typewriter and takes a deep breath before he starts. the clicks of his fingers on the keys fill his ears.

suguru has got just about a million crumpled copies of failed apology letters thrown aside when the frustration finally settles in.

it's become an unreasonably difficult task to write you, his oldest and closest friend, a letter. it's truly ridiculous.

the image of you, with your undergarments soaked through, hair wet and skin glistening. your eyes were wide; somehow, you were glowing in the light of the sun and yet shivering like a leaf. he can still see it. feel it.

a moment that had felt infinitely longer than it was. a moment that could stretch for an infinite more moments without any complaints from him.

the deep rise and fall of your chest, the pink hue that had taken over your face, the water droplets dragging down your skin — below your clothing — and back in his line of sight again.

how teasing. never could he have imagined feeling jealousy towards a droplet of water.

suguru managed to have picked up on all of this while maintaining kinda the contact of your gazes. for as long as he could; up until you made the first move to break it.

a heavy sigh leaves his lungs. it's quite hard to feel apologetic when such thoughts busy his mind. there is a tightness in his chest. and one in his pants too.

suguru faces his type write once again. his intentions this time, far less innocent than an apology to a dear friend. it's only between him and his typewriter, a rather private affair, but it's intense. his adams apple bobs in his throat when he sallows. he begins.

pressing the keys slower now, with much more force. as if a punishment. punctuating each letter printed on the paper.

it's short and it's concise, but it's descriptive and honest. he's so focused, like he's been tasked with writing the word of god from memory.

suguru laughs to himself a little when it's done. its more of a short pleased hum of satisfaction. relief. signing his name at the bottom to complet it. sighing as he hovers his fingers over the still drying ink.

he feels ready for that apology letter now.

~~

with the folded and sealed letter in hand, suguru's steps feel lighter and that weight on his shoulders lifted. a giddiness of sorts creeps up his throat; anticipation.

a little away, he spots your younger sister and calls out to her. he hands her the letter with instructions to deliver it straight to you. the girl gives him a quipped nod in affirmation and runs off quickly. the letter held in her hands like it hold all the secrets of the world.

it's only a moment later that the lightness in his earlier steps becomes a haunting, sinking feeling in his chest. a cold sweat quick to pool over his tan skin., and the worst taste he has ever had the displeasure to taste claws its way up his throat and finally erupts in his mouth.

as loud as he possibly can, he yells. calling out to her. for her to stop, to get that letter out of her hands.

~~

the girl was running fast, as fast as she could. overtaken by curiosity and interest, finally she has something she could work with. what did suguru feel he needed to write you instead of telling you himself at dinner later tonight?

she runs and runs and doesn't stop until she reaches her sanctuary, the door of her room slammed shut behind her. opening the letter with careful greedy hands, she's sitting on the edge of her bed as she reads through it.

the contents of the letter, the words written, hitting her face. the feeling somewhat similar to having your face splashed with cold water in an effort to wake you up. it's also awakening, enlightening if you.

~~

my dear y/n,

in my dreams, i kiss your cunt.

your sweet, wet cunt. in my thoughts,

i make love to you.

all day long.

suguru.

~~

she reads it once, then she reads it twice, and then she folds it back the way it was using the deep red wax stamp to seal it once again. composing her self quick. between this and the fountain incident she had witnessed, she feels older now. also a new sense of responsibility fills her. a responsibility to protect you, her beloved older sister, from the threat that had never been anticipated; suguru.

there's a knock at her door that snaps her out of it, her cousin. the other poor girl, comes in hardly containing her tears. she tells her about her two younger twin brothers have been so incredibly horrible to her, not understanding that it wasn't her fault they were staying with your family but the ongoing divorce of her parents.

the young girl does her best to try and console the other. in an effort to do just that, to distract her and taker her mind off it (as well as the fact that the young writer felt the need for a second opinion, this was so far out of her realm after all), she tells her about the letter. the two girls read it together.

the cousin is quick to believe that suguru is manic, her own diagnosis for him. the new friends split a short while later, each to get herself ready for the dinner tonight.

on her way, the girl remembers to seal the letter perfectly, and hand it to you. you deserve to know the truth about your so called 'friend'.

