#I hesitated to end this fic on a breakup | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wandagcre · 6 months

Note

hii ive been down bad for kate bishop fics lately 😓😓. can i request a oneshot of dom intersex kate bishop just fucking reader but shes just as needy as reader? oh and maybe some choking and breeding cause why not 🤭🤭 thank youu!

better than the rest | kate bishop 🔞

(Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader)

Your partner as of late called it quits with you. Kate was concerned, insisting to check up on you. With the warmth she always had provided, you can't help but think of other ways she can comfort you.

WARNING: top!kate, kate has a penis, bottom!reader, self-loathing (r), p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, choking, breeding - not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 4.6k

“I think it’s for the best if we break up.”

Was what your partner said while hesitant to meet your eyes. It snapped you back into consciousness that your gaze on them fluttered rapidly in wonder. Yes, undeniably, there was a hint of sadness that hit you. After all, you dated them for half a year, it was… stable. No, rather it was stagnant, so you supposed this was bound to happen.

However, with your silence and clenched fist, your now ex-partner mistook it as deep despair.

They carefully placed their hand atop yours across the table. “I’m sorry–”

“You don’t have to be,” You cut them off, sighing in resignation. The acceptance somewhat came in quickly to your surprise. “I do not want to weigh you down at all, especially when it comes to your happiness. I-I… truly understand where you’re coming from.”

A faint smile appears on their face. You return the expression, wanting to ease the tension. You wanted a civil conversation where they could easily say the thoughts that they might have been withholding. You had your own as well. From there, the two of you discuss what went wrong – you simply drifted away from each other, inevitably with the long distance as another obstacle. The infatuation stage didn’t last – your relationship was too casual for someone who should be lovers.

As the conversation ran, the air felt lighter. You didn’t realize how much you missed them but this further confirmed that you and now current ex, worked better as friends. The notion of breakup was mutual and amicable between you two and turned out better than you both hoped for.

What caught you off-guard as you parted ways, was how your ex mentioned a certain friend of yours.

“Say hi to Kate for me! That girl is always on your rescue.” They gleefully say with a pat on your back and a knowing smile.

You froze for a moment at the sudden mention of the Avenger but managed to form a cohesive reply. “Sure. I’ll make sure she doesn’t send pitchforks or arrows on your way.”

“That’s very much appreciated!”

The two of you ended up giggling as you waved goodbye and a part of you remained stunned. Your heart was pounding, as though a dormant thought had come back to life.

It has been a week since you were available on the market again and you received mixed responses. You wanted to laugh, at how some disapproved and agreed that you and your ex were simply different. When you rebutted that technically, opposites attract, your close ones were quick to say: totally inapplicable to this case!

Your family knew how you’ve grown close to Kate; and seriously, they kept mentioning the woman! You lost count of how many times you’ve become flustered each time they lumped you and shrugged the thought that maybe you two had a great chemistry together. But in all seriousness, things were easy with Kate – the archer somewhat managed to juggle you in her time, between Avenging and college, your dynamic was far from you and your ex. All it took was the fateful encounter you guys had at a hardware store you part-timed in, attending to her questions, and Kate charming you with her clumsy rambling self.

Why do you keep comparing her now with your ex? Screw these insinuations, now you cannot stop thinking about the other possibilities.

And speaking of the devil, the archer finally had her well-deserved free time. Said through the phone that the aliens and gods can handle the potential storm for a while, to which you were surprised to hear, knowing that she took Avenging duties seriously close to her heart. Unbeknownst to you, all it took from Kate was your break-up news and it immediately filled her with concern. She was far too occupied even if it was only a few days, setting aside her feelings for you, Kate wondered how you were holding up.

“Get in sweetcakes.” Kate hollered from her rolled-up car window as you waited in front of the hardware store. Your shift just ended. You shook your head at how corny it was, although it was endearing enough to make your insides fuzzy.

“Not if you call me that one more time.”

It only occurred to you that it was a bad idea as soon as you saw the glint of mischief in Kate’s eyes, hands on the side of her mouth, ready to scream.

“Sweetcakes! Sweetcakes, Sweet–”

“Stop embarrassing me, Jesus.” You get inside her car, rubbing your palms together to warm you down. Kate chuckled at your feigned display of annoyance. It was certainly her favorite pastime.

The drizzle had stopped. The familiar afternoon glow wasn’t there, instead replaced with grey skies, giving a gloomy ambiance in the chilly weather. Yet, it barely affected the natural state of Kate’s aura – her bright disposition and smile giving you warmth.

Blood rushed on your cheeks and ears as you realize you’ve been taking quick peeks to your friend’s side profile.

Kate cleared her throat, “Actually, I prefer to be called Kate.” You give her another displeased look. “Fine, I relent. So are we going to talk about it now?” Kate shook her head sideways, urging you to elaborate. She leaned comfortably on the driver’s seat, prepared for a long story time before you guys hit off the parking lot. You were casual – too casual – as though this was another Monday for you.

Break-ups aren’t normally this way, right?

“What was what? Can’t I get a hi first?”

“Hi.” Kate says unamused. “Now, I was worried the whole time. I know we’ve talked on the phone but I’m not fully convinced ‘til I hear from you.”

“Aw, so you were thinking of me?” You tease Kate who’s cheeks flamed up yet you did not notice as she pushed you off playfully.

She groaned. “Come on. I’m sure break-ups are commonly followed by crying and drinking afterward. Not… this!” Kate gestures at you, hands flailing at your almost poker face. “Or have you recovered already? Because that’s either an impressive world record or a bunch of bullshit to me.”

You chuckle at the unending questions being thrown at each other. Now you figured out how you sounded odd.

For the sake of her inner peace, you decide to let it out. “Look, Kate, it was meant to end at some point for us. I mean, when was the last time I hung out with them? I don’t see them a lot, we don’t feel the spark anymore. I’m almost always hanging out with you. There isn’t any bad blood. I guess we just fell out – not compatible anymore.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You look at her straight to her ocean eyes that you love. Wait, what? “I don’t… I don’t think I’m missing out on the relationship department because, in the first place, I haven’t been getting any action.”

Kate awkwardly chuckled at your words, tugging on the collar of her shirt.

“Uh, that I cannot fix. I’m sorry?”

You laugh at the archer’s response. Taking a good look over Kate’s outfit, you see that she’s particularly dressed up today – indicating that she had business to attend over her family’s company. She wore a black suit patterned with an embroidered burnt orange design. She was a treat in your eyes.

Were you shamelessly checking her out?

Yes, very much so.

Kate, however, wasn’t as clueless as you thought. She lets you and plans on teasing you about it. Even if it was out of curiosity or an innocent admiration, the archer wouldn’t tell you – at least for a couple more hundred years – how she loved being the subject of your attention. It didn’t help that your being single again had spurred her mind on the gutters and honestly made you more desirable at the moment. However, Kate refused to delve into them right now – out of respect as your friend first.

"Would you be interested in hooking up with me?” You sultry uttered.

The air within the car felt thick and a pin drop could almost be heard. You shook your head in disappointment to yourself – God, of course, this wasn’t very proper of you to ambush Kate like that. Her silence was very telling. You caught the archer real good, flabbergasted, and can barely formulate a proper word out of her pretty mouth. Nodding at this, you understood that it was too much – forward and probably disrespectful.

You start buckling your seatbelt.

“No, no I get it. Don’t worry, Kate. Let’s just get out of here and–”

Kate was quick to shake her head in disagreement, "No baby, you don’t understand,” The archer’s voice sounded desperate. She did not even realize how the endearment smoothly left her lips. “You're all I wanted! But that doesn't matter right now, you just got out of a relationship–"

“–I told you it wasn’t built to last. I guess it’s a talent of mine, I can’t keep things to stay.” You say out of attempted humor, although your mind had flipped into a different perspective now, the thought was very unsettling.

Can’t you?

"It’s normal! Nothing goes perfect on the first few tries,” Kate sputtered out, desperate to provide an ounce of solace. “Just like with cooking, we burn stuff, end up ordering takeout. Or- or me with my things. You know how many times my messy self can misplace a lot of things.” Especially my hoodies. I swear they keep disappearing on me, the thought suddenly coming into light to Kate. Whatever, she hoped that in a way, she managed to lighten up the conversation.

One thing about Kate is that her rambling and playful nature combined somewhat grows into this charismatic mess. A giggle almost erupts out of you but clearly, there is another time and place for that.

“Well, you do keep losing your keys.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re notorious for parading around while wearing The Ronin’s suit and coming back to your apartment.”

“Ouch. Not my brightest moment I’ll admit. But at least you’re getting my point!”

Finally registering her words, you rolled your eyes now good-heartedly to Kate’s relief. "And if you’re wondering about your hoodies, no they are not lost. I may or may not have some of them.” You admit your crime and Kate comically jutted her head closer to you in shock. It’s like you read her mind. “Not bad for a pep talk, Bishop. But I guess we’re not fucking, are we?”

Now the last sentence had Kate gripping her seat, not expecting your unfiltered spew of words. Would it be bad if she were to admit that her cock twitched at the thought of having you?

But your comfort comes first. She worried that a speck of insecurity could have been plaguing you, wanting to ease that more than ever. While you peered at the window seat, the archer exhaled, scooting to your side – at least the most she could, anyway.

"Give me your hand." Kate's elbow rested in the middle of the car compartment, where her jug is confined, her palm extended for an invitation for you to hold. "Come on, you big baby.”

You take the chance, petulantly placing yours atop hers.

"What now, gonna take the rejection easy on me?" You raise an eyebrow, looking away from her. "Or is it another one of your pranks? Kate, I'm telling you I can take rejections like a big girl despite your disagreement. It was a dumb proposition. Just forget it." You try to act unphased but the grumble gives you out. The feeling slowly sinks you further into humiliation.

Why would you ask your good friend for a good time?

Kate feels the laughter begging to erupt out of her chest. Still, she doesn't, knowing that you might take it the wrong way. God, you were so adorable. "You're not getting it, always so stubborn."

You feel her squeezing your hand.

"Yada, yada. Just drive, Kate."

Kate's hands remained interlaced with yours even with your curt reply. Eyes curious over you. Even with your mind far away, they have always been so expressive and raw which makes it tenfold difficult to look directly – all tender and equally needy as you, only if you took the chance and looked.

She admits timidly, "I want to. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment just to kiss you. But I cannot afford to be your second choice, just because it is convenient. I don't want it to be a casual thing!" Her voice bounced off a pitch-higher.

You bit your lip in contemplation. Kate doesn't take her eyes on you nor disrupt the short comfortable silence that lingered. Her hands come to thread through your tresses, admiring you out in the open now.

How could you not have seen it earlier?

It would have saved you a lot more time. One that couldn't have gone to waste. Kate has always been worth your while. Meanwhile, the said woman was stunned. Kate's throat was almost caught in a lump, in disbelief that she got to pour an ounce of her confession. She can't help but rub your sides soothingly – in hopes of calming your turbulent mind.

You unexpectedly move away from your seat, determined to plop yourself on Kate's lap. You swung your legs atop her and a tremendous surprise struck the archer; she could not grasp the uncharted territory being crossed.

Having you so intimately? Kate was going to combust.

"Huh. It's a good thing that I specifically don't intend it to be a one-time thing." You place your forefinger on Kate's plush lips. "No, I don't expect this to be a casual thing either. I'm sorry if I didn't see the signs earlier..."

Her ocean eyes had a glint of hope, her heart thrumming madly at the next words that would leave your lips. "So you're saying...?"

"Take what's yours, Bishop." You moved closer, arms dangled between her headrest. You comb through her jet black hair, her attention hopelessly hooked onto you. Inching further to her ear, you husk out, "Do me like you mean it."

She sharply inhaled.

“I’ll make it worth your time.”

You answer her with a tease, wiggling your hips forward so slightly, her ocean eyes melting at the motion.

She takes one last look to find traces of an ounce of possible regret and retreats from your offer, only to see the unadulterated need in the swirls of your darkening eyes.

Kate's grasp over your hips tightened mouth agape over your affirmation. Her cock was no longer flaccid, instead, it started to strain through her jeans. You feel her and your cunt throbs madly. She was clutching over the layers of your clothing, now eager to take them all off. All she ever craved was to worship you, for you to finally notice her – to take you as she means it – just as your green light urged her to do so.

Both your lips clashed, tilting on the opposite side, excited to get a taste of what both of you were missing out on. It was no longer as hesitant and awkward as the chaste kiss that you initiated a few minutes ago. You taste the faint traces of her favorite coffee that caused you to smile. The cramped space was overwhelmingly filled with tension and adrenaline; Kate rode along as you did and happily explored your mouth – her tongue swiping sensually along your lower lip and catching you in another bruising kiss again, to which you enthusiastically let out a guttural moan at.

"I’m so drunk on you right now..." Kate muttered, her voice dropping a few octaves. You ground harder in response, moving languidly against her as the kiss continued.

Her scent was alluring more than ever. You claw at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her silky tresses. “Then, consider this definitely worth the hangover.” You moan sultrily in Kate’s open mouth - both of your sounds crashing.

Lips bruising and breathless at this point, Kate reluctantly pulled away to adjust her car seat. It was hilarious and endearing for you how she kept smiling between your kisses and the archer kept on chasing for your lips. Even with her numbing lips, she scattered open mouthed kisses all over your jaw and neck, your whole body set ablaze.

“No backing out now.” Kate returns the equally seductive tone, her vulnerability poorly hidden underneath her assertive act.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

“Good.”

You feel Kate clawing the fabric of your shirt underneath the bunched up jacket of yours. the way her nails dug desperately had made you buckle over her lap, bodies pressed more than ever, making the two of you moan.

"You feel so good against me," Kate murmured breathlessly. "I can't get enough of this." she confesses with much candor, eyes gleaming at you that it sends shivers down your spine.

You were plopped down on her lap, swollen lips, and you wanted nothing but her. Kate cannot express enough how her heart feels like it was going to burst out of her ribcage.

"Is that so?" The husk and rawness in her voice made your stomach flip, breaking out a small smile out of you. "I bet you regret it..." your hands that no longer cradled her jaw found their way instead to graze downwards underneath her fancy suit, nails digging on Kate's fine abdomen. "Regret how you said no to me earlier."

The firm muscles grow tense under your touch, making you smirk. you had the Bishop woman successfully loss at words. She only hummed, seemingly lost and busied herself through littering your jaw and neck with more kisses, her teeth inevitably scraping at your skin.

And Kate? She's more than willing to be under your hypnotizing spell.

Kate soon broke the barriers and went her way to claw on your bare skin. The obvious choice for you was to discard the jacket that was nothing more than an obstacle. You wanted to feel her, craving for so much more. Although, you find yourself smiling a little with how the archer was hesitant to break the kiss as the inevitable parting in the process came - Kate chasing your lips - both of you having red and swollen ones from a thirst induced by a dance.

You're riled up and so is Kate. more so, she's afraid to break the momentum. Afraid that you would snap out of this haze anytime, so she savors each second – the shared warmth, the charged tension that drives her crazy, and your lips heavenly against hers – better than she ever dreamed of.

When your hands begin to tug and unbuckle her belt, Kate looks at you with her ocean eyes skeptically.

"You wanna go all the way?" Kate rasps out and fuck, you have never heard of something more attractive than this. "I know you're- you might be still processing the break up. I don't wanna..."

"Kate, listen to me." Your eyes pierce against hers, hands tangled on strands of her disheveled jet black waves, gently tugging and making the archer groan low at the sensation. "Among all the things I mourned and doubted for today, this - us - is not one of them. So yes, I want this. I need you."

Kate took a deep sigh. "As long as you're-"

"-long is what I want, it’s underneath your pants, and you're keeping it away from me. Unless you're backing out now on me, Bishop."

Her perfect teeth clutched against her bottom lip as you've managed to unzip and free her cock out of her boxers. Your mouth agape in shock, heavens, she was big as you expected. How would it fit? You witnessed her member grow erect under your needy gaze. Kate has no other choice but to moan pathetically as you hold her cock.

"S-shit! Baby, be careful!" Kate hissed low, although her touch continued to relay the want coursing through her.

"Sorry," you sheepishly say and regardless, it dawns a stupid smile over Kate's features.

It's rough and slightly painful on Kate's end, making her turn red sporadically. You take pity and spit on her cock to lubricate it, the stroke and twists slow at first. The action made her lower stomach and appendage twitch, with her foreskin being tugged in your grasp, Kate uttered a string of soft moans, all putty in your hands quite literally.

Sue her, she's over the moon right now.

You bite your lip. "I can't take this anymore, I need you inside of me."

Your spontaneity and darkening gaze continues to make Kate's head spin. She loved being the subject of your desire. Fuck, it was the hottest thing she has witnessed yet.

"Do you now?" Kate chimed, having a palmful of your breasts through the shirt you're wearing. your eyes rolled back. "Unzip your jeans for me."

When you moved your body up, you failed to measure the distance between the roof of Kate's car and your head, making you bump your head in the process. you muttered a soft ow - heat settling on your cheeks. Kate's gaze however, did not waver, and it brought a pearly smile on her face as she found you endearing.

"Do I have to do it for you baby?" Kate murmured, her hands gripping over your waist.

You shook your head timidly. "No no, I can do it,"

"That's my girl." The archer scratched her nails light on your stomach, a moan inevitably escapes your mouth. You feel her thumb teasing underneath your bra.

It was the push you needed, then on it was almost smooth sailing as you deftly unbuttoned your jeans. Gravitating to Kate's touch, your own body was attuned and glided for more. Her blue eyes never left yours nor her ministrations that descend over your breast and waist faltered. Your heart pounded madly at such intensity.

Your playful ways shifted back, maneuvering through the limited space - it was a miracle for your slightly trembling hands. You were glistening enough to make Kate's throat grow dry.

As your eyes peer down, Kate's cock felt intimidating, with a girth and length that none of your previous experiences could rival. Not to mention her precum looked tempting.

All that is left is for you to lower down and so you let your impulsive thoughts win; plunge in.

Your face curled in the unexpected stretch. Maybe you shouldn't have done that.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god—slow down!" Kate whisper-yelled, her mind flitting between panic and pleasure, not knowing where to succumb first. "You should've warned me first! I don't even have a condom rolled up yet," Her grip over your hips reprimanding you as it was almost bruised; the archer tried to carry some of your weight, in hopes to alleviate the burning sensation.

"Sue me, did you really have to be so–" You groaned, one of your palms against the car window for support, eyes shut in semi-frustration. Kate is fucking huge and it was vivid how your cunt swallows her in. "It looked nice and ready, can you blame me?"

The breathy heaving both of your breaths barely ceased. Fully settled in Kate's lap and your cunt insanely and sync pulsating with her cock inside of you, she gave you an unamused look. She gave your breasts a firm squeeze, kneading the supple flesh and tugging on your nipples particularly hard – enjoying how your head lolled, eyes droopy in the erotic sensation.

"If you're going to keep playing like that I'm gonna need to take over. You've been naughty enough for me." The archer sultry says, nipping at your clavicle.

"Kate, what—"

She hoists you an inch, only to thrust you back to her cock. "Always taking what you want, doing as you please. I'll have to teach you some manners next time baby. But right now… I will do as you said; buried deep in you.”

Kate slid her hand on the flesh of your bare ass cheek and gave it a light spank. Reveling and lost in how she fit inside of you, your head lolled in the stack of pleasure. Your body practically molded and moved along the archer languidly, feeling her front against yours.

Fuck, how can she fit in the depths you've never explored before? The squelching sounds of your wetness grew and filled the car, erotic to your ears. The vehicle no doubt rocking along the motion and build up that Kate has been brewing.

Your hands loosely enveloped between the driver seat's headrest, upper body slumped and now chest-to-chest against Kate. Even with her unwavering thrusts, you feel the heel of her palm firm around the side of your neck, along with her thumb applying pressure – inches away from your jugular notch – squeezing you.

No, Kate was choking you.

Eyes flutter shut, you respond with enthusiasm. "Yes, oh, yes!"

"You look so beautiful right now..." Kate dazedly confessed. Her hands moved to your lower back for support. Opening your eyes in curiosity, you see her half-lidded eyes – your favorite ones – softening. "No, you always do. I can't believe this,"

The peppered kisses on your shoulder and above your chest were spread out. Kate's breathing was gruff, you found it adorable as you were well-acquainted with her focused state. Her words dripped with much honesty that it pierced right into your heart, her name already indented there.

Meeting Kate halfway, your hips continued to gyrate along and your palm gently cradled her by the cheeks. You kissed her fervently, filled with a newfound passion. Kate was surprised but fully snapped out, returning the same energy. This was an enlightenment; another step that both of you are eager to explore together.

Your eyes welled up; both in joy and the fruition of her lustful hard work.

Her hips fluidly doing an upward thrusts to squeeze all the juices worth out of you, the archer makes sure that she's punctuating her punishment for you. There was barely a resistance anymore that your walls practically accommodated the entirety of Kate's cock. Although the stretch lingered, adding to the build you wanted.

"This sight? M-mm! Kate, you- you better make it count. Take all of me."

Your jaw went slack as your dirtiest fantasies are being overfilled with Kate's grip and her determined grunts. Your clit throbbed and you took it upon you to rub it. She whimpered upon witnessing the act. Kate swats your hand away, pad of her fingers applying more pressure against your nub.

You feel Kate's mouth and teeth nibbling on your pebbled nipples this time and being filled to the brim with her words, you don't know if she knew you already came.

Kate knew. Her eyes flicked between your face and saw your pretty tummy, how it twitched, the bulge of her member appearing at each pound. Her trousers were tale-telling too as it was ridiculously soaked.

A shrill was pulled out of your throat. Kate continued to thrust, "Gonna fill you up until your walls are painted white. You wanted this right? Then I'll give it to you, baby," You see her veins bulging out of her neck, the archer completely flustered as she releases thick ropes of her cum inside of you. You were still throbbing at the fill and the aftershocks. The warmth was overwhelming, from your walls and Kate's cum coating you, both of you felt slightly numbed. She kissed and marked you underneath your jaw and you hummed softly.

"Where did that come from?" You murmur while an inch away from Kate's plump lips.

"Guess you bring out the best in me."

You giggle at her silly self coming back and comb through her jet black strands, scratching at her nape. She lets out a soft moan. You're satisfied with how ruined her suit was almost unsalvageable with its creases and wetness.

“Well shit. I think we’re banned forever in this parking lot.” Kate jokes, breathless, causing you to softly chuckle. She’s never been more thankful for the invention of tinted car windows.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

#gg.writes #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x fem reader #kate bishop female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #lesbian #wlw #intersex!kate #requested

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shintin · 7 months

Text

Forbidden Flames

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Satoru Gojo receives a letter, inviting him to a secluded cottage in the forest. Is it a trap by curse users or a haunting memory trying to scratch his wounds?

Or a story about how You and Satoru Gojo fucked after years.

Word count: +11 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, reader-insert, no Y/N, post-breakup, soft Satoru Gojo, curse user reader, no death, too much fluff and kissing, cunnilingus, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex (c’mon! we all want this), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, tear licking, emotional trauma, emotional sex, no manga spoilers.

