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lostfracturess · 14 days

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symptoms and causes | ch. 11

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.

And there lies the damn problem.

I don't know how.

Never have.

Why am I thinking this now?

I knew this was right.

Right for her.

But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?

Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.

I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.

It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.

Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first.

I hope he gives her space.

But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how.

Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.

It shouldn't be him.

Sorry.

It shouldn't have been him.

Past tense.

It all might be past tense now.

And the thought is more than I could bear.

Shattered.

Was that the word?

Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?

How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?

Words are meaningless in the end.

Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.

So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word.

The wrong word.

The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.

But time doesn't care.

It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made.

My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.

I didn't want to breathe anymore.

Not in a world where every breath ached without her.

"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled.

Irrelevant.

My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill.

His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.

So, I lied.

Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.

Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.

Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen.

This was my punishment.

I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.

The door clicked shut behind them.

That simple sound, final, absolute.

My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want.

My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.

The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.

"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"

I nodded.

They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.

How stupid.

Of course, I favored her.

How could I not?

She is everything.

Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.

She was everything.

Did I regret it?

Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?

Yeah, maybe.

A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.

My responses were rote, mechanical.

Yeah, I favored her.

Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.

Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age.

No, she didn't know I'd set it up.

No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.

And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.

Except maybe — maybe loving me.

After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies.

They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.

Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.

Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.

Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build.

Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.

I didn't feel anymore.

I was done.

─── ·✧· ───

I burst out of the courtroom.

I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.

That itch.

It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.

My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.

Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.

The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating.

My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.

They didn't matter. None of it mattered.

A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall.

My blood roared in my ears.

Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.

Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.

In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.

It was a stranger.

I was across the room before I even registered the decision.

The drawer.

My fingers ripped it open.

There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.

Don't —

Don't come at me now.

Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?

My hand reached, then hesitated.

The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.

The door creaked open.

And there he was. Sukuna.

He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.

Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.

I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.

"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."

"Funny to you?"

He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He was right.

In his twisted way, he was.

And that's what made it all so much worse.

My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.

Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."

His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard.

Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?

"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."

My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."

This was his game.

Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain.

He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.

"Perhaps. But ain't I right? You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."

I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.

"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."

"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair. It had taken everything in me to push her away.

But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me.

See her drown.

"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."

"Stop giving me reasons to punch you." Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"

"What?" he scoffed.

I lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."

"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."

He was right, and I hated that more than anything.

Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."

I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"

I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.

Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."

"Yeah, real supportive of you."

"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut the hell up."

"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."

"You expect a thank you?"

"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."

He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."

"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?"

Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."

Of course.

The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.

It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."

I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.

He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."

My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."

He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."

"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."

"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."

With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.

The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.

─── ·✧· ───

Cruel.

Cruel how one little pill can undo everything.

Cruel how one little pill can silence everything.

Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.

Unfair.

It's truly unfair.

The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.

Finally.

Oh, finally some fucking silence.

I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.

But for now, it'll have to be enough.

I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.

What a hypocrite I am really.

Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat.

The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.

So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

It really came down to me failing again, huh?

What was it now?

Attempt number five?

Six?

I started losing count.

Maybe this was my fate.

A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.

Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder.

She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.

God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.

I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I watched my hand for a second.

Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood.

I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.

Traitor.

This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.

Weak.

Broken.

A pathetic mess.

Was that it?

Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time?

Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?

My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table.

Took too many, didn't I?

I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.

Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.

Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.

I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.

I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.

Too many.

Way too many.

How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

Darkness swam at the edges of my vision. Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet.

I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

This wasn't me anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall.

The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.

I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.

My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course.

Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.

How pathetic.

Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.

Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.

Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.

My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.

Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—

I knew that voice — would always recognize it.

Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.

Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.

But my eyes betrayed me.

She must be so beautiful. She always was.

Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?

Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.

Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.

The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.

Groaning, I shifted on the floor.

My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity.

The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg.

Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut.

I reached for the syringe and read the label.

Adrenaline.

Smart girl.

But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?

I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers.

She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.

Terror.

There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.

She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.

The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse.

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.

She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.

How I hated her silence.

Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.

Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."

Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"

She didn't say anything.

It probably was on purpose.

My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"I asked first."

"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.

"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."

"Stole it from the hospital."

"What?"

"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"

My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.

"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"

Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

My smile faded.

Silence.

Oh, that cruel silence again.

She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.

Ironic, wasn't it?

How much power this woman had over me.

Yet it was me who destroyed her.

She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"

Huh?

Why would she ask that?

Didn't she see that it's over?

That I'm too far gone?

It was unbearable.

It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't.

Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.

I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."

"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.

Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within.

I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.

I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.

But I couldn't.

Because I was the problem. I was the poison.

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."

"I know."

"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.

"I know, love."

My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this.

She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.

Because I was selfish.

Knew how it would end.

And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated.

"It's for the best, believe me—"

"No," she cut me off. "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."

She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."

What?

The words turned my blood to ice.

After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.

My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full.

She loved me, she said it.

She loves me.

And I love her.

God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.

I've never once loved in my entire life.

Not until her.

Not until she changed me completely.

What is that, anyway? Love?

How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me?

How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.

Because how could I ever live without it.

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

How to live.

How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

With her.

For her.

Because she is the air that fills my lungs.

The pulse that keeps me alive.

And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before?

Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little.

Nothing.

I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.

Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves?

Because she does.

She deserves everything.

She is everything.

Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.

Still—

How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life?

It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.

Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me.

Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.

More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips.

I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for.

Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.

"I spare you," I rasped.

"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."

"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."

"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.

And in that moment, I finally realized.

It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.

Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.

My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.

Her love terrified me.

"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better."

"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."

Oh, love, that's not true.

You are my better. I'm your worst.

I wanted to say that, should've said that.

But I remained silent, unable to say anything.

"Say something, Satoru."

I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.

"Say something, damn it!"

"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.

"Is that what you hope for?"

"I have to."

She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.

She knew. She always knew.

Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it."

She watched me. Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger.

Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.

Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.

When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this.

I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.

But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.

Because I'm selfish.

I do love her. Gods, how I love her.

But my fear was stronger.

And I was too damn weak to fight it.

─── ·✧· ───

Four weeks.

Was it four weeks?

I can't remember.

Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore.

It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.

Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.

Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.

So I was barely sober.

My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.

But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that.

It was a sick, relentless cycle.

The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.

It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.

Her name, though, cut through the haze.

There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse.

I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.

So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next.

Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.

─── ·✧· ───

I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.

My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.

Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment.

Yet, muscle memory took over.

I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half.

She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.

The usual chatter died down when I walked in. Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting.

Once, perhaps, it was.

Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right?

Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.

With a sigh, I turned towards the class.

And there she was.

My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Second-year lecture.

How the hell could I forget that?

She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.

My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her.

Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her.

But I knew it was wrong.

Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.

Still, she didn't flinch.

Endured it like she has always endured everything.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."

My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.

It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her.

Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.

Should've expected that.

Shouldn't make me angry, right?

Still did.

Finally, thank god, the bell rang.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.

She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."

Silence.

Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.

Now, it was done.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.

"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face.

They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.

Silence again.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.

Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."

I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.

"Didn't you get suspended?"

"They postponed it."

She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.

"How are you?"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—"

She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.

She didn't need to voice it.

My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.

I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know.

I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat.

Pointless now, anyway.

Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.

She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment.

I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.

"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."

"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"

Each word was acid on an open wound.

I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"

I tried to speak, but she cut me off. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"

Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out.

Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.

It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out.

It was the look of someone who loved me.

"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.

My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.

The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me.

I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."

Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep.

"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."

Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency.

"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."

"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."

She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."

Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.

And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.

Not from hers.

"Shut up," I growled.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."

Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself.

Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."

Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.

Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.

I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.

Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks.

I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.

Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty.

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.

My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.

"Don't push me."

"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."

"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."

Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it.

But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.

"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."

"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."

The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.

My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling.

Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.

Then, the auditorium door creaked open.

Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.

Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.

After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"For what, love?"

"For it to get easier."

I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.

"You said it would get easier," she added.

It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.

"I don't know if it ever will."

Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.

In distance.

Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I watched her go.

Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.

I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.

Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder.

"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.

"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"

I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.

"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."

"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."

Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence.

"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."

"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."

Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."

"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."

"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

He sighed. "You're the absolute worst patient ever."

"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out." I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.

"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"

I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"

"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."

Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages. "You want me to do it? Is there something special about this patient?"

"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."

Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows. "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."

Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk.

I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag. "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.

Without another word, I left the auditorium.

─── ·✧· ───

My eyes snapped open.

I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest.

For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.

Damn nightmares.

Another night of that shit.

I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.

My fault.

Always my fault.

I couldn't breathe right.

Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.

I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I'd hurt her.

I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.

Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—

I hated myself.

Hated the way I ruined everything.

Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good.

It was like a damn curse.

Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.

Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?

How could that possibly be wrong?

Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?

Perhaps.

Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it?

It was over.

I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin.

The silence was unbearable.

I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.

That bitch.

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.

Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?

I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill.

Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.

I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.

The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank.

No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination.

Just moving, pushing, escaping.

Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but — manageable.

I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed.

Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.

Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side.

I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.

I knew why the name was so familiar.

I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."

Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it.

But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it?

Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.

Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.

Still, a smile tugged at my lips.

Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.

I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.

Ah, fuck it.

Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.

I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable.

I couldn't stop.

The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?

Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.

A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched.

In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.

A heavy exhale escaped my lips.

She was there.

Here.

On this same cursed world with me.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.

She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.

My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun.

In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.

But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.

She was staring down — right at me.

Shit.

I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.

"You're bleeding."

I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.

"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."

I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion.

"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.

Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.

─── ·✧· ───

I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it."

Yeah. Now she remembered.

With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.

My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.

Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh?

Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything.

Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.

With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.

Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.

"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"

Huh?

I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.

"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."

"What dose?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.

"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."

She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned.

I really needed a pill now.

She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"

I knew it.

I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."

I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head.

I needed two pills now.

"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"

"I'm not high—"

"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."

Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.

"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."

She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."

Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.

"You're right. And I'm sorry—"

"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."

How little you matter?

Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.

A harsh laugh escaped me.

"You find this funny?"

"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."

Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.

"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."

She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.

Because even her anger was better than her indifference.

I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.

Might as well make her hate me.

"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut.

Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.

Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.

I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.

"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.

"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.

Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.

"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"

Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.

"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."

"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."

Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.

"More."

Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"

"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."

In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."

Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin. I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.

"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."

"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."

"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"

Okay, now it gets personal.

"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"

Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.

"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"

She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line.

"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."

"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"

"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"

"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."

"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."

"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"

Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips.

My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.

"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."

"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"

Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second.

My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.

How treacherous a body can be, huh?

"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward.

She's so damn beautiful.

I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."

Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.

I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She felt incredible.

Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole.

I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.

With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.

This woman owned me — plain and simple.

It was madness, this pull towards her.

Insane, perhaps.

But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.

Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.

"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.

Weren't together anymore after all.

Kissing would be too much.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

I loved that look on her face.

I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.

I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.

Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"

I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin.

With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body.

She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—"

She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.

Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.

She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.

"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."

"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips.

Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine.

Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.

We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle.

"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."

"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.

This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.

It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.

"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."

Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.

"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."

Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.

She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release.

My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips.

My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."

"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

"You're the only addict here."

"Liar," I rasped.

Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.

But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.

I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.

I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.

"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."

Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.

"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.

Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.

She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm.

I couldn't wait to be inside her again.

She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."

Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.

"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."

Oh, love. I know you like that.

I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm.

"More," she begged.

I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.

I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit.

However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.

She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath.

I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.

Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance.

I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.

She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."

I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her.

"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."

With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.

I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.

As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"

Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.

I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.

Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.

Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.

I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release.

Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.

With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me.

I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.

I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.

I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight.

Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.

Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She shifted to face me, her expression serious. "Promise me something."

"Anything you want, love."

"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."

I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.

The words heavy with a lie we both knew.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.

i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are.

also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.

also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.

so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡

okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #saturo gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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the-whispers-of-death · 2 months

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Home Again

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Most gods would be happy that they were back in the paradise realm after previously being banished and stripped of their divinity, but Fallen God!Ghost aches for you.

His nights are spent dreaming about you, the mortal who showed him what love was. He dreamt of sleeping beside you, kissing you, even cooking with you. He dreamt of your beautiful hair, your breathtaking eyes, your jaw-dropping smile. His dreams were filled with memories of your laughter, your smooth and lyrical voice.

Paradise realm is a paradise, sure, but nothing could compare to you. Your beauty outshines the paradise realm's, your presence calms Ghost in a way the paradise realm can never. The air was always lighter when he was around you, the colors of the world always brighter. You are his light, his world, and everything is dull without you.

He spends week after week searching for how to get back to the mortal realm and back to you. His power is potent, he can just teleport himself down to the mortal realm to see you but that doesn't seem like a satisfying answer to him.

Ghost would eventually have to leave you and go back to the paradise realm, forced to be able to only visit you from time to time. He didn't want that, he can't bear the thought of leaving you. Of sleeping in his own bed, alone.

He also couldn't make you a concubine of his, bring you to the paradise realm. It didn't feel right for him to ask you to leave everything you knew behind just so you could spend hours alone in his temple while he worked. You deserve better than that.

So what else was there to do?

It takes Ghost a few days to realize what he must do. What he has to do in order to see you again.

He is standing in God!Price's temple, all of the deities summoned there for the monthly update of what the pantheon has been doing since they last convened. He can barely hear what the others are saying, it being meaningless as his mind finally reaches an answer to his burning question.

"I'm stripping myself of my godhood and powers, permanently," Ghost says, interrupting the conversation.

The entire temple is silenced at once, everyone turning their heads to stare at Ghost in disbelief.

A god deliberating turning himself mortal? That was unheard of. It was absurd to even those deities who loved the mortals so much.

Price frowns, clearly thinking Ghost has gone mad. "Now, Ghost, let's think about this," he says, his words slow and carefully curated. "You can't just abandon your godly duties, you're the God of Warfare. If there's one thing that the mortals do the most, it's engaging in war."

Ghost scoffs. "My duties can easily be done by our Goddess of War," he replies, gesturing with his hand towards said goddess. "I no longer want to be a god."

His words ignite a flurry of murmurs between the other deities, all of them shocked beyond disbelief. They don't understand why he wouldn't want to be a god, especially after centuries of hearing him look down on mortals.

"Is this because of the mortal you met during your banishment, {Name}?" Price asks, peeved now. "I hadn't thrown you down to them for you to fall in love with them, Ghost."

"No, you did it so I could learn the importance of mortals and I have," Ghost cuts in, his power flaring up as his anger spikes. This isn't up for debate. "I'm doing this no matter what any of you say, I was doing a courteous thing by giving you all a heads-up."

Price shifts in the seat of his throne, itching to get up and slap some sense into Ghost. "Enough of this, Ghost. You don't even know if they will take you if you're not a god. Perhaps that was the only reason they fell in love with you in the first place."

Ghost snarls in rage at the accusation and assassination of your character. "Even if that's the case, which I doubt it is, it is my choice. I'd rather spend the rest of my mortal life heartbroken if they turn me away than spend eternity aching for them," he says defiantly.

Immense power fills the temple, all of it Ghost's as he pools it all in his veins. Stripping himself of his godhood and powers is excruciating, the pain almost enough to stop him, but he keeps pressing on with the action.

It was worth it, for you.

"Someone stop him!" Price bellows at the other deities, but it's too late.

Just as God!Soap reaches for Ghost to try and stop him, Ghost's godhood and powers are stripped from him, his last act of being a god is to send his mortal form where it needs to be: at your doorstep.

His second fall seems euphoric, a laugh bubbling up in his chest as he falls through the clouds and lands on your front porch just like he had done months ago.

He looks to the side just as you open your front door, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of you. The weight on his chest is lifted, everything falling into place once more.

"Ghost?" You ask, surprised. You had thought you would never see him again. "Did... Did you get your godhood taken away again?"