~~

the dinner table is a rather uncomfortable place to be at the moment. the air is suffocating from the heat of summer and the awkward tense weight dampening the atmosphere.

short, quipped, forced conversation with long stretches of silence. you are sitting at the edge of your seat, sweating bullets now as your eyes try to avoid suguru's however you can. he appears calmer than you're sure you do, but he obviously is not at ease either. the weight of your earlier encounter still heavy, still new.

your hands meet beneath the table. tracing along each others fingers and the lines in his palms.

the young writer is doing her best to act natural, shooting suguru piercing glares from where her head is lowered to face her plate. she knows.

your younger cousin tries engaging in conversation with your fathers friend, hiromi. your mother, her aunt, is quick to call the girl on her actions. "wipe off the lipstick dear, you are far too young for that." there's an underlying meaning, a reminder to her that she is just a girl. a child.

there's tense banter, back and forths and the

you strangely feel like an outsider at the table. in your own home you are an onlooker. removed from the innermost circle of your family.

the dinner, it's a transition of sorts. a shift. one filled with unease and an impending feeling of crisis on the rise.

~~

when suguru first arrives for dinner, dressed in a well pressed tuxedo and his hair tied neatly at the base of his neck with a few pieces framing his face. you're the one to answer the door. his eyes find yours before they unwillfuly drag down your form. it's only a quick glance, it doesn't last long. clearing his throat and his eyes are back to looking straight into yours.

"it was a mistake."

your response is quick, there's more he wants to say, you know that. "she read it."

though in part it could be expected, still its not a pleasant thing to hear or have to realize is the truth. "i'm so sorry. it was.. the wrong version."

mhm, "yes.", you've gathered that much, but regardless, that hardly changes the situation.

"it was never meant to be read. by anyone."

"no." of course it wasn't.

you weren't giving him anymore than one word yes or no answers. there is no room for conversation, in fact this interaction was hardly a conversation at all.

not granting him another word from your lips, you turn away and venture into the house — leading the two of you into the library. it's a dark room, illuminated only by the little light in the desk your flicked on upon arrival. leaning your hands on the desk as you turn to face him.

"what was written in the version that was meant to be read?"

he feels nervous, scared in this moment; he's walking on eggshells, his words measured and careful. "well i don't know it was.." he glances up at you "more formal. than that."

"less anatomical?"

he can't contain the short laugh that leaves him, it's rather silly in a way. pushing it down and clearing his throat, "yes"

the ticking of a clock in the background, a steady, constant sound. you can't decide if it's one you find comforting, filling the quiet moments, encouraging you. or whether it felt like a threat, counting down the limited moments you have before some horrible inevitably happens.

you look rather apprehensive now, next words coming out vulnerable and honest.

"i've never done anything like that before. i was so angry with you and with myself. i thought that if you'd went away then, i'd be happy. i don't know how to believe i could be so ignorant about myself,"

your steps pause and you turn towards suguru once more, "so stupid." your eyes sting. they burn. wet and ready to spill out over the confines of your eyelids.

he searches your face, eyes darting over it, not missing a single part. tentatively taking steps towards you as you take steps back. he isn't closing the space between you, only trying to keep it the same as it's been.

"you do know what i'm talking about. you knew even before i did."

realization can be such an interesting experience emotionally.

his expression now mirrors your own, eyes burning with wetness from what he feels in this moment, "why are you crying?"

"well.. don't you know?"

in two steps, the space between you no longer only maintained, it is closed, "yes, i know exactly."

you're pressed to the book-lined shelves of the library wall, and a kiss is to your lips. your first.

its urgent and eager, but it only last a second before he's pulling away; only a little, just enough to be able to look you in the eyes. and he waits.

your movement hesitant at first, pretty eyes fitting between his eyes and lips until the second kiss finally lands. it's slower, sweeter, kinder; though it remains just as eager as the first.

arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him further into you. suguru's hands are pulling the delicate straps of your dress down, holding them in his hands as he holds you. feeling you.

the kisses move from you lips to your cheek to your jaw. he moves down to kiss your neck and nip at your collar bone before he decides he misses your lips against his.

you bring your leg up to rest at one of the steps on the libraries ladder, opening yourself up further to him. his hands glide over your skin, making there way to the target destination.

gentle firm hands guide you. steady you.

you've never been this close to somebody before, it's exhilarating. and embarrassing. his touch on your skin so warm, gentle yet firm. it feels so good. you're lost in one another; in each others touch, each others breath, each others skin, you equally belong to each other now. you think you might always have.