Notes: Hey there! I wrote this because Gege Akutami left an emotional mark on me. So, you know...

You can read the "Disclaimers" at the end.

Song Recommendation: Forbidden Flames Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

Back to masterlist

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the dense foliage, a mysterious man with stark white hair and a black blindfold stepped into the heart of the desolate wilderness. Satoru Gojo. The air hung heavy with the earthy scent of wet soil mingling with the musty aroma of decaying leaves, a reminder of the rainstorm that had visited the night before.

Every step he took got lost between the giggles and hisses of harmless curses hiding behind the trees with fear. The ground beneath his feet was carpeted with a mosaic of fallen leaves, their vibrant red, orange, and gold colors now muted and lifeless, as if drained of all vitality. Some of them, with still a breath to take, crunched beneath his weight, the sound of a heartrending dirge that reverberated through the desolation.

Tall, gnarled trees stood sentinel on either side, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers as if yearning to trap the unwary. Their towering forms were shrouded in darkness, their essence reduced to withered remnants. They whispered mournful laments in the wind, their voices carrying tales of forgotten sorrows.

The forest, once flourishing and thriving, now seemed like a tragic tableau frozen in time. The canopy above formed a suffocating barrier that only got disturbed by the man's ethereal presence. Wild ferns brushed against his legs, leaving behind a trace of dew upon his black trousers. The moist ground yielded beneath his every step as if reluctant to release its grip from his boots' footprints.

As he pressed further into the jungle, the darkness deepened, the path twisting and turning like a labyrinth of despair. The shadows grew longer, stretching out like grasping tendrils as if eager to ensnare his soul. The silence became oppressive, broken only by the occasional painful cry of a distant creature.

The cottage he had received its address stood as a solitary figure amidst the gloomy jungle, a crumbling monument to forgotten dreams. Its dilapidated walls whispered of lost hopes and shattered promises, its windows veiled with white curtains.

With his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he watched the scene before him, a twisted smile playing upon his lips. He thought it was a perfect place, a trap waiting to spring him. But who would be foolhardy enough to challenge the strongest of all times?

But wait!

He couldn't feel any cursed energy! His six eyes were dumb. There was only one who could blind their watchful gaze.

So, when Satoru Gojo approached the house, his heart quickened after a long time, anticipation and anxiety coursing through his veins. The stage was set, the elements conspiring to test his resolve. Would he emerge from this shadowed encounter unscathed, or would the jungle claim yet another victim, lost to the depths of its sorrow-laden clutches?

Satoru's focus fixated on the doorknob, a slight gulp revealing his hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he turned and pushed open the door. The scent of something sweet enveloped his nostrils, a reminiscent embrace that momentarily distracted his senses. However, as his eyes met the sight that awaited him, an unexpected revelation struck him with a force that resurfaced long-forgotten memories.

The inside resembled an aged hideout, with wooden walls and colorful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting warm, dappled patterns on the worn tatami floor. In the center of the room, a round table took its place, adorned with a vase of delicate forget-me-not flowers. Flanking the table were two chairs. And then, in the small kitchen stood the person who had left a void in his heart.

"You're late," your voice rang out in a cheerful tone, beckoning him forward. "Come inside. It's chilly out." With your back facing the door, you stood at the counter, appearing preoccupied with unwrapping something.

Caught in a maelstrom of emotions, Satoru's thoughts fragmented like scattered puzzle pieces, their intended purpose obscured by the inner turmoil. His hand held the doorknob tightly, trapped in a state of ambiguity, unable to release its grip.

Was this a mirage? How could it be that when you seemed precisely the way he had traced the outline of your body in the air while lying in bed, unable to sleep?

Yes, of course, there were nights when the desire to run his fingers through your hair filled his dreams. It was inevitable; your scent permeated everything, even riding on the breeze. There were days fatigue misled him, mistaking weariness for the embrace, he craved, only to discover the hollowness within his very bones. Your body was no longer curled around him, no comfort, and in your absence, each day left him icy, with lips turning blue and hands yearning for the warmth of your touch. He felt adrift in a blizzard, seeking the faint flicker of a fire you had extinguished.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Satoru? Think! Is this a manipulation technique?

And then, as if compelled by an unseen power, you turned your head, causing his heart to skip a beat—countless beats. You were undeniably real.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Seeing you was akin to being hit in the knee with a bullet. Satoru's legs nearly gave way, his heart raced, and his hands turned clammy, almost causing him to collapse. He had never felt this urge to tear off his blindfold before, as your departure had happened so abruptly that he didn't have a chance to see you. Although he had committed every detail of you to memory, but this…this… witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience.

He stepped back, feeling the heaviness of the past, necessitating some distance. The harsh truths loomed, threatening to engulf him as he wrestled with the profound effect of your presence. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his mind struggling to comprehend the unfolding situation. The reality was so surreal, making it difficult for him to grasp that it was really occurring.

"Why are you just standing there?" you asked, holding a pack of his beloved Kikufuku mochis in your hands. A radiant smile graced your face, illuminating the damp room with its brightness.

He couldn't give two fucks about mochis when your face had that effect on him, always causing him to lose track of where he was, who he was, and what he might say or do. And that familiar smile, it killed him a little. His gaze remained there, lingering for too long, his concealed eyes giving away his thoughts. "Why do you have that look on your face?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity and stepping closer to him.

As you stood before him, the closeness amplified the wave of emotions within him. Joy and disbelief raced through his veins. The fragrance that surrounded you, so hauntingly acquainted, sparked a rush of nostalgia.

Satoru Gojo was born with a specific purpose, a set of perfect eyes, and the weight of his lineage on his shoulders. He was reserved and calculated. When he mastered the Limitless technique, he concluded that infinite solitude was the only way to survive. Because how he could describe the experience of seeing everything, for when you see everything, you see nothing. An excess of color turns into pure black, an infinite void.

Yes, he was born with those six eyes. People never let him forget. But to you, his eyes were simply eyes. He recalled the first time you teased him about them and how his heart caught in his chest because he had never seen someone as vibrant and colorful as you.

It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that. The first time he saw you, he felt it. An ache. Like a little electric burn. He felt his life changed.

Gradually, his loneliness began to dissipate. He found a place for himself in this chaotic world. With you, he could laugh, cry, joke around, and even be a brat. It was something no one could genuinely grasp—the feeling of finally being alive as a person. Before you, he felt he hadn't truly existed, merely scattered atoms in an indifferent universe following a predetermined path. But you changed everything. You dismantled and rebuilt him anew. You molded him, nurtured him, and despite him being the strongest, you kept him safe.

Without a noble title or material wealth, you were everything that went against the expectations of the Clan Elders. Yet, you stood faithfully by his side, precisely where he believed you belonged. Or at least, that's what he presumed.

Then, on that fateful day, the day he desperately wished was nothing more than a dreadful nightmare, reality unfolded before him. How could it be real? He stood there, confronted by the lifeless bodies of two Higher Ups and their protectors, with you covered in their blood. It was inconceivable. He couldn't accept that you were responsible for such a gruesome scene. Yet, you showed no remorse. You firmly believed it was the only solution, fed up with their destructive actions that brought ruin upon sorcerers deemed insignificant. You had accepted the notion that a problem without a remedy should be eradicated like an unwelcome weed.

On that day, he considered shaking your shoulders and demanding that you deny it all. He even contemplated going against everyone because what was the fucking point of wielding such power if he couldn't safeguard the woman he loved? The thought of quitting and escaping with you crossed his mind, too. He was willing to sacrifice everything: power, wealth, status, even his own life. However, you didn't desire any of those things.

His friend, Suguru Geto, once posed a question: Was he Satoru Gojo because he was the strongest, or was he the strongest because he was Satoru Gojo? At that time, he had no answer. A 17-year-old couldn't possibly find a response to such a profound question. However, when you entered his life, everything changed. Being the strongest lost its significance. He was just Satoru Gojo, and he was who he was because you loved him. His existence held meaning because you touched his life. He saw because he needed to gaze upon you. He spoke because he longed to hear your voice.

And then, similar to his best friend, after causing a bloodbath, you also walked out of his life. Yet, this time, it wasn't solely loneliness that engulfed him. It felt like one of his lungs had been taken away, and he heavied without you by his side through each passing moment. He became nothing once more. There was a hole in his life where you used to fit perfectly, and no matter what he did to try and fill it, nothing worked.

It was a strange anguish, a pain he never anticipated or conceived of. It consumed him from within, setting him ablaze with a profound emptiness. Then, defying the assumption that someone as formidable as him could experience sorrow, he was burdened with the task of erasing you. It was as if you were deemed nothing more than a blemish, a dishonor.

"What... what look?" he struggled to say, his voice tinged with a desperate yearning. Regret lingered in his tone as his words fell short. With a touch of vulnerability, he shut his eyes beneath the comforting confines of his blindfold, seeking refuge in the veil of darkness. Taking a deep breath, he consciously filled his lungs, using them as an anchor amidst the swirling storm of sensations enveloping him.

"That look," you remarked, your voice carrying a mischievous tone that floated in the atmosphere. "It's as if you don't trust me," you added teasingly. A few playful strands of hair escaped their intended position and delicately framed your face, casting a bewitching allure. An irresistible urge welled within him, compelling him to extend his hand and tuck those strands behind your ear—stupid muscle memory. However, he restrained himself, his hand suspended mid-air, resolute in resisting the magnetic pull of his desires.

"Why did you invite me here?" Satoru voiced, his grip on the doorknob loosening as the impact of reality settled upon him. The initial shock transformed into a lucid understanding. He wasn't oblivious. He knew that you were aware of his assignment to eliminate you. So, why? Was it because you recognized your unstoppable nature? Was it because you had realized that the blackhole existed within you, devouring everything you once held dear unless someone intervened?

"You could have refused to come, yet here you are," you whimsically remarked, a devilish glint in your eyes as you punctuated your words with a wink. You strolled over to the weathered table and set the pocket upon its aged surface.

"Cut it out!" Satoru snapped, his frustration mounting. "You know, I had no idea it was you!" His heart thumped in his chest, urging his feet to move forward, even as his mind screamed at him to flee. A sense of unease gripped him, acknowledging the futility of engaging in a battle he felt ill-prepared to win.

You turned towards him, a hint of a smile gracing your lips as your hands stayed concealed behind your back. Leaning against the chair, you arched an eyebrow, your eyes locked on him. "I have a feeling you knew it was me as soon as you arrived at the house," you declared, a jovial tone lacing your words. "After all, I'm the only one capable of concealing my cursed energy from you."

"We both know that I shouldn't be here. I—" Satoru's sentence dissolved, left unfinished, as your hand reached out, bridging the gap between you with a gentle touch. Infinity never worked with you. Even the very essence of the cursed energy recognized that you posed no threat to him. Furthermore, he would gladly provide you with any justification to touch him.

Lost in his reverie, Satoru suddenly became acutely aware of your presence. The magnitude of his longing and the depth of his yearning surged within him. In that instant, he recognized the immense emptiness you had left and how much he had missed you. Emotions swirled together, blending past and present, uncertainty and desire, in a delicate dance that would shape your fates.

"Why are you here, then?" you inquired, and his eyes met yours, reflecting the same yearning that dwelled in his heart. "Tell me, did you come in to kill me?" With a deliberate movement, you folded his fingers, molding them into the shape he would use to unleash his hollow purple. Bringing his hand close to your heart, you held it there. Despite the gravity of the situation, a soft smile adorned your lips.

He couldn't do this.

Taken aback by your unexpected gesture, Satoru swiftly withdrew his hand from your grasp. Anger and heartbreak swirled within him, entwining in a tumultuous storm. The realization hit him like a relentless wave, crashing against the shores of his consciousness. How had you drifted so far apart? When had the divergence between your paths become so profound that he failed to notice? The weight of your choice, to embrace the life of a curse user, to tread a road stained with blood, bore down upon him with a heavy burden. The pain on his face mirrored the fracture within his heart, a sense of loss mingling with a flicker of betrayal.

He wished he could say something. He wished he could start yelling, expressing all the thoughts and desires he had harbored since then—whether shouting, pouring out his heart, or expressing frustration. However, he adhered to the predetermined script you anticipated because he loved you unconditionally, unable to deny you anything.

"I didn't think so," you murmured, closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his in a way that effortlessly eroded his resistance.

You tilted his face down, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling his blood with dangerous speed.

One of his hands naturally found its way to the back of your waist, holding you with a gentle yet possessive grasp, while the other securely clasped your arm, pulling you closer.

He felt incredible against you, your bodies fitting perfectly. Nothing ever came easier than kissing you. Every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

In that moment, his eyes, his legacy, his clan's name, and the orders given about you faded away. This was his true purpose.

As your tongues entwined, a surge of electricity coursed through his veins, his body responding to the intoxicating enchantment of your touch. Your fingers traced the outline of his blindfold while others clung to his uniform as if he were your sole fulcrum in a world spinning out of control. Your back arched, and he embraced you tighter, his grip firm yet tender, his long fingers leaving an indelible mark upon your skin.

Breathless, as if you had just completed a marathon, you reluctantly pulled back from the heated exchange. Drawing him nearer, he yielded willingly, allowing you to guide him wherever you desired because wherever you led was where he believed to be his destination.

"Take this off," you beseeched, desperation and sorrow permeating your words as your forefinger lifted his blindfold and let it fall to the floor. His tousled hair cascaded softly over his forehead, unable to hide the azure eyes that had once captivated your heart.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow.

He swallowed, and you shifted your hand to his ear, lightly grazing his earlobe with your pinkie before tracing down his jawline. There was no rejection, yet no clear confirmation either. Your hand brushed against his undercut as you continued.

"There you are," you whispered, your voice laden with kindness. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, a solitary droplet making its way down your cheek as you gently cradled his face in your hands. He looked down at you, counting each tear on your lovely cheeks.

He clasped your hand, kissing your palm before guiding it to rest upon his heart. It was the same foolish heart, steadfastly beating for you, never having faltered. Through teary eyes, you looked at him, and he remained struck by the sheer beauty that not even your tears could diminish.

As your bottom lip quivered beneath his touch, quickly, with a light sweep of his hand, he wiped away the tears that stained your stunning eyes. You missed him too, didn't you? Was it painful for you, too? Silly girl! You couldn't maintain your carefully constructed facades for more than ten minutes when it came to him.

The realization washed over him, dispelling any remaining doubts.

Without a second thought, he effortlessly lifted you, your legs encircling his waist while your hands secured around his neck. Engrossed in a fervent kiss, both of you surrendered to the moment as he clasped your back firmly, pulling you closer to himself, relishing the flavor of your lips.

Letting go wasn't an option when every fiber of his being had missed you.

Determined and resolute, he carried you out to a room he presumed to be the bedroom, even though it didn't matter whether there was a bed or a simple mattress; what mattered was the way your touch kindled a blazing fire within him, and he had no intention of bearing that flame alone.

Keeping you securely nestled in his arms, he forcefully kicked open the door and lowered you onto the welcoming comfort of the bed. The urgency to discard his black jacket left no room for delay. At the same time, your nimble hands deftly undid the buckle of your pants, but before you could remove them entirely, his hands moved with an instinctual hunger, swiftly stripping you of the garment and casting it aside as if propelled by an untamed fervor. The passion between you burned fiercely, filling the room with an all-encompassing energy that eclipsed any other thoughts or worries.

With a quick movement, he discarded his black t-shirt, revealing the well-defined curves of his chest that shimmered with a touch of sweat. His desire was tangible, his lust unmistakable as he straddled between your parted legs, his hands grasping your nape.

The taste of his lips met yours, initiating a sequence of fervent kisses that persisted without pause, each delving deeper than the last. The world around you lost its significance as your breaths synchronized in rhythm, the heat between your bodies escalating.

In the meantime, your hands moved swiftly, deftly unbuttoning your shirt.

As his lips briefly separated from yours, he uttered a whispered confession. "I hate how bad I want you," he admitted, his voice carrying a raw sincerity. However, before you could reply, his attention shifted to your neck, where his teeth gently grazed your sensitive flesh, leaving behind tracks of tantalizing nibbles and passionate kisses.

You couldn't help but release a gasp as pleasure and a twinge of pain electrified your senses, sending delightful shivers coursing down your spine. In the throes of passion, your hand curled into a fistful of his hair, a silent request for more. Call it masochist, but he loved it when you did this. He tenderly pulled at your hair in response, tilting your head back ever so slightly, baring more of your vulnerable neck to his hungry mouth.

Then, you did what came naturally to you. With a voice brimming with longing and ecstasy, you spoke his name, "Satoru," the sound slipping from your lips like a hushed prayer.

His actions came to an abrupt pause. His lips separated from your skin, and his grasp on your hair loosened as if a sudden realization had hit him like a splash of icy water. It was ironic how you still possessed this power over him, a power that could both thrill and unsettle him.

The sound of his name on your lips had become something he treasured, and damn it, he had missed hearing it again. Just like every fucking tiny thing he had missed about you.

With a sudden movement, he withdrew his head from the crook of your neck and brought his forehead close to yours. His hands found solace in brushing back strands of your hair with comforting strokes.

He shut his eyes, and in a whisper, his voice carried a hint of fragility, a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings. "Say it again," he pleaded, his voice breaking under the pressure of unexpressed sentiments. It was as if that simple word held immense significance, a lifeline to his heart that he desperately craved.

Without hesitation, you took a steadying breath, the name forming on your lips.

"Satoru."

"S-Say it kinder."

"Satoru."

"Say it slower."

"Satoru."

"Say it gentler."

"Satoru."

"Say it louder."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you wanna tell me you miss me."

"Satoru…"

"Say it as if you're annoyed that I eat so many sweets."

"Satoru!"

"Is this why you made the trip to Sendai just to get me those mochis?"

…

"Say it."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you ever cared, spared a single thought for me."

"SATORU."

"Say it as if when you lied in bed, you remembered something I once said."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if it hurt you too when someone said my name with yours."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if every time a door opened, you too expected me to walk out of it, that every time you cooked, you hummed my favorite songs."

"S-Satoru…"

"Say it as if you need me."

"Satoru."

"Say it again."

"Satoru."

"Again."

"…Satoru."

"Say it as if you want to tell me something important."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you won't stay."

"Toru."

"No. Not like this."

"Satoru?"

"Please."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you're gonna run away again."

"Satoru…"

"Huh. Better. Now say it as if you wanna tell that you slept badly without me, that you only dreamed of me, and in the morning, you woke up exhausted without having any desire to live."

"Satoru."

"You don't have a line, do you? No remorse. No regret. Not even a single thought for the man you left behind like a walking ghost. And you won't ever stop."

"Satoru."

"Once you were gone, they gathered all your belongings as evidence. See this hair tie on my wrist?" He lifted his hand. "This and your sweatshirt, which no longer carries your scent, are the only things I have left. Say it as if you still have that shirt of mine."

…

"Say it!"

"Sa-to-ru."

"Did you know that I actually thought if I messed myself up, went all self-destructive, and threw a massive tantrum, you'd come back? I mean, why should I bother taking care of myself? That was supposed to be your job, right?"

"Sa…toru."

"Oh, by the way, I completely wrecked that bench on the hill where you used to sit. And then I went ahead and destroyed the whole damn place, then just sat right there amidst the wreckage. I mean, why should I even give a damn when you stopped caring about me? Say it as if you get where I'm coming from."

"Satoru…"

"Yet you know what's funny? Ask me if I still love you like the first day?"

"Satoru?"

"It can't be just me, right? You can't be done with me. Tell me you love me."

…

"Okay. It's—"

"Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru…"

Everything he thought he knew flew right out the window. He had noticed the tremor in your breath and the shake in your voice, but the desperate murmurs of his name caused his eyes to flutter open. Your face was marked with the faint traces of tears, glistening in the light.

You blinked, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty unlike anything he'd seen before. The ability to convey so much with just a glance caught him entirely off guard.

Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips against the curve of your cheeks, softly caressing them. Nuzzling his nose against your skin, he lovingly kissed away the salty tears, his tongue delicately brushing your face with a soothing touch. Each tender movement provided a comforting solace during your emotional moment.

As he lovingly attended to your tears, you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. He paused, eyes widening in surprise. However, before any words could escape, you leaned in and kissed him. In that single gesture, you conveyed your desires, and he, in turn, found his answer within the depths of that passionate kiss.

As soon as his palms glided over your smooth skin, delicately capturing your erect nipple between his fingers, the bra was tossed somewhere amidst the bedding.

"Lie back," Satoru instructed. He then crawled onto you, your bare chests meeting. He supported himself with his arms on either side of your head to ensure he didn't crush you under his weight.

He positioned himself atop you, overwhelmed by the yearning that had built up in your absence. The thirst to have you beneath him had grown insurmountable. He had craved the sight of your body begging him to take you, the undeniable desire radiating from you.

He locked eyes with you, keeping you in his gaze as he absorbed every aspect of your beauty. The polished planes of your face shimmered with fresh tears, adding a new layer to the bliss. Your eyes were rimmed with redness, solely for him, and this sight rendered him speechless.

Because what if he accidentally stumbled upon the wrong words, and the magic vanished, snatching you away once more, leaving him with nothing but a pumpkin carriage and a single pair of shoes?

He didn't want his arms to be deprived of your warmth. Your touch. Your lips. God, your lips. Your mouth on his neck. Your body wrapped around his. He couldn't bear losing you again, and the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into him.

Blinking his white lashes, he swallowed back the fear building in his throat.

What an irony!

The strongest wasn't fearless.

With his knee between your thighs and his body pressing closer, he realized he was paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in his lungs.

"When we were together, I became you," he stated. "You became the reflection I saw in the mirror, and I liked it more. So, I stopped being myself. It was fine because I had you. But when you left, I lost myself along with you."

"Satoru," you called, your voice soft, so soft. He wasn't unfamiliar with the touch of women, but yours were gentler, yet deadlier than them all. "I'm sorry for bringing us to this point." You drew his form closer. The resonating beats of your heart were audible, pulsing deeply within your chest. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Your words unleashed a tumult of feelings within him. Goddammit. He wasn't lost before he met you, but he found himself after having you, only to get lost more after losing you.

Satoru's tears stung as they fell backward down his throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, and I'll forget everything," he uttered.

And you complied. You kissed him as if swimming through rivers of honey, as if being dipped in pure gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss, and he didn't realize you two were drowning because he was too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing held significance anymore—neither rules, nor the room, nor even the entire fucking Jujutsu society.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This very moment. These lips. This delicate body pressed against his, and these warm hands always discovering new ways to hold his heart.

Oh, My!

He wanted so much more of you. He wanted every part of you. And he kissed you back. Like a mild breeze. Like cherry blossoms. Like a blue spring.

Again.

Satoru drew away. It remained a secret, but piecing himself back together hurt just as much as falling apart. It felt like an ache that needed to be soothed.

You were the cure, so his finger lightly grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, curves, and subtle crevices. As he kissed the corner of your eyebrow, he whispered your name. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, causing a slight squirm in your body. He planted a kiss on your neck, just beneath your earlobe, and you tilted your head, inviting him in. Perhaps you resisted the urge to plead for more, for a faster pace.

You used to love this, remember?