Ghost stands with your help, his skin thrumming at the sensation of your hands on him again. "I took it away myself," he murmurs, breathless as he stares in your beautiful eyes.

Your face twists into confusion, which makes sense since he had been itching to be a god again the first time he fell. "Why?"

"For you, love. I couldn't bear to live eternity without you," Ghost says, secretly nervous that you won't take him now that he's not a god. "I love you, {Name}."

"I love you too," you reply, making him relax. You step closer, happy that this isn't a dream. "I don't care that you're not a god anymore, I only ever wanted you."

"You will always have me, for as long as you will have me."

Ghost steps closer as well, reaching up to gently cradle your face between his hands. He can't wait for you to lean in as well, though you do so as he gently presses his lips against yours.

The kiss can only be described as heavenly, all of the noises of city life fading away until there was only the sound of you two kissing. It's so gentle and slow, Ghost savoring what it's like to kiss you. He pours every ounce of love into the kiss, needing you to be filled with his love.

It feels like you are kissing for hours before you both pull away for air. Your soft pants fill the air between you two, you smiling at him.

"Come on," you say, gently grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together. "Let's go inside and have dinner together."

Ghost nods and follows you inside the house that truly feels like home now. He lets you lead him into the kitchen, not even complaining about having to cook with you.

He had been a fallen god when he had first met you but now, he was neither fallen nor a god. He was just Ghost. A man you loved.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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rizsu · 11 months

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“later,” he said—no, he promised. later he promised to apologize. later he promised it'll be alright. later gojo promised to talk it out yet again meaningless promises are meant to be broken. like a jigsaw puzzle piece to its board, they fit in well. no one cares about promises that were spat out to ease the fuel, is what he thinks. at the end of the day, if it's not important it'll end up passing like a leaf floating through the wind. to bother and not be bothered: the rules by which gojo carries on his life.

he bothers with the quests that are deemed important and alarming to him. if such fails to pass this, they will be discarded—much like the “argument” that took place last night. he doesn't recall anything that happened. other than meeting heads with the couch, there really isn't any details from the prior night that sticks out to him.

much to his disappointment, there's the prickling feeling that he did something wrong and has yet to make ends meet for it. did i fuck up somewhere? he wonders. a pout and furrowed eyebrows welcome themselves as he takes his precious time trying to figure out what or who he wronged.

he's yet to find the answer. not bothering with it any longer, he pops two painkillers dry and makes his way to your shared bedroom, unaware of you who's been in a horrible mood ever since. scratching the back of his head, he walks around confused. in his front view is you, who looks stressed even though you're asleep. the dried trails of tears deepen his confusion. just how hungover was i? he questions, oblivious to the blunt fact that it's him who caused it all.

“hey,” gojo whispers, softly shaking your body to jerk you awake. it doesn't work, so he continues until you're conscious. as soon as he sees movement from you, he stops, placing his hand stationary on your hip. watching you twist and turn, he's caught by surprise when you flick his hand away. are you mad? upset? sick? he has no knowledge of what or why you're like this.

“baby? did i do something? what's wrong?” throwing questions at you, his face contorts into confusion and worry. what's going on with you? why won't you communicate? he has many questions that only fuel your anger. does he really not remember? was it truly just like a fly buzzing around his food? is he really that self-centered? no—you know he's not but was your so called “argument” that useless to him? unbelievable.

you try your best to ignore him, really, but his bothersome behavior will either make him see his deity or see the life of being single once again. your tolerance level lowers each time you hear his voice. at this moment, you truly dislike this man. whoever wants to call you sensitive can kiss your ass. you rightfully have every right to seethe with dislike towards gojo.

“can you STOP?!” emerging from under the covers, you look at gojo. oh, how sweet he looks. so sweet yet so rotten.

taken back, gojo raises his hands in defense. if you don't at least hint to him what happened, he's going to go insane.

“what demon possessed you today?” “fuck you.”

you give no more than two words and a middle finger to him. you're too salty at the truth—the truth of him not remembering anything. not even what happened moments before he fell asleep. you're kind of sad, honestly. you love him a lot and it does hurt.

“do you not recall..?” it's your turn to question him. with the softest voice possible, you look at him, eyes wavering to observe his reaction. you hope he at least lies. the truth hurts and you're definitely not in the mood to accept it.

“... recall what?”

oh, alright. you knew he was drunk, but not that drunk. can't blame him but that's exactly what you're going to do. he just cannot act so innocently. he can't. who does that?! not anyone with a sense shame, that's for sure—but who is gojo satoru to feel such tiny things?

sighing, you turn your back to him, making sure to cover your entire body with the duvet. the longer you acknowledge him, the faster your violent tendecies will take over. although you're disturbed, you still have to speak to him, it's a habit, unfortunately, “do not bother me, gojo.”

offended and shocked being his two most dominant emotions today, he raises an eyebrow, ready to drop another question as if it's a pop-up quiz, “what do you mean by that?”

—

minutes and hours pass by and gojo's still hosting that offended expression. really, it's the only emotion he's been feeling ever since he graced the house with his presence. today might just be the day he buries himself in search for eternal rest. when it comes to others' problems, he will be there as if he's a superhero, but his? oh, his new name might just be master deflector three thousand. gojo has a complex—it's not a god complex, rather, it's a how-do-i-face-my-emotional-demons complex. he masks everything with a joke and confidence but never permit that to steer you away from who he truly is. not a god, just gojo satoru.

gojo's alone now, sinking into his thoughts as he remembers how you left earlier. another argument occurred and just like last night, he mirrored his actions—though completely unknown to him, you clearly remember it all. the same nonchalant way he waved you off, the way he oozed of attitude as he rolled his eyes, the same way his voice dominated when he finally reaches his limit.

sipping on his glass, he pokes his inner cheek with his tongue, salty at the scene replaying in his mind. unable to contain your violent tendecies, your eyes took over as tears overflowed from the rims. you didn't shout, didn't hit, didn't throw anything—just took a deep breathe in and walked away with a sour smile.

gojo's eyes trailed your figure, watching your figure disappear without care. like always, he believes it'll be alright. he's sure that all you need is space and you'll come back. gojo believes in a simple apology being the bandaid to the injury, which is why his eyes bulged when you came into view with a bag or two.

gojo's body immediately dashed to yours from his position almost leaving a cartoonish dust trail behind him. his hand grips against yours, pulling your body closer to his. clenching his jaw, he questions—no, demands, “where are you going?”

a stuttering breath escapes from you, too exhausted to have anything else to say, you give him an acceptable answer, “away from you, obviously.”

his grip tightens, the same feeling from the moment he woke up swirls arounds. his stomach feels like a bottomless pit, the sick feeling just never ends. annoyed at your constant deflecting, the tone of his voice changes but he never raises the volume.

“fucking stop it and tell me.”

no response. he doesn't get the response he wants, but he does receive you wriggling your arm out from his grip. holding your arm to your chest, it stings as his fingerprints disappear within a blink. gojo hates it. he hates the look of disgust in your eyes. he despises what's happening. he despises that something happened before all this and he can't, for the love of him, remember anything.

uncomfortable silence dominates. you're avoiding every attempt of eye contact and gojo's eyes scan your features. she's uncomfortable, he thinks. his heart may as well shatter into separated atoms. his eyes dull in color, slowly backing away from you as he turns his back to you again. dumping his body on the couch, he rests his head on his palm, waving you off with simple words, “go if you want, leave as you wish. i'm done.”

oh okay, a bitter taste envelops your cells, he's done. loosely holding your bags, you drag your feet to the door, looking back at him for one more, one more chance to confirm if you should leave or not. his slumped figure gives you all the confirmation you need. with that, you leave. taking two steps out, you speak with a low voice, praying that he'll hear it.

“bye-bye, satoru.”

gojo raises two fingers, showing you that he heard you well. waiting for the door to click, he leans his head back on the couch, finally allowing himself to succumb to his feelings. every negative emotion and its synonym engulfs him, feeding off of his body and draining him clean of any optimism. is it over? he doesn't know. he hopes it's not. never did he ever want to let you slip through that door but what could he have done? it was more than evident that you were uncomfortable with him. he just can't be selfish and keep you.

maybe he's malfunctioning but there's very much little beads of tears forming in his eyes. it's been a rather long day so why not let it out? comforting in the feeling of the liquid sliding down the sides of his face, he forces back any vocal sound of his cries. he'll rather sink into silence than to do anything else.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#my booboo bear thats now a mass murderer like his bestie or wtv #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #jjk angst

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moon-rivr · 8 months

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friends with benefits part 2

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

warnings: a bit of miguel being a stalker, angst (?), oral (f receiving), missionary, mating press, cowgirl, overall smut

author’s note: oh em gee, thank you for all the support on part one <33. i hope you enjoy this part and sorry for getting carried away LOL

word count: 3073 🫣 part one here

It had been two months since Miguel had ended the arrangement with you and had regretted the decision ever since the words came out of his mouth that he didn't want to see you again. Truth was, he missed the way your scent lingered on his bedsheets for a couple days after you came over or the way your eyes lit up when he engaged in a bit of conversation with you before he fucked the shit out of you. But he couldn't bring himself to come to terms with it, much less admit it to you. Regardless, he still found a way back to you, creeping up on the rooftop opposite of your apartment building and just watching you. He knew it wasn't right to feel possessive over you, but he would rather have you be crying over him than smile at someone else.

However, what Miguel didn't know, is that you were faking your excitement with your friend, trying to motivate yourself into going out again and dating. Your friend had been there when you arrived at her place two months at four in the morning, babbling and crying about how Miguel ended things with you, constantly reminding you that you were a bad bitch and that you deserved better than only being wanted after midnight. You were mostly doing this to make yourself feel better, growing tired of being melancholy all the time, rather than actually having interest in the guy you were going out with. You knew it was wrong to use someone else to heal the pain someone else left, but meaningless sex and dates was the only thing that could help soothe the ache you felt from Miguel's absence.

Miguel locked himself in his office in HQ, throwing computer monitors and slamming them against walls in frustration. He eventually calmed down a couple minutes afterwards, deciding to pull up his file with Gabriella up as he stared at the pictures, the laughter from his 'daughter' filling up his ears. he couldn't help but think about you, what it would've like to introduce you to Gabriella. He knew you two would've gotten along, both of you reminded him of a ray of sunshine on a snowy, cold day, providing him the warmth and light that he needed in his life. It was with those thoughts that he sat down at one of his office chairs, grabbing a bottle of Don Julio that he kept around the office for when he wanted to mourn in his sorrows. He played "Nadie es Eterno" by Dario Gomez, warm tears rolling down his cheeks as he drank the tequila straight from the bottle.

Jessica Drew walked into the office, her eyes slightly narrowed as she looked around for Miguel. She saw the tall man slouched on his desk, mouth slightly parted as he snored and gripped a half empty bottle of tequila in his hand, gently tapping on his shoulder. Miguel stirred awake, letting go of the bottle of tequila as he rubbed his eyes, getting adjusted to the light in the room. "I brought you an empanada," she said, placing the plastic box on his desk as she sits down on the office chair next to him. "If you're here to psychoanalyze me, I don't want to hear it," Miguel muttered, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol and from the crying. "I just want to know why you're drinking on the job again, Miguel," Jessica replied, keeping her voice light and gentle when speaking to him as she placed her arm on his shoulder. Miguel debated on telling her everything that had happened with you, deciding that he should so he could get some insight on what to do from here.

"So, you stopped the sleeping arrangement you had with her because you started developing feelings?" Jessica asked, basically summarizing what he had said as he nodded, placing his head in his hand, realizing how stupid it sounded when she said it like that. "You're one of the smartest people I know, but even you have to realize how stupid that sounds, Miguel," she said, mirroring what he was now repeating in his brain. "Look, I get that losing Gabriella traumatized you, and it's hard dealing with that type of loss, but it's also not an excuse to close yourself off on love. Think of all that you're missing, and yes, some people don't last very long but sometimes their presence in your life is worth it," she added, rubbing his shoulder and grabbing the tequila before walking away. Miguel let out a small sigh as he rubbed his eyes, knowing that Jessica was right.

A few days had passed by, and it was finally time for you to go on a date with the coffee shop guy. You let out a small sigh as you looked out the window, letting your mind drift off before you had to go get ready. You changed from your normal moping sweatpants into a pretty pink sundress and white flats, already starting to feel a bit better. You sat at your vanity, starting to do your makeup when you heard a knock on your front door. You knew your date wouldn't be due for a couple more hours, so you were confused as to who was at your door right now. You opened the door, surprised by the man who was standing in front of you.

Miguel looked at you as you opened the door, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, your favorite, to be specific. You were about to close the door, your eyes starting to sting from the tears you were holding back when Miguel placed his foot on the door. "Look, you don't have to forgive me but at least just hear me out, please," he spoke up after a couple seconds of silence, the desperation in his voice evident. You decided to open the door, at least for the sake of closure, and stepped back to let him inside. You sat down on the couch opposite from him, facing him with your arms folded as you waited for him to speak.

He looked over at you, taking in how painstakingly gorgeous you looked for someone else, before clearing his throat. "So, I was an asshole," he started, watching as you nodded your head in agreement. "I regret the fact that I made you cry. Look the truth is, I ended the arrangement between the two of us because I was starting to fall in love with you, found myself wanting more time with you than just having you in my bed, and that scared the shit out of me. I pushed you away because I was afraid of losing you like I lost Gabriella," he added in after, letting his head drop as he waited for you to say something, say anything. "I understand that it's hard to love again after that, but you threw me away like I was a used toy you got tired of playing with. Just give me some time to think about all this and I'll get back to you," you promised, watching as he got up, wrapping his arms around you and leaving the flowers on the coffee table before he left.

Despite the fact that Miguel had come over to your place and you were ready to forgive him on the spot, you still decided to go out with the guy at the coffee shop. You wanted to prove something to yourself, that you were fine without Miguel. But the truth was you really weren't. You kept comparing this guy to Miguel: how much smaller he was in comparison, the way he talked, and even the way he dressed. You gave yourself a chance to pretend to be interested in what this guy was saying, but while he was going on about business mergers and stocks, you found yourself daydreaming about being with Miguel once more.

"Thank you for the coffee, this was a lovely date but I think we would be better off as friends," you offered with a polite smile, extending your hand out to Lucas, the guy you were going out with. "I would like that, thanks for joining me for this," he said, returning the smile and shaking your hand. You left the coffee shop a while later, taking the scenic view home as you walked down the street of Nueva York, seeing the small snowflakes start to fall. You glanced over at Central Park, seeing couple after couple snuggled up together and talking, some throwing snowballs at each other, and found yourself wanting that with Miguel.

Which is how you found yourself knocking on Miguel's door a couple hours later, shivering from the cold despite your winter coat. You looked up at Miguel when he opened the door, the exhaustion evident on his features but he still offered you a small smile, stepping back to let you in. He took off his glasses and sat down next to you on the couch, folding his arms on his lap. "I don't want to be the person you call after midnight anymore; I want to mean something more to you than just a quick fuck," you spoke up after a couple seconds later, looking up at him as you took in his expression. "I didn't go to your house to convince you to be a quick fuck. I went because I'm so in love with you that it hurts, it hurts not having you next to me and it hurts not being able to call you," he replied, holding your hands in his as he put his heart on the line. "Show me how much you love me," you whispered, leaning into him as you kissed his cheek.

He took you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed your collarbone, nipping on the skin before setting you down on the bed. He hovered above you, his lips wrapped around yours as he kissed you passionately. He nipped down on your bottom lip, reveling in the small moan you let out and slipping his tongue in your mouth. He took his time, exploring your mouth as if it was the first time while his hands entangled in your hair. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer to him as he pulled away, his lips attaching themselves to your neck. He nibbled gently at some of the spots below your shirt, marking you as his. He nipped at your skin, licked, and kissed before he pulled away, taking off your shirt and jacket.