"y/n"

"suguru"

"i love you" and all you could only return the sentiment to him tenfold. "i love you"

"y/n.." the voice is small, broken. and it neither yours nor sugurus. your younger sister. you pull away from each other, disentangling your limbs, left on the edge of what could've been. what should've been.

you leave the room without a word or glance in the young girl's direction. suguru follows shortly once he's tired his appearance. running through his disheveled hair in an attempt to smoothen the inky locks and brush out any knots. he ties it at the base of his neck once again, and fixes up suit.

on his way out of the library room, there's a pause. like he wants to say something, clarify, but ultimately he decides against it. leaving the room without a word to the distraught girl, who in the rooms now emptiness try's to calm herself and process what she had witnessed.

how could.. . someone do such a cruel thing to another person?

~~

the twins, your cousins had left the dinner table earlier. gone out to play they said. your sister finds a note on one of their chairs declaring that they've run away because their older sister had been mean to them. you, your younger sister, suguru, and your fathers friend hiromi, had set out to look for the two boys.

their older sister had made a rather dramatic exit at the table when the letter was read aloud.

your mother sits alone at the front step of the house refusing to call the police because she would have to hold conversation with the constables wife whom she found to be incredibly tiresome company. she instead thinks of how your father will be calling soon, saying he'll have to stay in the city a little longer to finish work. a lie so poorly concealed it's insulting. nothing significant will happen until my death. it's a sad bleak reality the woman had long fought but accepted for herself.

you return shortly after, along with your younger sister and cousin arriving with you. the twin boys not yet found.

~~

during the search for the twins, each person heads on differing direction.

your younger sister first makes her way to the pool, looking for the boys there. in her head she imagines the vivid image of them drowning and tries to express it in words. the young girl is also thinking about how she, for the first time in her life, has gotten to meet a real villain, and gotten to save someone who she cares for when in danger.

she decides to head to the island temple next to see if the twins had gone there. although she was frightened by the dark, she was no longer a child, and as such had a responsibility to go forth. it was more an action to prove to herself he'd truly become a grown up rather than just a child.

as she approaches, she she's a rather large figure she can't recognize, it begins moving when she casts her flashlight on it and breaks apart.

it had been two people?

the larger of the pieces had run off, a smaller figure left in the grass. trembling and teary and disoriented, a little voice she recognizes calls her name, it was her cousin.

the larger figure gets away from the scene quickly and your sister, rather than consoling the other girl, asks if her cousin could identify her attacker. quickly she follows up with the question, "was it suguru?"

it sounds more like a statement than. question. the write has a narrative in her head, written out so clearly she could never feel mistaken. the story in her mind of what she had seen needed no evidence.

the cousin, the poor girl, still firghtened and shattered doesn't confirm the suspicions, only saying that she didn't get to see who the attacker was as he had covered her eyes during the assault. she didn't know who it could've been, eventually though, she gave up on her attempts to explain. maybe she was right, after all if anyone might've seen him it would be her.

after returning to the house, the still frazzled girl is taken upstairs to her room to rest. meanwhile, your sister, a narrator who has the whole case figured out is the first to speak to the constable and investigators. with full confidence, she says the attacker had been suguru.

"are you sure about what you saw. did you see this with you mr own eyes" the man would ask again.

"yes."

"then tell me, what did you see"

"i saw suguru attacking her. he attacked my sister before. i saw it. i know what i saw. it was suguru im sure."

suguru on the other hand, is still yet to return. him, nanami, and the twins who have yet to be found.

when hiromi does return a short time later, you brief him on the situation, letting him now what had happened.

during the investigation with the officers, your sister remembers another piece of evidence she could present to them. the letter. surely it would be enough to prove that suguru would be capable of doing such a thing.

the house is a mess, there are police everywhere, investigators still conducting interviews, the twins and suguru are still missing, and everyone is convinced now that not only did he attack your cousin but you as well.

a ridiculous tale born from a childs immaturity and wild imagination, though there is no proof of that.

hours later, suguru returns with the twin boys safely in tow. his blazer removed and thrown over his arm, he's holding one of them by hand and carrying another on his shoulders. obviously m, he's glad he got to find the two boys safe and return them home, so he's rather confused when he sees the expression you make upon seeing him.

it's not at all what he'd have expected, from you or everyone else present.