His lips moved down the expanse of your neck, delicately tracing the sensitive skin of your collarbones. Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, roaming over his broad shoulders, pressing into his back dimples, and clutching his hips. With a handful of his hair, you pulled him closer, leaving small kisses on his neck, arms, and chest.

It was incredible. Being with you, touching you, having you like this. The adrenaline rush was so powerful and euphoric that it made everything feel within reach.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking.

He pressed his lips against your upper lip.

He ran his tongue along your lower lip.

He planted kisses beneath your chin, on the tip of your nose, along your forehead, temples, and cheeks across your jawline. Then he moved to your neck, behind your ears, and the space between your breasts. Delicately, he nibbled on your sensitive nipples, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly, his chest was hovering above your hips.

As his lips descended towards the hem of your underwear, he lifted his head right before crossing that boundary, locking eyes with you. His gaze carried a mix of intense reverence and a silent question.

You met his gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between you. Your nod conveyed an affirmation, a wordless permission to continue. With your approval, he lowered his head once again. Before you knew it, he skillfully used his teeth to remove that small piece of fabric while the captivating scent drove him wild with desire.

Having removed your panties, his lips continued exploring, leaving heated kisses and lingering caresses from your toes to your thighs. Firmly holding your calves, he parted your legs, creating just enough space for his head to fit between them.

Your thighs were lifted, obscuring him from your sight. All you could see was the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that view vanished as his lips closed around your clit, causing your head to fall back and muffled moans to escape your lips.

Satoru's large hands trailed down and up your exposed upper thighs and ribs, tightly gripping your hips to keep you in place. He delighted in how you squirmed each time his hair brushed against your groin, until his tongue slipped into your hole, and the taste of you made fireworks explode in the back of his head.

With his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue danced and teased, evoking ecstatic cries from your lips. His mouth explored the known territories you had never witnessed, yet he remembered them intimately.

While fully engrossed in eating you, he suddenly and intentionally slipped his middle finger inside, and his mouth fervently sought to suck the soul out of your essence as if seeking retribution for all the times he had jerked off thinking about you creaming around his shaft. That's why he left you on the precipice of climax, working his way up your body. Satoru was never cruel enough to deny you the release you craved, so his fingers remained ready.

With an eagerness to witness the pleasure etched across your face, he slowly ascended your body, his touch kindling a burning anticipation within you. Continuing his exploration, his adept fingers navigated their way to your most intimate region, gently pressing against the delicate entrance.

"Let me know if it hurts, alright?" he whispered, his nose caressing the skin of your stomach, placing sporadic kisses around your breasts and collarbones to alleviate any tension. His disheveled hair and moist lips were evidence of the indulgence in your sweet taste.

"Take it easy— ahhh!"

He wore a satisfied smile as two of his large fingers effortlessly slid into your slit. Your nails dug into the sheets, whimpers escaping your lips as his hand rhythmically moved up and down within your tight walls.

Your mouth opened in a soundless moan, and he peppered you with kisses all around. Tears glistened in your eyes, and tiny strands of hair clung to your sweaty forehead. When his thumb rubbed, and the fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You firmly grasped his free arm and tugged him towards you, bringing him closer until he was on top of you. You might have turned into a cold-blooded curse user, left dead bodies behind, or broken his heart apart, but you were still the same girl beneath him. The girl who would laugh with joy and steal his treats. The girl who would fiercely fight by his side and protect him. The girl who would easily surrender and moan in his ear.

He pressed his lips against yours, a reminder of the residual sweetness on his tongue. Just like in the old days, a soft moan escaped your lips as soon as you felt your own taste. If this gesture could convince you to stay with him, why not revel in it? He willingly opened his lips, inviting you to delve deeper, your tongues intertwining and brushing against his teeth.

The stinging bitterness of the past was long gone. He had forgotten everything. Although there was something he knew he shouldn't forget, he couldn't recall why or what it was. With his hard length suffering in his boxers and his digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

Seeing your desperation for his touch proved to be his downfall. He could die from this, he decided. From wanting you, from the pleasure of being with you.

He wore a smile as you locked eyes and reciprocated with your smile. He pressed his forehead against yours, his skin flushed with heat. With his other hand, he held your head steady while your hands clutched his neck, your palms gliding over the area just above his neckline, and your fingertips tenaciously pressing against his undercut.

"Sato..." you managed to utter, your voice quivering with pleasure as the orgasm washed over you, consuming your senses. Waves of euphoria rippled across your body, inducing uncontrollable tremors. Amidst your release, a single tear broke free, tracing a glistening path down your cheek, much like the cascade of emotions that flowed within you.

While he remained atop you, his voice reached your ears, his lips near your earlobe. "Can you sit up?" he whispered, burying his face in the curve of your neck, allowing your ragged breaths to brush against his shoulder.

Still struggling to catch your breath, you managed to mumble, "Yeah, but..." However, before you could complete your sentence, the bedding beneath you shifted as Satoru pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight.

He exhaled and looked at you, but this time, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things he had never told you. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a fraying thread—you.

He touched your flushed cheeks as if uncertain of your tangible presence. His four fingers caressed the side of your face with tenderness before sliding behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

He pondered the countless things your lips had done. They had touched, kissed, and pressed against sensitive areas of his skin. They had spoken lies and made promises, and the words they had formed, the shapes and sounds they had shaped, he yearned for them all.

Satoru inched closer, cradling you like you were made of precious crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands as if he couldn't believe you were real and truly there.

"I'm right here, baby. Look at me," you whispered, grasping his hands and kissing them.

All six of his eyes obeyed and stared at you. Gone was the curse user targeting Higher Ups. This woman before him had never done anything wrong. You were perfect and kind, untouched by the horrors of death.

He took hold of your hands and pressed your palms against his face, reclaiming the tears you had bestowed upon him. With an eternity of love, he whispered your name in the softest of whispers.

What if this was a dream?

He shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and you embraced him like no one had before. Overwhelmed by the intensity, he struggled to contain himself, but seeing you cling to him as you might never let go stirred something within him. It was a heady sensation, knowing that you were there, caring for him, desiring him, needing him in this way. It made him believe that this was indeed real.

Gently, you stroked his silvery locks of hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. Gradually, your arms became the arms around his neck; your lips became the lips pressed against his, your body the warmth he felt. Funny how the moment he felt your touch, it burned a hole right through his head and pulled all his thoughts out.

He wasn't even breathing, but he was alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. His hands fervently caressed the small of your back as he lifted you onto his lap, and instinctively, your legs wrapped around his hips.

Then, it was your turn to reciprocate. You planted kisses all over him—his cheeks, eyelids, chin, the tip of his nose, and the space between his eyebrows. You trailed along his forehead and traced his jawline, covering every inch of his face. These kisses conveyed more than words ever could.

And you took your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he let out a gasp. It was a moment to relish. Your tongue continued to worship the hills and valleys of his well-defined arms, tracing the graceful curves of his collarbones. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin, you savored his taste. Your hands explored his abs, tracing along his navel and the delicate trails of hair beneath.

He broke apart with your small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at you dumbfounded. His mind remained hazy, unable to fully comprehend how your fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Tilting your head to a side, you pressed your lips against his again, seeking him with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. Your other hand threaded in his hair, your lips so soft, so urgent against his, like fire and cinnamon exploding in his mouth.

Satoru nibbled your bottom lip in a flash before pulling back slightly. You were flooding his body with so much heat and desire. You parted your lips to sigh in his mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove him to the edge of madness.

Just as he was about to bring his mouth to your nipples, your hand suddenly slipped into his underwear and encircled his erectness pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

He clenched his teeth, suppressing a groan. Oh God! He had fucking missed you holding his member in your palm. But you didn't stop at that. He gasped as you began to rub the tip with your thumb. His body ached everywhere as he tasted the colors and sounds that existed nowhere else. Your forehead rested against his chin as you continued to stroke his hardness up and down beneath his boxers. You were untamed, cruel, yet remarkably gentle.

"Take it off, Satoru," you whispered in his ear, your breath ragged. "I want you in me. Deep. Right. Now. Please."

He was beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way he was feeling right now. He was left with only this very moment: You on his lap, your warmth against his hands, and your lustful eyes fixed upon him, making him absolutely insane.

Satoru held onto your waist with a firm grip, lifting you slightly, and in the blink of an eye, his briefs glided down his long legs until their whereabouts became irrelevant in the heat of the moment.

The wetness between your thighs was no longer a hidden secret, just as his hardness was revealed when you surrounded each other everywhere.

He watched as you reached down and guided his erection against your slippery entrance, making a few strokes to ensure the perfect alignment. His racing pulse could probably be felt in your palm and soon inside you.

Using both hands, he gripped your hips and pulled you downward, drawing you closer to him. A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you, always surprised about his size. He intended to allow you time to adjust, but you fervently clung to his neck, hitching your legs around his waist, urging him to penetrate you completely. A scream escaped your lips as you bit into his shoulder blade, but he remained composed, relishing the sensation of stretching you. He cherished the feeling of your inner walls squeezing him and the weight of your body against his balls. To be honest, he would stay like this forever.

Feeling your readiness, his hold tightened, and he started moving your body up and down. You cried out as you nestled your cheek into the curve of his neck, and he felt like dying and somehow being brought back to life in the exact moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He raised your thighs, stifling a groan that threatened to rip his throat as your lips met his. It left him bewildered, pondering why he hadn't perished, burst into flames, or snapped in half.

The room was consumed by silence, punctuated only by the sound of your heavy breaths. Your chests pressed against each other, colliding with the rhythm of your pulses.

As he sensed your arms tightening around him, he reciprocated with heightened strength, lifting and thrusting you with an intensity that transcended the bounds of restraint. Each movement struck the place he knew too well.

His teeth captured your bottom lip, eliciting a momentary jolt of pleasure. Your nails pressed into his shoulder as his fingers ran through your hair, pulling you nearer, immersing you in the fervent abyss of his mouth. The taste of you was a captivating fusion of sweetness and passion, an intoxicating blend that left both of you craving for more.

He kept trying to say your name, but he found himself unable even to catch his breath, let alone speak a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down and traveling quietly down your cheeks. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, touching your tongue and the saliva within. It was as if he had discovered an oasis in the vast expanse of a desert, gazing at you with eyes ablaze like fire reflected in water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile and uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lasting essence of pleasure in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your heads spun into a blissful oblivion.

Your head rested against his, and as you delicately nipped at his earlobe, he felt stripped down to his very core, just as he had unraveled you from within. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Something inside him melted. Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You belonged to him. You didn't erase the pain you had caused. You didn't fix everything you'd broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. All he needed was you, and with you, everything would be alright.

He firmly grasped your buttocks, burying his face against your shoulder as he sped up. He was shattered to pieces, but with you, he got put back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. Gritting his teeth, he succumbed to the impending climax. His hands glided along your back as you shuddered, your inner walls pulsating around him so hard that he couldn't hold back his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice, until everything around you both turned to a world of vibrant colors and radiant light, where the sun shone, oceans sparkled, and Sakura trees bloomed.

Both of you were lying on a pillow, breathless and sweaty. Satoru's face was buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand had delicately weaved its way into his hair, fingers stroking the silky strands as you both sought to ground yourself in the aftermath of your orgasms.

You rested your cheek against his head, your voice carrying a hint of breathlessness as you began to speak. "How is Shoko doing?

"She's probably smoking even more now," he murmured, his lips grazing against your shoulder as he pulled you closer. Despite the physical closeness, a deep ache echoed within him, yearning for an even deeper connection that felt just beyond his grasp. The desire to merge both body and soul, to be completely intertwined with you, was tangible in his touch.

His arms tightened around you as if attempting to bridge an unseen gap that couldn't be seen, but he could feel it. Each hug and touch was an attempt to mend the distance that pained him. The depth of his need reverberated through his being. It was visible in the depths of his eyes. It sucked to be this close yet feel so far from someone. But he didn't want to worry. As long as you were together, he believed nothing terrible could happen.

"Why probably so?" you asked, your curiosity piqued as you turned your head towards him. Your lips touched his soft, silky white hair. "Is it because of the numerous missions you're taking?"

"You seem to know every detail of my life," he remarked, turning his head towards you, the closeness so intimate that your noses nearly touched. His hand found its way to your arm, his finger tracing a path down its length, lost in contemplation.

"I've always kept tabs on you. I'm not even ashamed of it," you declared, your attention fixed on his ocean-blue eyes.

He let out a shaky sigh. "There's no longer a reason for me to stay in Tokyo like I used to," he whispered, his voice hinting at wistfulness. The words floated in the air, pregnant with unspoken meanings. As he locked eyes with you, his gaze transformed into a sea of emotions, reflecting a profound depth of feelings that transcended mere words.

"What about your students?"

"They're doing well even without me," Satoru said, his voice filled with fondness and melancholy. As his hand gracefully slid into your hair, he tucked back the strands that obscured your face, revealing the beauty of your features.

His thumb stroked your cheek in a soothing gesture. "Megumi came close to expanding his domain," Satoru continued, his voice filled with a hint of excitement. "Yuji would be thrilled to—"

"No, Satoru!" you interjected, your voice resolute. Your firm interruption halted his sentence as your face displayed a frown, your eyebrows furrowing with determination. "The answer is no!"

Satoru's hand dropped weakly onto the sheets, his fingers losing their previous touch. When his gaze met yours, a deep sadness flooded his eyes, turning the serene ocean within them into a turbulent storm.

He struggled to find the right words to make his case but couldn't resist trying to reason with you. "Come back with me. I have enough power and privilege to protect you—"

"I don't want your protection!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying a sharp edge that cut through his being. The words resounded with a harshness reminiscent of the day you decided to leave, which had left an indelible mark on both of you. It was a day that Satoru had always blamed himself for, haunted by the belief that he had failed to notice you drifting away.

His eyes, filled with sorrow, locked onto yours, silently begging for understanding as he summoned the bravery to express his deepest desires. "Don't you want a life with me?" he questioned, his voice brimming with the dreams and aspirations he had envisioned for both of you. "What about living in a house with blue shutters, windows overlooking the ocean, and—"

"How are you still such a wide-eyed, dreamy little boy, Satoru?" you remarked, your voice tinged with tenderness and sadness. As you spoke, your hand extended, interlocking your fingers with his. "Stop living in a fantasy world," you urged. The words pleaded for him to accept reality and let go of dreams no longer aligned with his chosen path. "Even if I had the chance to go back, I wouldn't want to," you continued. "The Jujutsu society is a broken bone that won't set right, and no matter how much you try to mend it, it won't work. I started hunting Higher Ups because I have a purpose. I can't be by your side."

As you raised your head, a glimmer of compassion and understanding shimmered in your eyes. The pain etched on Satoru's face was evident to you. In a gentle tone, you encouraged him, saying, "We've made different choices. Don't judge me because I never questioned why you didn't follow me. Our approaches may differ, but we share the same dream of creating a better world. So, I don't regret leaving, but if there's anything I regret, it's not cherishing every moment I had with you. But I'm doing it right this time. I'm memorizing every detail, so I have something to hold onto."

Your words bounced around in the fog of his head, blurring his senses, misting his eyes, and muddling his logic. In his bones, there was just ice. His entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped him in the face, punched him in the jaw, and dumped him into the ocean.

Until today, he thought he had fully come to terms with everything. He believed he had adapted to living with your absence, like a disabled person learning to avoid putting weight on his injured leg. However, deep down, he knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble.

But with your answer, stacks of sorrow grew inside him, settling on his bones as if a cable had twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

He realized how foolish he had been to believe he could simply blend in and lead an ordinary life.

Satoru.

Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo, The Strongest.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification.

He shook his head, coughing as his lungs were tormented, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission. His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. With clenched fists, he fought against the misery, forcing it back down. Not again. Not again. Not again.

"Satoru?" you called out to him, and a thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. Realizing how deeply he loved you kept hitting him in the face, the skull, and the spine. He ran a hand across his face and through his hair, displaying signs of wanting to scream, to break something, as if he was on the verge of losing his sanity.

You hugged him, bridging the gap between your bodies and leaning your cheek against his rock-hard chest. Your hands caressed his stomach as your lips left random pecks here and there.

"It's not just your shirt that I have," you expressed. "I also have our shared blanket from our room and a collection of photographs I'm too afraid to look at. I fear that if I see them, I'll go right back to you and beg your forgiveness."

You dropped a kiss on his chin. Then, on the curve of his shoulder and his shoulder blades. Five kisses down his throat, each softer than the last. You kissed his cheeks, hands, and eyelids for every moment of loneliness he had ever endured.

You continued, "My body hasn't realized we are no longer together. It calls out for you at night, unaccustomed to not having you tightly enveloping me like a second layer of skin."

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "Why are you putting me through this?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "Why are you scratching my wounds?"

"Because I want to remake you again, Satoru. You should get broken apart and rebuild in a way that won't cause you pain anymore." You kissed the hand covering his mouth, not holding back. Keeping your head there, you leaned against his heart.

"It's not as straightforward as a simple yes or no," you said, your voice cracking as you spoke. "Let's just enjoy this moment together..."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with sadness.

He shifted his gaze towards you, his eyes open, jaw clenched tightly, and muscles tense. Breathing heavily, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful.

You lifted your head and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Love is the most twisted curse," you murmured as you tilted his chin toward your mouth. He blinked rapidly. Words were whispered upon his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "And we are the most cursed of all, aren't we?" you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him again. Tenderly.

Unable to find the right words, he relied on the language of touch, pressing his lips against yours. A sigh escaped into your shared kiss, and you responded by kissing him even more passionately, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. The taste of salt lingered on your tongues. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made his flesh burn. Unsure of whose tears they were, he continued to cling to you, even if it was almost for the final time.

The saddest world in this whole wide world was "almost." You almost came back to him. He almost had you. You two almost made it.

You woke up with a smile, feeling a pleasant warmth enveloping your skin, remnants of the memories from the previous night. The room was filled with a fresh ambiance, hinted at by the open window that welcomed a gentle breeze. The scent of damp earth filled the air, evidence of the rain that had visited during the night.

Letting out a sigh, you brushed your face against the pillow. Your hand instinctively reached out to where Satoru was supposed to be, but a pang of emptiness washed over you. He wasn't there, and your eyes flew open, a sourness clouding their once-serene gaze. Something felt wrong.

Suddenly, sitting up, a sense of panic pulsed through your veins. The realization dawned upon you—Satoru had left the bed, and his absence spoke volumes. Your glance darted around the room, searching for any signs of his presence, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

An agonizing grip took hold of your heart. Conflicting emotions wrestled inside you. You had voiced your decision to part ways, to not be by his side, yet the depth of your desire for him remained steadfast. The pain and the desperate desire for his warmth was a stark reminder that not wanting to be with him didn't mean you were prepared to let go of him completely.

The bitter yet undeniable truth surfaced: as much as you and Satoru were meant to be, fate had not deemed you to last.

You could still feel the lasting presence of Satoru's cursed energy, an invisible thread you could identify even blind. Simply by scent, you would recognize it. It was a power that transcends physical senses, one that would recognize it in death, at the end of the world.

You swiftly snatched your robe and hastened out of the room. And there he was, Satoru, fully dressed, his blindfold tightly secured, sitting still in a chair, facing the untouched mochis. The hair tie was also on the table, indicating that he had removed it from his wrist. You couldn't determine whether it hurt you deeply to see him letting go of a part of you or noticing that he had left his beloved treats untouched.

He wasn't looking at you, so you had time to observe things you hadn't noticed yesterday. He had visibly lost weight. His hair showed signs of splitting and thinning, probably due to stress. Nightmares didn't let him sleep. His uniform appeared wrinkled, and his breaths were unsteady. You knew it wasn't your place to worry about him anymore, but you couldn't help it. Taking care of him had become a habit. He appeared weary, displaying the same profound exhaustion you experienced, filling you with fear.

His shoulders quivered up and down, and you could tell he was crying even though he was silent as a corpse. Your heart quickened as you approached him. With trembling hands, you reached for his blindfold, a desperate attempt because, goddammit, you fucking loved his eyes.

"What are you—" you started to inquire, your voice fading as you recognized that your touch couldn't reach him. He had activated his Infinity. Manually. Deliberately. A wave of profound sadness washed over you, tears welling up in your eyes, yet you swallowed them back, resolved to keep your composure. Your hand hung suspended, mere inches away from him, a symbol of the unbridgeable gap that had grown between you.

Then, in a sudden movement, Satoru stood before you, donning a black jacket that draped his figure. His voice emerged raspy, filled with a raw intensity that conveyed the turmoil within his heart.

"I can't handle this anymore. I can't continue being whatever I am to you," he admitted, his words heavy with a sense of resignation. The understanding that the current situation was no longer viable had taken hold of him. "If you want things to remain this way, I can't ignore the fact that we are enemies at the end of the day." He subtly avoided meeting your gaze, averting his eyes from your messy hair and the persistent sadness in your eyes.

"Can you honestly believe that?" you questioned, your voice brimming with incredulity. You took a step forward, narrowing the physical gap between you. It was essential for him to grasp the magnitude of your anguish and directly witness the toll your choice inflicted upon your heart.

Satoru took a step back, his brows furrowing beneath the blindfold that veiled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what I believe," he declared.

Despite the barrier that prevented physical touch, you closed your eyes, driven by the overwhelming desire to bridge the divide. Ignoring the protective shield of his Infinity, you leaned in, your lips seeking his in a desperate act of defiance. Tears streamed down your closed eyes as he relinquished the barrier that kept you apart. You pressed your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to respond, to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his hand while his other embraced you tightly. He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy.

You held each other tightly, his arms enveloping you as his fingers intertwined with your hair. In that stolen moment, you caught a glimpse of the life you longed for—a life filled with love. Having this every day was within reach, but the harsh reality of the jujutsu world loomed, casting a shadow over your fragile dreams. The awareness that he would be exploited until his final breath burdened you deeply. Unable to witness his suffering, you knew you couldn't change your decisions. You had to reset this Jujutsu World. For him. For his students. For the happiness you owed yourself.

As your lips reluctantly separated, a bittersweet trace of saliva remained between you. Satoru gripped your shoulders, and as you glanced up, you noticed his blindfold was damp, indicating the tears he had shed.

You lowered your head. "I wish you had never crossed paths with me," you murmured, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground until he reached out and lifted your chin.

"I wouldn't take that chance. Not in a million infinities. Because there was love, even if it didn't change anything, even if it made the pain worse, love was there," he said, staring at your mouth. "I'll love you in this life. I'll love you in death and in whatever lies after. And likely even beyond that," he whispered. The words did something to you. They burned something inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "No matter what, I'll always love you," he declared, and pain filled your veins. You could feel it in your blood.

"Satoru," you whispered. Your eyes fogged up, but you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears away. You couldn't let a second of this be blurry. You couldn't afford to allow any of this to slip away. His absence felt like a missing limb, and his longing for you was a bullet in the head. How could he still love you? How could he find relief in your touch?

"But if we meet again," he said, his thumb brushing against your earlobe. "Just kill me. Because I'll be forced to kill you, and it's the same thing." As if the longer he held you, the more he would want you, he let go of you.