He let out a small groan as he saw the white bra you were wearing, the color practically tempting him closer. He leaned in, his mouth closing around where your areola was and started sucking on your nipples through the bra. He pulled away a couple seconds later, working on taking your bra as quick as he could. "Need to taste you," he muttered before his mouth attached to one of your breasts, licking around the nipple as his hand massaged the other one. Your hand intertwined in his hair, gently tugging on the strands as your breathing started to grow heavier. He pulled away, gently biting on your breasts, not wanting to leave a spot that wasn't marked by him.

He pulled your pants off, tossing them to the side as he kissed down your stomach, gently nipping on the skin before reaching your thighs. He adjusted himself in between your legs, his eyes looking directly at you as he kissed your inner thighs. He gently nipped on the skin there, before his eyes went down to the wet spot on your panties, his mouth following suit. He licked through your panties, letting out a groan as your hands gently tugged on his hair. He wanted to take his time, show you how much he appreciated the opportunity you were giving him, but he quickly left that once you started grinding on his face, needing more than he was giving you. He pulled off your panties, putting them in his pocket before his mouth attached itself to your pussy.

He licked on your folds, his hands wrapped on your thighs before his tongue plunged inside you. He looked up at you as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, his spit mixing with your juices. He let out a small hum as your hands tangled in his hair again, his mouth attaching to your clit and his pointer finger plunging deep inside of you. You arched your back as he began moving his finger, his finger curling to hit that spot inside of you. He put another finger in, plunging inside of you as he felt your walls clench around your fingers. "Thaaat's it," he murmured, looking up at you as you started to rock your hips on his fingers. Your walls clenched tightly around him, babbling nonsense about your impending orgasm while your back arched as his tongue circled on your clit. You let out a moan as your hands wrapped in his hair, coming all around his fingers. He licked your release off his fingers, letting out a small moan as he got up, taking off his shirt.

You were about to get down on your knees to return the favor, but he stopped you, placing you back on the bed. "Maybe later, querida. This is all for you," he murmured, his head resting on your neck as he kissed your pulse point. He slid off his pants, laying you down on the bed as he grabbed a condom from the bedstand. He gave himself a tentative pump, sliding the condom in before slipping inside of you, letting out a small groan as your walls clenched tightly around him, trying to accommodate to his size. He leaned his head down, giving you small kisses as he pushed deeper inside of you, letting you get used to it once more. "No sabes cuánto te amo," he whispered, starting to thrust his hips once your walls opened up around him. He started off slow, a vast difference than your past experiences, given the fact that there was no rush of him trying to get you out of his bed. (darling/you don't know how much i love you)

He sped up a few minutes later, his hips snapping against yours as he sought out to make you cum. You moved your hands to his back, leaving scratches in your wake as he continued to thrust at an inhuman pace inside of you. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach building up, your toes curling as his cock continued to hit your g spot. The knot unraveled as his hand went down to your clit while his thumb rubbed small circles on it, your orgasm making a creamy white ring around his cock.

He put your knees up to your chest, starting to thrust inside of you once more, the angle allowing him to plunge deeper inside of you. His hips snapped against yours, a small smirk on his face as he watched your dazed eyes and your lips parted in a 'o' shape, babbling small broken whispers of his name. He had one hand on your hip to ease him in, moving faster against you while his other hand was on your clit, rubbing small circles on it. He let out a small moan as he felt your walls clenching tightly around his cock, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix from this angle. "Come for me, princesita," he whispered as he saw your hands tugging on the bedsheets, your face contorted in pure pleasure. Your toes curled as you reached your peak, coating his cock with your release once more. (princess)

You took a moment to get yourself back together before getting on top of him, slowly pumping his cock underneath. You positioned yourself above him, slowly starting to slide into his cock, both of you letting out a small moan as you bottomed out. His hands moved to your hips, gripping them as he helped you move on his length. Your walls clenched tightly around him as you moved your hips against his, undulating them. You felt his cock move against your g spot once more as your legs starting to shake as you slid down his shaft, his hands now massaging your breasts. You started to slow down, feeling a soreness in your legs when Miguel grabbed your hips, his hips snapping off the bed as he started to thrust into you. You reached down, your hands on his chest as you moved easier on his cock, letting out moans from the pleasure you were receiving. You started rubbing on your clit, feeling yourself grow closer and closer to your climax as Miguel continued to move deep inside of you. You let out a loud moan as you came, your walls clenching around Miguel tightly. “Mierda,” he hissed, feeling himself get closer to his orgasm, his breath heavy. He released his cum onto the condom with a loud moan of your name, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You took a couple seconds to regain your composure, getting off from him as he stood up, going to dispose of the condom.

You were about to leave, something out of habit mostly, getting your clothes from the floor as you began getting dressed. You stopped in your tracks when Miguel grabbed your arm, turning you around to look at him as he cleared his throat.

"Stay the night, chiquitita."

@chshiresins @casuallyawkardd @zaunsin @6thhokageswife @thenanowriter @m4dyy

#moon-rivr #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman atsv #spiderman smut

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heavenlylie · 4 months

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how you lost the girl - part 2

pairing: jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: Jenna's unexpected return forces you to reflect on the choices that led to the events of the past.

warnings: this is sad..

word count: 2.2k

a/n: i wasn’t going to make a part two but here we are! i wanted that angst to be resolved but i got carried away again so...

The alarm buzzes, but you don't stir. Your heart aches for her warmth. Your eyes remain closed, mind clouded by dreams of Jenna's soft skin and the sound of her laughter.

Three weeks had passed since the day you last laid eyes on the brown-eyed brunette. Her sudden reappearance in your life reignited old feelings within you, making you question yourself and all of the decisions that led to this moment.

The morning sun streams through the window, casting long shadows across the empty room, it's eerily quiet without Jenna's presence. The air is stale and heavy, clinging to the walls like a shroud that refuses to be shaken off. The sheets are cold where she used to lay, the side of the bed that she had claimed, still holding onto the heat from her body.

The closet door creaks as it opens and closes, revealing the neat row of sweatpants and shirts that once were pressed against Jenna's curves. The room feels cavernous without her. If only she hadn’t showed up, you were doing just fine without her. Why'd she have to just show up at your door after all this time?

You dressed slowly, each movement deliberate and calculated, as if you were walking through water, trying so hard not to think of her. You pour yourself a bowl of cereal, the milk swirling softly as you stir it into the bowl, but there's no joy in the simple act. The spoon clinks against the ceramic as you eat, each bite tasting like ashes in your mouth.

You look out the window, but all you see is the blue sky and the trees with orange leaves - a reminder that winter is approaching, and Jenna isn't there to share it with you. The day drags on as you go about your routine, each task feeling hollow and meaningless.

The weight of Jenna's absence hangs heavy in every corner of your existence. The once vibrant colours that adorned your life have now faded to muted shades as if the world itself mourns her absence. Each passing moment only intensifies the ache within you, the longing for her touch consuming your every thought.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the overwhelming emptiness, you decide to take a walk through the park. The crunch of fallen leaves beneath your feet echoes in the silence, a haunting symphony that mirrors the broken rhythm of your heart. As you wander aimlessly along the winding path, memories of Jenna flood your mind.

You remember how she used to laugh, her melodic voice weaving through the air like magic. Every joke was accompanied by a playful twinkle in her eyes, and the sound of her laughter was enough to make your soul soar. But now, even the echoes of her laughter feel distant and unattainable.

Lost in your reverie, you find yourself standing before the place where you had your first date with Jenna. The wooden slats of the bench have weathered over time, but the memories of that day remain vivid in your mind.

You can still feel the nervous excitement that coursed through your veins as you sat down beside her, unsure of what the future held for the two of you.

A bittersweet smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you take a seat on the bench. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be transported back to that moment. The scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the subtle fragrance of Jenna's perfume fills your nostrils. The warmth of her hand in yours sends a tingle up your spine, igniting a fire within you that still burns, despite her absence.

"I didn't know what was your favourite fruit," Jenna said, pulling out a big Tupperware with a variety of fruits. "So I just brought a fruit salad." She said with an awkward chuckle, scared of your reaction to her extreme efforts to give you the best first date experience.

Things might’ve gotten a bit out of hand; the picnic at sunset in a secluded area of the national park, the different types of food just in case you had an allergy, small pillows to make sure you were comfortable, fairy lights on the bench behind you and across the blanked she had placed on the grass.

You couldn't help but smile at Jenna's gesture, feeling a surge of warmth filling the void within you. Her thoughtfulness and attention to detail were part of what drew you to her in the first place. As you picked up a piece of fruit from the Tupperware, you marvelled at the explosion of flavours in your mouth - a perfect blend of sweetness and tartness.

"I love it," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble, but I'm glad you did."

Jenna's eyes sparkled with joy as she leaned closer, her lips brushing against your cheek in a gentle kiss. The softness of her touch sent shivers down your spine, reigniting the fire within you that had been dampened by her absence.

As the sun began to set behind the mountains, casting a warm orange glow over the park, you and Jenna sat in comfortable silence. The chatter of birds and rustling of leaves provided a soothing soundtrack to your thoughts.

"I wanted to make this day special," Jenna whispered, her voice laced with vulnerability. And she had succeeded. From the thoughtful picnic to the stunning view of the sunset, everything about this day was perfect.

You turned towards Jenna and took her hand in yours, interlacing your fingers with hers. "It's more than special," you said, sincerity dripping from your words.

Jenna's smile widened as she leaned in for a kiss. But just as your lips were about to meet, a loud noise shattered the peaceful atmosphere. You both pulled away, startled by the sudden disturbance.

"What was that?" you asked, scanning your surroundings for any signs of danger.

"It sounded like fireworks," Jenna said, pointing towards the sky where colourful sparks were now lighting up the darkening sky.

"Fireworks?" you echoed in confusion.

Jenna grinned mischievously. "I may have arranged for a surprise fireworks show," she admitted sheepishly.

Despite yourself, a laugh escaped your lips. "You really went all out for this date."

Jenna shrugged nonchalantly. "I just wanted it to be perfect for you."

As you watched the dazzling display before you, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by Jenna's thoughtfulness and love for you. At that moment, surrounded by nature and with Jenna by your side, you realized that this was where you belonged – with her.

The last firework faded into darkness and there was nothing left but the sound of crickets chirping in the distance. You turned back to Jenna and cupped her face in your hands before leaning in for a soft kiss.

"This has been an amazing day," you said as you pulled away. Jenna smiled, her eyes shining with affection. "I'm glad you think so," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "But I have a feeling that this is just the beginning of something even more incredible."

The words hung in the air, heavy with possibility. You gazed into Jenna's eyes, seeing a future filled with love and adventure.

The emptiness that had haunted you earlier was now replaced with hope and anticipation.

"I think you're right," you said, your voice steady with conviction. "I'm excited to find out what the future holds for us."

Jenna leaned in closer, her breath mingling with yours as she whispered, "Me too."

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away as your lips met in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss filled with promises and dreams, sealing the bond between you and Jenna.

With an exhale, you open your eyes and gaze out at the park. Children laugh and play on the playground, their innocent joy serving as a stark contrast to the heaviness in your heart. You watch as couples walk hand in hand along the path, their love radiating from them like a warm embrace. A pang of longing shoots through you, a reminder of what you once had with Jenna.

It has been months since that perfect first date in the park. Months since Jenna brought light and laughter back into your life. But circumstances beyond your control forced you to part ways, leaving only memories and unspoken promises behind.

As you sit on the weathered bench, the weight of Jenna's absence becomes unbearable once again. The once vibrant colours of the park seem dull and lifeless.

You find yourself wondering if you made the right decision and if letting go of Jenna was truly for the best. The taste of regret lingers in your mouth like bitter medicine, seeping into every crevice of your being. You can't help but question if you will ever find happiness again.

"That is the most stupid Halloween costume I've ever seen!" You said laughing at Jenna's costume as she twirled around in her makeshift ghost attire. She had draped a white sheet over herself, cutting out two eye holes and a crooked mouth that seemed to dance with mischief.

Jenna's laughter mingled with yours, filling the air with joy. "I thought it would be fun to go as a classic ghost, you know, for old times' sake," she said, her voice muffled by the sheet. "Plus, it's easy to put together."

You couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest as you watched her playfully float around the room. Despite the heaviness in your heart, Jenna had always been able to bring a smile to your face. It was as if her presence alone had the power to chase away the shadows that lingered within you.

As the night grew darker and eerie jack-o-lanterns flickered in the distance, you and Jenna ventured out into the neighbourhood, hand in hand. The air was crisp with a hint of autumn, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of Halloween mischief. Children ran from house to house, their laughter echoing through the streets as they collected candy in their baskets.

Jenna's excitement was contagious, her eyes sparkling with childlike wonder. She would skip ahead every now and then, her ghostly sheet billowing behind her as she approached each house. You couldn't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm.

As you walked together, memories flooded your mind - memories of past Halloweens, carving pumpkins and getting lost in corn mazes. Halloween had always been your favourite holiday, and Jenna knew just how to make it even more magical.

You stopped in front of a house decorated with cobwebs and fake spiders, a cauldron of candy sitting on the front porch. Jenna turned to you with a mischievous smile hidden beneath her ghostly disguise. "Trick or treat?" she asked, her voice filled with love.

You chuckled and nudged her playfully. "Come on, Jenna. You're not fooling anyone with that ghost costume." Jenna's eyes widened in mock surprise as she slowly closed the space between you two. "Oh no, my secret identity has been revealed!" she exclaimed, feigning distress but with a loving look on her face.

You couldn't help but be captivated by Jenna's playful spirit. The way she embraced the whimsy and magic of Halloween, reminded you of all the reasons why you fell in love with her in the first place. At that moment, standing under the dim glow of the porch light, you felt an overwhelming surge of nostalgia mixed with a renewed sense of hope.

You reached out, your fingers gently pulling back the sheet that concealed Jenna's face. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and love, and you couldn't resist leaning in to capture her lips in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with shared memories and unspoken promises - a reminder that even though time had passed, your connection was still strong.

As you pulled away, Jenna's ghost costume slipping off her shoulders, you were struck by how beautiful she looked in that moment - vulnerable yet radiant. "I think I love you," you whispered, your voice brimming with emotion.

Jenna's eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting slightly as she took in your words. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and the air between you seemed to crackle with an electric intensity.

"I think I love you too," she murmured, her voice barely audible against the cacophony of laughter and whispers echoing through the night. Her confession hung between you, delicate and shimmering like a spider's web spun with moonlight.

In that instant, all doubt and uncertainty melted away. The weight of regret that had plagued you vanished, replaced by a sense of purpose and determination. You knew deep down that this moment was a turning point.

That was last year, Halloween was just around the corner again and you knew it wouldn't be the same without her. The memories of that magical night with Jenna still haunted your thoughts, and the ache in your heart grew stronger with each passing day.

The thought of Halloween without her by your side was absolutely soul-crushing. You had tried to move on, to fill the void left by Jenna's absence, but no one could compare to her. She was the light in your life, the one who made every moment feel like an adventure.

As the days grew colder and the leaves turned shades of orange and gold, you found yourself wandering through the streets, feeling lost without Jenna's hand in yours. The world seemed to carry on around you, oblivious to the emptiness that consumed your heart.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna x reader

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 1 month

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Seven Days to Fall Again | Saturday | Jeon Jungkook

Inspired by the MV "Seven" by Jung Kook ft. Latto (obvi lol) Summary: Life is meaningless without you. Who knew a broken heart could be shattered twice? Pairing: Reader x Jungkook (almost exes to lovers lol) Word Count: 3.2k ~ (sorry I took forever to update) Warnings: Explicit language, angst, mentions of an accident and death (nothing too crazy) a/n: Hope you guys like this one! I wasn't sure how I would go about including the whole funeral thing in the mix but I think I did alright lol Lemme know what you think! Start from the beginning

After finishing my shower last night I didn't even bother drying my hair or putting clothes on. All I could manage to do is barely make it to my bed and once my head hit the pillow the sobbing just wouldn't stop.