glares and dirty looks are shot his way, when the boys realized the house was in sight, they let go of him and ran into it to try and avoid getting into any trouble for running away.

your mother sends your sister up to her room, asking that she follows the twins and ensures they make it to their room and she goes to hers after.

it's upsetting, she feels worry that her claims would be dismissed with the saviour act he'd put on. it would absolutely ruin her goals to make herself appear less child like. she wasn't a child, she had proved that much. she was thirteen.

when she gets to her room, she watches the window only to be met with the image of suguru being handcuffed by the police investigators. she can't help but breathe a sigh of relief, he'll be taken away, you'll be safe. he'll be punished. the sparks she needs to write her story have been ignited.

truly, a god amongst the people.

she sees you approaching him, speaking to him. the girl believes you're chastising him for his actions, for the assaults. from where she's looking down at the scene, she can't truly see either of your faces and she can't hear the conversation so when you take his hands in your own it confuses her.

nonetheless, the manic man will be taken away. in the end of it all, she has won.

~~

"suguru, i'll wait for you. come back. come back to me."

you sound exasperated, god does he feel that too, but that is a promise he cannot make to you right now.

he can't do anything right now. no more talks of studying to become a doctor, no conversation with you about well, you. it was all on hold for a possibly indefinite amount of time.

your argument by the fountain, your silly banter and teasing remarks,

his whole life, stolen from him in a single night.

~~

three and a half years later, suguru is on the front lines; a soldier stationed in france. his beautiful long hair has been chopped off and shaved so close to his scalp. he's lost weight and his bright mauve eyes turned sunken and gloomy. in passing, he's thought about whether they would still be capable of having wordless conversation with your own.

suguru is navigating the french country side, with two other solders (they've been separated from the rest of the unit earlier when the retreat in dunkirk began. it is where they're headed now). and though the two men outrank him, he has experience navigating in the country side while they do not, so he find himself leading the small group over to the coast.

the three men end up seeking shelter in an abandoned barn for the night before they're back continuing there journey the next morning.

it's not all the letters you've sent him, back when he was in prison and now, that would be too many for him to carry comfortably; but he has a small stack hidden in his uniform. right above his heart is where he keeps them. there's a little bloody injury in his chest, shrapnel, next to the space for his stack of letters.

that night, he thinks back to his days in a cell, the last words you said to him before he'd been dragged away. visitors weren't allowed, so he hadn't gotten to see you again until he joined the military.

suguru remembers the last time he seen you so well, memories of an ancient yesterday still so clear in his mind; memeories that can now only ever me memories. he'd been offered a reduced sentence, to be let free early if he joined the army. you'd began working as a nurse and cut off all ties with your family for their hand in his false conviction.

they should have known him. the did know him, or so he believed. to think of himself as your family and to feel at home there was a naive and all overly optimistic way of thinking.

at the cafe, it was then the last time he'd seen you. stuck working a job you were far too overqualified for because of him. it was a nervous exchange, uncertain and uneasy.

he felt a guilt seeing you there, waiting for him though he may never return again. he needed to tell you that.

"you don't owe me anything."

you don't need to leave your family. you don't need to leave your future. you have so much ahead of you.

this is his burden to bare and he refuses to share it with you. of course you're far to stubborn to allow for that. when ever have you failed to challenge him?

"have you not been reading my letters?", all he can do is stare, "suguru. if they allowed me to, if i was allowed to i would have visited you, everyday. i would have been there everyday without fail."

it hurts to says the words, coals burning in his chest and the fumes burning his throat on their way out, leaving a nasty taste in their wake.

"yes. yes i know, but y/n if all it is we have going for us, is a few mere moments in a library three and half years ago, then i don't think-"

the words make it seem small. they make the moment seem insignificant and it is in reality, to him, anything but. perhaps that's the truth, there is no justification for holding onto something so dearly. for making such a small moment bigger than you both. hoping that that momentary connection will save you both from the nightmare you've found yourselves living.

your hand comes up to cup his face, it's so gentle, there are little callouses on your fingertips now, still he relishes in the feeling of its coolness on his skin. "suguru, come back . come back to me."

oh, the look he gives you. his eyes look so sad, you can feel it; hopelessness. he's trapped.

he walked you to the bus stop after, you had another shift at the hospital coming up soon. you boarded the bus after you shared your last kiss. he's ran after the bus until he could no longer, and your eyes focused on him as you disappeared into the horizon until you lost sight of him.

the war had broken out soon after and he'd been drafted, you promised to keep writing him, to wait for him.