The enormity of his duty and the unyielding constraints of the jujutsu world, forcing him to make an unbearable choice, hit you like a cold gust of wind, leaving you feeling isolated and abandoned. The chill of that moment seeped into your bones, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had felt this same frigid loneliness when you had left him behind.

Satoru walked towards the door, each step carrying the finality of his decision that settled upon the room. Pausing at the threshold, a silent plea lingered in his words. "So, please, I beg you to stay away from me." With those words, he severed the last thread that had linked you, leaving you with a deep sense of loss.

The door closed behind him, leaving you in an empty and heavy space with unspoken regret. You were alone again, bereft without him, half dead without him. You opened your mouth and screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately so that you could escape this feeling.

No one ever warned you how men with such pretty eyes, who smelled like vanilla, tasted like rain, and talked like silver, were the reason behind tear-soaked pillows, half-finished poems, and so many sad dreams.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

It seemed like Satoru Gojo's story had peaked, and anything that followed wouldn't hold the same significance to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you. For some reason, he never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and he was in it. He would be in it forever.

Moving forward, he silently implored his bones to remain firm, to support him for the remainder of the day and beyond. He ventured through the forest, his steps disturbing the mud and leaves as his footprints gradually faded away until there was nothing but the empty silence of a long, lonely dusk.

Tag list: @istanuwow @anime-lover1234 @rentaldarling @enchantedforest-network

Disclaimers:

This creation draws significant inspiration from the incredible artistry of @animaybi (TikTok) and features quotes from the captivating writings of @starlightonthewaves (TikTok). Both of these talented artists deserve immense praise for their remarkable contributions.

Art is created by me.

Are you cursing me for writing this? :D

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madlori · 1 month

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Here's where I am with Buddie.

[CW: I am using the Buddie tag on this post, even though the gist of it is that I'm increasingly doubtful that it'll ever happen. This is NOT an anti-Buddie essay. If you'd rather not read about this topic, please keep scrolling. The bulk of the essay is behind the cut.]

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I've thought a lot about this over the weeks since 7x04 aired. It's not a secret that I'm wildly enthusiastic about the BuckTommy pairing (as are many fans) but what does that mean for my thoughts and opinions about Buddie, a pairing I still love and for which I am still writing fic (slowly but surely…)?

It's become increasingly difficult to reconcile hopes for Buddie with dread for a BuckTommy breakup, but if the show managed to pull off a breakup that did not destroy me, I would still be all in for a Buddie endgame.

But more and more, I don't think it's in the cards, and I'm increasingly okay with that.

First off, I know it's a common assumption that Buck and Tommy have an expiration date, and that it cannot last. That may very well be the case, but…the show is not acting like it, nor are they presenting this arc as if it's short-lived. Episodes 4-6, while also being about other things (especially the amazing Madney wedding plot in 6) were also a bit of a trilogy about Buck discovering his sexuality and taking tentative steps into a relationship with another man. It didn't go…particularly smoothly, but the events of 7x06 where they were concerned had a completely different tone. They had a much more settled vibe in the karaoke club scenes, from Tommy's very boyfriendly "check-in" look before he had to leave, to Buck's casual/distracted "Be safe" (as if he's said this before) and just how they spoke to each other and touched each other was much more comfortable than in the coffee meetup. Which makes me think it's been a few weeks and they've seen each other a few times in the interim.

And then that kiss. Putting aside that it was juxtaposed with a literal wedding kiss, there was nothing uncertain or hesitant about it. It felt like a very arc-capping kiss, coupled with the reveal to the rest of Buck's friends and family, and the clear message was "Okay, they're done 'getting together' now, they are together and will be together going forward, even if we don't see Tommy every episode (much as we don't see Karen every episode)." We know Tommy will be around through the end of S8, if not in every remaining episode. After that, we'll see.

A lot of fans have viewed one of the guys coming out as queer to be a first step towards a Buddie future, but I have to say I've never been super comfortable with that logic. I've always thought that if they were going to get together, or both be revealed to be queer, it would have to be at the same time, with each other, via them getting together. The minute they pulled the trigger on Bisexual Buck, I immediately thought that this made Buddie far less likely. Why?

Because it would mean that the writers/showrunners would be making BOTH their "hot younger firefighter" characters queer…separately. In separate storylines. Distinct from each other. And I just don't see that happening. I'm not saying it SHOULDN'T happen. I'd be over the moon. I'm saying I think that's unlikely.

As much as it pains me to say it, I think Eddie will be written as straight and will continue to be written as straight. I don't disagree with the many examples of queer coding we've all seen - the problem is all of them can be just as easily interpreted as arising from a different trauma. Almost everything we've seen from him that could very legitimately be read as breadcrumbs for a queer identity for him could also be rooted in his trauma over Shannon's death, his family trauma, his PTSD, or his general anxiety over being enough for people. He can be read as having sexuality crises. But he can also be read as having other crises with the same results.

I'm not seeing a sexuality crisis for Eddie in the future. I just don't feel like that's where they're taking him. They're taking him somewhere -- he's got storylines coming up -- but I think they're going to have to do with his family, possibly his friendship with Buck, maybe his relationship (I think we can all agree Marisol isn't going to last, she's like the anti-Tommy in that she's been around way longer but has infinitely less of a presence), and Christopher. That's a lot to deal with just right there. If I'm wrong, I will be delighted to be wrong.

But.

I think the show will continue to prioritize and showcase Buck and Eddie's very deep and emotional friendship, which is revolutionary in its own quiet way. Another thing that makes me think they're setting Tommy up to be a long term love interest is that one of the first things they did with him was affirm that he will not come between Buck and Eddie, give him his own relationship with Eddie and Chris, and have him show that he understands and respects the depth of their bond. Not to mention they've integrated him with the firefam. No other of Buck's love interests have gotten this treatment (Taylor had the most contact with the firefam, but I don't think anyone would say she was integrated, LOL). And it shows how committed they are to maintaining Buck and Eddie's friendship as a key emotional element of the show. Tim has also said this, repeatedly.

People often say that there's no explanation for how Buck and Eddie are with each other if it's not romantic - I read a fantastic essay that pointed out that this statement is the reason their platonic friendship IS so important. Men should be able to be vulnerable and loving with each other without it being romantic, as women can be. If we're unable to see a loving friendship without interpreting it as romantic or sexual, what does that say about the kind of male friendships we see everywhere, that makes this one so different?

I know this is an old anti-Buddie argument and I'm not anti-Buddie nor do I mean it's wrong to see it as romantic. I still do. I'm saying if it's not, if it never is, what it is, is already valuable and special, especially when one of them is now openly queer and dating a man.

Anyway. That's where I am with it, and my interpretation of where the show is with it.

#buddie #bucktommy #9-1-1 #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #buck x tommy #meta #9-1-1 meta #shippy thoughts

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barnesafterglow · 2 months

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night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become.

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha.

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then.

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

151 notes · View notes

jessybarnes · 10 months

Text

Bunker Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, and protective!Dean

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 4,667

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation.

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started.

These weren't just any run-of-the-mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went to sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy.

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly.

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention, the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with.

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows rising quizzically.

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.”

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table.

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer.

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes.

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I … well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again.

“I’m. Fine."

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them.

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence.

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings.

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves.

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep.

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted.

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door.

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you fucking bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet.

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you.

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty, little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit.

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features.

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks.

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes.

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being 'just dreams'. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you.

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing.

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were.

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship.

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this… I’m pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm.

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled.

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued.

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot on the old floor.

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly.

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need to. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep.

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbing into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.”

The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flames and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird.”

Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to -

“Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning.

Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photoshoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again.

“Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light.

Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss.

“Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?”

You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours.

“You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his.

Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breasts and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one.

“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly.

The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it.

Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his Adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seeping from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement.

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core.

But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him, and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body.

“Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust.

“Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again.

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated than you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

#j snow writes #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean smut #dean angst #dean fluff #supernatural smut #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff

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monzabee · 1 year

Text

feather – pg10

masterlist

Summary: The one where Pierre is the one left mourning after your relationship ends.

Pairing: pierre gasly x ex!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: cheating, past breakup, mentions of alcohol, sprinkle of angst

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this was a little passion project i worked on before i left for my trip. it’s my first time working on a song-fic format, so feedback is always appreciated!! i am currently obsessed with sabrina carpenter, and i love this song from the deluxe version of her album – for some reason i always thought of pierre when i listened to it, so i decided to put my feelings into a fic, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

(𝗂 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗂 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗈, 𝗇𝗈, 𝗇𝗈, 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾)

You are a believer of second chances, and Pierre is very much aware of this. And he tries, he really does, not to mess up the second chance you’ve given him. He makes an effort to show up on time, bring you flowers for no reason other than just to see the smile on your face, he even takes cooking classes to cook your favourite dish from childhood when you’re feeling homesick. He knows the nature of his work and his busy schedule is the reason why the two of you wanted to take a break the first time, so he is determined not the make the same mistakes. And he doesn’t, per se, you suppose. It’s one of those rare nights where you decide to stay home while Pierre goes out with his friends to a club. He tells you he’ll stay home with you when you tell him you don’t feel good, but you tell him to go without you and have some fun with his friends – his heart is full when he realises how much you trust him.

You try not to let it get to you when the time goes past when he tells you he’ll be home, or how he doesn’t answer his phone, or how you end up falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home. However, the sound of keys jiggling as the front door is being opened is enough to wake you from your light slumber. Even in your sleepy state, you can see the red marks forming on Pierre’s neck and on the skin of his chest left open from his messily buttoned up shirt. You’re at a loss at words, mouth hanged open as you’re staring at your lover in front of you. Pierre, using the small amount of common sense he has left, stands by the entrance of your shared apartment instead of coming up to you, tears in his eyes over the realization of what he has done.

“Why?” You manage to get out, a broken whisper leaving you as your eyes fill up with tears, but you are chanting “No, no, no, no”, inside of your head, “this isn’t real.”

“I– I don’t know, I’m sorry, I–” he takes a step forward to you, but the way you jump up from the couch and position yourself behind it has him stopping his movements altogether, “Y/N, please.”

“No, Pierre,” you shake your head, a broken sob ripping from the back of your throat. “We’re done, okay? We’re done.”

You ignore way he tries to explain himself, and anything he tries to make you stay as you move through your tears and pack an overnight bag to take with you. Trying not to meet his pleading eyes, you slip out of your his bedroom with Pierre hot on your heels. He calls your name one last time before you’re out the door, slamming it in his face as you leave the apartment. You press ignore every time he calls you on your way to your sister’s house without hesitating; spending the entire night, or rather what’s left of it, crying in your sister’s arms over your now ruined relationship.

(𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿)

Your sister tells you your phone did not stop ringing the night before, again. You wouldn’t know this information yourself, since you handed your phone to her the minute you stepped into her house a couple nights ago, in hopes of not answering it if Pierre calls in the first place. She gave it to you before leaving for work for the day, saying that the amount of times she heard your ringtone has managed to give her a migraine. You contemplate calling Pierre back to hear him out, but you know if you do, you might not be strong to not to let him in for a third time. As if the phone can pick up on your inner conflict, it rings once more, but the name on it has you frowning as you pick it up with hesitant hands.

“Charles?” You ask when you answer the phone, hoping your voice comes off stronger than you’re feeling at the moment. “Is everything oka–”

“Y/N,” his voice cutting of your breath as your brain registers the situation, “please just let me explain. I–”

“No, Pierre.” You whisper, swallowing down an urge to scream at him through the phone. “I told you we were over.”

His voice is thick with tears as he begs, “I know, amour, but please just listen to me.”

“Stop calling me that,” you hiss, hands gripping your phone tighter, “just answer this one question, Pierre, did you or did you not sleep with someone other than me last night?”

“Y/N, please.” He pleads once more.

“We can’t keep going on like this, Pierre, I can’t continue this relationship knowing that I can never trust you again.” You take a deep breath, your free hand pinching the bridge of your nose as you announce, “I’m blocking you, and I’m blocking this number. Please don’t try contacting me again, I’ll come collect my stuff when you’re not home.”

You can hear a quiet sob he lets out, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did this to us.”

(𝗂 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾)

After months and months of feeling sorry for yourself, you’re glad that you came out with your friends for your birthday. It was a long journey, getting over once what you considered to be the best relationship you’ve ever had. However, the weight of it lifting off your shoulders made you realise just how much you were trying to make it the relationship of your dreams. As you go through the memories, the good ones and the not-so-good ones, you realise where each of you went wrong. The conclusion you came to makes you realise that instead of wasting your time focusing on those memories, you can direct your energy towards moving on, which is what you decide on doing.

The first time Pierre sees you after your break up is a couple of months later at a restaurant the two of you used to frequent every time he was back in Milan. It’s your birthday, so that’s the reason why he decided to choose that particular restaurant in the first place, to reminisce. It’s almost the end of his meal when he hears your laughter, at first he thinks he’s imagining it; he’s had a whole bottle of wine all by himself, after all – but, alas, there you are sitting at a table with couple of your girlfriends, and smiling wider than he’s ever seen you smile. He can’t focus on the conversations happening around him, he completely ignores the waiter who asks him if he wants anything else for the evening, his eyes fixated on your every move. The way to talk to the girl sitting next to you; the way you talk, the way you keep smiling, the way your eyes fall to your phone sitting on the table next to your glass of wine, and we wonders: are you talking to someone? Do they treat you well? Are you happy? The questions in his mind overtake his entire ability to function for a moment and he’s aware he should probably take his eyes off of you not to appear like a freak, but he is unable to do so. Seeing you for the first time after months, happy and with your friends bring a warm feeling to his chest, even if he knows he was the source of your tears in the first place. But that is not the case in that moment, because with your hair pulled away from your face in a ponytail, lips painted a cherry red and your favourite dress on (he recognises it immediately after seeing the strap that keeps falling down, which should’ve been a reason for you to return it but you fell in love with it after seeing it in the store), you look more radiant than ever.

When your eyes meet for a second, he watches as your light disposition vanish and you’re quick to turn your head to break it off. He doesn’t waste any time paying for his meal and leaving the restaurant, and there is a heavy feeling on his chest as he realises that you’ve done your best to move on – and succeeded in doing so.

(𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗈𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝖼)

Alcohol and heartbreak don’t mix, and to be frank, Pierre learned this through the hard way countless of times. But it doesn’t change the fact that he finds his finger hovering over the messages section of your Instagram every times he ends up drinking a little too much than he should. True to your word, you blocked Pierre’s number after the last phone call the two of you shared – oh, and Pierre would know, since he called and messaged your number in denial many many times. After eventually giving up, Pierre decides to focus on rest of the season and the few races left on the calendar.

However the races don’t end on the track, they come with after parties on Sundays and copious amount of alcohol Pierre gladly indulges in. Though he is happy to indulge in alcohol and music for the night, he never goes back to his hotel room with a girl, never. The first time it almost happened, his mind suddenly cut to you looking at him with that broken look on your face and the disappointment in your voice, so, he quickly gave up on any and such endeavours. Instead, he likes to drink his weight in whatever alcohol the club offers, and makes Charles carry him back to wake up with a raging hangover the next morning. Sure, it is not the best solution, but it works for him. But one thing Pierre never does no matter what how drunk and out of his mind he is? Reach out to you over Instagram. He thinks that you’ve accidentally forgotten to unfollow or block him, which is a relief, because he feels like he has a way to reach you if he ever needs to. But because of his fear of losing you even further, Pierre never, under any circumstances, messages you on Instagram.

Another thing he indulges in? The F1 gossip accounts. One thing about Pierre, is that he lives for those accounts. The conspiracies and dramas they come up with have always been a source of entertainment for the French driver. Normally, he knows better than to believe what these accounts post. Most of the information are false or overexaggerated, anyways, but when a certain post catches his eyes just as he’s about to leave his hotel room for the night? The certain post entailing information about the guy you started seeing? His common sense flies through the window, and he decides to find comfort in what he knows. His stereotype as a ‘debauched bachelor’ used to bother him, especially after the two of you started dating. But now that that moment, he doesn’t seem to care what the media calls him. When he wakes up the next morning, with the worse headache known to mankind and minimal memories of what happened the night before, he has a feeling in his stomach which tells him that he fucked up big time. His theory is proven to be true when his best friend enters his room, unannounced, and has to kindly ask the girl, whose name Pierre can’t seem to remember, to leave.

In such an unlikely manner, Charles is seething as he grits, “Get in the fucking shower.” And Pierre does, because one; he smells like alcohol and sex, and two; he needs to sober out before the thumping in his brain somehow causes him permanent damage. Unfortunately for him, though, Charles is still angry when he gets out of the shower and meets him in the living room space of his hotel room. “Do you have any idea what you have done last night?”

“I think you know what I did last night, Charles.” His reply is emotionless as he digs into the breakfast Charles had probably ordered whilst he was in the shower.

His best friend pinches the bridge of his nose as he groans frustratedly, “No, I mean do you have any recollection of how much you’ve fucked up your non-existent relationship with your ex-girlfriend?”

“Y/N blocked me, Charles, what could I have done?” Pierre asks, raising one of his eyebrows. “Stop acting as if I did anything wrong! We broke up months ago, she moved on and so I thought it was time I did the same.”

“I never said anything about you moving on,” Charles points out, “but did you have to rub it in her face like that?”

There is a genuine look of confusion as Pierre asks, “What are you talking about?”

“You– you don’t?” Charles takes a sharp intake of breath, “You don’t remember sending her those things?”

“What things, Charles?” Pierre manages to get out.

“I’m talking about the voicemails where you begged her to take you back and promised to be a better man if she gets married to you.” Charles explains, an expectant look on his face as he looks at his best friend.

“Non,” Pierre breathes out in disbelief.

Charles takes another deep breath before he adds, “And… the pictures of the girl that was just with you. What was her name, Sierra?”

“I think her name was Belinda?”

“Her name was Abigail, you dick.” Charles scolds him, angrily getting up from his place on the couch. “You need to apologize, to both, preferably, and get your shit together, Pierre. You cannot go on living like this.”

“I think Y/N will be fine, Charles, with her new boyfriend.” Pierre bites out, leaning against the back of the couch. “And you don’t have to worry about me, I’m doing just fine.”

“Yeah? Whoring yourself out to half of the world’s female population? That’s how fine you’re doing?” Charles questions him, earning himself a glare from the Frenchman. “Do whatever you’d like, Pierre. But ask yourself whether this is the way you want Y/N to remember you.”

After Charles leaves, Pierre takes a moment to reflect over situation he managed to screw up. And he knows Charles is right, that he cannot live forever drinking himself to death and bringing back girls whenever he thinks you have someone new. So, he decides to do the mature thing and apologise to you by messaging you on Instagram. Until he realises all your messages and your profile have disappeared over night.

Well, too much for that.

(𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌)

The music blaring through the club is deafening on your ears, but you find that you don’t really care that much, to be honest. It feels good to finally be out on the town, dancing and celebrating with your friends, and a couple of strangers, on the dance floor. There is a bit more alcohol in your system than you’re used to, sure, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t have fun for the night. It’s fun, losing yourself in the music and lights for the nights, surrounded by your sister and your friends, without any care in the world. You don’t feel anxious, or worried, on the contrary, you feel light as a feather as you have the time of your life.

Pierre watches from near the bar, a drink in his hand and his eyes fixated on you. He knows he should give up at some point, move on like you have. It’s not like he planned to run into you in one of the busiest clubs of the city (he totally did), it was just a freak incident that he happened to be there the same night you went out for your sister’s bachelorette party. His eyes fall over the maid of honour sash draped over your dress, matching the one your sister has on, bride.

“So, which one is your girl?” He hears a voice chiming in from next to him, which causes him to turn towards the source, the bartender shrugs her shoulders innocently. “You’ve been watching that group the entire time you’ve been here, it’s weird if you’re not dating one of them. So tell me who it is; is it the blonde? Is it the one with the pantsuit?” She gasps, “Is it the bride?”

Pierre can’t help the laughter he gets out, “It’s the maid of honour,” he answers, “we used to date.”

“Oh, oh,” she lets out an appreciative hum, “I’m sorry for your loss, buddy. So how’d you manage to fuck that up? She seems like a sweet girl.”

“She is, I– I did fuck it up, big time.” Pierre confesses, out loud, for the first time in months. “I cheated on her; I shouldn’t have but it happened.”

“Wow, you just lost some serious brownie points.” The bartender shakes her head, but her voice is light as she jokes, “Just so you know, I’m spitting into the next drink you order.”

He returns his gaze back to you when he hears the booing from the group when they realise they are out of champagne, and the corner of his lip rises in the smallest smile as he watches you calm them down. You must’ve offered to get more, because he watches as you make your way towards the bar. His eyes fall on the skirt of your dress, and he focuses a little too intently on the way it swishes around your hips and upper thighs. He quickly turns back when he realises that you are coming next to him, and he is going to be closer to you than he has in almost eight months.

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you lean your forearms onto the bar as you smile sweetly as you order. “Can I get another bottle of champagne? It doesn’t matter which one, they are too drunk to realise it anyway.”

“Sure thing, do you want me to pop it for you?” He hears the bartender ask.

“No, no it’s fine, I can do it myself.”

Your reply brings a smile on his face as he recalls how he was the one to teach you how to do it, claiming that you were too old to be afraid of popping open a bottle of champagne. He’s lost in his thoughts as you but the bottle under your tab and leave the bar to rejoin the group; he doesn’t even entertain the idea of talking to you.

“You didn’t talk to her, like, at all.” The bartender recalls clearly confused.

“No, I didn’t,” Pierre replies as he exhales deeply and downs his drink in one go. “How much for my tab and theirs?”

The bartender raises an eyebrow, “You do realise they are a group of women, celebrating one of them getting married, drunk out of their asses, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, just cover it from my card.” He shrugs her off as he hands her his card.

“You’re really not going to try to win her over?” She asks as she takes payment for the tabs.

“No, she’s finally moved on,” his reply is soft, and it brings a smile to his face as he watches you shake the bottle and pop the cork off, spraying the others with champagne as you laugh loudly, “it’s time I move on, too.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly fluff

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paradiseprincesss · 16 days

Text

eternal sunshine - jonathan crane x reader

masterlist

note: vaguely follows the plot of eternal sunshine of the spotless mind but mainly the music video for we cant be friends (wait for your love) by ariana grande. yay got my 4th fic inspired by eternal sunshine (the album) out hehe.

summary: after you leave the love of your life, you find it almost impossible to let him go. however, there's a new medical procedure that can be done to erase ones memories of a person permanently. out of pain and suffering, you make the conscious choice to forget about jonathan, even if it breaks your heart to let go of all the good memories along with the bad.

word count: 6k (um, i wrote this all today in one sitting lol am i okay?)

warnings: angst, breakups, loving relationship turned toxic, jonathan being secretive about his alter ego lol, letting go of love

with shaky breaths and trembling hands, you looked at the waiver in front of you that was clipped to the clipboard. bringing the pen down to the bottom of the paper, you hesitated for a moment. all you had to do was sign your name - and it would be done, all your memories of him gone, just like that.

for just a moment, you shut your eyes as tears threatened to fall once more, but you open them and swiftly drag the pen across the black line on the paper, signing your name.