I don't know how long I laid there, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing until my head was pounding and I couldn't push any more tears out. Something about last night shattered the fantasy of being able to move on with my life and feel happy without him when the truth is I don't think I can.

Even though this whole week has been nothing but him barging into my life and always doing something to make things more difficult it's as if deep down I was happy he was still trying, happy that he wasn't gonna give up on us.

I love him. I love him so much that being with him was the only thing that ever mattered.

I wanted him to want me just as much as I wanted him but with how our lives have been recently I just felt like I was just there. Just another person that he interacted with and nothing more. It hurt to have him come home and have nothing to say to me, no time to do anything and not even an ounce of energy to spend on me.

He my boyfriend for fucks sake! We should be spending time together and eating together and laughing and smiling together. Why have simple things like that disappeared almost entirely?

I love him, I love everything about him but if it's come to this point that I have to question myself day after day if I'm the one who has done something wrong, done something to make him treat me like this...then I don't think we're meant to be together.

Relationships are about trusting and loving each other and being able to give them your love. But he hasn't shown me that he loves me at all with the way he's been acting and he hasn't given me the opportunity to show him my love either.

I just don't understand!

Reaching out for my phone I jump at the feeling of it vibrating right away, showing me that I have an incoming call.

After taking a quick glance to check the caller ID it's already got me on edge. "Hello?" I say groggily but am cut off by the sounds of heavy breathing and hospital noises in the background.

"Y/n, y/n please you have to come quick he-" "Okay slow down take a deep breath and tell me what's going on" I coach Jimin when I hear the panic in his voice. He takes a big gulp of air and lets it out before continuing with a shaky voice. "It's Jungkook" he says and my heart stops.

"W-what do you mean it's Jungkook? What happened?" I say, throwing the covers off of me and running around my room, grabbing clothes and franticly throwing them on. "I don't know I just, they said that there was an accident and they brought him here but there was so much blood and-" "Did he make it?" I question and I'm met with silence on the other end. "Damnit Jimin is Jungkook okay?" I shout, shaking and gripping onto the phone until my knuckles have gone pale.

"He-he didn't make it. They said it was too late that there was nothing they could do..." he says but my arm drops and with it takes Jimin's voice. My breathing picking up as it starts to sink in.

"Oh God what have I done?" I whisper to myself, my whole body shaking and my vision getting blurry with the tears that are bound to never stop.

"Y/n! Y/n answer me! I'm coming over" I can hear him shouting at me from the other side and I pick it back up and let out a silent 'okay' and hang up the phone before my knees give out and I fall to the ground.

"If I wouldn't have let him go, if I would've just asked him to stay he would-" I say aloud but cut myself off with a sob and rest my head on my bed, the sheets muffling the sounds of my screams. I'm never going to be able to forgive myself for this, I shouldn't have been so hard on him I should've just heard him out...

~~~~

Once I feel as if my sobs have died down I take that as an opportunity to get a glass of water but before I'm able to get there I hear a panicked knock on the door. I rush to open it and grasp onto him as tight as I can and not daring to let go.

"Shhh, shh I know" Jimin comforts me, rubbing my back as he walks in, still holding onto me and guiding us both over to the couch. "Jimin h-he was here last night and I just let him walk away and I-" "Hey, don't do that, you couldn't have known that this was going to happen" he says, holding me tighter in his embrace, telling me not to go there.

"Do his parent's know?" I ask after I've calmed down again, pulling away and sitting up to face him. "Yeah they do and they're on their way already. They're having the funeral today" he says while pushing the tear dampened strands of hair out of my face.

"Today? They can't have it today! What about the rest of his family?" I question, surprised that a funeral could even be put together so quickly. "They want to have a small intimate gathering for now and then tell everyone later. It's just too painful and they want it done quietly" he says and I nod my head, respecting his parent's wishes.

"What time does it start?" I question, wiping away the tears that keep falling. "At five" he say, cringing at the time constraint we've been left with. "Jimin that's two hours" I say, shocked that they would be able to even be emotionally capable of setting everything up so quickly.

"I know but this was the only spot they had available" he says and I nod my head, not bothering to ask for more details since nothing else really matters right now. "Will you take me to the funeral?" I ask, knowing for a fact that I wouldn't be able to make it there on my own.

"Of course" he replies placing a hand on my shoulder and giving me a sad smile. "I'm gonna go home real quick and change and then I'll come back for you" he explains, placing a quick kiss on my forehead and heading out the door. I sit there and let a few more tears fall before pulling myself together and getting up to get ready.

I don't bother putting on any makeup since there's no reason to. My boyfriend is gone and I'm not going to hide the sadness that I feel or cover up the gaping hole in my chest that once held my heart. The heart that always belonged to him and will forever stay with him.

How could I have been so stupid? I should've made him stay. Maybe then things would be different.

~~~~

As Jimin and I walk into the little chapel they're holding the funeral in I first lay my eyes on Mrs. Jeon who is putting up a stronger front than I thought she would. It probably hasn't hit her yet, the fact that her youngest son has been taken from her.

Mr. Jeon is the one that notices us and comes over immediately and gives me the warmest hug I've ever received. "I'm so sorry" is all I can manage to choke out, not being able to hide my tears as I feel them start to form again, my vision going glossy.

"Me too" he responds and leads me over to Mrs. Jeon who pulls me in close right when she sees me and that's when I lose it. "I know, it's gonna be okay. Don't worry love it's gonna be alright" she says while stroking my head, trying her best to calm me down. I choke back the sobs as much as I can but no matter how hard I try, the tears never stop.

After a few more moments with them Jimin escorts us to our seats, just one row back from the front and I notice that I don't recognize the people in front of us, or anyone else for that matter. I brush it off and take a tissue out of the box that's placed in front of me and take deep shaky breaths in and out, finally quieting down as soon as the officiant walks up to the podium.

"Who is that?" I whisper to Jimin, taking in the gorgeous woman who is presiding over the ceremony. "Not sure but she's beautiful" Jimin says, while checking her out. I elbow him in the side and he holds back a groan in pain from the contact.

"Not the time nor the place for that Jimin" I scold and he apologizes quietly before we continue to listen to the ceremony and as soon as she opens up the floor for people to come up and say some things that we remember about Jungkook we all watch in horror as the lid to the coffin opens and out comes a perfectly healthy Jungkook.

We all just sit there stunned, not knowing what to do in this situation so Jungkook decides to break the silence. "Thank you so much everyone for coming. I'm sorry to have sprung this on all of you but your dedication has truly moved me" he says while climbing out of the coffin.

"Y/n" he says, everyone now turning towards me and watching my every movement. "Please don't hate me for this but I just hoped that in doing this you would see how much we both love each other still and how I truly cannot live without you" he says while everyone sighs, acting as though this is somehow romantic.

"Please will you give me another chance?" he asks, holding his hand out to me and I'm still frozen, flabbergasted that he would go this far.

Jimin pokes me in the side to bring me back to reality and whispers a quick "Say yes" in my ear, encouraging me to take his hand. I take a deep breath and stand up, smiling at him sweetly and his eyes light up, waiting for that answer he's desperately been hoping for.

"Go to hell" I growl and walk down the aisle, storming out of the place, not bothering to look back even as a commotion starts to settle in.

"Y/n wait!" I hear Jungkook call after me, grabbing my wrist to keep me from getting to far but I rip it out of his grasp and turn around to face him.

"You know I cried for you. I cried so hard I didn't know if I would ever stop. I cried for you last night and I cried even harder when I found out. I blamed myself for your death. I told myself 'If I just would've made him stay then he would still be here' I woke up thinking about how much I really love you and how I wanted to be with you again and then I get the call and it rips my heart out. I never would've forgiven myself" I shout at him, utterly heartbroken by this.

"You know, something like this might've worked for your little actor friends but this is probably the worst thing you could've ever done to me. Jungkook I thought you died! You let me believe that you were dead and made me feel guilty about letting you go. Don't you see how fucking sick and twisted this is?" I continue, letting out angry tears as my voice gets louder and louder.

"Y/n I'm sorry it was never supposed to be like this I jus-" "You just what? Huh? Wanted to see how broken I would've been without you? Wanted me to see how I don't want to live without you? Well you got your wish! Mission accomplished" I scoff, turning to leave and he stays frozen in place, this time letting me go.

Jimin chases after me, begging to let him give me a ride home which I agree to because honestly I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Leaving behind that fucked up charade he pulled and made everyone play into.

~~~~

"He never meant to hurt you you know?" Jimin says once he pulls up to my apartment complex. "Well he sure as hell has a funny way of showing it" I scoff, reaching for the handle to open the door. "He just doesn't want to lose you. I know he's been trying but he doesn't know what else to do" Jimin continues, leaving me leaning back into my seat again, knowing that he won't be letting me leave that easily.

"So his solution was to scar me for life?" I say, cocking an eyebrow at him and he turns away, guilt written all over his face. "Was everyone in on it except for me?" I question and he cringes before nodding his head slowly. "Great, just great" I mumble, opening the car door and slamming it behind me.

"Just hear him out, please" is Jimin's last sentiment but I don't give him an answer as I turn and make my way to my apartment. If he thinks he's getting another chance after he's pulled a stunt like that then he's even more delusional than I thought he was.

~~~~

Clearing my head is proving to be a lot more difficult especially when Jungkook's been blowing up my phone ever since I left. I don't understand how he could possibly think pulling a prank like that would make me want to take him back. He's just grasping at straws at this point but I guess I'm partially to blame since I really didn't give him a chance to say his piece.

If I give him a chance now he's gonna think shit like that works on me but maybe I should just scold him and make it clear that that's not gonna get him anywhere with me. I groan and throw my head into my hands, sitting on the couch and stressing about what my next move should be and when I hear his all too familiar knocks on the door I know that I've run out of time.

"Come in" I call out, full well knowing he still has his key on him and so I'm met with the sound of him unlocking the door before closing and locking it behind him, making his way into the apartment and onto the couch as carefully as he can. Doing whatever he can to keep me from blowing up on him.

"Why would you do something like that to me" I say quietly after we've sat in silence, close to tear again with all the events of today and last night running through my mind all over again. "I'm so sorry Noona I just, well I didn't know what to do. After last night I was going insane. I was running out of ideas and so I stupidly thought of this plan at like three am and... I guess you know the rest of it" he trails off, full on admitting to his stupidity.

"Anything decided at three am is probably a bad idea" I scoff, now understanding his mindset. He nods before hanging his head in shame, continuing to realize how idiotic this whole train wreck was. "What I did was stupid and insensitive and traumatizing and I apologize. I had no intention of hurting you" he says, placing his hand on top of my knee in an effort to show sincerity.

"I know you didn't" I mumble, getting up from the couch and walking out onto my balcony, gazing up at the night sky. I take a few deep breaths to clear my head and calm my nerves before bothering to say anything else.

As soon as I open my mouth though I'm met with two strong arms wrapping around my waist from behind and a head balanced on top of mine. "I'm so sorry Noona" he whispers, voice cracking, almost as if he was crying which from a few moments later after feeling a tear drop fall on my head I come to realize that he actually is.

I turn around in his hold wordlessly and grasp onto him, holding him as close as I possibly can while we both cry, needing each other to really be able to heal. "Can we please talk now?" he asks and I nod my head into his chest before letting go and taking his hand while guiding us both over to the couch.

"I just want you to know that I've thought a lot about what you said about me not being here or spending time with you and I've started to realize that I really have been distant. I haven't been taking time to appreciate you or love you so I just want to apologize for that. After what you said I started to realize that your love languages might be physical touch and quality time and I have fallen short on both sides. Now that I've realized that I'll pay closer attention to making sure your needs are met because I never want you to feel unloved by me. Ever" he says, squeezing the hand that he's still holding before continuing.

"I know I've been busy on set with these last few episodes being filmed but that's still no excuse for not being here and I know that. I just have such a work minded attitude that I forget about the rest of my life sometimes and I know that a lot of that falls on you. If you give me the chance I really want to change and love you right this time. The way you deserve to be loved because if I could I would devote all of my time and attention to you. Every hour, every minute, every second because I never want to lose you. I don't want to give up on us" he says and I look up from my lap to see where our hands are connected when I feel a teardrop fall on them.

"What can I do? What can I change to make it right? I'll do anything just please, don't leave me" he says. I look up at him and see a brilliant galaxy in his eyes, glassed over with crystal clear tears and my heart just breaks at the sight of him.

I didn't realize until now just how hurt he might've been by this breakup too. I never wanted to acknowledge how heartbroken he looked every time I rejected him because I was too focused on me and my feelings.

"Baby I'm sorry" I let out through choked sobs before pulling him in and resting my forehead against his. "I'm sorry I didn't even think about how this might've been hurting you too and I just, I want us to be together. I won't leave you Jungkook I promise" I sob and he pulls me in closer and smashes his lips against mine, kissing away our sorrow and pain and frustration and everything in between. Mending the shattered pieces of our hearts and making them one.

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sissylittlefeather · 2 months

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Wait for Me: A One Shot

A/N: I had a ROUGH day yesterday, so I processed my feelings by writing a fic 😂. Needless to say, this one has a lot of feels. Enjoy.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, infidelity (Elvis is married), angst I guessss

Word count: ~2.7k

Songs: Weirdly enough, the songs that inspired this fic are not by Elvis. I know Elvis sang Unchained Melody, obviously, but in this fic it's The Righteous Brothers' version.

*************************************************

You never stopped loving Elvis. Not when he broke up with you. Not when you found out he was engaged. And not even when he got married and became a father.

You've loved him since you met him on a movie set in the mid-sixties. Your romance was a whirlwind that started hot and heavy and only got hotter and heavier as time went on. You'd never met someone who could light you up like he did. His energy was electric and you thrived in each other's presence. He told you once that he felt like before you his life was black and white and you made it technicolor.

You thought you had finally found the person you were meant to spend your life with and you were convinced he felt the same. But it all came crashing down when he came to you in '66 and said it was over.

He was crying when he said it and it nearly broke you to hear it. You begged and pleaded and screamed and cried, but he said he had no choice. That didn't make sense to you, but he was pretty insistent. Finally, at the end of the conversation, when you had no more tears left and a numbness had settled in your heart, you asked the question you didn't want the answer to. Was there someone else? He looked at the floor and nodded. The room began to spin and your hearing went out and you were pretty sure you were going to faint. He caught you and carried you to the couch. Then he kissed your forehead, your hand, your cheek, and your lips, and apologized. After that, he left, and you cried for the next month.

What you didn't know was so did he. Even though there was technically someone else, she wasn't someone that he wanted more than he wanted you. But his hands were tied by a decision he made so many years ago. He never dreamed you would come into the picture.

Either way, he married her and tried to make the best of it. And you bounced from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship always searching for someone who could make you forget him. No one ever could.

You spent the next few years avoiding places where you thought he might be. But eventually you realized you had to live your life.

That's how you ended up at a party in Vegas with your most recent boyfriend in 1971. You're nervous because you know Elvis is in Vegas right now. It's not outside the realm of possibility that he could be here. Still, you've missed enough events. It's been five years. It's time to accept the fact that it's over and you might have to see him. And that you'll survive it even if you do.

******

You're nursing a drink with your boyfriend's arm thrown around your shoulders when you spot him. He's here with her, but of course he would be. You look down at your drink quickly and try to turn so that you're out of his eye-line, but you're too slow. You feel his eyes on you before you look up and meet them. There's something in them that you recognize, a hunger of sorts, and it shoots straight through you. You take a deep breath and try to turn away again. Your boyfriend notices your change in demeanor.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing, I just, let's dance."