~~

the horrors of war had taken their toll on suguru. he's chest injury from the shrapnel aches, there are blisters forming on his feet from the walking, he's thirsty and he's hungry and he's dirty and he could have it so much worse.

when things get especially difficult, he returns to your promise. he returns to the morning by the fountain. he returns to you. suguru takes out a post card you gave him — back at the bus stop, from the stack he keeps; a picture of a white house with a blue roof by the ocean. it was so beautiful. it was a future with you.

"come back to me" he'll make sure of it.

as suguru and the two corporals he is temporarily leading make their way to dunkirk. the devastation of the war so clear around them. the ruins of towns and villages, bodies scattered around, the smell of blood, rotting flesh, and gunpowder is inescapable; a reminder of the looming threat to their survival. images of people being blown to pieces make themselves familiar in suguru's mind, it no longer fazed him; it's a familiar sight. though it's one that's consuming him.

how is it things came to this?

~~

six years ago, three years from the incident, suguru recalls a moment that had been nearly forgotten by him.

she was ten at the time, he'd went out with her to the river for a swimming lesson. he was tasked with teaching her how to swim. the lesson had gone well, she did learn fast. truly a bright child.

when the lesson was over, suguru now dried off with a towel over his shoulders to dry his hair, she asked him a question. "if i feel into the river, would you save me?" she asked. it was strange but he hadn't thought much about it, "of course." besides that the girl wanted to be a writer, maybe it was a line she was testing to see how it would land.

but then he heard a splash. she had jumped in. suguru didn't really have a choice but to save her. now he's dripping wet again, scolding her about being so reckless. it was not have been the reaction she had expected at all.

suguru being angry enough to scold her? she only wanted to see if he was telling the truth about saving her.

the girl explained that she jumped in to see if he would save her because she loved him. suguru didn't conceal the way his eyes had rolled at that, because however annoying that moment may have been, it was entirely insignificant.

maybe that's why. maybe it was jealousy?

~~

at long last, suguru and the two men that have grown to be people he considered friends, find their way to the shore. they have reached dunkirk.

it's loud, crowded, and chaotic. a few fights had broken out between the men, blaming someone for something or the other had caused death. it's a scary thought but, even when suguru returns to you, he won't be a free man. he's completed his sentence for the crime he did not commit, he fought in the war to atone for something he never did and to gain his freedom, but in that suguru had truly become a guilty man. he's committed murder. more than he has the heart to count.

he tried to in the beginning, to in some cruel way try to honour the lives he took, but it got out of hand. the numbers too big and growing too fast. is it possible for a man to leave the battlefield with a clear conscious?

that night, suguru and his two mates found an old abandoned house by the shore to rest for the night. there were other soldiers already there but the found themselves a spot.

exhaustion is quite a funny thing because you don't feel it in its full until you rest. his bones are heavy and his muscles ache from the strain. the little wound in his chest from the shrapnel is taking longer to heal than previously expected, but to complain or worry about a such a small gash in a space with others who have lost limbs doesn't feel right. to take up a space for care or use up supplies would be wrong.

despite everything, suguru has it good.

before he falls asleep, suguru thinks outloud about staying in france. maybe he could find a way to save more than he's hurt.

one of his friends reminds him there are boats on their way to take them back to london. he asks that they wake him up when the boats get here, his hand clutched over his chest where he keeps the stack of your letters and the post card of the house by the ocean.

you're waiting for him, and against all the odds, he will come back to you.

~~

back in london, your younger sister, is now working as a nurse in training at a hospital. not the life she'd imagined of going to study at cambridge like you had, but it's keeping her occupied.

she still writes. she writes letters to you ( there's never a response but she never stops), she writes to your mother but is keeping her distance, she writes short stories she submits to local newspapers in hopes of getting published (nothing so far). she writes mostly in her journal now. the click click of her typewriter set aside.

there is an aid of dread and despair. it came after news of the english retreat. the girl had also received a letter from her father informing her of the marriage of her childhood friend and cousin's marriage to nanami. they are to be wed the following week.

the news she receives in her fathers letter brings to the surface her years old guilt. she's known for a while after the incident that summer that she in fact did not know what she saw.