"i'm done filling out the form." you say to the receptionist, who was sitting behind the front desk typing away aimlessly.

"perfect," she says, not looking away from her computer, "just leave it here and i'll hand it to dr. davis when he calls you in."

you nod, putting the clipboard on the front desk and go right back to sitting down in the chair of the waiting room, fidgeting with your hands nervously.

you were currently sitting in the office of "brighter days inc." they'd created a new medical advancement through technology which allowed people to have their memories wiped for whatever reason they pleased. traumatic event? consider it gone. shitty year? forget about it. awful, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, and brutally painful breakup? gone.

i mean, that's why you were here after all - to forget your breakup with your ex-boyfriend, jonathan crane. it was destined to end from the beginning, it would have never worked out but you endlessly hoped that it did. it didn't, obviously, but that made it all the more painful and hard to forget.

you and jonathan were together for nearly four years before things ended, and ended badly at that. no, there was no screaming arguments or slamming of doors as one walked out on the other at the end of your relationship, quite the opposite, actually. the end of your time together was gut-wrenchingly painful, it was gentle and full of what could've been. it was mutually agreed upon, but you wished it wasn't. everyday you wished you could turn back time with the snap of your fingers.

because you'd do anything to forget him.

you'd broken up a few months ago, but time didn't heal you. if anything, time made it worse as it gave you, well, time, to let it all sink in. everyday things got harder, memories became more vivid, and you felt like the fragments of the fantasy of what could've been were haunting you daily.

your name being called snapped you out of your anxious thoughts, and you look up to see an older man, who appeared to be a doctor, standing in the doorway with your clipboard in hand. this must've been the renown doctor jason davis.

"we're ready for you," he said, skimming through the papers, "this way, please."

getting up, you followed him into a clinical looking room, and single chair stood in the centre of it. dr. davis directed you to the chair, and you sat down a little awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

"just relax," he says softly, his clinical team setting various machines up around you, "you're in great hands, don't worry."

you take a deep breath in, and try your best to calm yourself down. it was suddenly getting a little harder to breathe, but that was just nerves, right?

"are these all the items?" a nurse asked you, to which you nod. "that should be every single one, yeah." you tell her, and she starts to unpack the big, cardboard box you'd brought in a week prior.

you see, to have your memories completely and utterly erased of a certain person, you had to bring in all the objects you owned that associated the memory of them to you. whether it was clutter, jewelry, knick-knacks - anything that was associated with the person - it had to be brought with you.

peeking at the box, the artifacts that lay inside caused your heart to break a little. but, that was soon going to be in the past and you'd finally be able to just let go.

while one nurse was fumbling around with some wires and iv fluid bags, another was taking your hand softly and clipping a pulse oximeter to it so that they could monitor your heart rate. she noticed your trembling hands and looked at you with sympathy, "i know," she said softly, "you're going to be okay."

you look away from her with teary eyes as dr. davis and his team completed setting up the room. after everything was prepared, dr. davis turned to you.

"alright, we're all set up," he explained, "the process of erasing your memories should take no more than about thirty minutes, since you have a lot of memories to go through."

he grabbed two little sticky pads, and stuck them to the side of your temples. a faint beeping sound could be heard in the background. "okay, i'm going to need you to lay back for me." he instructed, and you did as you were told. as you laid back, a nurse got an iv started on you, but you didn't care as your anxiety was fuelling you.

"how are you feeling?" dr. davis asked.

"i-i think i'm okay, just a little nervous." you replied with a shaky voice, and he nods as he listens to you.

"and that's completely normal. we're going to start the process of erasing your memories now. remember - deep breaths." he says softly, and you feel an aching pain in your forehead. closing your eyes, you deep breathe to try and focus on your breathes instead of the headache as a bright light flashed before you.

you open your eyes to see you were in a small, quaint, restaurant with ambient lighting. the smell of your favourite pasta passes through your senses, and you take a look around - it seemed that you were somehow revisiting old memories inside your own mind. you glance at the other people dining in the restaurant, but nobody seems to notice you nor do they see you. that makes sense, you thought, this is sort of like a dream.

walking around the room, your eyes land on yourself. yes, you saw yourself. you saw yourself laughing and giggling at a table for two, with none other than jonathan sitting across from you. the both of you were smiling and laughing, a bottle of wine in an ice bucket sat on the table.

you felt your emotions start flooding back, and you had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from crying again. the two of you looked so happy. if only you could have that back for just a split second once more.

walking over in the direction of the table, you sit at an empty booth that was directly beside it. you watch intently, the memories and traces of your old life playing out in front of your eyes. you'd remembered this particular date, as it was a hard one to forget; it was jonathan's first date with you.

you watched as he took your hand in his, and laughed with you about some stupid joke you made, the two of you sharing your favourite white wine over dinner. even though your heart was shattering in this very moment, you smiled through the pain. you smiled at the thought of once being this happy with him. you kept having to remind yourself that this was the past - it wasn't real anymore, and soon, it would be forever lost.

"i feel like i've known you for a lifetime." the old version of you drunkenly giggled, and jonathan laughed along. "i feel the same way." he told you, and you could see the way your eyes used to light up when he spoke to you.

you watched as the two of you talked as if you were old friends, and eventually jonathan had paid the bill, the both of you getting ready to leave. you knew what came next - your first kiss together. it happened when the two of you left the restaurant, as you were wrapped up in his jacket because it was cold out, and eventually, he pulled you into a soft kiss.

following the two people out, you walk down the road for a few seconds with them, until they both stop. the old version of yourself looks at him with confusion, and...it never came - the kiss never came. you look at yourself and jonathan, confusion washing over you. suddenly, within a blink of an eye, he was gone - but you still stood there and someone else was by your side.

"god, it's so cold out!" you say, and instead of jonathan standing by you, it was your best friend.

"i know, but i had so much fun catching up with you over dinner and wine!" your best friend says to you as she hails down a cab. "we have to do this again soon! i hate that our work schedules never align anymore."

the old version of you agrees as your best friends waves goodbye to you and gets into her cab. you watch yourself scroll through your phone outside the restaurant, seemingly ordering an uber, which arrives shortly.

before you could do anything else, your vision fades into darkness.

"hey," a voice echoes, "hey, are you okay?"

fluttering your eyes open, you see a nurse looking down at you. you blink a few times as your eyes adjust to where you were, and you realize your back in the clinical room.

"are you feeling okay?" the nurse asked you softly once more, and you nod.

"yeah, i just feel a little foggy." you respond.

"that's normal, let me know if you feel any sudden dizziness or vertigo, anything like that." she informs you as she rummaged through the old box of things you brought.

she takes something out of the box, and holds it out in front of you. it was a wine red mini dress, and you take a good look at it. "do you remember where this is from?" she asks you, and you nod.

of course you remember! it was from that one time you went out to dinner with your best friend, and the two of you spent the entire night giggling and catching up.

"yeah, of course," you tell her confidently, "it's from the night me and my best friend caught up after weeks of not seeing each other, but now we see each other weekly." you told the nurse with pride, as you adored your best friend dearly.

"and you don't remember..." she paused, taking a look at your file, "someone named jonathan crane being there with you?"

you shook your head no, as you didn't remember him being there. you tried to recollect the memory as best as you could, but jonathan definitely wasn't there - it was your best friend who spent that night with you, not jonathan.

now that you were thinking about it, you couldn't seem to remember how the two of you met, or the first date you'd gone on with each other. perhaps this whole memory wiping thing was as good as they say.

"okay, good." the nurse says, and she turns to doctor davis, who throws the dress into a large plastic bag. "we've successfully altered the memory in her mind." she tells dr. davis, who hums in acknowledgement.

what memory? you wondered. the only memory you had of that night was with your best friend, why on earth would jonathan be there? the same nurse came over to your side again, and instructed you to lay back down instead of sitting up, and you did as you were told. the same bright light consumed your vision as you closed your eyes and took in a few more deep breaths.

you opened your eyes, and suddenly you were standing in you and jonathans old shared apartment, and there were birthday decorations everywhere. the dining table had a huge bouquet of red roses on it, and there were bags from all your favourite designer stores littered around the room.

you instantly recognized this memory - it was your birthday. the last birthday you'd spend with jonathan, actually. you heard your own laughter coming from the kitchen, and you made your way into there. the sight was overwhelming, triggering you as you watched yourself laugh while jonathan held you from behind, kissing down your neck as you held a bowl of cake better in your hands.

"jonathan, stop!" you squealed, laughter erupting from the both of you, "you're going to get the cake batter everywhere!"

"i don't care, i just need you that badly." he laughs softly, turning you around pulling you into a deep kiss. you place the bowl of cake batter down and wrap your arms around his neck.

he pulls away and you smile lovingly at him, "happy birthday, darling. i love you." he says, and you could see how happy you looked. god, you were so in love him, and that never changed. not even now.

"i love you too, honey." you said back to him, and as you watched the old version of yourself live in the now dead memories, you choked back a sob.

"i'm going to spoil you every birthday," he tells you, "get you everything you want. anything for my beautiful girl."

"jonathan, please-" you start to say, but he cuts you off.

"no, i mean it, darling. i've been working lots recently, and i know you hate it when we spend time apart because of my job. i want to make it up to you in every way possible, i don't know where i'd be without you." he says to you softly, kissing you once more.

you remembered when he said that to you - back when he was still the same man you'd fallen in love with. you blamed his work, amongst other, things for the way things ended between you and him. within the last year of your relationship, he had started to work progressively later every night, and at first it was just thirty minutes to an hour late. slowly, it became two hours, then three, then it would become overnight. sometimes, you wouldn't even see him for days.

you'd call, text, spam his phone but he'd never answer. you didn't know what he was doing, but he'd never tell you. he couldn't tell you that you were falling for only one half of him, and that his other half was so evil and so ugly. he couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was the scarecrow, terrorizing all of gotham and fear-gassing the innocent civillians of the city.

you still remembered the day you confronted him about it; the day it all came crashing down and everything came to a halt.

you sighed, walking right out of the kitchen to process everything as you were getting overwhelmed with your own emotions. you could hear laughter, both yours and his, from the kitchen, but it suddenly went quiet. too quiet.

curiously, you walked back into the kitchen, but on your way there, you noticed that the luxurious gifts were gone. the roses were still there, but everything else disappeared. you looked at the shelves on the walls and on top of the fire place, and the framed photos of you and jonathan were different - changed. no longer was jonathan in the photos, but instead, your friends and family.

making your way back into the kitchen, you heard giggling again, but it just from you - no trace of jonathan. looking at yourself, you still had the bowl of cake batter in your hands, and some even got on your face, but now instead of giggling with jonathan, you were giggling with your dog who was barking at you and wagging it's tail.

your dog leaped against your leg, pawing at you, wanting you to pet it more, but you laughed and shook your head at the little dachshund. "you're going to make me spill the cake batter!" you giggled at the adorable puppy.

the sight made you smile, and you felt excited to return home to your dog after your memory wiping was done today. you'd gotten him right before you started college, and he'd been your fur baby since. smiling, you let out a content sigh, and your vision faded out to darkness once more.

as you opened your eyes, you heard the beeping of a heart monitor faintly. you looked to your left to see dr. davis standing and reading over your file in his hands, but he noticed you had awoken.

"ah, hello," he said cheerily, "are you alright?"

"m'fine, i feel okay." you say to him, and he smiles. "great, i've got some questions for you." he says to you.

a nurse hands him something from the box, and he holds up a framed photo of you and your dog with a birthday cake that had candles on it in the background. "what do you remember about this picture?" he asks, and you smile.

"that was my most recent birthday," you explained, "i remember going out with my friends during the night, but for the earlier hours of the day leading up to it, i baked a cake for fun and spent time with my dog. my friends came over to get ready at mine with me, and they took the photo."

"excellent," dr. davis said with a smile, "and what do you remember about jonathan crane now?"

"he...was my boyfriend. i-i don't remember how we met or...much about him, but my heart hurts when i think of him." you say quietly, and he nods.

"that'll stop soon, just lay back again and focus on deep breathing." he explained, and you repeated the same actions - closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath, and the white light welcomed you back once more.

"where have you been?!" your voice echoed, and you open your eyes to see yourself with a distraught expression, and jonathan looking at you with an irritated expression - he looked exhausted.

the two of you were in your living room having one of the worst fights of your relationship - now this was a painful memory you'd like to forget.

"you're acting crazy, you know that?" he scoffed at you, and you watched yourself break down in tears as he silently watched.

this was the night you had confronted him about his frequent and long absences, you were just worried about him, that's all. however, jonathan did not take to this nicely. he immediately got defensive, and he started yelling at you about how he felt you were accusing him of things, and he made you feel like you were crazy.

"i'm crazy?" you exasperated, "i'm crazy? you're the one who's gone for days at a time, no call, no texts, no nothing!"

"what do you want me to do, huh? i have work to do. i'm so sorry that i'm working to support us both and pay for your college tuition." he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"i never asked you to," you sob, "i told you i could get a loan or work - i told you!"

"you- this is exactly why i avoid coming home." he says coldly, and you watched yourself go silent, tears streaming down your face.

"what?" you whisper, and he scoffs.

"don't act all surprised," he says to you, "you can't expect me to want to come home to my overbearing, psychotic, crazy girlfriend after a hard day of work."

you still remember the way he made you feel when he said those words - insignificant, useless, and crazy. perhaps he was right, maybe you were too much, too emotional and unpredictable. however, as you watched yourself argue with him, you knew that wasn't true. you were never the problem; in fact, you gave him everything - all your love, and in return, he left you empty after you spent years building a life with him.

that was the moment you knew that the so called "love" between you and him was long gone, and now it was replaced with something much uglier - something hateful. you knew there was no going back after he had said that to you, and you knew he could see the pain he had caused you. as you looked over at jonathan, you saw that he looked like he was filled with regret.

unfortunately for jonathan, feeling regretful didn't take away any of the pain and the damage he had caused with his words - with his actions. the room was silent and you watched the two of you stare at each other, but this time you didn't feel the urge to cry; perhaps because this was when the pin dropped for you that even though you had countless loving, happy memories with him, the destructive, dark memories would always overshadow the sunny ones.

in this very moment, you remembered giving up - clocking out emotionally. you both knew that you couldn't change him; he was a man too stubborn for his own good. the echoes of your love and laughter could be heard faintly in the background, but the scene in front of you brought you back to reality. this was the reality, not the false memories you had convinced yourself were so real.

he sighed finally, and spoke softly as you sat and watched both him and the old version of yourself stare at each other. "i'm sorry," he explained, "that was wrong - that was a lie, i didn't mean-"

"we both know i can't change you, jonathan." you whisper, cutting him off, and he looks at you with a scoff.

"what the hell that does mean?" he says - there he went again, with his belittling.

"you know what it means," you tell him, "it means this will never work because i keep growing, changing for the better without you. you're still the same, you won't better yourself for us when i've given everything to make this work."

he started at you silently, listening to your words as he let them sink in. "maybe you're right," he says after a few moments of silence, "i don't think this is working anymore."

"i love you." you whisper, and he walked up to you with a sigh, wrapping you in his arms as you cried. "i love you, too." he says softly, kissing the top of your head, but you took in a sharp breathe before speaking and clutching onto the diamond necklace around your neck, the one that he'd gotten you years ago.

"and because i love you so much, i have to let you go."

you sighed at your owns words, as it was the truth, but soon a voice from beside you on the couch startled you. as you looked to the right of yourself, a good friend of yours sat there.

"wow," she says, "that's deep."

confused, you looked back at yourself and noticed jonathan was now gone. instead, it was just your dog and your friend there with you, and you appeared to be holding a poetry book in your hands - no tears, no obvious exhaustion; just a smile on your pretty face.

"right?" you say to her, "you should totally read this book, it has some really good poems in it. that one was sad though, and i don't know if that's like, your style, but i'd highly recommend it." you plop down on the couch beside her, and your dog jumps up to join the two of you, cuddling you on your lap.

you were jolted awake, breathing heavily, and you open your eyes in a panic. for a moment, it had felt like you were drowning. a nurse rushes over to your side immediately, and dr. davis peers at you from over his shoulder.

"breathe," the nurse says softly, "it's okay- you're okay. deep breathes, hun."

you nod anxiously, and do as your told. you try to remember what you had just seen, but it wasn't coming back to you - all you could remember was reading some sappy poetry to your friend while cuddling your dog. you weren't sure why the thought of that made your chest tight, but it did. the more you thought about the now altered memory (not that you could remember it was altered), the more it brought you a strange sense comfort.

things were different, unbeknownst to you, and that was comforting. the nurse held a small, diamond necklace up to you. it was gorgeous and it had a sparkling rock that shone brightly under the light. "do you remember this?" she asks softly, and you nod.

"yeah, someone gave it to me but i don't remember..." you trailed off, and you felt the sudden urge to cry. the tears silently streamed down your cheeks, and the nurse soothingly ran her hand up and down your back, trying her best to calm you down.

"hey, you're okay, you're going to be okay." she says to you soothingly, and you take deep breaths in and out.

"i-i still remember," you sob, "i still remember him, please-" you start to cry uncontrollably, and the nurse ushers dr. davis over, and he calls your name out softly.

"it's a lot, i know. deep breaths, just keep breathing. you're doing great." he reminded you, to which you nod - but you weren't listening. the way the memories played over and over like a broken record in your mind was unbearable - how could it be that you were wiping your memories and yet you still couldn't fully forget him?

well, maybe you didn't really want to forget him. perhaps, you just wanted to erase all the rainy days that dampened your relationship and keep only the bright, happy ones so that you could remember what it was like; but now it was too late.

you could only remember fragments of him, but that was still enough to break your heart all over again. sure, you'd forgotten a majority of who he was, but isn't that the most painful part? knowing that erasing all the bad will also erase all the good - all the love you had for each other.

one of the nurses took the last item out of the box - a plush, light brown teddy bear with a bow adorning the top of it's right ear. as soon as you saw it, you started to breakdown in the chair - it was too painful for you. the nurse brought the teddy over to you, and you clung onto it tightly.

"not this one, please," you sobbed, "i-i can't, please, i don't want to get rid of this memory."

your heart was being minced at the thought of doing so - but it was the last piece of the puzzle that was you and jonathan crane. it just happened to be the most important memory to you. this was the teddy he gave to you when he told you that he loved you for the first time. he'd gifted it along with with that gorgeous, tiffany diamond necklace for your three-month anniversary. the gesture was huge, and you still remember the way it made you feel.

"you have to let go," the nurse urged you, "you have to."

"i don't want to let him go, i-i can't-" you choked back another sob, "it hurts so much."

but before you could protest any longer, the white light flashed before you again.

this was the last major memory you had of him.

you opened your eyes to see jonathan standing with a small, blue tiffany bag, roses, and the same teddy bear in his hands while you looked up at him, happy tears glistening in your eyes. as you watched yourself from a distance, you shook your head and cried - no, sobbed, as you observed the scene unfolding in front of you.

if you forgot this memory, you'd forget him completely. there would be no you and him - just you and the echoes of a past you didn't know existed anymore.

"i love you, my darling." he said softly, putting the various gifts down on the dining table as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly with the intention of never letting you go.

"i love you more, jonathan." you whisper, letting him hold you close - feeling like time had stopped and it was just the two of you.

ah, young love. if only you could have this for just one more minute and turn back the hands of time.

you sobbed, watching the way you two used to be before everything went up in flames, and you could've sworn you heard your heart shattering like fragile glass in the stillness.

"please," you whispered to yourself, tears overflowing, "i hope you never forget me."

you weren't sure why you'd said that - it's not like he could hear you. maybe you said it for your own comfort, to try and convince yourself that he cared about you at some point, and maybe, just maybe - he even loved you back then, too.

well, jonathan did love you, even if now you doubted he ever did, he definitely did. he loved you with his whole heart, and it crushed him to let you go. it ruined him to watch you walk away from what you two used to have, and if he could go back in time, he'd change it all -because fate betrayed the two of you. it was supposed to be you and him for life, he thought you two were endgame.

as you closed your eyes to wipe your tears away, you opened them to see a different picture painted in front of you. of course, jonathan was now gone, and it was just you. alone. you stood there in your now lifeless apartment, all memories of jonathan and you together seizing to exist, but you looked happy.

the blue, tiffany bag was gone, and so were the roses - but the teddy bear was still there. you watch yourself hold onto the little, plush bear and call someone on your phone.

"hey, sorry for calling out of the blue," you said to someone on the other line, "but thanks for the teddy bear, dad. it reminds me of my childhood."

and now you felt like crying...again. you looked happy, and weirdly enough, you looked younger and less stressed. you appeared to be much healthier, glowing even. as you caught a glimpse of the new you, you sighed, the darkness consuming you once again.

"you're all done." dr. davis's voice woke you up, and you opened your eyes feeling extremely groggy and hazy.

"huh?" you slur, confused and now a little dizzy, "i feel dizzy."

"okay, lay back and stay still for a moment," he instructed, "d'you need some water?"

"no," you say, yawning, "i want to go home."

the nurses and dr. davis all chuckled at that, and he nodded. "you're best friend is in the waiting room, she's driving you home. do you feel well enough to walk there or do you want another few minutes to rest?"

"i can walk." you say sleepily, and a nurse helps you up and escorts you back to the waiting room, where you see your best friend waiting for you with a smile.

"there she is!" she says cheerfully, "c'mon, let's get you home."

she helps you into her car, and laughs at how drowsy you looked. the drive home was uneventful - you sort of fell asleep for the majority of the ride, but once you were home, you thanked her as she helped you into bed.

"you have to rest," she giggled, "you look so funny. you look so hungover right now."

"stooooooop." you groan with a smile, and she laughs while tucking you into bed.

"how do you feel?" she asks, raising a brow, and the question makes you groan again.

"like shit," you huff, "i feel really hungover, no joke."

"do you remember what you did today?" she asks, and you shake your head.

"um, a doctors appointment or something, right? didn't i get surgery or something?" you ask groggily, and she nods.

"yeah..." she says softly, "something like that."

as soon as she left, you dozed off peacefully. you didn't dream of anything that night, but you swore you'd never had a better sleep in your life. the next morning, you woke up feeling refreshed despite barely remembering the day before.

getting up, you shower and got yourself ready for the day. you did your hair nicely as well as your makeup, and threw on a cute outfit. it was a gorgeous, summer day, and all you were craving right now was an iced coffee from your favourite place.

grabbing your purse and leashing up your puppy, you stroll out of the house with your dog by your side and enjoy the sun. you suddenly felt at ease for some reason, but you weren't too sure why. it almost felt like all of your stress had melted away during last nights sleep. you didn't question it - maybe you really had just slept all your stresses away.

walking quietly with your dog, you reached your favourite cafe. it was a pet-friendly cafe (which is another reason why you loved it, duh), and you got your iced coffee. you scrolled through your phone while waiting, and went through your emails and messages. taking your iced coffee from the barista, you left the cafe as your pup trailed behind you.

once you got home, you cooked up some breakfast and cuddled your dog on the couch. you put on a new netflix series and enjoyed your quiet, peaceful morning. after breakfast, you ran some errands as you were low or fully out of a bunch of different groceries you usually kept stocked up, and as far as the day went - it was quiet but lovely. something about it felt different, perhaps you just weren't used to a day where everything felt so stress free.

sure, you worked a part time job and you attended college too, but those were just things you were obligated to do. in your free time, you had amazing friends, a wonderful family, your dog, and...that was all. as you were winding down for the evening, your dog sat across from you on the couch, dozing off peacefully, but you heard your phone start to ring.

your dog woke up, barking from the sudden noise, but you hushed your pup and went to go answer your phone. it was only around six pm, so you'd figured that perhaps one of your friends was calling since you told everyone you were getting some sort of medical treatment done.

however, when you looked at the caller display, the name read: J. CRANE.

you furrowed your brows for a moment, unsure as to who that was and why they were calling you, but you pick up anyways.