You haven't told him about Elvis. There's really no reason to and besides, you don't talk about Elvis. Luckily, he's not curious by nature, so he walks you to the dance floor without thinking too much about it. As you dance, you try to focus on Mike and his sweet smile and chestnut hair and round brown eyes. He's a good man, a photographer, and he has the soul of a poet. The sex is satisfying and you enjoy his company. You should be in love with him. You're convinced if you try hard enough, you will be.

As you slow dance, though, you feel eyes on you again. You make the mistake of peeking over Mike's shoulder. Elvis has you locked into a look that's so intense you feel like you might burst into flames. You clear your throat and look away, trying to ignore all the old feelings that are bubbling up. Why does he keep looking at you?

You're not sure whether to feel the immense sadness or the anger that's starting to grow. You take a third path and look up at Mike, trying to convey a look of adoration. This is very purposeful, since you hope that Elvis will see it, read it, and assume you've moved on. But just then, Mike looks down at you and smiles.

"Hey, baby, I'm going to run to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

"Oh..." He gives you a quick squeeze and then moves towards the door. Left all alone, you go back to the bar to get another drink, praying Elvis doesn't notice. You're not sure what you'll do if he approaches you. Once you get your drink, you move to the side of the bar and try to focus on your drink until Mike comes back.

You feel him before you hear him, his scent overwhelming you with memories. He stands close behind you, but not too close. It's obvious he's trying to think of something to say and you stand there trying to keep yourself from turning and throwing yourself on him.

"Are you not even gonna look at me, honey?" You close your eyes at the sound of his voice. It's comforting in a way you haven't experienced since it ended between you. You turn slowly and look up into his face, making a concerted effort to blink away your tears. He holds his fingers up to your cheek but doesn't touch you. Instead, he drops his hand back down to his side. Every move he makes is like a form of slow torture for both of you. Finally, you speak.

"Why should I look at you?" You watch as your words cut through him. For a second, his perfect facade slips and you feel the anguish radiate off of him.

"I don't have an answer for that." He leans forward ever so slightly, seemingly trying to breathe you in. "I just..."

He trails off as Mike makes his way back to your side. Elvis secures his facade and they shake hands and chat politely. When Mike throws his arm around your shoulders casually, you feel the energy roll off of Elvis. You can't tell if it's anger or jealousy or sadness or all three. For a second you worry that he might throw a punch at Mike, but that fear fades as quickly as it appears when Elvis nods, smiles, and excuses himself from the conversation.

Your heart breaks when he walks away, but you know he has to. You look down at your shoes and try to will the tears away.

"Are you okay, baby?" You sniffle and look up at Mike, shaking your head enthusiastically.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

"You know, I've always heard that Elvis was a real down-to-earth guy, but he truly is. Have you met him before? He seemed to know you?"

"Yes. We've met before. We made a few movies together."

"Oh, that's right! I always forget you were in those." You're teetering on the edge of a full on breakdown, desperate to keep your composure.

"Let's go back to our dance!" You say a little too enthusiastically. He nods and leads you back to the dance floor just as they play a slow ballad. Mike holds you in his arms, not suspecting a thing. But the song, the song is Unchained Melody. It's something Elvis used to sing to you and you feel like you could scream, it hurts so bad.

You fight to keep the tears from falling and you think you just might pull it off until you see him. Over Mike's shoulder, you find him. He's got his wife in his arms, but he's looking at you.

That's it. That's all you can handle. You mumble some excuse to Mike and practically run out of the room. You make it outside before you completely fall apart. It's pouring down rain and dark, so you take full advantage and let the tears stream down your face. You're lost in the emotions when you hear him.

"Y/n?" You turn quickly and instinctively try to wipe the tears off of your face. You know it's him.

"What do you want, Elvis?" Your voice is unsteady and your hair hangs wet around your shoulders. You stand facing each other as the rain soaks him too.

"I-I-I I just wanted to make sure you're okay." You can feel that he's desperate to touch you.

"Okay?! You think there's a chance in hell that I'm OKAY?!" You're yelling because of the rain, but also because you're filled with something you can't quite identify.

"Y/n, I-"

"No. I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

"But-"

"Go back to your wife, Elvis!"

"Y/n-"

"What could you possibly have to say to me that matters?!" You almost scream it at him. You're trembling with the pain and anger that burns through you.

It's killing him to see you like this. He had prayed that you'd move on without him and find someone to love you the way you deserve to be loved. But he never stopped loving you either. More than anything, he wants to wrap you in his arms and hold you close to him again.

"Y/n, please-"

"Please what? Please sit around and pine for you while you marry another woman? Please forget I ever loved you? Please ignore the pain of the last five years without you?"

He stands there speechless. Then, he speaks as quietly as he can in the rain.

"Please forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you." You sob openly and put your head in your hands. He looks down to try to keep himself from crying too.

"Why does it matter to you?" You say from behind your hands. He looks back at you, hoping you won't notice his tears in the rain.

"It just does."

"That's not good enough. Tell me why you care whether I forgive you or not. You're happily married. I am nothing to you."

That almost breaks him. It couldn't be further from the truth. You are everything to him, but he can't tell you. He stands there staring at you. "Just leave me alone, Elvis. Go back-"

"Do you think I wouldn't rather feel this way about my wife?!" He yells loudly. This catches you off guard and you look up at him confused as he takes a couple of steps towards you. "She's my wife! She's the mother of my child! But she doesn't make me feel like this, like I can't breathe without her. Like seeing her in pain makes me want to move the stars to fix it. Don't you think it would be easier for me if I could love her the way I love you?!"

You stand there facing each other, chests rising and falling, hearts beating wildly, rain falling on both of you.

"You love me."

"God, y/n, of course I love you!"

There's a beat of silence and then in half a second, you're wrapped around each other with your mouths pressed together, open and moving passionately. You pull on him desperately and he holds you so tightly that you'd think you were trying to melt into one another right there in the parking lot. Your heart is pounding and his head is spinning with the release of pent up energy between you. He kisses down your neck hungrily and you whisper to him.

"What car do you have here?"

"The Mercedes limousine." Without another thought, you jump and he catches you with your legs around his waist. He carries you towards the car and you kiss him madly. A few seconds later, he pulls back and hollers to the driver while you kiss down his neck.

"Keys, man!" The driver's mouth pops open, but he tosses Elvis the keys. When you get to the car, he sets you down and presses you against the door with his body as he fumbles with the lock. You feel his erection pressing against you and moan softly. When he hears you, he abandons his task momentarily to kiss you and roll his hips against yours. Then, he goes back to the keys and finally gets the door unlocked.

You tumble into the backseat together, shedding sopping wet clothes and shoes. He kisses your shoulders and your chest and rips your bra off, tossing it across the car. His hand immediately goes to one nipple, his mouth to the other. You push his dripping wet hair off of his forehead and revel in the feeling of his hot mouth on you. He drags his tongue up from your chest to your neck and then moves back to your mouth, fiercely attacking your lips with his own. Your hands tremble as you get his belt off and undo his pants, so he helps you and pulls them off. Then, he yanks your panties off with one hand and lays you down on the seat.

He teases your clit with the tip of his cock for just a second before he pushes into you deeply, filling you fully. You moan loudly and he grunts and begins to fuck into you at a steady pace. As his hips slam into yours over and over, the rainwater that coated your skin turns to sweat and the car fills up with the steamy smell of sex. He thrusts harder and harder into you and it feels like you might die from the intense pleasure running through you. The way he pounds you elicits small cries from you and guttural groans from him and you know that anyone passing by could see and hear and know exactly what's happening.

There are no words between you, just feelings and primal sounds and the constant slapping of your wet skin against each other's. You feel him begin to tense up just as your walls flutter and both of you fall over a cliff into your release at the same time. The high washes over you and it's mixed with something so much more. You whimper as he pumps weakly a few more times and then relaxes on your chest.

You both try to catch your breath and soak in the shared afterglow of what just happened. Your hands make their way to his hair and you gently massage his scalp. He closes his eyes and enjoys the small gesture of affection, a warm feeling of contentment settling inside him. You feel like yourself for the first time in 5 years and bask in the peace of his head on your chest. Neither of you wants to move and risk bringing reality back into focus. You lay there like this for a long while, just holding each other.

"I don't want this to end." He whispers. You look up to try to keep your tears in your eyes.

"They're going to come looking for us eventually."

"I know. And I can't put my wife in this car. Not now." He sits up and pulls you into his arms and then brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingertips gently.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'll send the driver to get a different car and make up some excuse for it."

"Smart." You both start to gather your clothes and get dressed. He hands your panties to you and has a thought.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry; I got carried away and didn't use my mouth. I'll get you next time, I promise."

"Next time?" He realizes what he's said and looks into your eyes.

"Yes." He grabs your chin and pulls your lips to his. Then, he presses his forehead against yours and whispers.

"You know I would've married you if I could've." You nod as a tear slides down your cheek. He pulls back and wipes it away with his thumb. "No more tears, honey. I'm not leaving you this time. Never again."

"What about-"

"Let me worry about that."

He holds your face in his hands. And then he sings.

"Wait for me, wait for me.

I'll be coming home. Wait for me."

******

The End

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@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x you #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #Spotify

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yuri-is-online · 10 months

Note

For who would go crazy in TWST trying to save u over and over i have thoughts:

Vil - Mr. Perfect? Not being able to reach his goal, trying to get to the person who understands him best? ESP. thinking about how he's based on the Evil Queen, someone well known for having a Very Poor reaction to not getting her way? He'd absolutely lose it, have a "where are they now" episode about washed up celebs cause EVERYTHING he has is dedicated to saving you

Malleus - He wields some of the most powerful magic in the world, but he can't save you? Absolutely not. He refuses. Also in his case he's probably resetting the world himself, so the repeated deaths he can't save you from are arguably being caused by him to. He has no sense to pet go - you love him, know him so intimately that a world without you is meaningless. Reset.

Azul - There's no bargain he can make, power he can steal, trick he can pull strong enough to fix this mess. He's blindly ambitious, and refuses to hear the word "no". How could he give up his precious pearl, the one person he knows could see through everything he is that's nasty and gross, and love the whole of it? He knows, deep in his mind, that he can't change this fate. But to give up on you? Truly impossible.

notes: referring to this shitpost here, discussion of spoilers for all currently available books including book 7, I'll slap Malleus's part under read more to make those a bit more avoidable

No but annon your mind... so correct about all of this for all stated reasons and more. Seriously how did I not think about Vil? That's genius?

Assuming the original timeline follows the events currently evolving in game, I assume that Yuu ends up dying as part of Grim's overblot. I think it makes sense for the boys to die that first time too, only to wake up alive and in the middle of preparing for NRC's entrance ceremony. After they make sure that this isn't a dream, and that they really are alive and somehow back in time they start making plans.

Vil

I can see og timeline Vil regretting that he didn't pay attention to Yuu before VDC, and trying to figure out how to stay in their life during his fourth year internship because (even if his feelings technically run a bit deeper) genuine friendships are important to him. Remember how happy to see everyone he was in chapter 6? It's all he can do to remind himself you probably don't know who he is anymore when he sees Crowley drag you into the mirror chamber, he just wants to kiss your preciously confused face.

Something Rook immediately picks up on because I'm pretty convinced he would notice if something was that majorly off script about his queen. Vil's raised eyebrow is .3 centimeters off from his normal concerned face :/ he needs an explanation.

Vil's relieved at first, he has Rook's help and you are surprisingly receptive to his advances. For just a brief moment he has you in his arms and you are alive, and then you are torn away again. And again, and again and again and-

Vil's signature spell is a curse, he can recognize the traces of one, and I agree he would be so determined to break it he would slowly start to deteriorate into a actual villain. It's not like time is advancing forward otherwise, it's not like he can advance his acting career while he is stuck in this time loop trying to save you, trying to not let your zero percent of survival stay zero. I could see him spending a loop killing the other overblot mages before they build up enough blot to hurt Yuu only for that not to work and him to get even more unhinged as a result.

Azul

Ok so you remember that bit in the Ghost Bride event where Azul gets borderline creepy over the thought of being rejected? Or that part of New Years where he suffers a bit of sunk cost fallacy over the grab bags and gets back in line to spend more money on more stuff he doesn't need? Or how about his level up lines? Laughing at the thought of being satisfied with "just this much power" or warning that you will just be taken advantage of in this world, and inviting you to seek safety with him when that inevitably happens?

Well you did and he failed you. And no he isn't really someone who lets go of things. He goes out of his way to tell Riddle that he thinks being greedy is a good thing; you could have had a very long and happy life together that hit every milestone you set out to achieve and it still wouldn't be enough for Azul. He will never be satisfied, never have enough of Yuu.

But he's smart, he knows when things just aren't possible. It makes him more determined to prove himself. If he can't outsmart something as trivial as fate, can he really claim to be a brilliant mage?

Unlike Vil, I don't think he would immediately tell the twins what was happening. I do think they would figure it out eventually, and I do think they would help, but I think they would also maybe... eventually... realize that there was no saving you and maybe it's best for everyone involved if that's accepted. I could see Jade and Floyd going to Yuu directly and asking what you want, not because they are opposed to saving you but because they want Azul's suffering to end.

I don't know if you have ever played Amnesia Memories, but I could see Azul following a similar path to the Joker World/Ukyo (they are not similar characters but meh) in a situation like this. Won't spoil that here but I highly recommend it if you like otome games.

Malleus

In a twisted way I could almost see him being satisfied with being stuck inside a time loop trying to save you. Not at first obviously, at first Malleus refuses to believe he could fail in saving you. He is the fifth most powerful mage in the universe. He is a King, he can not think of anyone, anything that is stupid enough to tell him no.

Maybe he speed runs his own overblot and tries trapping you in a dream, only for that to kill you. Reset.

How about killing the other overblot mages? He'd arrive at that one a lot faster than Vil. Also doesn't work. Reset.

I don't think Malleus would bring Lilia, Silver, or Sebek into the loop of what was going on. Lilia- he's smart, old, and understands just how powerful Malleus really is, but I'm not sure he would be able to realize time itself is being reset. I think he would pick up on what Malleus's plan is in each individual universe and goes out of his way to prevent him from doing something stupid. You know who I could see picking up on it though? Leona and Idia, forcing them to work together to get Malleus to stop further driving a wedge between Malleus and the rest of the student body.

And then there is you, troublesome you. We don't really know what causes Grim to overblot, I could almost see a situation where Yuu does everything they can to save their friends, aware that time is being reset and thinking that finally, this time they can keep everyone from dying. They are completely content to die if it means no one else gets hurt, completely unaware that self sacrifice is what is causing all of this. What is one life compared to everyone in all of Twisted Wonderland after all?

Everything, it is worth everything, this world really is meaningless without you in it. Reset.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #malleus draconia x reader #the frog is for you annon this made my day #i tried to make him smug

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jayktoralldaylong · 1 year

Text

Hua Cheng is not the reward for Xie Lian's suffering. Hua Cheng suffered because Xie Lian suffered after all. Xie Lian was just lucky that someone....loved him that much.

There is no grand amazing world altering moral lesson at the end of TGCF, though some may say staying on the path of good and righteousness no matter what evil comes your way. However, in truth, Xie Lian stayed good because he couldn't bear to be evil. Hurting people has only ever hurt him. The way he so deeply regrets what he did in the past, it shames him because seeing his enemies suffer would have never brought him satisfaction. The same way Bai Wuxiang had to keep finding new enemies to fight because revenge doesn't make the pain go away and won't bring back what was lost. It's not a revelation that revenge is bad or a waste of time, but that it won't change how broken you are inside.