the knowledge she carried with her for sometime now: the attacker that night had not been suguru, it had been hiromi.

she couldn't free herself from the guilt. no matter how much of her life she has given up, no matter how good of a nurse she is, she could never make up for what she had done.

on her walk to the hospital, she sees people. friends, family, couples, engaging in mindless chatter. what ever could be so interesting? they're lives seem so lovely, so carefree. what would that be like she wonders. would she ever get to experience it?

her and a friend she made working at the hospital meet up on their way to work. an ambulance approaches the hospital, the two young women rush towards it wanting to help in anyway they can.

as she's cleaning and dressing the leg of one of the injured, she takes in how many injured men have arrived this morning alone. could suguru be among them? could he forgive her if she cared for him the way she did for this soilder now. would he free her if the torment she subjects herself to if she healed him?

after the rush in the hospital that morning, she learns her short story had been published and received lots of praise for it: a retelling of the moment at the fountain, starring you and suguru and herself as a child.

a week later, she takes the morning off to make her way to the church where her cousin is to marry hiromi. she takes a seat in the back row, watching the two read their vows. when the vicar asks the small crowd if there were any objections to the union, though merely a formality. she considers objecting, halting the wedding, and naming hiromi as the attacker that summer three and a half years ago.

who would believe her now?

she goes to visit your flat later. she's been trying to get a hold of you, but it's been difficult. you're difficult to track and incredibly talented at avoiding unwanted company. to her suprise, when she gets there, you let her in.

it's a small place, not in the best condition either, but she's glad you have somewhere to return to. you talk, she tells you about the wedding she had just attended, and you talk about clearing suguru's name. in the middle of your conversation the afore mentioned man comes out of the bedroom.

it's a mixture of shock and relief. the idea that he may have died in france now seeming ridiculous, it would be so unlike him.

suguru turns furious at the sight of her. overcome with the emotions he's gathered from his time in prison and in the war. yelling that she leaves, that she'd ruined not only his own life, but yours as well. she tells him she wants to make things right, to clear his name.

"i want to help. let me help. ive realized the horrible mistake ive made. i was a child, and i i didnt understand. it wasn't you. i know that now."

oh how ridiculous she still sounds. there is damage that cannot be undone through apologies or recognition that the damage exists. it feels cruel and stupid of her to be here to begin with.

suguru, come back. come back to me

soothing him. you hold his face in your hands, keeping him from looking at her. "look at me. suguru look at me. come back to me."

the three of you discuss what you want her to do. first of all, she'll go to your parents and tell them the whole truth of the situation and what she had done. next, she'll withdraw her initial testimony against suguru.

on her way out, she apologizes to you a final time, and secretly hopes you'll let her see you again.

she can see the two of you from where she stands through the window of your flat. holding each other close. embracing one another with so much love no matter your circumstance. it's so beautiful.

if for nothing else, than she is glad that she at least was unable to hurt the love you and suguru felt for one another. it's been left unmarred by her and the war. safe from all the destruction that surrounds you both.

~~

"three.. . two.. . one... .we're live again!"

the year is 1999. the war has long been over, the world has moved on. the young girl, now an old woman, has gone on to become a renowned novelist. with ths release of her twenty first novel on her seventy seventh birthday.

"ms s/n l/n, welcome again. we wanna talk now about your new novel, atonement. a story of star crossed lovers and love that persists beyond all odds. it's set to come out on your birthday, only a few days from now. it is your twenty first novel and-"

"it's my last novel. i won't be able to write for much longer. not that i am retiring, i never really considered this a job. it's just all i know how to do.

i'm. i'm dying.

i am told, by my doctor that is, that i have vascular dementia. my understanding of it, is that my brain will slowly begin shut itself off and eventually i will die of it.

i think that's why i could finally get myself to complete the novel. it would be my last and i felt i had to get it out and into the world.

it's strange,

umm, this novel is my last. also this novel was my first. my first ever novel.

i've been writing it, countless drafts and copies, since i worked at the hospital during the great war.

i could never quite find the right words for it."

"so then this novel is autobiographical. was that perhaps the problem that you found in writing it?"

"yes, it is entirely autobiographical.

i had made the decision to tell no lies, only the complete truth. no play on words or use of any rhymes. i got first hand accounts for all the events i hadn't witnessed and wrote the content of the story exactly as it had happened.

but... i found no worthiness in it. "

"no worthiness in the truth..?"