"hello?" you answer, holding the phone up to your ear.

the person on the other end says your name almost breathlessly, "i-i didn't think you'd answer. i'm sorry for calling randomly, but-" the man pauses, and you don't say anything. his voice sounded so familiar but you couldn't recognize it fully. "i'm sorry. i was hoping we could talk."

"...who is this?" you ask softly as you glance at the photo framed above your fireplace. the photo was of you and your dog on your birthday last year, but for some reason it just...reminded you of this unknown caller in the strangest way - you weren't even sure why.

"what?" he says after a moment, "it's jonathan."

"jonathan?" you ask.

"jonathan crane." he replies, and you stayed quiet for a monent. your chest felt strangely tight, but again, you didn't know why. you just figured it was some random, wrong number caller - but if it was a wrong number, how would they have known your name?

"i'm sorry," you say with a sigh, your hands trembling slightly, "i think you have the wrong number."

and with that, you hung up and tossed your phone off to the side of your couch, and an odd feeling of deja-vu washed over you as you look outside of your living room window. so close and yet so far, so uncomfortable but so comforting at the same time.

you and him were just two people who's shadows stood in a parallel plane, two different endings to the same heartbreaking story.

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imaslutforcuddles · 1 year

Text

ESCAPISM

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

summary | after being broken up with, you plan on being sad and lonely but others convince you sex just sounds too good not to drown in. You end up meeting someone at a bar, who you might just love forever.

words | 2k

warnings | smut (18+) oral (f receiving) fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pinv, DRUGS (don’t mix drugs and alcohol), substances, high sex, subby reader, drunk sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare, little angst, self pity, breakup bullshit, swearing, sex jokes, bitches, arguments, mention of cheating, idiots in love, a little bit of a sad ending.

A/N | i have been living off of escapism and i couldn’t not write a fic about it, imagine meeting eddie in a hot and sweaty club... Reader is called bean as a nickname in this because it’s cute, don’t judge. Also, this has a platonic love circle with y/n, robin, and steve (although he’s not really brought up in this). Their like a lil family. I might do a part two if yall want. DON’T DO DRUGS KIDS. 18+ MINORS STAY BACK.

a little context if you care to listen find myself in a shit position the man that i love sat me down last night and he told me that it’s over

You shoved a box in his hands with tears streaming down your cheeks, “There. it’s all your shit, now fucking go.”

He grunts a little but stays put, “You know i still care about you right.”

Sighing you start to push him out the doorway and onto the cold, “Have a good life Jason.”

You aggressively moved your hand toward the door signaling that he needed to leave, when his heavy body wouldn’t move.

Huffing as your eyes start to burn,

“Just leave, never ever talk to me again.”

He stares at you longingly as if he hadn’t ended just fucked another girl.

“I’m sorry.”

You slam the door and smack your face in disgust,

how could he have done this to you?

- Three weeks of sulking later -

Robin groaned, “Oh come on y/n! We have to go out and get some, or at least you. God knows how long its been since you’ve been eaten out!”

Your eyes widened and you huffed, “Jesus Fucking Christ Robin! I’m fine!”

She stares into your soul arms crossed and eyes squinting.

Raising your hands in defeat you exhale the air you had held while having a staring contest with robin, “Fine, but i don’t need some random dude to make me feel better.”

Robin shrugged, “Ehhhh not sure about that, but you at least need some weed or something.”

You smile and snuggled deeper into your bestie, “Love you robin.”

She grins and looks over at you, rubbing your shoulders with her soft palms.

“Love you too bean.”

Nights with Robin had been frequent since the breakup. It would start the same very time too, you’d call sobbing about him or about your depression and she’d show up at your doorstep with open arms.

Things would be so different without Robin, you can’t believe you have a friend as amazing as her.

dumb decision

The next day you saw her, she came in with a wide mischievous smile and two occupied hands, holding with clothes fit for a prostitute.

“Robin what the fuck is that?”

She shrugged, looking from the outfits to you.

You grasp the thin fabric if your hands, it did feel really nice..

“A little something to cheer you up? We can look like hot chicks, maybe fuck, maybe get some free drinks.”

You hesitated, free drinks..

“Alright fine.”

and i’m out on the town with a simple mission, in my little black dress, and this shit is sittin

So here you are, sitting in the back of the club holding a glass of champagne waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet and fuck you into oblivion.

As much as you didn’t believe in fairytales, this might as well be one.

You scoff as a girl in your ‘friend group’ makes some lame joke about being horny and ready to party, and Robin hands you a joint and leans down to the shared table you were sitting at to snort another line.

You take a long hit from the shared joint, “This is so fucking depressing.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a slut.”

Some other girl across from you shouts over the music blasting around you,

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

Your face starts getting hot, you did not leave the comfort of your house just to get hated on by some random friends that Robin met up with at a shitty club.

“I called you a slut. I mean come on, you got cheated on. It seems like you were too slutty for poor Jason.”

She grinned and you took another long hit.

Damn can this shit start working?

“Do you even hear yourself? Your a fucking dumbass. So stop running my energy your not even worth it.”

Her smirk disappeared as your face stayed unfazed and stoic Your getting fed up with these girls around you.

How did she even know his name? Bitch probably fucked him too.

Grabbing your glass, you got up and headed to the bar for some more liquid courage.

“If the drugs won’t fucking cooperate maybe the alcohol will.” You groan.

Walking up to the bar you had almost wished you stumbled a little. To at least show your a little high, but no.

“What do you want?” A bartender grunted to you, if you weren’t so done with people’s attitude you might have actually cared that he was grumpy.

“The strongest shit you have.”

He took a deep sigh and smiled, “I’m sorry i was a bit rude there,”

You shook your head, “It’s all good buddy.”

He grabbed a glass and a bottle of what looked like a mix of Spirytus and tonic, you tut and grin. “What makes you so sure i wouldn’t like something sweeter instead of tonic?”

Looking up at you he chuckled, “You don’t look like a sweet type.”

Putting a hand to your chest you fake a sniffle, “I’m offended. I’m totally the sweetest person you’ve ever met,” you pause waiting for a name. He smiles realizing why you’re not continuing, “Eddie, my name is eddie. What about you sweet stuff?”

“Aha funny, i see what you did there.”

When you finally tell him your name his face softens, “That’s a beautiful name, it suits you.”

Eddie reaches for your hand, “Would you like to hang out with me after my shift?”

You squint your eyes, “That depends.”

His face contorts, he’s confused.

“On what sweetheart?”

Smiling you put your other hand on top of his, moving in closer to him. “On how quickly you can finish serving everyone else and start serving me.”

You grin while he just stands there awkwardly, “You don’t understand what i’m saying do you?”

Eddie awkwardly chuckles and shakes his head.

“Not in the slightest.”

Smiling, you reach for his collar to pull him onto your lips. You feel him tense up but soon relax and kiss back, “You don’t have to kiss me just because I kissed you.”

He smiles at your concern, “Don’t worry,”

Leaning in as close as he can from across the bar counter, he pecks your lips again.

“I wanted to.”

Watching him grin as he writes his number down on a nearby napkin and slides it over to you just makes you even more horny.

“Text me, I get off at one.”

You tuck it in your bra and smile, “Oh, I definitely will.”

He nods and walks off to serve more people, “Can’t wait sweetheart.” and you watch him the whole time. You watch as his arms flex while tossing around drinks, you bite your lip as he smiles at other customers.

You would have watched him the whole night but robin eventually found you staring, all alone and took pity on you.

“You look fucking depressing,”

Scoffing you get ripped from your spot on the stool, “I’m good right where i am robin.”

You wish that you would start to slur your words a little. I mean, it would make sense after all the glasses of alcohol you’ve been inhaling.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

Robin may have come to get wasted, but she doesn’t want you to regret your decisions more than you already do now.

She slid her hands under your slick armpits and held you up by your waist, thinking that without her you probably would have fallen straight on your face.

And yet, you were fine without her.

Scoffing to yourself and shaking your head, you push her away. “Just because i’m not with him anymore doesn’t mean i need you to take care of me!”

You could tell Robin didn’t expect you were somewhat sober, she thought you were just wasted like all her other friends. But she shakes off the hurt and surprise in an instant, she knows what you’re doing.

“I don’t think that you should be yelling at the only person who’s here for you.”

She walks away with a huff and leaves you alone. While, you frown and turn away to look at eddie. Who is still serving anyone with the flick of a wrist.

“Hey! Eddie.”

He turns to you and smiles mouthing a hello back.

When you wave at him to come over, he can’t help but feel a growing buz at the bottom of his stomach.

“What can I help you with sweetheart?”

“Your shift is over.”

You watch the confusion fall over his features, “I thought it ends in thirty-” Smiling, you grab him by the collar and pull your lips to his ear. “Your shift is over Eddie.”

He almost purrs at the way your voice whispers his name.

You push him against his bedroom door and moan into his mouth, “Mfmh Eddie.”

Eddie smiles at your whining and flips the two of you around, pushing his groin to yours. The making out only stops for a second as eddie pulls at your shirt, you grin and help him take it off.

Harsh puffs are pulled out of your mouth when Eddie latches his lips to your throat, sucking red spots all over it.

“Agh,” You pant and pull him closer to your neck, and push your center towards his own.

“I need you Eds.”

He grunts and pushes you onto his bed, grabbing his belt and ripping it off his pants.

You start to drool watching him undress, his body was lightly toned but oh so beautiful.

As you start to reach for his dick he stops you and sighs, “As much as i’d love for you to touch me, I need to be inside you.”

He grips your dress and pulls it off you in an instant groaning at the way your panties were drenched in your juices.

“Is that for me?”

You whine and shake your head. “It’s all f’ you Eds.” Pushing your head back you moan as he puts his fingers on your clothed core.

He chuckles and rips your panties off, pushing a finger in between your folds and huffing at how warm you were.

“A-ah Eddie!” Your body shakes at the sudden contact, and he pushes the finger inside you making your eyes widen and back arch.

“Mmh is my sweetheart sensitive?”

You whine as he sticks another finger inside, pumping in and out slowly.

“Eddie more please!” You beg and plead as he just stares down at you with a smile.

He nods and smirks, “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

Eddie moves closer to you and starts to lick your clit. You just about cum then, but continue pleading for more.

“Please, please, please!”

Soon enough the licks turn into sucking and slurping. As if he was a man starved, Eddie eats you out like a meal. Your back arches even more when you start to feel a coil in your stomach building up. As if he heard you, Eddie sucks on your clit harder and it snaps.

Your body shakes and your thighs close around Eddies head as he continues licking you through your orgasm.

Eddie then comes up for air, as he smiles and huffs. “Your pussy tastes fucking amazing.”

With a whimper you pull his body closer to yours and reach down to grasp his cock, “Need you.”

He almost growls as you pull out what you wanted most and stroke it, “Damn sweetheart, your hands are soft.”

You chuckle and help position him so he can push in comfortably.

When he does finally fuck you it’s slow and soft. At first, you thought it was just going to be sweet until he started speeding up and pushing in harder.

As you moan he just pistons faster and rougher.

“You like that sweetheart?” He grins when you moan loudly in response, not being about to give a worded answer.

You can feel his shaft getting harder as he gets close to release.

Eddie grunts and huffs, pushing as fast as he can into you.

“Ugh sweetheart i’m gonna cum!”

He reaches down to your clit and rubs, as you writhe and squeal gripping his shoulders. “Oh, Eddie!”

The both of you reach your peak together, hands pushing against each others bodies.

When Eddie comes down from his high, he gets up and grabs you a towel wiping his cum off you.

“Here you are sweetheart.”

He smiles and gets in bed next to you trying to hold you close, but when you feel something other than lust for him you push away.

“This was just a hookup, an escape. Okay? Nothing more.”

Eddie frowns, but nods moving away from you. After a couple minutes of silence, you decide it’s too hurtful to just stay when you’re trying to convince yourself you aren’t good enough for him.

“I think I should just go.”

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things season 4 #escapism #070 shake #smut #smut fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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strayrumia · 1 month

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Unfamiliarity (oneshot)

felix x fem!reader

Synopsis: After her break-up from her long-term relationship, [Y/n] is left wondering if she was deserving of love and gentleness. Fortunately for her, she has a best friend who's been supporting her since the beginning. Not only that, but he's also more than happy to show her she deserves the love she longed for. -or- [Y/n] is left touch-deprived and doubting that she's deserving of anything wholesome after having left a relationship that left her with nothing but heartbreak, trauma, and neglect. Her best friend proves her wrong.

Genre(s): fluffy ending, implied best friends to lovers (can be taken platonically), angst Other tags: non!idol au, (wholesome) physical touch Content/Trigger Warning(s): mentions of SA (s*xual ab*se) and emotional ab*se from past relationship, very heavy mentions of insecurity and feeling worth is based off s*x, mentions of food

[A/N]: This is more of a ventfic and something that I wanted to just let out. It might not be the best fic I've written as it has a VERY open ending/lacks a proper ending. I also wrote this late at night, very head-empty. I hope if you do read it, you'll feel heard or a reminder that you deserve the love you give to others! <3

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Weeks.

Has it been weeks?

No, it's actually been a few months since the day you gained the confidence and willpower to walk out on your past and very toxic relationship. You've kept track. After all, you thought your ex would be hurting too, until you've discovered from mutual friends that he had already moved on.

That's right. At first, it was a mention from a mutual that they've heard him mention on his own socials that he was going to a concert - a concert of a group you were very confident he didn't know nor listen to very much. Then the day came when it was the supposed concert. You saw on another mutual friend's Instagram that he was seeing the group with the same girl he told you not to worry about countless times prior. The same girl who he would not hesitate to make time when she said the word, yet when you asked him for his time, he would throw a fit. Then goes the most recent news - that he was supposedly trying to get on his coworker.

This boy was the same one who told you, when you sobbed to him while trying to stand your ground, that he didn't agree to this relationship ending and he wanted to continue fighting for you two. The same one that told you that he'd rather you stay with him and heal than walk away. The same one who told you, "will we ever be together again in the future?"

It hurt.

It hurt knowing that this person you gave five long, hard years for threw you away so easily. You fought for him despite your friends and family refusing to support your relationship, despite the fact that they all mentioned how he had red flags yet your young, naive self gave him the benefit of the doubt. You fought for him, yet you got taken advantage of in more ways than you want to remember while he felt little to no remorse for his actions as his words never aligned.

It hurt knowing that while you gave a lot of love to him, you're left wondering if you're even enough for another person, if there will ever be someone in your life to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. While you were still healing, your ex, who you walked away still full of love, was ready to find the next person to fuck around with.

Though many of your friends suggested you to hop on the dating apps and just fuck your feelings away to those who had no strings attached, you knew you couldn't do that. You love with your whole heart. Sure you can sleep with others and enjoy the sex life with potential partners who shared your kinky fantasies, but how can you? Your relationship was full of one-sided lust that you felt like you were only good for sex.

You were healing a lot faster now that months had gone by since your breakup, but it didn't stop the thoughts of insecurity that would constantly come up every now and then. You've gone on many hangouts with friends who happened to be dating and seen just how wonderfully they treat each other and it makes you wonder... 'Will I ever get that kind of treatment?'

After your breakup, you made a vow to yourself that you would set aside as much time as you can to spend with your friends and family, the very people who supported you individually from the start and continued to even after that. Through each hangout, your best friend, Felix, was there every step of the way.

He was always there since the beginning. He was there when he warned you about your ex before you got into that relationship. He was there during your entire relationship, albeit being at a bit of a distance to respect your space and privacy with your partner. Lastly, he's there for you right now.

You had spent the whole day with him, letting the day be a normal hangout - one that allowed you two to enjoy board games with other friends before they had to go home, leaving you alone in your small apartment with Felix.

After the mutual friends had left, Felix had noticed your mood shift slightly towards the end of the game night and decided to bake you some chocolate chip cookies as a treat to cheer you up. He knew they were your favorite sweet treats after all. While he prepped the ingredients and put up a YouTube video in the background, you scrolled through your Instagram feed lazily, only to have the worst timing and notice the same girl you were warned to not worry about post about your ex yet again. Yes you were doing better in this healing process but the pain was still ever so present.

You let out an exasperated sigh as your head dropped into your folded arms against the counter, causing Felix to look up from the video and pause. "Are you alright?"

You only responded with an unhappy, muffled groan in your arms. Felix raised an eyebrow at you as his gaze shifted towards the phone in your hand. Your screen stayed stagnant on the post with your friend and your ex.

"You know, you could always remove this girl from your socials. Why don't you? It's not like you still talk to her." Felix suggested, taking your phone out of your hands and analyzing the post.

"She hasn't done anything directly to make me have a reason to cut her off... it wouldn't be right." You retorted. That thought often crossed your mind without him even mentioning it if you were being honest. It would lift a mental load on you to remove the last person who wanted to associate with your ex from your social media, but you still felt it was wrong to remove someone who never hurt you, at least with intention.

Felix scoffed. "Does it matter? She doesn't know him well enough to know what he did to you, or to anticipate what he might do to her. If it helps you in the long run, you might as well do it."

You ignored his reply, your thoughts were going elsewhere anyway. You stared into nothingness as the post's image burned into your brain, how happy the girl was to be beside the abuser. Your thoughts were going all over the place if you were being honest.

'Why do you want to associate with him? He's a horrible person! Ugh, but you don't know...'

'You don't even know how terrible he is, but I guess sometimes people only learn the hard way...'

'He literally told me not to worry about her and how he only saw her as a little sister figure but why was his hand so dangerously low in that photo...'

'Just how many lies did he feed me to keep me from trusting my gut feelings...'

'She is a pretty girl with a gorgeous figure... it's no wonder he kept his eyes on her.'

'She was the one worth driving an hour and more for without hesitation. She was the one he was willing to treat out to restaurants and gift flowers for. I was the inconvenience after all...'

Your thoughts were becoming sadder and darker as they went through each and every lie he told you. Tears began to well in your eyes until you suddenly felt your hand getting tugged, dragging you out of your thoughts and into the situation at hand. Felix started leading you towards your couch and maneuvered you into sitting onto his lap.

"Wh- Felix, what are you doing? I-I'm heavy!" You started to get embarrassed and immediately tried to lift yourself from his lap, only for him to keep you there with his arms. He kept you in a gentle yet firm embrace that prevented you from trying to escape.

"You're not even heavy, stop it." You stopped squirming and just continued to avoid his gaze. You knew if he saw the tears threatening to fall from your eyes you would hear it from him, but he surprisingly said nothing as he kept you in his arms.

He reached over to the side and grabbed a blanket nearby, drooping over his back before he took each end to make his way to wrap you in. He gently cradled your head into his neck, his head sitting softly atop yours. His other arm kept you in an unescapable hold while rubbing small circles on your back. Although you wanted to escape out of embarrassment, you didn't retaliate to his small, gentle gestures. You felt your muddy thoughts begin to clear out as Felix continued to cradle you in his arms.

"Felix... what are you doing?" You repeated with more naivety and less aggression.

"What does it look like, [Y/n]?"

Your face began to flush, but you tried your best to pay it no mind. "You don't need to do this to me, okay? I don't... I don't deserve it."

"Why do you think you don't deserve it?"

The post burned into your mind again. "Because... there are better people out there who deserve it more than I do." Like her. I'm not someone you should be doing these kinds of things to. I don't deserve it.

"Hmm... maybe you're right, but I know you deserve to feel secure and have affection too." Felix replied, adjusting slightly to turn your head to face his direction as he started brushing his fingers through your hair, pushing your loose strands away from your face to the best of his ability in your position. The gesture small yet soothing, an unfamiliar feeling that you definitely leaned into and enjoyed every minute of.

"I can't imagine what he put you through but what I can tell you is that you too are deserving of more than just being treated as an object. You're not an object, you're a human, okay? So don't ever treat yourself as anything less when you deserve more."

You felt the tears in your eyes rebuild from the ever growing happiness in your heart hearing his words, but you fought them from overflowing. You shook your head, wanting to retort more but as you opened your mouth, the words never left your throat. It felt that if you tried to counter Felix again, the tears would win over and you wouldn't be able to stop. 'I really don't...'

"[Y/n]," he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head. "You deserve to feel loved too. You deserve to experience the joys of getting a wonderful surprise from your support system. You deserve to be invited and brought to cute and romantic dates with lots of effort. You deserve something even as simple as handholding!"

It's as if he felt your tears fall because he pulled you away from him to use his free hand to gently wipe away the tears from your eyes, not caring that they lightly stained his sleeve and shirt. He continued to brush your loose hairs away from your facial features as he made sure you kept your eyes on him. "You are loved and you will experience that love too. If you allow me, I will show you exactly how you should be treated - although, it might just be the same as what we already do."

"But... what would be the difference between the things we do now compared to the things we will do after this point?"

"Well, I guess I won't have to hold back how I feel about you. That would probably be the only difference." He said with a small chuckle. "But you don't have to worry about anything, I don't expect you to feel anything right away nor do I want you to feel rushed into deciding anything with me. I just want you to experience the love, respect, and happiness you're supposed to have."

You thought about it with a smile. Your current experience with Felix as of recently has been filled with nothing but joy and laughter. There would be times where you would vent about your healing thoughts and he would generously offer an ear and shoulder. Most of the time, however, it was genuine laughs and happiness that triggered your habit of hiccupping when you laughed too hard. Those memories you've made with him recently just made you enjoy his presence more and more. It was no lie that he made sure he always thought of your picky habits whenever others wanted to go to a restaurant, how he made your heart flutter with every smile he shone at you and every gentlemanly gesture he did in consideration of you.

It wasn't going to be an easy lesson to relearn but you knew exactly what he was trying to teach you. You don't know how to accept such kind and affectionate gestures because you were so used to bland, lustful touches. You didn't think you deserved to be treated so delicately when all you've known is how to be used and thrown to the side when the other was no longer satisfied.

It was hard, but you can feel your healing process become much easier and smoother with Felix by your side. After all, he knew you best, he witnessed you through your highs and lows to the point where he learned what ticked you off and what brought you the highest joy. He's someone who observed and applied what he learned to make sure you would be treated with the respect you deserved.

It won't be quick and it won't be easy, but one thing you know for sure is that you felt the most safe and loved with him than anyone you can ever imagine.