Xie Lian stayed true to himself but the reason he's so happy at the end of TGCF is not because of that. Hua Cheng would love him no matter what he did after all, and Hua Cheng knew Xie Lian so well, right down to the worst he was capable of, he knew Xie Lian would never hurt people, but it ended up boiling down to Hua Cheng choosing Xie Lian over and over again. Through the pain and suffering and sorrow. After everything, Xie Lian was just lucky.

It's painful, knowing that that's exactly how life works. Xie Lian was lucky that there was someone willing to fight for him and by his side for 800 years. Xie Lian was loved and adored the way everyone deserves to be loved and adored. A home was created for him and his pain did not feel meaningless at the end.

But what about Qi Rong? The neglected child who didn't get his happily ever after, except in headcanons? He didn't ask to have bad adults that never corrected him. He didn't ask to.crave attention so much that he'd rather be tortured than ignored.

What about He Xuan who lost everything for something that was never his fault? Getting revenge didn't get that back, it just made him lose more. Where is the home and happiness that He Xuan deserves once and for all?

What about Bai Wuxiang..... The version of Xie Lian that never got a Hua Cheng. That just kept suffering till he went mad.

What about Shi Qingxuan who had luck for majority of his life but will now live and die in insignificance, once again through no fault of his own. Or is he at fault for never asking his brother how he took care of the problem?

What about Ling Wen who loved and killed but never stopped loving. Who went to great lengths to revive her lover just to lose it all. What about Ling Wen who achieved so much but has lost one of her best friends and won't get the one she loves?

Unlucky. That's just it. Things didn't work out for them.

In the grand scheme of things, whether you're evil or good, sometimes things work out and sometimes they don't. Not all bad guys 'reap the consequences of their actions'. Not all good guys get a happy ending. Xie Lian was lucky, and I'm so happy for him. But every time I remember the others....it brings me to tears.

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surferblues · 2 years

Text

prove it. | e.p

pairings austin!elvis x fem!reader

warnings SHORT (18+ only, minors dni), soft dom!elvis,established relationship,spelling errors, and obviously sexual themes.

maybe, just maybe, you were overreacting. but, you couldn't help to. you absolutely hated that you had to share him, you hated the fact that all those fangirls got the chance to be even so close to him.

you felt your blood boil everytime one of their hands dared to begin sliding up his leg everytime he edged towards the end of the stage, and how he fed into their needy shouts by giving them a meaningless wink.

you hadn't spared one glance towards elvis ever since the show was over, the car ride home was deathly silent. or maybe, just maybe, you were deathly silent. because it seemed like Elvis was having the time of his life, conversating with jerry and a few other of the guy's while you stayed quiet in the backseat.

just like after every other show, you and elvis would come back home to Graceland after a long and restless night. but tonight, there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere... it was thick of denial and jealousy.

"what's going on with you tonight?" Elvis's spoke to you for what feels like the first time tonight, his voice thick with concern and frustration as he began sliding off his shoes.

the not so quiet sound of the door to Graceland slamming quickly followed after. you had your arms crossed as he followed your trail, mindlessly trying to get away from him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." you shot back, rolling your eyes as your feet lead you towards the staircase . Elvis didn't reply, instead he let out a scoff - his expression full of disbelief.

"you know what im talking about, you've been ignoring me all night." he scoffed, shaking his head with furrowed brows at your newfound attitude. before you could even get to the middle of the staircase, Elvis's rough hands softly gripped at your arm.

"would you rather me tell you how upset i am, the fact you kissed all those girls right infront of me?" you muttered roughly, pulling your arm away from his grasp and headed towards the shared bedroom, the sound of your heels clicking against the hard floor could be heard alongside Elvis's rushed steps.

“You’re not bein’ serious, darling,” he almost lets out a chuckle before your expression shuts him up. You are being completely serious.

"That's not what it looks like at all," he shot back. "Yeah, right," you replied, rolling your eyes again as you made your way to the bedroom to avoid him.

"No, you ain't just gonna walk away," he declared, hus country accent thick, pointing to the ground to emphasize his statement since elvis regularly talked with his hands.

"You're making a big deal out of something that isn't what you're making it out to be." you stopped in your tracks as you both were in the shared bedroom now.

"really? It seems like every time i go to your shows, you're kissing every girl who simply asks - practically looking like you wanna sleep with them." you scoff in disbelief, shaking your head as you walked over towards the door where he stood.

".. I don't even know if you're attracted to me anymore. You're so busy with performing. You come home, don't talk much, eat dinner, and go to bed, and repeat!" your finger pushed into his chest, biting your lip as you feel your throat begin to swell.

"baby, do you hear yourself right now?" elvis let out a light scoff, making you think he thought your point was nothing but childish.

you walked away from and sat yourself on the shared bed, realizing that Elvis wasn't going to budge and get what you were saying.

"baby..." elvis cooed, his tone that was once full of disbelief was now full of caring and worry. he walked over towards you, his previous aggressive steps were now quiet and calm.

"You don't know if I'm attracted to you anymore?" Elvis echoed your words, towering over you. you looked up, chin raised as his hand raised towards your soft cheeks.

Elvis's finger tips daringly grazed over your flushed cheeks, his eyes connected with yours. looking at you for confirmation, "you don't know." he stated, his tounge wetting his red lips.

"Yes," you whispered in response, your eyelids low. You could feel your core becoming hot, looking up at him with doe-eyes.

"You want me to show you?" he inquired in a deep voice, lowering his face closer to yours. All dominance you previously had from the argument was gone. You were withering beneath his gaze.

you couldn't dare to say no, you were entranced. he slowly suggestively nodded, “c’mon, baby.” his words are slow and his smile stretches, tilting your chin up so you’ll look at him again. as if he gesturing for you to the three lettered word.

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chronosh0t · 3 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ……𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: male x Lee, first person pov, alternative universe?, canon-divergence?, soft, fluff, slightly explicit but, really, barely suggestive. if you squint hard enough, you might see some. ㅤㅤㅤ 〔NO BETA〕

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: okay, but what if Hyperreal got horns like Palefire? or what if Palefire's horns are... actually sensitive? (forget about the canon here, what's that?, so I guess is an au because we know Inver-devices ain't like that, but look away)

────────────── ❁ ──────────────

...

Was it that hard before? If you try enough, you can't for the love of your life, remember when you got so fixated on those two blue horns. So, again, was it that hard for you not to look at them whenever Lee was close enough? Certainly, it is now.

But maybe it's because it has been so long since Lee switched to Palefire so seeing him again, after Entropy and then Hyperreal, one of the —if not the only— strongest frame Babylonia has ever made, immune to the virus itself, making it perfect for fighting Ascendants hand to hand and dealing with dead zones.

So yes, it has been a while since you got to see Palefire again. It is now, too, that you realise how different Hyperreal is from the other two frames. You thought Lee changed after the Tower incident, but you never thought it could also show on his frames as well. The maturity in Lee's latest frame is not seen on Palefire.

Now that you're working with him, the two of you alone, for some reason you feel you're with a younger and more blunt version of Lee. Of course, he just switched just because his new frame needed adjustments, so it's not like his personality will go back to when you both first met. But you can't stop thinking about that detail.

However, your issue is another one, right now. You should focus on the papers in front of you, checking and reading past reports to gather information about some new Ascendants or whatever, but you can't stop your own eyes from going to the words in the page in front of you to land straight to those two blue horns.

You know Inver-devices have started to change, so there's a lot of new Constructs that have them quite hidden, giving them even a more human-looking vibe. Leaving aside some visible metallic parts, like arms, hands or legs, the devices that keep them stable and possible to connect with their human Commandant, are not as obvious as before.

Either way, now you're getting too fixated on them, it's hard to look away, you lowkey want to touch them. You never had the chance, or more like, you never had the urge like you have right now.

ㅤㅤㅤ“You've got some strange taste, Commandant.” The blond construct broke the silence.

oh shit, don't tell me I said that out loud?

You laughed awkwardly, suddenly getting too self-conscious of your own feelings. The embarrassment was trying to take over and you could feel your cheeks starting to blush. You cough, as if that was enough to dissipate those unusual thoughts.

ㅤㅤㅤ“My bad, but I never realise they're quite cute. It add to your charm, Lee.” you replied casually.

You look up and your heart skipped a lot. Not a bit, it was a lot. You thanked the human body for having rib cages protecting the organ because you were sure that, at this exact moment, your heart is too wild and might just leave your body.

Lee is… blushing. Of course, not the first time, he would usually slightly blush after he said something awkward or got praised, but why right now? You thought that maybe he would get annoyed, or just nag at you for saying something so silly and meaningless, so that red crippling over his face was unexpected. He looks even more cute now.

Weirdly enough, there was a second when you thought those blue horns changed colours from a dull one to a bright one. As if reacting to Lee's feelings, just like Punchy. But that's not how Inver-devices work… right?

By the time you could think what your body was doing, your fingertips are now resting on one of his horns. It feels a bit rusty, but for some reason, if it wasn't because you already know what they're made of, anyone could mistake them for real ones. They're indeed cute. Skin itching, your fingers are now slowly tracing them.

Lee's body flinches and you retract your fingers. Oh, what if he's angry now? Why are my body and mind not in sync today?. But, lowering your eyes to check his face, now it's fully red. Even his ears are also of a soft shade of pink. You are hoping it is not from anger, you decide to check.

ㅤㅤㅤ“You are mad, right? I'm sorry, I really don't know why I suddenly did that.” you are now retracting your hand.

Lee sighs, then he said, “it's not… that. I'm not mad, it's just…”

Just what? If it's not anger then wha……oh wait.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Are they… sensitive?”

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't have to, really. You move your body closer, maybe too close for the sanity of both of you, but you have the urge to tease him, just a little bit, because you love seeing him flustered, you adore when he loses his cool and he is a complete mess. So your fingers go back to his horns, slowly touching them, in a quite suggestive way.

And Lee knows. All of that. Is he hating it? Partially but just because he also knows how much he likes it. He never thought he would be so turned on by such a stupid thing, yet, there he is. Puffs of air, his breath is erratic and he knows his body is too hot. Your soft skin touching him in that way is killing him, he is suppressing his voice, biting his lips. Lee is sure that if he stop doing that, he won't be able to control some moans.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Does it feel good?” you ask, you know he does feel good, it's pretty obvious if you look down enough.

You don't waste time. Your other hand is now resting on one of his legs, fingers tracing in circles, slowly moving to his inner thighs and getting close to his dick, already hard. But not enough… And you're surprised when Lee's hips move, trying to get close, he wants to get touched.

Oh boy, you're gonna be the death of me.

You retracted your hands. Lee looks up at you, confused, watery eyes, and face as red as a tomato. It's written all over his face “Why did you stop?” so, before standing up from your seat, you close the distance, your lips barely touching his ears.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Wait a little longer. It will get better at night.”

────────────── ❁ ──────────────

〔 🎐 〕 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝙰𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

#pgr #punishing gray raven #pgr lee #lee hyperreal #pgr global #canon divergence #alternate universe #pgr oc #own oc #oc x canon #oc x reader #oc x character #sae pgr writings #lemme dream about this because I know it makes no sense but

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magicbystarlight · 2 years

Text

My Omega - Part Two

(Alpha!Bruce Wayne x Omega!Reader)

Part One

Summary: Bruce’s guilt after the night he Marked you leads to a difficult relationship.

Word Count: 1668

Warnings: 18+, Noncon/dubious consent, angst, heavy guilt from Bruce, A/B/O dynamics. Minors DNI.

A/N: Angsty Bruce is a favorite of mine

The video replayed again at a quarter speed, crawling through the scene at a snail’s pace. It was pointless. There was nothing. No clues, no missed signs, no hidden messages. Still, he watched intently in the vain hope that there was anything that could lead him to the deranged husk of a human.

"Again, Master Bruce?"

The younger man's eyes stayed glued to the screen rewatching every movement he’d already memorized.

Alfred didn't attempt to hide his exasperation as he sat a tray of food on top of scattered papers. "She's worried, you know. She thinks you're trying to leave her again."

Bruce said nothing, though the image in front of him blurred to meaningless blobs.

"Do you know how horrible it feels to have to lie to her face and tell her you're not down here trying to figure out how to do just that??"

Yes. "It's not the same."

"Isn't it?" Alfred was not a large man, especially not compared to the imposing figure that was Bruce. But he had a way of speaking that managed to make Bruce feel like a scolded child again.

"It's not." A high pitched alert sounded throughout the converted station that had Bruce reacting. Months before life in Gotham had been completely upturned he had upgraded the Bat Signal to send alerts to his system whenever it was turned on. It had made it quicker to respond during emergencies.

Shrugging into his hood and pulling the backpack up his arms, he was already halfway towards his motorcycle before he spoke to Alfred. "Don't let her wait up for me. She needs her sleep."

Soft snores met Bruce’s ears hours later as the door quietly clicked shut, his body exhausted beyond measure. It had been a long night, the sun already beginning to rise. A lead on the Joker had turned up nothing but empty disappointments.

He took in your sleeping form, nestled in a circle of rolled blankets and clothing. Clad in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxer briefs, it was his favorite sight. And the one he hated most.

The weight of the life he’d stolen from you all those months ago rested heavily in his chest. The things he’d done to you disgusted him. They had disgusted you too until the Alpha was satisfied with the hours of begging and Marked you as his. Eleven days later, when the Rut had finally ended and Bruce was mostly himself again, he brought you to Wayne Tower. He’d kept his distance at first. Hoped if he denied his own wants he’d spare you the fate of most Omegas. It wasn’t enough to hope, though.

The distance had made you inconsolable and barely able to function. Alfred had brought in different doctors daily for a week out of pure concern. They all concluded that the only thing that could help you was your Alpha’s presence. Bruce thought with time it would get better, but one day he’d walked in to find you exactly like this, curled into a nest on his bed. He hadn’t been strong enough to walk away since.

“Alpha,” you mumbled sleepily as he slid into the empty space next to you.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against him and pressing a kiss into your hair. Nuzzling into his chest, you let your arm fall over his waist. “I’m here.” A content hum vibrated against his chest as his heartbeat lulled you back to sleep, snores returning to their uneven tune.

He couldn’t change what he’d done, no matter how much he hated himself for it. But he was going to fix what he could. He owed you that much.

“Bruce!”

He winced as you witnessed the efforts of his cooking. Half the pancake was still bubbly white goo, the other side completely blackened. He’d only left it for a minute. It was almost as pathetic as the time he put whole beans in the coffee pot.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

You shook your head, smiling as if you found his ineptitude enduring. “Well you certainly did that.” The pancake landed with a thud into the empty bin.

He stood out of the way as you went about doing the simple task he’d been unable to do. Another way he’d failed you.

“Come here,” you called over your shoulder after a few pancakes had been stacked neatly on a plate, the warmth in your eyes for him undeserved. Obediently he came to your side as you poured more batter into the pan.

“You did good on the batter,” you said, the teasing tone of earlier replaced with one of patient adoration. “Next time you make them, set the heat to medium and let the pan heat up…”

It was on the verge of impiety to watch something as unexceptional as a pancake when a seraphic creature like you stood beside him. He’d once thought you an angel, come to earth by misguided prayers. Now he knew you were more: a goddess worthy of temples and a religion in your name. Darkness had stolen you from nirvana, thrust you into a cruel world without care, and left you unprotected from the creatures hidden within the shadows. Creatures like him.

The pancake sizzled as you flipped it with more instructions. Probably more than someone needed for something so simple, but your voice was his favorite sound. At least, the favorite one he could enjoy without being entirely consumed with guilt.

“Your turn,” you said after plopping the perfectly golden pancake with the others.

He tried to focus, to do as you instructed, but you’d nuzzled beneath the arm not holding the spatula while you watched.