"yes. no worthiness in the truth.

because the truth is, that i never went to visit my sister. in truth, i was too much a coward to do that. to face her, and suguru. that was all imagined, it never truly happened.

it never could have happened.

suguru geto, had died of septicaemia, blood poisoning, on the beaches of dunkirk on the last morning of the evacuation. from what i was told, the cause was a small untreated wound from a piece of shrapnel that had pierced his chest. he never did see her again.

they never had their reunion.

my older sister y/n, well, i was never able to set things right between us. in part due to my own cowardice and in part because she died in a bombing at balham underground station during the blitz. i.. the last i saw of her was in my attempts to visit her where she worked at another hospital, she would always brush past me when she did see me. wouldn't even yell or scold me like i was used to as a child.

and so.. . my dear sister and suguru had never gotten the thing they longed for and deserved more than anyone i know. they never got time together, or a life together.

something that i felt i had prevented.

you see, i understand why people read. i understand why people write; likely, i understand better than most.

and as i wrote and read the drafts of the novel that told the truth of this story, i thought to myself, what hope.. what gratification or fulfilment or satisfaction can be given to a reader with an ending like that?

hopeless? pain? suffering? that is not why we read.

so in the book, i wanted to give suguru and y/n what they had lost out on in life, all the things they could never have.

i don't like see it as evasive or cowardly but rather as kind.

i gave them their happiness.

i let them love one another.

i gave them a life in that house by the ocean. one filled with laughs and love and sincerity. it's all that they wanted. it's all they deserve.

its all that i.. took away.

soon i will die, and all the characters in the novel, who are real people who still live will too. we will only exist in those pages and in those lines.

all that will exist of y/n and suguru is the story i have written.

all that will be exist for them too"

"the title of the book, 'atonement', it's referring to yourself. correct? your own atonement."

"yes."

"have you atoned ms. l/n?"

"hmm" it's a small sound. unexpectedly, it's rather pleasant too. the woman's eyes softened age from the sharp ones she had as a child, though they remain just as piercing.

"it's difficult for me to say. one cannot decide for themselves if they have atoned can they? and the only two people who could say, well, they're gone.

maybe that makes this easier."

bnha pro-heroes/teachers as routes in a dating sim, the long-awaited part 2!

next installment will be lov members 😈

older bf! aizawa fixing all of my daddy issues. yeeeea. yeeeeeeeeeea.

i don’t even mean sexually!! like imagine opening up to him for the first time. you’ve been dating for a while and he knew some of your familial relationships were… strained to say the least, but he didn’t know the extent of it. you’re recalling some of your experiences — maybe a specific event, maybe just an overview — and he’s humming and nodding while listening to your words, his brows knitting together in a pitying expression. you think he’s pitying you anyway, you’re kind of avoiding his eyes as you speak.

your voice starts shaking after a moment and you’re internally cursing yourself for tearing up because why are you still so affected by the actions of your father? you pause for a second, swallowing against the lump in your throat and it’s so humiliating to fall apart in front of your boyfriend like this and—

and shota places a hand over yours. his hand is rough and calloused from hero work but so warm. he’s gazing wistfully at where your skin meets, his thumb so gently grazing over your knuckles before giving your hand a small squeeze. “i’m so sorry that happened to you, baby. you didn’t deserve that.” oh and his words are just barely there, but they ring louder than what anyone has ever told you in response to your past.

your eyes meet his after he speaks. you want to snap back out of some deep seated need to defend yourself (to make yourself seem less vulnerable, less pathetic, perhaps). of course you didn’t deserve what happened to you, that’s a dumb thing to point out. that’s what you’re about to say when your lips part, but only a small, shuddering breath leaves you.

you don’t even notice the tears rolling down your cheeks until shota brings up a warm hand to wipe them away, his body leaning closer to yours to press his lips against your forehead. you want to curse at him, to push him away and storm off for even daring to see you in this state… but you don’t.

instead you wrap your arms around his middle and hide your face in his neck (shame, maybe?) and cry. you’re not sobbing, but you can’t help the hiccuped breaths that leave you when his hand slips under the hem of your shirt to run his warm palm up and down your back. he doesn’t say anything after that.

need him to clicker train me

I don't know how I feel about the "JJK Part 2" theories, all I know is that I need to see that ugly brother-diddling bitch die a gruesome death before the series ends.