-End-

#tw abuse mention #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #felix x reader #felix scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

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piratefalls · 5 months

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new list, new year, (trying out a) new header, new post day. i'm back after a nice little vacation where i got almost zero reading done, so no one is more surprised by the amount of holiday fic here than me.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five. list six. list seven. list eight. list nine.

No Consequences by AnchoredArchangel

"I sort of came out as bisexual to both Nora and myself when we were watching that fucking snoozefest of a Royal Wedding years ago, and I told her with no hesitation that you were on my list.” Suddenly, Henry looks very present in this previously one-sided conversation, eyes boring into him even if he sounds a little choked as he clarifies, “I was on-” “My No Consequences sex list,” Alex confirms brazenly, “Yeah." Or: During an inadvisable spot of dating years back, Alex and Nora made a game out of making extensive lists of celebrities they could hook up with without it being cheating. One breakup and several years later, Alex meets someone on his list for the very first time at a charity gala and decides it's appropriate to tell him all about it.

Wash a Bad Day Away by stellarmeadow

Alex has a bad day and needs to drown it in a tub.

this year I will fall by railmedaddy

Henry has many regrets in his life, but leaving the ice rink after a literal run in with the potential love of his life without even obtaining his name may be his biggest. With his family visiting for the holidays for the first time and ever-present work deadlines looming, he's too busy to think about how to engineer his own happy ending worthy of the novels he edits. But what if fate has other ideas?

the mountchristen pharma job by coffeecatsme

The alarm blares. Still, the man slides the key again and enters the room. He closes the door behind him, flips the flash drive in his palm. Walks to the room that’s supposed to be empty, the room they made sure was clear before they made their move. Except it’s not. And the man recognizes that head of blonde hair all too well. Henry fucking Fox-Mountchristen. Six years ago, Mountchristen Pharma's reckless actions caused Rafael Luna's death. Alex and June want to make it right, but they're not the only ones.

Take a Trip Into My Garden by @sparklepocalypse

Alex groans. From the sound of things, he’s in no better state than Henry. “Why in the absolute fuck does your family have a fucking Viagra orchid?” (A sex pollen fic that takes place on the grounds of Kensington Palace between the Cornetto scene and the interview blitz.)

you could call me babe for the weekend by weather_stained

It's been three years since Ellen Claremont lost the 2016 Presidential Election, and Alex hasn't seen Prince Henry since the Rio Olympics. When Alex, June, and Nora take a post-finals trip to a Vermont ski resort, Henry and his best friend Pez are the last people they expect to see waiting in line for the chairlift. To Alex's great displeasure, Nora and June end up quite takenwith Pez, and Alex is forced to spend time with Henry. In one weekend, they become closer than he could have ever imagined.

come away with me by rizcriz

Alex closes the door behind himself and turns into his tiny apartment with an exhausted sigh. As he turns to flip the lightswitch, the subtle sound of fabric rustling hits his ears; carefully, he unclips his gun at his waist band, flips the light switch, and turns around, pulling the gun on the intruder. He nearly drops it at the sight of a familiar head of shining blond hair. “What the fuck?” Alex asks, taking a step in, and reaching with his free hand into his holster for the pair of cuffs he knows he clipped in this morning. “Intel said you were in London.” Henry Fox, international thief and conman, tilts his head where he’s sitting in Alex’s favorite armchair. “Honestly, Alex,” he says, waving a hand. “Put the gun away. We both know you’re not going to shoot me.” “Fuck you,” Alex hisses on impulse. “Put your hands up.” -- or Con Man Henry and Interpol Agent Alex

(Dil)Do It Yourself by happinessofthepursuit

“Listen,” Nora starts, turning her body once more so that she’s sitting sideways in the chair with her legs thrown across the armrest. “I did the math. There’s a 79% chance you’re gonna become a slut to the power of the prostate, and while we’re not dating anymore, it’s my duty as your fellow slutty bisexual to get this party started.” Or, when Nora drags Alex to a holiday dildo workshop, he doesn’t expect to find someone to use it with.

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What's on My Mind) by affectionatelyrs

Alex hums, turning around to pull open the freezer drawer. “You want anything?” But Henry barely registers his question. Not when Alex is slightly bent over, allowing Henry a perfect view of his perfect ass. Each individual ridge of his spine is visible due to his lack of shirt. All of these things combined would normally be a large enough issue in itself to render Henry dumbstruck, except— Except, that’s not the only thing that Henry’s faced with. Right there, clear as day: blue lace, delicately peeking out from the waistband of his joggers. Henry’s hand immediately flies up to his cheek. The skin is hot to the touch, and he feels the imprint of where the material once lay like a brand. - Or, With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought

i've forgotten if they're green or they're blue by metacrisis

When the worst snowstorm New York city has had since the Great Blizzard of 1947 snows Alex and Henry into their Brownstone, Alex falls into a bizarre dream and awakens in a world much like his own. Only it seems like he's suddenly five inches shorter, five years younger and why is Henry the only person who can tell? AKA, Movie Alex falls into Bookverse before he and Henry get together.

Ho for the Holidays by @whimsymanaged

“Listen, don’t worry about this,” Henry says quickly, already mentally crafting the passive-aggressive text he’s going to send Pez. “Better luck next year. I’ll just be off—“ “Hold your damn horses.” Alex stops Henry with a fast, surprisingly gentle hand to his wrist. His eyebrows furrow. “What did you put on your questionnaire?” Henry’s ears go hot. “That’s none of your business.” Alex scoffs and leans in closer. “Baby, we matched. It’s safe to say we have at least some interests in common. Be honest—was it because you confessed to having a secret desire to slap me?” Or, Pez organizes an event called Ho for the Holidays, and these two idiots get paired up.

Waiting in the Wings by DracoWillHearAboutThis

Henry had always known he would end up in an arranged marriage. He had not expected, though, to end up in an arranged marriage with Prince Alex Claremont-Diaz, who he'd secretly been in love with for the past fifteen years.

Fill My Stocking by songliili

Alex has spent the past fifteen minutes talking with David about his favourite treats. Not that the dog answered, but Alex was undeterred and kept going, uncaring that Henry had asked him to give him an hour and then he’d join him in hanging up fairy lights and mistletoe everywhere. Very well. If Alex wants Henry’s attention, he'll have it. It's probably not what Alex thought he’d accomplish with his little scheme, but it's a compromise between Henry's needs and Alex's wants, and that's all that can be done. OR: Alex wants some attention and Henry has to get creative.

Here With Me by SatinBirds

When Zahra asks, “Would it make any difference at all if I told you not to see him again?”, it’s the easiest thing for Alex to categorically answer, “No.”

because it's Tuesday by headabovethewater

Right, so, here’s the thing; Alex hasn’t shaved in a while. He’s been so consumed by stress for his exams, his thesis, the post-election work he’s been doing for Ellen… It’s been a bit much for Alex, and while Henry is impressed by the fact that he’s able to keep himself standing and functioning, he has noticed that the scruff on his face has increased. A lot. Oh, Henry has noticed, alright.

i want to mark my skin (it is paper thin) by violetbaudelairequagmire

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subj: Tattoo Reference Attached: 1 file (orionsketch.jpg) Hello, Attached you’ll find a line art drawing of the constellation Orion. The shoulder blade is the intended location. Best, H.J. Fox OR: It's a Tattoo Shop AU!

Can't Buy Me Love by everwitch

Alex is a high end escort. Henry is his wealthiest client. He's also a total asshole, which Alex has zero patience for. He'd never let a client walk all over him like that, not even one with striking features and an air of firm authority that Alex has to keep reminding himself he’s not attracted to. But over time, Alex learns there's more to Henry than fiery insults and cruel dismissal. So much more. Alex is in so much fucking trouble. He should end things with Henry before he gets burned. (He couldn't end things with Henry if he got paid for it.)

He Was Here With Me by absoluteaudacity

Arthur lives: a wishlist

(Door)Dash to the Heart by bleedingballroomfloor

The man looks up when Henry opens the door. "Henry?" Henry clears his throat. "That's me," he manages. "Cool," the man says. "You're making me hungry for breakfast with this order, man. Which is bad for me, because my breakfast is usually just coffee, and there's no way I can drink that this late." "Uh," Henry says. He's pretty sure dashers don't talk this much during orders. "Anyway," the man says, handing the bag of food to Henry, "enjoy your night." Five times Henry gets late-night food from his insanely hot DoorDasher Alex, and one time they get food together at a normal time.

(here's my number) so call me, maybe by villageidiot

"I could go a few days without contact, you know." Henry looks over at Alex, who's splayed across the couch, and places a finger on the page he's reading to keep his place. "I'm…sorry?" "While you're gone, I mean. I could handle a few days of not talking to you." Henry still looks a little baffled. "Is this something you want to do? I'm still unclear on the 'why' here." And so is Alex, honestly. or: five times Alex fails at the whole "go a whole weekend with no contact" thing (and one time Henry does)

the beagle, the ghost and the wardrobe by stutteringpeach

Henry’s new flat comes with one unexpected feature: it’s already inhabited. But not by a human. By a ghost.

Night Class by OrchidScript

Alex how found the simplest solution for all the facts he had been presented. There were plenty of them to make sense of. Alex was taking the path of least resistance, accepting that whatever remained after all was stripped away must be the truth. June could laugh at him for the rest of time if she wanted. He was right. He knew he was right. He had to be right because nothing else on earth or in the universe made sense. Henry Fox — his smarmy, entitled, wealthy, bland, irritating neighbor — was a vampire. Alex knew it. He could prove it.

Piss-up in a brewery by clottedcreamfudge

"I hate this," Alex says, not for the first time, and Henry covers his face with his hands. "Yes," he says, a little muffled, "that's coming across." "It's not, like, personal," Alex clarifies, even though it fucking is. "I just don't really like sleeping with other people. I mean, sleeping in beds with other people. I like having sex-" "Yes, alright," Henry says peevishly, not moving his hands at all. "You needn't extol further on your love of intercourse." "Who the fuck talks like that?"

Sleepless Nights by stripyjumpers

Henry's insomnia has been getting worse. He thinks it's fine, until it all finally catches up to him.

move fast (and keep quiet) by HypnosTherapy

Henry’s smile goes slightly strained at the edges. In his ear, Nora hisses at Alex to walk away. He firmly ignores her. “What brings you here tonight, Foxy?” Henry brushes Alex’s hand off him. “The same thing that brings us all here,” he answers. “Not only a girl’s best friend, after all.” -- Alex is a spy tasked with securing a case of diamonds being auctioned off by black market smugglers. Henry is a rival spy who happens to be tasked with receiving the same case of stones. When Henry wins the auction, Alex has to retrieve his target, no matter the cost.

Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured by myheartalive

“Fox,” he hisses through his teeth. “How about you take the tube tonight? Or go for a nice long walk?” Henry’s stunned. “Excuse me?” “Yep, I will excuse you. Now do us both a favour and find another way to get home.” — OR enemy co-workers Henry and Alex get unwillingly shoved into a cab together (and finally sort their issues out)

the best intentions by smc_27

He sees the flyer when he’s in town picking up the fabric and books June wanted from the market. Once a year. On the prince’s birthday. The chance for his one true love to rescue him from the tower. A cash prize to go along with the prince’s hand in marriage. The title of Prince Consort and a palace of their own. Alex knows himself. He knows how people are with him. He’s made people fall in love with him without even trying for it. He’s had to break hearts since he was 15 and Charlotte Marks told her father she was going to marry Alex. He can get some cloistered prince on board.

A Life, in Names by th0ughts

Macsomething continues to flounder. “I arrived just as someone came out, you see. A woman, with the hot pink jacket? I told her that I’m Roy Maclanahan—” (bingo. Henry knew it was Maclanahan.) “—here for Mr. Claremont-Diaz, I work with him you see. He invited me over, to look through some documents? And she told me that I was in luck, that he was home. “Either way I am so sorry to have disturbed you your hi—Henry. She must’ve been mistaken. I’ll take my leave and return when your husband’s arrived.” Maclanahan is wringing his hands and looks just about a second away from nervously combusting but the entire ordeal has Henry’s face blooming in a smile. _____ Musings of a life, in four surnames.

In my dreams (In your dreams) by lizzie_bennetdarcy

He opens his mouth to tell Alex it's fine, they can stay, when Alex shakes his head. "The room is spinning. That's not fun. Alright, sweetheart, let's go home." He jumps up from the stool, and immediately lists sideways into Henry. "What will it take to get you to carry me home?" "More than you're prepared to give, I'm afraid." Kiss me, marry me, have my children, please. Alex is very drunk, and very affectionate, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for Henry to pretend like he isn't completely in love with him.

when he breaks so beautifully by viciouslyqueer

Henry thinks it’s just been a rough day – it certainly wouldn’t be the first time – but he only realizes just how wrong he is when his boyfriend actually gets home. Slumped shoulders. Twitching fingers. Red-rimmed eyes glistening with tears. Henry’s heart breaks on sight. — Alex has a rough day at work and asks Henry to be mean to him. Henry praises him instead.

Twenty Seven Batters by politics_and_prose

A ballplayer will refuse to stop playing because they want one more hit, steal, strikeout. One more homerun. One more win. So they get old and they lose their skill and embarrass themselves long after they should have hung up their spikes. If that’s the rule, then Alexander Claremont-Diaz is the exception. Because today, at age 38, Alexander Claremont-Diaz is six outs away from a perfect game.

forever yrs, for evermore by indomitablelove

‘Wake up,’ Henry whispers. Alex turns and squints his eyes open. He looks at the clock. ‘Baby, why the fuck are you waking me up at six am? I’m on vacation.’ ‘I’ve got a surprise, come outside. You can go back to bed after, I promise,’ Henry tells him with a smile. ‘I’ve made you coffee.’ Alex sits up with a squint and a stern, unimpressed look on his face. ‘You better have a fucking good reason for getting me up at sunrise.’ --- or, a lake house proposal fic

Aged Like a Fine Wine by allmylovesatonce

At a gala for the Okonjo Foundation, Senator Alex Claremont-Diaz runs into Prince Henry of Wales for the first time in two years. Something is different about him, and it's not just the revelations that came out the last time the two saw each other. When they're encouraged to spend more time together, it lights a spark that could send both of their lives into a tailspin. Will Alex resist the temptation or will he find the courage to pursue what he's wanted far longer than he's let himself acknowledge?

All our Sweetest Hours Fly Fastest by AHistoricDistraction

It has been three years since they were outted and Henry and Alex have finally settled into a groove that works well for them, except for the fact that it feels like they're always having to steal time together. Queen Mary constantly coming up with excuses to get Henry out of public events with Alex isn't helping, and Alex is done with it. After a long conference in Tokyo that Henry couldn't attend, Alex's flight home being delayed is the last straw and he calls Henry to say they need to figure out a better way to do this, to which Henry agrees. But fate has other ideas. Alex's flight goes missing somewhere over the Pacific, no trace of it to be found, leaving Henry and Alex's family struggling to not lose hope while unable to do anything.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged, either for author purposes or just to know when these go up! see you next tuesday!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb #rwrb rec list #firstprince #red white and royal blue #rwrb fanfiction #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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lepetitpiastri · 8 months

Text

london's calling [op81]

summary: your relationship with oscar comes to an end

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

wc: 700+

warnings: breakup, sad reader and sad oscar,

notes: please give the song 'london's calling' by tyne-james organ a listen while you read!! i got inspired to write a lil song fic for oscar about it soo pls enjoy!

Baby, stop

And look at what you've done to me

Baby, stop

I feel you more when I can't sleep

It's burning a hole in the ground

It brings me down

You and Oscar were never meant to be. As hard as you both tried to make it work, the relationship had finally come to an end.

It was a messy breakup. Not one that ended in anger and hate, but one where tears were shed from both sides. The kind that had your heart hurting, with a deep longing pain that made you clutch your chest as you lay awake at night. Your bed had never felt so empty, devoid of the warmth that Oscar always brought. You realized that you avoided his side where his scent still lingered, his cologne, race leathers and mint. You avoided the part where the mattress dips in, moulded to fit his body. It could never fit you the way you wished it would. You sobbed unconsciously and held yourself tighter as the tears fell again.

Baby, stop

You're heading home and it's not fair

Baby, stop

I couldn't tell you I still care

Oscar hovered over your name on his phone. He had thought about calling you countless times that day, but every single time he stopped himself. He knew it would just make things worse. But god he missed you. He missed your voice, your smile, your eyes. The way you comforted him when he doubted himself. He wanted to do the same for you. But now it's too late. He longed to see you, to reassure you that things would be alright. Hold you through the tears and pain, just as he promised you in the beginning.

As he contemplated calling you for the final time that night he figured you must have been in Australia by now. He tried to justify his hesitation in calling by saying that there was a time difference and that you must have been asleep already. He knew he was only lying to himself by saying all these reasons for not calling but he knew better; he knew you would still have been wide awake just as he was, replaying the events of the previous days.

Maybe he was scared of the rejection. Scared to find out that you would decline his call knowing that it would have been the best decision for you. Scared that hearing your voice would cause him to regret everything. To regret his decision of ending things. He had broken your heart and he knew he didn't deserve you anymore.

Don't forget, don't forget

What we shared, we shared

Oscar pondered over his lockscreen getting lost in thought. It was a photo you took together sometime ago. You had sneaked in a picture while he was talking about some silly thing that happened at practice. He knew he must have been talking nonsense but you were listening intently to him that day, the way you always did. You had a smile that brightened up your face. The smile that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Baby, stop

You're leaving for a while, it seems

He wanted to say more, call out to you, take you in his arms and apologize for everything he said and did. Hope that you would forgive him and the both of you could put it in the past. Regret clawed at his heart as his words replayed again and again in his mind. Surely it didn't have to end this way?

No, you had known him better that he knew himself. He might have brought up the idea but you solidified the decision. You told him to focus on his racing career. To devote his energy and strength to this. He didn't realize it but that was what he really wanted. As always you knew better. He couldn't have it all. You had to make him see that in order to reach his dream he would have to give it everything he had. Which meant ultimately, that he had to let you go.

Baby, stop

You know this always was your dream

'I hope for nothing but the best for you.' you said, voice unwavering.

'You know I'll always love you,' the words catching in his throat as you walked away.

You turn, regarding him with a small smile. 'I know Oscar.'

notes: hoo boy, idk why i would write a breakup fic when i adore oscar so much lol

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #op81

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captainkirkk · 10 months

Text

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC (Batfamily)

Birdwatch11 by smilebackwards

Tim hadn’t actually meant to start a popular Batwatch blog.

He hadn’t meant to start a blog at all honestly but by the time he turned eleven he’d accumulated hundreds of pictures of Batman and Robin on his Nikon DSLR and it had just seemed inefficient to go through the trouble of printing them and storing them in a box under his bed when BlogSphere had a perfectly adequate platform.

lost treasure by adelfie

"Dad, I don’t want to do this.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want. This is why we brought you here,” Jack hisses. “So we can get paid.”

Or: When a cozy night out with his parents turns into a night of captivity and torture, Tim is forced to seek protection from his worst nightmare - the Red Hood.

Hey There Demons by hitthedeck

Treating magical threats lightly is never an option, especially when that threat tears holes in realities. To combat this danger, a good hero must remain vigilant and in peak physical condition at all times.

Too bad Red Robin never got that message.

Or, in which even demons can't comprehend why Tim Drake is Like That.

Stranger Things

Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In by KiaraMGrey

When Steve finds himself alone and without friends, following his breakup with Nancy, he decides what he needs is a distraction. Maybe some new friends who don't remind him of the bullshit life he gave up. When he literally runs into Eddie Munson, school drug dealer and self proclaimed freak, an idea begins to form. Who better to show him what life outside popularity can be like, than someone who doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks?

And Eddie? Well, Eddie is just bracing for impact.

Everybody's Friend by AmethystUnarmed

"Hey Harrington,” Eddie calls, as Steve books it to the Beamer.

Steve stops, and is only the slightest bit nervous when he says, “Yeah?”

It almost makes Eddie feel bad.

Almost.

“How’s the character creation going?”

The absolute dread on Steve’s face confirms Eddie's worst fears.

“I... I'm not going to be able to play Thursday.”