Bruce wasn’t someone who enjoyed being touched. His mother had wrapped his life in warm embraces, his father’s hand always gentle as he guided him. Physical affection felt empty and cold without them.

Until you.

“It’s going to burn again.”

The warning had his eyes regrettably pulling away and back to the inane task. It was worth it to see your proud smile as he successfully presented an adequate pancake shortly after.

“Well done, Mr. Wayne.” Your movements were quick. Turning off the heat, moving the pan, sliding your arms around his neck to bring him into a kiss.

Things were so easy with you at times. Moments like this when he was not Bruce Wayne, the son of Gotham. Or Batman, the Caped Crusader. Or Alpha, the rapist. When he was just him and you were just you and this was real. He clung greedily to these moments. When he could pretend that your whispered “I love you” actually meant something. Like anything good in his life, however, these moments were always fleeting and left behind a sting of remorse and disgust at himself.

“We should eat,” he said as your hands snuck down his sides to push under his shirt. Your warm touch was inviting everything he needed to stop.

You hummed against his lips before kissing along his jaw. “The pancakes won’t get up and walk away.”

“They’ll get cold,” he tried, his cock already twitching to life.

“They’ll taste just as good.”

Another argument died on his tongue as he caught sight of your neck. The outline of teeth, his teeth, were pale scars now against the darkened patch of skin, an Omega Patch as it had been labeled recently. His thumb traced over the Mark, mesmerized.

And the smell.

When Bruce had described the odd phenomenon that occurred when an Omega Patch was brushed over or scratched, you’d smiled and called yourself a Scratch-N-Sniff. It was an oddly adequate description. The slightest touch released pheromones, though the scents were usually barely describable to anyone other than a Rutting Alpha.

But your scent still managed to overwhelm his senses.

“If you’re really hungry, I’ve got something else you can eat.”

That snapped the last of his resistance. He lifted you with an ease that seemed inhuman, walking you to the table and gently setting you on top. Bruce was a man of contradictions, his lips light against the skin bared as he easily ripped apart your clothes. The clothes were expendable. You were not.

Each angelic sound that escaped your lips as he worshipped at the apex of your thigh enticed the demonic creature he’d chained inside his mind. Nothing as unholy as the Alpha would claim you again. Not that Bruce’s hands were much cleaner, but at least he would never take pleasure in hurting you.

Your legs were quaking by the third climax, your wor. “Bruce, please,” you whined, tugging at his hair as he lapped at your overstimulated core. “I need you.”

It was too easy to relent to your pleas. He kissed along your stomach, between your breasts, greedy lips finding yours in time to swallow down your gasps as pushed slowly in. It was a perilous place as he rocked into you, balancing his lust with keeping the beast at bay while you writhed beneath him.

It was only after that he saw the finger marks he'd imprinted on your hips. He'd had enough experience in injuries to recognize the first stages of bruising. Bile burned at the back of his throat, threatening to spill the nonexistent contents of his stomach. If it weren't for the hurt etched across your face as he looked at you, his own expression twisted in disgust, he would have walked away. You deserved better. But better wasn't an option.

Schooling his expression into something softer, he scooped you into his arms. "I think you deserve a nice warm bath."

"Do I smell?" Your voice sounded small and hurt. It made his nausea worse.

"Like heaven," he managed to tease, kissing your hair.

It eased you enough, nuzzling against him like you always did. "We should eat first."

A smile that didn't meet his eyes spread across his face as managed to pick up the plate of pancakes. "Who says we can't do both?"

Taglist: @freakinglizzy @daughter-of-the-king-bc @emberenchanted @bamboozledflamplant

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne smut #battinson #omega!reader #my omega

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pencil-peach · 8 months

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Thinking about Guel Jeturk (Pt 1)

He is such a cool character. He's such a genuine piece of shit and at the start of the show I really thought, even if he did change, that I wouldn't like him, but by the time the show ended I genuinely wanted for his happiness as much as every other character.

So I just wanna talk about him I guess

Cringe analysis under the cut awooo awooOOoooOooo

I think it's important that Guel starts off the show as just an actual shithead. He's just the misogynist bully archetype at its core and he treats Miorine like property and everyone else like they're beneath him, but it's also important to understand the context of that behavior too.

Guel has basically everything. Money, Prestige, Power, Respect. Everything has essentially been handed to him on a silver platter, and as long as he continues to win duels (the only thing he is actually, GENUINELY good at) that won't change. And with that comes an insane amount of pride and arrogance. He expects things to go his way because, for basically his entire life, that's just how things have always been. In the business world that he's been surrounded by, the strong always win out over the weak.

But with Suletta, all of the pride and respect that comes with his title and status is utterly and completely meaningless to her.

And he tries his classic shtick of listing out all of his titles on her, because in the world he lives in, that alone is what makes him worthy of either fear or respect.

But it doesn't work on Suletta, because the world of the Benerit Group is not the real world, the one she lives in. She repeatedly looks past all of his flashy titles and admonishes and judges him for his BEHAVIOR, the true merit of his character.

When she agrees to duel him, Guel sees it as putting an ignorant girl in her place. And why would he believe otherwise? He's always been on top at Asticassia, and this is no different. Dueling is the one thing that he KNOWS he's good at. It's the one skill that is definably his, that he truly earned through his own hard work. It's why he get so upset and defensive when Suletta looks down on him.

But the important thing here is that he LOSES to Suletta. BADLY.

And the lesson Guel is forced to learn from this loss is that every single thing he latched onto in his life, everything that he decided makes him worthy of respect and admiration, is not only immaterial, but, more importantly, conditional.

His pride and status, his role as heir of the Jeturk Company, and, most damning of all, his father's love, was based entirely on whether or not he was the current Holder at Asticassia.

Because he lost one duel, (the FIRST duel he had ever lost, mind you) a duel to a Gundam that, based on what we know, was quite literally unwinnable, Guel's father slaps him across the face and yells at him.

Before the rematch, when Guel is told that the Darilbalde is piloted by an AI, his father slaps him across the face AGAIN and tells him straight up that his feelings do not matter if he's not the Holder.

Which is why the scene where Suletta defends him from Secelia's taunts and explains her motto is so important

Everyone in Guel's life at this point, even his own father, looks down upon and mocks him for losing the duel. But Suletta isn't. She just tells him that even though he lost, he still deserves praise for not running away.

This is probably the first time in his life anyone has ever just told him that. That it's okay that he lost. That it's enough that he just tried.

Quick aside, but this moment here, when Suletta is talking about how much her mother means to her, and Guel holds his hand up to the cheek his father slaps him across hasn't, and will probably never, leave my brain.

But Suletta's words don't reflect Guel's reality. And the fact that he lost means even more is being taken from him, including his ability to even duel.

During the rematch, the Darilbalde doesn't even respond to his input. He, like Miorine, is having all of his decisions made for him, because without the title of holder, he's utterly powerless.

And the truly tragic thing here is that, once Guel smashes the AI and begins fighting on his own, he starts doing much better than when the AI was fighting and his father was cheating for him. He was genuinely a match for Permet 1 Aerial. But it's too late.

Maybe this is just me, but I always got the impression that if Guel was able to fight this battle on his own from the start, it would have been much more even, and he might have even won. But he didn't. He lost, again. And because of this, things are going to get much worse for him, really damn fast.

#guel jeturk #g witch #gundam the witch from mercury #sorry im on my 3rd rewatch now so. im gonna be annoying still #sorry.#fucking love that editing images on this image posting app doesnt fucking work properly #hey tumblr why dont you fix ur fucking post feature #THEN you can add stupid bullshit nobody cares about #or not do that too!#whatever!

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corrodedseraphine · 1 year

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have mercy on me | #2 wish you the best

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

chapter summary: Eddie is once again closing a chapter in his life called Chrissy. This time, hopefully, it's over for good. This, however, was the first step to lift his head out from under the heavy and aggressive waves. Unfortunately, without your help, everything was much harder.

the story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | eddie munson masterlist | general masterlist

song that I used: Lewis Capaldi - Wish you the best (and I slightly changed the text, so it would fit better in the story, I hope that's okay)

thank you @i-me-mine for always helping me with making a decision, and @phantypurple for the idea how to develop the hallway scene ♥

once again, no promises guys. I am in shock how many of you wanted to be tagged in the second part and I really hope you won't be dissapointed.

"We have two hours before my parents are back." Chrissy said, closing the house door behind her. Eddie wordlessly followed her to her room feeling the weight in his chest grow heavier. Days passed and girl's behavior, despite her promises, did not change. "I missed them." she said taking his hand and began to look at the long ringed fingers. "No one could take care of me as well as you." She purred and began kissing his neck, then biting it gently. There was a time when the touch of her lips on his neck drove him crazy. Now, however, they seemed shallow. Emotionless. Meaningless. They had always been like that, but then, poorer in experience, he didn't know what it meant and how it felt when someone could convey ever single emotion with a simple touch. When you kissed him he felt that you needed him. He felt that you wanted him in every way, felt all the love you had inside you and wanted to give him. Now when the cheerleader's lips formed wet paths on his skin he felt none of these things. Chrissy didn't miss him. She missed how he was able to make her feel good. She missed how all his attention was focused on her and he did everything to always meet her expectations. He did everything for her and it still wasn't enough.

"Maybe I could finally meet your parents?" he asked suddenly pushing her away.

"What? Why are you bringing this up now?" she was taken aback.

"Don't you think maybe I could finally meet them and stop sneaking around here like some kind of an intruder?"

"Uh...that's not the best idea..." Her eyes nervously looked around the room avoiding his.

"Why? Are you ashamed of me?" Deep down he knew the answer to that question.

"We just got back together, I need some time."

"Then maybe let's go to my place? You'll meet my uncle, there we won't have to hide."

"Eddie, this is not the best time for such things. Let's just focus on the fact that we're here alone and we can enjoy each other." Wanting to divert his attention from the difficult questions he was asking, she began slowly pulling off his vest.

"Do you think you'll ever be able to love me Chrissy?" This question should have been asked months ago. At the very beginning when the first symptoms of the fact that he was not as important to her as she was to him appeared.

"Eddie..." she didn't know what to answer.

"I know I'm able to love you again Chrissy, but I need to know if you're even capable of doing it for the first time with me? You keep reminding me that you are my first love, but I'm beginning to wonder if I was any of yours?"

"To fall in love with me all over again? What are you talking about?" her surprise slowly turned into annoyance.

"You broke my heart, somehow I managed to recover from that, but you were not there. You weren't there for me when I needed it and you weren't there when I bounced back. So you know... there may be a very long road ahead, which is why I want to know if you will ever be able to love me."

"You expect very hard answers from me, Eddie. I need time."

"So let me know when you can finally talk to me about it." was disappointed but not surprised. He expected such a reaction. "See you later Chrissy." He left the house and returned to the trailer. I need time. She always needs time. But not for what needs to be done. She needs more time to once again manipulate and blindside him. But this time he did not fool himself into thinking that he would actually get an answer after some time. It was a lost cause.

Your broken heart was merciless to you. Without giving a moment's rest it sucked all the life energy out of you, making you feel like you had nothing left. In the morning, sensing you couldn't cope with the reality that awaited you there, you lied to your mother that you felt very unwell only to be hidden under a blanket that like a shield protected you from the outside world.

At the same time school life went on at its own pace, until...

"Too bad you weren't with us yesterday, babe." Jason said while embracing Chrissy.

"I told you, I had to study." She rolled her eyes and looked around.

"Why don't you tell us more about your studying with Munson?" one of the members of the basketball team snarked.

"What the hell are you talking about Ted?" asked Jason.

"I saw our sweet Chrissy leading none other than the Freak to her house yesterday. I didn't know she was tutoring now." the boy had fun seeing Chrissy's angry face.

"What is wrong with you?!" Jason yelled looking at her. Hearing the his raised voice, a group of curious students began to gather around them. Somewhere at the end of the crowd was Eddie. "We just got back together, and you are cheating on me with him again? You're impossible!"

"I'm not cheating on you with him Jason!" she was trying to defend. "He's the one who came to ask me for a second chance!" Lies. More lies. Eddie was watching this wondering how stupid he was to believe that she can change. She can't. And this time he refused to remain in the shadows. He had come to terms with the fact that it was over and had no intention of taking part in this circus anymore.

"Cut the bullshit, Chrissy." he said stepping out in front of the crowd. "You invited me yesterday, I wouldn't have done it myself." he said tilting back his hair so everyone could see the little hickey on his neck.

"It wasn't me! Maybe it's y/n, she's always been drooling at the sight of you, even when we were together! I don't care what you do with her! But clearly she must be hopeless since you wanted to come back to me!" she was panicking.

"Don't you dare talk about her like that!" He was exhausted by the whole situation, feeling that he was on the verge of breaking down. He was furious with Chrissy for the way she treated him, but when she started insulting you he knew he couldn't let it go. He was beginning to hate himself for putting you in the middle of all this.

"How else can I call her and her pathetic sad songs?" Chrissy kept rambling on completely not expecting this to be her final show.

"Just Shut Up!" Eddie shouted losing his patience. "You're the one who begged me for a second chance! You were the one who couldn't stand the fact that I've moved on and I'm much happier than I was with you! You cheated on me with him, You broke my heart and wanted to do it all over again! I'm sick of it."

"She cheated on you with me? She cheated on me with you!" interjected an indignant Jason.

"I don't give a shit about this Carver." Eddie rubbed his face with his hand. "I am fucking done, and you..." He pointed his finger at Chrissy. "You're not worth it. You never were."

"You'll regret it." she said through her teeth. Eddie just laughed and shook his head.

"The only thing I regret was allowing you to be with me the second time. Because of that, I lost someone much more important."

"She will never be like me!"

"That's the point. She will always be much better than you."

"I don't believe I'm saying this, but Freak is right. You're not worth it." Jason waved his hand and walked through the crowd leaving Eddie and Chrissy in the spotlight.

"Eddie..." her tone was different now. There was no longer a trace of anger in it. She would not fall for it this time. No more manipulation. Without a word, he backed away and left the building. He felt completely different than he expected. This time, instead of piercing pain, he felt relief. The last thread between him and Chrissy was cut. A weight fell from his heart when he closed that chapter in his life. However, this was only the beginning of fixing.

When you showed up at school the next day you felt too many stares on you. As you walked down the halls people suddenly went silent or their voices turned into whispers. Even during class, you couldn't escape it. Anxiety grew in you every minute, and the fact that you didn't know what was going on made everything worse. When it came time for lunch you knew that you definitely wouldn't find peace in the crowded canteen. Talking to Robin about how you were feeling the two of you hid in music class.

"Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I feel like the whole school isn't taking their eyes off me today. It's weird." You said sitting down at the table.

"Yesterday was quite... interesting. There was one big drama between Chrissy, Jason and Eddie..."

"Stop." you interrupted her. "I don't think I want to know what's going on anymore."

"Are you sure? I think it's quite important." she looked at you worriedly.

"I'm sure. I don't want to hear anything about them for now." you were convinced that it was all because Jason had found out that Eddie and Chrissy were back together.

"Okay." she said and began unpacking food from her backpack. You, feeling a huge knot of anxiety in your stomach, had no appetite. "Have you written any new songs?" she asked while biting into her sandwich.

"Yes, one." you answered and took out a piece of paper with lyrics from your bag. Robin read the words with interest.

"It's great..." she commented.

"But?" you asked, seeing her hesitation.

"Are you sure you don't want to hear what happened yesterday?" she sighed.

"No. At least not now," you replied.

"Maybe it would be worth giving it a chance? To listen to him?"

"I don't know if I have any strength to do that Robin. It's all too painful. I still miss him. I miss him like hell and one part of me dreams of nothing but having him back in my life. But on the other hand, it still hurts. When I see him, I feel furious, unable to forgive him for what he did."

"Do you want to sing to me about it?" she asked, smiling gently. She didn't want to convince you more, she knew that forcing you to do such things would not end well. As your friend, she wanted to be there for you and support you no matter what you decided.

At the same time, Eddie had been standing outside the door from the music hall for a good 10 minutes. As soon as he noticed that you were going there with Robin he saw it as an opportunity to try to talk to you because you had been constantly avoiding him since the morning. In his mind he was repeating everything he wanted to say to you, trying to predict every possible reaction that could come from you. Every now and then he would put out his hand, sweaty from nerves, wanting to grab the handle and go inside, but he would immediately withdraw it. Fighting an internal battle with himself, he couldn't decide what to do. Then he heard the sound of an old piano, and after a while your voice.

I miss knowin' what you're thinkin' And hearin' how your day has been Do you think you can tell me everything, darling? But leave out every part about her Right now you're probably by the ocean While I'm still out here in the rain With every day that passes by since we've spoken It's like our dreams are turning grey Maybe it's supposed to be this way

But, oh, my love I wanna say I miss the brown in your eyes And when I said we could be friends, guess I lied I wanna say I wish that you never left Oh, but instead I only wish you the best I wanna say without you, everything's wrong And you were everything I need all along I wanna say I wish that you never left Oh, but instead I only wish you the best

Well, I can't help but notice You seem happier than ever now And I guess that I should tell you I'm sorry It seems I was the problem somehow Maybe I only brought you down

Wish I could say it's something I really mean But I want you happy whether not it's with me I wanna say I wish that you never left Oh, but instead I only wish you the best I wanna say without you, everything's wrong And you were everything I need all along I wanna say I wish that you never left Oh, but instead I only wish you the best

You didn't deserve all the pain he caused you. You didn't deserve to be sad. The fact that he made you think you weren't good enough for him tightened his throat. The claws of guilt clenched even tighter when he heard that despite how he hurt you, you still wished him well. On impulse, he pushed the door handle hard and rushed inside.

"You were never the problem." He said as soon as your gaze fell on him.

"What do you want Eddie?" the very sight of him was like pouring salt on a wound.

"To talk. Please." his eyes glazed over with tears, he was desperate. And even though you felt like running away, you didn't. Part of you, despite the pain, wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I will leave you alone." Robin said. "I'll wait for you in front of the classroom."

"Okay." you said. When she left your eyes went back to him again.

"I broke up with Chrissy." he said quickly. "Everything is over between us, for good."

"What do you expect from me? Congratulations? Are you looking for a shoulder to cry on again?" Your words were sharp and painful. Even if he was ready for them and expected them, nothing could protect him from it. It was hard for you, too. You never wanted to be a person who would hurt those whom you loved. Unfortunately, you did not know how to deal with it any other way. Feelings of betrayal and disappointed trust still filled you, so fighting pain with causing pain clouded your view on the world and you couldn't find another solution. You couldn't afford to be vulnerable.

"I just wanted you to know, a-and-" he looked confused. It was as if he was sinking once again, but this time he saw no light from the safe haven anywhere.

"I'll ask again Eddie, why did you choose her? What was I not good enough at?" hot tears steamed your cheeks. "Who held you in their arms when she left? Where was Chissy when you drank yourself into unconsciousness from sadness? Who carried you half-conscious into the trailer and held your hair when you were throwing up?" you didn't want to use his moments of weakness against him but it was all too much for you. Flustered, you began to list further. "Where was Chrissy during your concerts? Where was she during the competition? Did she finally stop avoiding meetings with your uncle? Did she finally introduce you to her family? When her friends called you the worst names, did she do anything other than look the other way and pretend not to hear them?" you were angry, but mostly hurt. "It was ME who was by your side the whole time, not Chrissy. I was the one who wiped away all your tears Eddie, you knew very well how I felt about you, you knew very well that I would do anything for you! And it still wasn't enough. Without hesitation I gave you my heart, because I naively believed that you were really capable of loving me, but I was wrong. It turned out even that was not enough. No matter how hard I tried, you would always choose to be heartbroken by her, rather than give me a chance."

"I know you hate me now, but-"

"I don't hate you, Eddie! I wish I could hate you but I fucking love you and it hurts me even more! You said I was like a lighthouse that helped you get home during the storm. Why did you throw yourself into those waves once again? The pain she gave you was better than staying with me?"

"I was an idiot! Blinded by fucking stereotype about first love, I thought it was the right thing to do! I knew what to expect from her, but I didn't know what to expect from you, from us! Things were different with you, no one had ever behaved like that towards me, I was afraid that sooner or later it would all end anyway..." he said, and only later it occurred to him what the meaning of these words was. Thinking that he couldn't hurt you he was wrong.

"I'm sorry to tell you this Eddie but in most cases first love sucks. It mercilessly destroys everything you ever believed in leaving you nothing but a wreck! But now I'm beginning to think that all loves are just like that..." you wipe away the tears. You didn't want to show him how much you were hurting.

"y/n..."

"How would you react if I were the one to go back to Ethan? If I had been the one to leave you for him just because he was my first love and I knew what to expect from a relationship with him?"

"You know damn well he was a piece of shit and didn't deserve you." he growled without thinking.

"Why do you think he was a piece of shit?"

"Because he cheated on you with half the cheerleading squad! He didn't appreciate what he has!"

"That's right Eddie. He cheated on me with half the cheerleading squad. Including Chrissy." you said bitterly. "You have no right to say that he didn't appreciate what he had, because you didn't want it either."

"I beg you, let me fix it." He grabbed your hand, but you quickly snatched it away.

"I'm not a consolation prize Eddie. Not again," you said.

"You never were!"

"Stop lying! You always come to me only when she disappears from your life leaving a void! I fell for it once but never again Eddie. Never fucking again." You walked past him and out of the room leaving him alone. He felt like someone had ripped out his heart and torn it into little pieces.

What he felt when he first caught Chrissy cheating was nothing compared to what was happening now. Now, on top of all this, he added self-hatred. He hated himself for all the harm he had done to you. He hated himself for every tear you shed because of him. He hated himself for every song you wrote about him. Indeed, a song. His hazy gaze fell on the piece of paper with the lyrics that you had forgotten to take. He approached slowly and began to stare at your writing. At the words that were directed to him. Despite the fact that the song was beautiful he wished it had never been written. At that moment he dreamed of nothing more than turning back time, and sending Chrissy straight to hell.

I wanna say without you, everything's wrong And you were everything I need all along I wanna say I wish that you never left, I wanna say I wish you loved me instead of her Oh, but instead I only wish you the best

The crossed-out phrase was glaring him. He stopped loving Chrissy. Of that he was sure. So why then did he accept her back? What the fuck is wrong with you Munson? He asked himself, yet he didn't know the answer. He felt as if everything was wrong with him. He had never been great at making good decisions, but this one seemed to be on the top of the worst ones in his entire life.

For the rest of the classes he did his best not to let on how awful he felt. With a mask of false happiness on his face, he survived to the end. He didn't want others to know the truth. He knew that if only someone noticed even a single tear from his eye the rumor would spread faster than anything else. The worst part would be that people would link it to Chrissy, and he couldn't let that happen.

It wasn't until a trailer appeared in his sight that he felt all the dams inside him burst. Without a word he went inside, ignoring his uncle's questions, and locked himself in his room. His heart began to beat faster and his breathing caught up with the speed. Here he didn't have to pretend. Here he could allow himself a moment of weakness. Tears began to fall, however, he didn't know if it was from sadness or anger. He felt overwhelmed. He was crushed to the ground by something heavy, so that he was unable to get up. He nervously started looking around the room, noticing objects that reminded him of her. A hair elastic she had once lent him, some Polaroids taken in the privacy of her room, where they were together, a pen he had once borrowed from her. The small objects seemed too big now. Not fitting here. Quickly he picked up the bin that stood by the bed and started throwing everything away. Everything that only connected him to the past. He even got rid of his T-shirt, which she claimed was her favorite. There was no place in his life for her anymore. Throwing it all away was the final step. A symbolic ritual that brought him even more relief despite the tears that still flowed into his eyes. Looking around to see if he was sure he had cleared out everything, he swung his hand, knocking down the photo that stood on his bedside table.

"No! nononono..." he began to repeat while bending down to pick it up. "Damn it! Shit!" he cursed. Looking at the broken frame, he couldn't stand it anymore. Eddie was never one of those people who cried out loud. This time when the first sob left his mouth right after it like a domino flew others. "I am so sorry, so fucking sorry." He looked in despair at the framed photo he received from you right after breaking up with Chrissy.

"As a reminder that you will never be alone," you said handing him a wooden frame.

Inside there was a photo that Gareth had once taken at one of the rehearsals. You were sitting side by side playing one guitar. Eddie was responsible for the chords on its neck with one hand and you were strumming the rhythm. You looked at each other with a smile. Now looking at this photo he was able to recognize your look. A gaze full of warmth and love that you had felt for him for a very long time. Unfortunately, now everything was damaged, cracked, just like the frame he held in his hands.

He helplessly sank to the floor leaning against the bed. When the door from his room opened and a worried Wayne stood in it.

"Can we talk son?" he asked entering the room slowly.

"I'm not in the mood, Wayne." Eddie replied while wiping his tears into the sleeve.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." The man sat down next to his nephew on the floor. "You know I usually try to respect your privacy and give you space, but your condition worries me."

Eddie answered nothing, still looking at the photo he held in his shaking hands. He also tried to calm the sounds of crying that desperately wanted to escape from his throat.

"It's okay if you feel like crying, boy. Everyone needs to cry their eyes out sometimes." He put his arm around him, at which Eddie burst out in tears once again. Wayne said nothing more. He held him in his arms waiting for each wave of sadness to pass. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him so shaken. His hiccuped breaths were the only sound filling the room.

"I fucked up." he gulped. "I destroyed everything. Everything."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

He did. He told everything from the very beginning. Taking his uncle through all the events step by step, he shared his pain with him. He didn't feel judged. Instead, he felt listened to. When he finished telling the story, from his pocket he took out a bent piece of paper that he had taken earlier from the music room and handed it to him. The man read the text in silence without asking questions. He knew your handwriting, you had shown him many times the songs you had written together. Knowing the whole situation now, he also guessed that the song you wrote was about Eddie.

"You made a mistake son. Now you must face its consequences." he said handing him back the piece of paper. "But I think that you still have a chance," he said.

"She said she still loves me, and that it hurts her even more,"

"And we can't be surprised by it. You yourself know very well how it hurts when the person we love breaks our heart." his voice was calm. He wasn't going to lie to Eddie that everything would be fine. He wasn't going to lie by saying he hadn't done anything wrong. "But judging by that song, by what she said... there is still hope. You just have to decide if you want it and if you are willing to fight for it."

"I want it, I want it so damn much," he said.

"You know it won't be easy?"

"I know... but she's worth it. She always has been."

"You have to try to explain it to her."

"I tried today, but I screwed things up even more."

"Try until you get it right. Show that you care. You deserve a second chance son. I know you and I know that you are worth it too."

"Do you really think so?"

"I know it."

"Thanks." He hugged his old man and got up from the floor later helped him do the same.

"What are you going to do now?"

"To try until it works." Determined, he left the house and got into his car.

When he pulled up in your driveway all the windows were covered. Just as he thought, no one opened the door when he knocked on it. After a few attempts, he returned to his car, creating in his mind a map of places where he could find you. Unfortunately, there was no sign of you anywhere. The next stop was Robin's house, but you were not there either. Mrs. Buckley, though, mentioned that you and her daughter had arranged a movie marathon at Steve's house.

Standing in front of the Harringtons' mansion, he felt very strange. Out of place. His barely alive van parked next to a shiny BMW caused curious neighbors to look out the windows watching him. After several knocks on the door, Steve opened it.

"You've got to be kidding me. What are you doing here?" he asked crossing arms over his chest.

"Let me talk to her please," Eddie said.

"Dude do you have any idea what you did with her? I've never seen anyone in my life able to cry so much, we couldn't calm her down for over an hour." Steve looked around, seeing the curious stares he stepped aside letting Eddie inside and closed the door behind them. "You have to be quiet, she fell asleep and don't even dare wake her up."

"Steve? Who is it?" Robin's whisper came from the stairs.

"Y/n has a guest..." Hearing this, the girl found herself downstairs at the speed of light sticking her gaze into the metalhead.

"You look like shit." she said measuring him from top to bottom. His eyes were still bloodshot from crying.

"Well... I am a piece of shit, so the look fits." he replied quietly.

"At least we agree on that." Her answer was sharp. Still, he didn't expect any different.

"I really care about her, let me talk to her, please." he went straight to the point.

"If you care so much about her why did you choose Chrissy? Your words go against everything you do." Steve said.

"I don't know why! At that moment I wasn't even sure if I still loved her, but at the time it seemed reasonable that it should be that way."

"It was the stupidest decision you could have made," said Steve.

"I know I want to fix it!"

"There's no way I'm going to let you close to her, Musnon. I left you alone today with the hope that you could really explain everything, and you broke her even more. I didn't even know it was possible!" Robin was furious.

"Every time we manage to pick up the pieces of her and somehow glue it all together you smash everything up all over again. How many more times are you going to leave her with a broken heart?" Steve questioned.

"Never. Never again if you just let me." He was ready to beg them on his knees. They were like an impenetrable shield protecting you from him.

"No way." Robin was adamant. Steve, however, saw something different in all this, so he looked at his friend with a meaningful gaze. "Are you crazy? You really want to give him a chance?!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

"You know perfectly well that he is the only person who can finally make her happy! We will never do that! And besides, he cares. The fact that he came all the way here just shows how desperate he is!" Eddie couldn't believe what was happening. Steve Harrington was just taking his side. The same Steve Harrington who should have flung his fists at him the moment he saw him on his doorstep for breaking his friend's heart.

"You're mental! Do you really think he deserves forgiveness? After everything he did to her?"

"Yes, I believe!" this time emotions took over and he was unable to keep his voice quiet. Everyone was shocked by the loudness and turned their gaze towards the stairs that led upstairs where you were sleeping. After a moment of silence, when they heard no sound Steve continued, whispering again. "I too have made many mistakes Robin. You know very well that I was much worse than he was, but you have forgiven me. You all forgave me and gave me a chance to show that I can change. That I can fix my mistakes. Maybe it's worth at least trying? Do you remember how happy she was with him? We've never seen her like that in our lives, so maybe it's worth letting him."

"Fine." she said after a moment of reflection. When she analyzed what Steve had said, it was hard for her to disagree. "But not today. Let her rest for goodness sake." she sighed. "This will be your last chance, Munson. I hope you don't screw it up."

Before he could say anything Robin came back upstairs leaving him alone with Steve.

"Thanks man..." he said quietly.

"Listen, I seriously believe you have no intention of hurting her again...But that doesn't mean we forgive you. Just make sure you don't mess anything up this time."

"I promise." he said.

When he returned home Wayne was gone. Entering the room, he noticed how a new, empty photo frame lay on the bed, with an old, shattered one next to it. He quickly put the photo in the new one and set it on the bedside table where it had been placed before.

"I won't give up on you." he said quietly feeling a familiar sting in his chest. The realization that you were now sleeping in Steve Harrington's bed didn't help either, because he would have given anything to have you in his arms again. Instead, he had an empty, cold place next to him reminding him of the emptiness you left behind.

Staring at the photo, he recalled how he felt when you chose him for the first time. Silence like the one that surrounded him now spread memories of how safe he felt with you. He closed his eyes, hoping that in his dream everything would be fine. Despite the fact that no one was breathing beside him now, he wanted your soothing whisper to lull him to sleep. Imagining it all again, he felt the wet drops running along his cheeks. In his mind he still had your face, he still had it, and he wanted to hold on that sight tightly, vowing that if he ever managed to get you back he would do everything to not lose you again.

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