God. Dammit.

~~~

Steve's budding friendship with the Hellfire Club hits a few snags and Eddie wonders if all of this was even worth it.

Clone Wars

Standards of Professionality by Trixree

"Are we going to pretend I didn’t just find you fucking your General, vod?” Rex hisses over private-comm.

Cody doesn’t even turn his head to look at him. Rex can hear the smile in Cody’s voice when he replies, “No, because I am not fucking my General, Rex’ika. I am fucking Obi-Wan. We are professionals.”

5 times Cody and Obi-Wan struggled to maintain plausible deniability regarding their affections for one another + 1 time they decidedly Did Not

Shadowhunters

prosper matrimonium by smilebackwards

"Gorgeous, sweet, community-oriented,” Magnus ticks off the positive attributes on his fingers. And he’s sure he’ll find plenty more to like about Alexander Lightwood. “I imagine suitors are beating down his door. Please tell me he’s not actually dating Lorenzo.”

Cat hesitates. “Well, if you’re really interested in Alec, you have interesting timing to say the least.”

“How do you mean?” Magnus asks.

“Alec just put his name in for the prosper matrimonium.”

Or: The disaster with the Circle swings the Clave a little more progressive. And if Magnus wants Alec’s heart, he’s going to have to compete for it

The Umbrella Academy

To Be Where You Are (So Very Far) by bobee

He'd thought he'd seen it all.

Forty-Five years in a wasteland and two weeks saving the world, only to be taken for a year by a man guided by his own self-interest. He'd seen the horrors of what this life has to offer. It's all he's ever seen.

He just hadn't known that there was one out there meant for him.

(or, Number Five, the end of the end of the world, and the start of a new one.)

On My Terms by CivilBores

"I did what you asked,” he tells her. “Now, the briefcase.”

Her eyebrows raise in mock-surprise, red lips curling up her face in a sadistic smile.

“You didn’t think that was all, did you?” she asks.

AU: The Handler gives Five a slightly different deal.

#happy wednesday everyone #weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #dc recs #stranger things recs #tua recs #sw recs #shadowhunter recs

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noowayybroo · 1 year

Text

I can't think of a name for this fic.

Hi! It's been a while!

So one of the first Resident Evil fics I read was about Leon saving you from an abusive ex! And I desperately wanted to find more of these!! But I couldn't :( So! I wanted to write one! But before doing that I thought... Leon's a sweet boy - n I heard he had an ex or something before re2?? but maybe I'm wrong?? So what If YOU, dear reader, ran into absolute sweet baby boy Leon (just the one I have in mind but play it however you want if you can) and helped him through a dodgy relationship or breakup?

Characters: Leon Kennedy, Reader

Warnings: Not NSFW. GN reader cuz YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL! WHY WOULD I EVER WANT TO EXCLUDE YOU, HUH!?!?!?! No mention of age but faint job and relationship to Leon suggestions. Hurt / Comfort. Please be careful there's gonna be an abusive / manipulative partner mentions but they will be hopefully brief n quiet and the fic will focus mostly on happy Leon at the end!!! Not really a warning but written with dumb GB money n phrases n stuff so sorry if that upsets you XD

"That'll be £5.29, Sir"

"Just 99p, please."

"You want the lucky dip?" ... "Just one?" ... "£3.99 please."

"You know I need to see your ID if you want those, right?"

Another day, another dollar. Another day in this dumb shop, working late shifts for what? For minimum wage and abuse from drunken low-lives. To put it simply, you worked at an understaffed corner-shop, and always had the late shifts, because you always had the time. Same old same old. Time passed slowly, each night felt like a repeat of the last, and all you did was stare at the clock and wait for your shift to end.

Wednesday through Sunday.

Same old?

Same old.

Soft baby-blues, yet just as able to pierce, were not what first earned your attention. Nor was it the silvery blonde hair that fell upon his face in neat locks. Surprisingly, nor was it that face: so soft, so pure... Quite cute. Sweet, maybe?

Ok, stop making assumptions. The young man who's just entered your store alone seems quite flustered, in a rush. Yet you notice how he takes time to establish eye contact with you and give a swift, polite nod, acknowledging you.

You gladly return his gesture and your chest flutters a little as you share a kind smile before he disappears into the rows of aisles. You think to yourself as you watch the man's head bob around the rows of products, no longer able to see his expression. You subconsciously attempt to look a little more presentable. The thing was, customers this late at night weren't usually so polite. They didn't give a damn about whether you were there or not, unless they were trying to steal something. Wait, what time was it again?

10:04

Oh. An hour 'till home time. Great, your feet were killing you. You're shaken from your mundane day-dream as the man strides quickly up to the counter. His hands are full of microwave meals and booze. He reaches the counter long before you're focused and ready to serve him, but waits patiently despite his rush. He hands you his ID, although you'd probably have let him go without it, pays in cash and scrambles to pick his things up again.

"You need a bag?" you ask quietly, feeling almost reluctant to disturb his rush.

"N-nah thanks I got- it's not my money I don't need it-"

"It's on me." you state, soft yet assertive, grabbing his items and shoving them into one of the more expensive carrier bags. You catch him off guard completely. He stands there, frozen, as you pick the rest of his items out of his cradling arms and bag them, before shoving them back to him all packed.

"Wh- T-thanks!" He beams, hesitant. He gives you a wide, genuine smile, nods, and leaves. Just like that, he's gone. Polite, kind customers were so rare that you couldn't blame the tornado of butterflies within your stomach. To think, also, that he was so grateful for one carrier bag, something most patrons would spit on you for not supplying free. Your gaze rests on the sliding door where you last saw him, wondering if you'd ever do so again.

10:07

Uggghhhhhhhhhh....

The next few months come and go. Summer soon becomes Autumn, the nights get longer, the air gets colder and your enthusiasm for this damn job remains absent. Something that did happen, though, was that you saw more of the cordial gentleman from that night. He seemed to have been the only nice customer that came back. That, or, there was something particularly memorable about him...

Gross. Stop it.

Always kind and polite, you loved exchanging smiles with the man as he went about his shopping. You wondered why he'd been so shy.. Or at least, you'd imagined him to be shy, thanks to his timid voice and the way he stole glances at you from above the aisles.

He lets people with fewer items jump ahead of him in line, thanks you extra graciously as he leaves, and sometimes, rarely, makes small-talk with you when it's just the two of you alone. Sometimes, he likes to ask how you are, and, if a customer or your manager has given you a hard time in any way, he hurries over once you're alone to reassure you.

"Don't listen to them, c'mon... What do they know, huh?"

"You're amazing! You're doing your best and that's more than enough!"

"Those jerks don't know how lucky they are to have you!"

On one night, you're helping him pack his bags as he's counting his change to pay you, and you can't help but notice some... markings on his skin. They look like bruises, maybe hickeys? But in strange places. There are some scratches too. Where are those from? You ponder, holding out your hands for his change without thinking. Is he... alright? ...Do those hurt?

You're snatched back to reality by the sound of the change he'd just handed you falling and clattering on the counter and floor around you.

"Shhit - Sorry-", you hiss, going to pick up the coins, but before you can move, he's already shuffled to the side of your counter and is crouching down, picking up each penny with care. He hands them back to you, a little more caring this time in case you'd drop them again. He seems concerned. This time you keep a firm grip on the coins.

"Sorry... Should have brought notes..." He apologises, sincere. "Next time, sorry." No matter how much you tried to reassure him as you counted his change, he kept apologising and cursing himself. You couldn't judge him, but you just wished he wouldn't. It was your mistake, not his. He shouldn't bully himself over your issue. You stand there in silence for a while, handing him his receipt. "Thank you, but are you okay?" he asks, tentatively.

"I'm alright... I just- Are you okay?" You can't help but whisper. You feel terrible, prying about his personal life, but you were just so curious. You were worried for him. His confusion dissolves into a pool of concern as he follows your gaze to his own hands and neck, and he quickly shies away. He looked hurt, as if your stare had wounded him, as if you'd accused him of something. More so, he looked as though you'd uncovered something he'd rather leave hidden.

He does his best to assure you, swearing up and down that he's alright. He tells you he does a lot of training for his job, which made some sense with his figure, and that sometimes things can get a little rough. You didn't completely buy it, but he was gone just as quickly as he'd come - signing off with a polite nod and a 'good night' and disappearing into the cold.

Worsening your suspicions, the next time you saw your favourite customer, he was even worse for wear. His hair was tussled and messy and his features a little more scratched up and grizzly. Worst of all, this time, that lovely smile of his just felt fake - empty. It was as though he smiled for you, to show you something that wasn't really there. You greet each other. You make small-talk. As soon as he notices that his scars are visible, he takes off.

The next time you'd seen him was midnight. You'd been instructed to close the shop early after waiting for a co-worker who'd never turned up to take the next shift. The rain splashes down around you as you grumble to yourself, fiddling with the flimsy lock on the shop's door. You'd put down the metal shutters, turned off all the lights and closed up. Your priority at this time was simply to get home. You were tired, stressed and quickly becoming soaked through. All you wanted was to get home, kick off your really-painful-right-now shoes and-

...hear loud footsteps approaching you from behind.

Running.

Running?

Running towards you?

You turn quickly, heart racing, only to be met face-to-face with a really, really desperate looking gentle-customer. He greets you, panting, exhausted.

He tells you he's confused; he thought your shop was 24/7. You explain the situation to his sympathetic ears as you both stand there, equally soggy and dripping beneath the falling rain. You stand with him in silence, letting the downpour claim you as he catches his breath (or works up his confidence.)

"Did you need something?" You help him. He's hesitant, but you know he ran for a reason. Your eyes grasp his as you stand together, looking like fools on the corner of a dimly lit street.

"It- it's... I didn't want to have to ask you but could I PLEASE buy something I really really need it I'm so sorry I'll pay you extra I'll-" You cut him off, already opening the shop back up. He needed your help and you weren't about to deny him it for any reason, not since he'd been so kind to you.

You both hurry into the shop, setting up the till whilst he gathers what he needs, and then it's time to check him out and leave. He follows you out as you lower the shutters the rest of the way and lock up once more, and you wonder to yourself as you do so why he hasn't left yet. Looking up at him from your hunched over position, you see him watching you eagerly. He seems to want to say something, probably to thank you or say goodbye, but most likely feels it might be rude or abrupt.

"Thank you... Thank you very much." his voice echoes beside you in the empty street. Vivid street lights shine down on the both of you, cool colours complimenting the cold air prickling your skin. When your eyes meet, he shoots you a soft smile. You dread a 'goodbye'. You're certain it's coming. "Listen... it's really cold out.. and the rain-"

"Yeah, I know... Is this where we say goodbye for the nigh-"

"Do you want a lift?" the man interrupts you suddenly. His voice is all too timid, but he does his best to speak up over you before you mention parting ways. He doesn't think he could hear that right now.

Not that you'd know, but something about your kindness and generosity to him was affecting him in a way it shouldn't have, considering that he was in a relationship. Swiftly, the man spots your discomfort and surprise, and quickly chimes in, "My name's Leon, by the way, Leon Kennedy-", There's a long pause, "Sorry... I thought it'd... You should know that at least... Before you even think of getting in my car-"

"Are you sure?" It was your turn to cut him off this time, call it payback.. or something. In reality, your excitement just got the better of you. You wanted to speak with him, get to know him, and this would be the perfect chance!

I mean, of course, there was stranger danger, but look at him! He's harmless! Lil' (big) guy couldn't hurt a fly! Besides, by now, you felt like you knew him, at least a little. The rain poured down, soaking through you, and you didn't live far so you were sure it wouldn't be too out of his way...

"I know it's weird and sudden, I was just wondering, you don't have to..." Come on, he had to be nervous with this amount of babbling.

"Of course I'd be very grateful, thank you." You ease him, earning a relieved and somewhat excited look from him as he quickly shows you to his car which is only a few meters away. Leon juggles his shopping whilst helping you into the front before storing what he's bought in the boot. You let him know where you live, to which he gives a happy nod and an 'ah!', and finally, you're on your way. Homebound at last.

You and Leon make great conversation on your way home. Almost like a dream. You hadn't spoken to him more than five minutes in one go before, and yet it felt like you were the closest of friends. He liked your music, he was inspired by your hobbies. Your dress sense enthralled him, and he always complimented you and piped up in disagreement whenever you put yourself down. On the short drive, he really opened up to you, and, by the time you were clambering out of his front seat, he was entirely cool and collected... and slightly attractive. You didn't read that.

As you lean through the window to give him one last thanks, you bump your head on the window frame. Tender laughs and giggles were shared, before he disappeared into the night. You stumble home and fall asleep in much a better mood than you would have been in should he not have shown up. He probably had no idea, you thought, but Leon saved your day. You'd have been moody, sore and disgruntled all over, but thanks to him, you slept easy and you dreamt happy.

You wondered how he'd be sleeping that night.

That was the last time you'd seen Mister Kennedy for quite some time. Moreover, the next time you did, he was not alone at all. Someone who you could only imagine to be his partner clung to his arm as they sauntered into the shop beside him. You weren't one to judge, especially not a book by its cover, but this new face simply exuded possessiveness. Ok, alright, he has a partner. That's not so bad-

Your heart cracks a little when Leon doesn't even look your way upon entering the shop. You imagine he always did, to check who was there, but this time he seemed to know you'd be there, and seemed un-phased. Alright, this is okay too. He can't be making eyes at me and getting all friendly with a special someone around. You watch as he's paraded around the shop by his presumed partner, who is certainly making evil eyes at you. They speak loudly at him, make him carry everything and overall just seem like bad news.

Quite frankly, it pisses you off.

Leon stays quiet as they walk around, occasionally replying to his accomplice, and even when it's time to pay, which they make him do, he doesn't look at you. Could he be ashamed, maybe? Maybe he was upset at you. Or maybe... No, did this person have an issue with him just speaking to people? That wasn't very cool at all, to put it all too lightly.

You tried not to let it affect you, you really did, but when the next few times you saw Leon that month and he had them glued to his shoulder, you felt your joy and confidence being eroded with force. Each time, you'd get no input or interaction from Leon, and his lovely, charming personality seemed to be a distant memory. From his partner, which you were now sure of, given that they'd made a point of kissing him in front of you, you received the lot. This included glares, snide comments and even a service complaint which fortunately your manager did not buy.

His silent visits left you alone with your thoughts, and it was agonising. Your mind wandered as you watched him, actively dodging glares from his partner. You didn't like the way they looked at you, a stranger, when really, what did they have to dislike about you? You didn't like the way they held him so close, pulling him in like he'd run if he had the chance. Well, would he? You didn't like how he never smiled around them. You missed that smile, so so much, but with his partner, he seemed scared to show it. Why was that?

Left to stew in your thoughts, you learned to hate a stranger pretty easily. In fact, you felt a formidable rage as you trudged home in the cold air that day. Your mind was clouded with chores and responsibilities, and everything you'd have to get done. Worst of all, you were obsessed with a stranger, and with uncovering his life, and really, you felt pathetic and stupid for being as such. You felt ready to give up, as though you had to. You felt hopeless. Whatever was happening to Leon was none of your business, and at this point, what could you do? What should you do?

You'd probably never even see him alone again, and if you tried to speak to him, what would you say? Would he listen? would he care?

But there he was, in front of you: a perfect mirage, turning onto your street, a block ahead. You can't believe your eyes, especially with the distance between you and the darkness of the night. Your legs, however, didn't doubt for a minute, and you found yourself running towards him. You did your best to silence your feet, but he still heard you, and turned to check out the noise. You slow to a sane pace before walking beside him, catching your breath. Thankfully, he seemed somewhat relieved. 'At least you weren't some armed mugger', or something, probably.

This was your chance. You were beside him now, walking, and he hadn't run, or shouted obscenities at you. And even better - he was alone. He looked rough, bags hung under his eyes and he was certainly due a shower, not that you minded at all. You knew that was (despite the cold shoulder) just as caring, considerate and kind under it all. Selfishly, really, you just wanted to see him smile. Fearing he'd be home and out of your clutches soon, you break the ice.

"Leon... I've been meaning to speak to you for a while, how are you?" You try your best to sound chirpy and bright, still trying to encourage some joy from him, but he seems tired, weary as he glances back at you.

"I've been great, thanks." He replies, but without a smile, you see straight through his lie. He wants to change the subject, to push something else. "Look, I'm really really sorry for ignoring you recently. I didn't mean to. It's just my.. You know, my special someone. A bit insecure, nothing really, just have to keep quiet with other people while they're around."

Suspicions confirmed. That was his partner and he was expected not to speak to you. His sugar-coating does not serve him at all, it merely lines your heart with lead, and you press the conversation further in an attempt to distract yourself as it sinks.

"I was... actually thinking about that lately. Look, I just think... I don't know how to say this but-"

"How are you, by the way? I'm sorry I didn't ask... I hope you didn't think me running you home was odd-", Leon cuts you off quickly. He seems to not want to speak about any of this at all. He seems to know precisely where you're going. If you didn't see the hurt in his body and hear it in his voice, you might get mad, but now all you feel is sorrow for him.

"Leon, I'm... Actually, no. I'm not alright. I need to speak to you. We're friends, right? Can you answer me some stuff? I'm just curious. Like.. Your partner... how long have you guys...?" Leon swallows thickly and drags his blown pupils from the ground to focus on you. He looks guilty, he seems reluctant. But, luckily for you, he seems to think he owes you. Furthermore, hearing you're not ok has seemed to panic him a little.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry yeah so... We've been together for a few months now. They're great honestly, love of my life, all that. Childhood sweethearts. Just got a few insecurities, having a hard time finding themselves, so if it's best if I give them my attention." He sounded so kind and attentive speaking about his partner in such a hushed whisper. Maybe what he was saying was all honest and true, but something just didn't sound right. It didn't feel good-natured. Partners can be insecure, it's alright, but stopping him from speaking to others? Meanwhile, your eyes wander, dragging your mind with them.

"And Leon, what about those marks on you? Is your partner responsible for those? Did you do-", You stop when you see Leon clench his fists. He seems uncomfortable, his hair falling into his face, hiding his flinching eyes. You've hit a nerve, and instantly you feel guilty and regret your actions. Leon starts to walk a little faster, but you feel like if you're going to get anywhere with him you can't let him escape, not this time. As you pass a bench, you gently place your hands on his arms, gripping him. The gentle giant he is, he stops quickly, and allows you to drag him down to sit with you.

"I'm not sure why it matters... But fine, if.. if we're friends we can chat like friends, right? Confidential, and stuff.." He trails off and looks away for a while, before picking up the subject again, but not to deny it, "They can just get a bit clingy. Not to worry, not their fault. Sometimes when we're doing things they just go a bit far, or you know, they make mistakes, accidents. Anger issues, sort of thing but-" Leon was about to insist that you drop it now or not tell anybody about this but you're not having it.

"Leon stop and listen to me, please. I know this is insane, but it's not right, okay??? None of this is right. None of this is correct. Have you been in a relationship before now?" Leon stares at you, his eyes wide, and the lump in his throat jumps once more as he finds himself unable to reply for a while. He's surprised by your boldness. He's amazed by how you've shifted from so calm, funny and cool to this. Now, you seem furious. He imagines you gripping the bridge of your nose and closing your eyes in disappointment if you weren't holding him in place.

His mind struggles to articulate a plan for his words and actions. Just as he's about to really panic though, a thought at the back of his head hits the nail- you're worried about him. You're worried for him. His face softens and he eases up a bit, looking concerned himself. Leon lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes, clenching his jaw and licking his top lip. And then, he moves a little to let your hands slide down his arms. He takes your hands in his and looks into your eyes.

"Thank you." He murmurs. "I understand what you're saying." Silence feels between the two of you, in which you both wonder what the other is thinking. And then, he answers your question. "They're my first. I haven't had anybody before." He sounds shy, almost stammering. Something within him seems ashamed. Does he think it's emasculating to have had few partners at his age? Or is he embarrassed at letting this happen to him? You recognise his struggle, and grip his hands reassuringly. You want him to feel safe. You want him to be happy.

"I get it, Leon. But please, listen to me when I tell you, It's not like that in the real world, alright?" you notice his gaze drift a little so you lean in to recapture his attention. "The person you love doesn't hit you. They don't berate you or put you down. They love you just as much as you love them. They look after you, and they want you to be happy. And they understand that you have social needs and things, and they let you fulfil them. Do you understand me?" Your voice is sweet yet firm. You don't intend to let him go without drilling this mindset into him. At least, you're going to give it your best shot.

You've called him out. You've summed him up. Not only is he fragile but he's exposed. Leon feels feeble, pathetic. He feels as though not only is he weak and unable to help himself, but as though he just exudes this image of himself. He's barely spoken to you, and now you know just how pitiful he is. He felt disgusting.

Meanwhile, you babble on as he stares straight past you, lost in a replay of the last few months of his life. He thought about the comments they'd made to him over time, the things they'd done and said, the things they'd asked or demanded of him. He thought about the horrible things they made him feel about himself.

And then he thought about you.

A stranger on a park bench, late at night, holding his hands and reassuring him. Trying to get him to see just how much he was missing out on. Not only that but you chatted away before him, and he wondered if it was the faint semblance of vanity he had left within him, or if you actually cared. He felt right, holding your hand. He felt safe and he felt respected. He zones back in, staring into your eyes as you finish your rant.

"I do understand, yes." he replies, voice low and thick. "Thank you for everything."

"I have something else to say."

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"I haven't known you long, Leon. But you seem like a really, really good guy. You don't deserve to be roughed around by anyone. You don't deserve to be insulted, or belittled. I don't know your living situation. No idea who pays the bills, but Leon. There's people out there who'd love the hell outta you and never place a finger on you unless you wanted them to, and even then it'd be because they love you, you hear?" Leon nods slowly, obediently as you speak, soaking in your words like a sponge.

"I never asked you for your name..." He rasps, once again, his mind seems to have drifted somewhat, but you understand. It's a horrible, touchy subject, and you're lucky he's put up with staying with you here in the dark. He could have up and left ages ago, you couldn't blame his brain for trying to avoid something so horrible. You sigh, how could you resist him? Reluctantly you give him your name, and earn your first smile from him in what seems to be an eternity. He squeezes your hands softly and shifts a little before looking at you very closely.

"Y/N. Please tell me. Do you think I should leave them?"

Jesus Christ. How do you answer that one?

"I know you just want my opinion, and that you might not do what I say, and that's perfectly fine," you say quietly, moving one hand to grip his shoulder supportively. You'd love to cup his face but that's far too tender. Far too intimate. "But, if they hurt you. if they upset you. If you feel used or disrespected or unloved, they are not for you. You've got tons of time left and you will find someone who loves you, if that's what you're looking for. Nothing this lowlife has taken from you or done to you can get in the way of that, alright?" You chuckle nervously as such a harsh set of words leaves you, but you go quiet when you see Leon's lips twitch.

He seems to be trying to smile, or to fight one back, you're not sure. His eyes appear watery, and his face sunken. He looks like he needs to rest. Then, he looks at you, you can tell he's about to change the subject.

"Thank you, wait. I want to do something before I forget. Could I please have your number, is that alright?"

"What for? Are you sure it's okay?" Leon freezes for a while, staring forward just as he's shuffling through his pockets to find his phone. It's not until the cold air hits your hand that you realise just how lovely his touch was. Leon looks back at you with feigned yet ignited bravery as he unlocks and begins to navigate his phone.

"I'm not going to let them stop me speaking to people anymore." You beam, wide and genuine, so glad to hear those words. For once, he's declaring his strength. He's fighting back. Leon can't help but join your smile as his eyes twinkle beneath the street lamps above. On the verge of tears, he smiles widely back at you. You exchange numbers gladly, and he calls you there and then just to make sure, as if afraid you're lying.

He makes his way home via yours, walking and talking with you and seeing you to your door. Such a gentleman, you think, even though he isn't yours. And to think his 'reward' is what it is. It horrifies you.

The tension is thick as you stand at your door, both swaying slightly as you stand together, exhausted. You conclude your conversation about work, everyday life, hobbies and things, and Leon watches you for a while, flinching a little as he thinks.

Unexpectedly, he pulls you in for a gentle hug. Nothing intimate, nothing over the top. In fact, he seemed almost scared to do it.

"Thank you. You've been so good to me." He whispers as he pulls away. You reassure him it was the least you could do, and jokingly bump him on the shoulder, spewing out something along the lines of 'you better make good on what I said' in the process. He flashes you another smile before watching you head indoors and returning home himself.

You hadn't heard from Leon in an entire week until a familiar pair of eyes creased and smiled at you from the entrance to your shop. That bell had never sounded better, orchestrating his presence. Your friend smiles at you and goes about his shopping, and, ringing him up, you can't help but notice the lack of his usual shopping habits before you. There was no cheap cider, there was no wine. There certainly weren't any ready-meals, just fresh foods, and an expensive whiskey.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he quickly smirks at you, seeming proud of himself.

"I like to cook. And besides, I thought I'd celebrate." You knew exactly what that meant. He was providing for himself now, living how he wanted to. He must have finally spread his wings and escaped. You can't help but beam, entirely in awe. You want to be certain though, as you look at his refreshed face. He seems to have had a burden and a half lifted from him.

"Does this mean what I think it does, Leon?"

"It certainly does." He chuckles before leaning in and giving you a mock-serious tone, "And you better have been right about those tonnes of people being after me... I'll be waiting for them." He sounds confident, he sounds mischievous and playful. He sounds like a new man, but with that same inner sweetness. He pays for his things, and gives you extra for that bag from months ago. Watching him leave, you made a mental note: That memory was just one more on the list of 'sharp' things that made up Leon Kennedy.

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HI I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKED THIS!!! IT WAS REALLY HARD TO WRITE CUZ IT WAS SUPER EMOTIONAL AND THINGS BUT I SO SO HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT OR IT HELPED YOU IN SOME WAY. I really felt quite deep writing this (to put it lightly) and I hope the story can mean as much to you, especially those of you from America etc who have to put up with my weird spellings and mannerisms. Anyway, I hope this is alright for you, and thanks a billion for all of your support, ever!!!

I'm sorry if this one hit a nerve or two, I really hope nobody was upset or offended.

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #re leon #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #hurt/comfort #re4 leon #leon s kennedy #re2 leon

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