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deltas-writing-corner · 4 years ago

Text

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand.

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are.

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day.

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation.

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human.

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation.

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable.

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?”

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place…

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!”

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night.

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness-

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then.

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet.

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. ��I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely.

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts.

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down.

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated.

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior.

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated.

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

545 notes · View notes

aftqrglow · 3 years ago

Text

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence.

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table.

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you.

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back.

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky.

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said.

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual.

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @ughlantsov @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons

if you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #marvel mcu

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you-cant-spell-subtext-without · 4 years ago

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so get this. I was gonna roll around in Tombstone related fluff today - but no, no - this post came across my dash so Now We Are Gonna Discuss the Carnal Consumption of Meat as it appears on That Show Supernatural. YEAH BUDDIES!

(also my sincere apologies to OP of the inspiration post who innocently tagged it with “lunch date!” because I am about to go Elsewhere, cursedly).

Let’s all go meat man, after the cut!

This analysis centers primarily on 5x14 Bloody Valentine. The title of course is a semi-homage to a 3D Slasher Film Jensen starred in circa 2009.

Which I will be renting soon I guess. ,[<- parasocial panda GET BACK IN YOUR ENCLOSURE]

Also Its Really Fun that the trailer for Said Cinema ends with “nothing says date movie like a 3-D ride to hell” [are you also thinking of Cas pulling Dean out of hell, or are you normal?] ***unironically the teaser for 5x14 is -

EXT. SIDEWALK - IN FRONT OF ALICE'S APARTMENT BUILDING

RUSSEL

First date.

They then eat each other. Literally they eat each others flesh. They also do it while dirty talking about it. SPN IS A SHOW

ALICE Ugh! I've been so alone. So empty...

RUSSEL I know. Me too.

ALICE I want you, Russel---All of you... inside me...

[they both take bites out of each other, Alice chewing on a piece of Russel's flesh]

****Remember this detail, as it is important.

ANYWAY, it’s truly Cursed that not only are we doing an homage to this 3-D Jensen Horror Date Flick but also this episode is specifically centered on Valentine’s Day. The day honoring romance and love Now Coopted by Hallmark, everyone, that is the day spn writers chose to introduce us to

Sir Horseman of THE Biblical Apocalypse Famine.

Canonically, we are aware that the show is drawing from the book of Revelations in its depiction of the Four Horsemen. Here’s what it says about Famine -

"When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.”

-Revelations 6:5

Famine holds scales (used to weigh out grain in times of food scarcity). Spn’s depiction is represented as hunger, a bottomless pit of need. It consumes souls (demon and human alike).

Cas describes Famine a little more poetically:

CASTIEL

"And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty... "

"... and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. "

"His hunger will seep out and poison the air. "

***Consider a prior season in which we are introduced to the Seven Deadly Sins. Which are the sins associated with hunger?

Gluttony

and Lust.

***this is also important

Back to the episode. Case cold open, and we find out that Alice was a Nice Girl. In that she didnt drink, smoke or

have premarital sex.

***So Alice’s hunger for the sin of Lust caused her to succumb to it; and her demise was presented as Gluttony (literally eating her partner’s flesh). HMM

Famine’s presence is affecting the town, and Cas is not immune.

DEAN

And when did you start eating?

CASTIEL

Exactly. My hunger-- it's a clue, actually.

***They lay it out a little more in case you missed it ->

SAM

I thought famine meant starvation, like as in, you know, food.

CASTIEL

Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something--Sex, attention, drugs, love...

***this is so important. but of course because its spn and our textual narrators are generally unreliable (even in a Ben Edlund episode, yes I know)

we get a red herring

CASTIEL

Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it.

***but that’s not accurate. they didn’t get married or become obsessed with each other (remember the cursed coin in 4x08 Wishful Thinking and the unconditional love wish? not what happened here). they had premarital sex. they did the thing Alice considers wrong, and dark, and sinful. and then they ate each others’ flesh.

DEAN

Okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?

CASTIEL

It's my vessel-- Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect

***mad lad Jimmy Novak’s hunger is for...red meat? He is starving for red meat? You are telling me that the Novaks, red blooded conservative religious midwestern Novaks, ate RED MEAT SO SPARINGLY that Jimmy Novak was LITERALLY starving for it?!?! No way. Absolutely no way. This is a man who was such a religious zealot he STUCK HIS HAND IN BOILING WATER and accepted an angel of the lord into his own body but his secret hunger was for fucking ground beef?

give me a damn break.

to me this is an absolute coverup. Because Cas’s burger consumption is not related one iota to his vessel Jimmy Novak.

it is a representation of Cas falling. Cas’s cravings for meat represent his growing (and very much prohibited) feelings for...humanity (Dean Winchester), and they are presenting as Gluttony in the form of his downing more and more copious amounts of red meat.

SERIOUSLY, consider this - at one point the depiction is so desperately carnal that he is eating raw ground beef with his bare hands. It is fucking uncomfortable. and it is SUPPOSED to be. Famine stirs up hunger for the prohibited. For the sinful. That which we are starving for but do not believe we can ever have, so we lust and we lust and we LUST after it, but should we allow ourselves even just a taste of what we have been ravenously craving, we binge it until we ourselves disappear into the oblivion of our own sinful, dark desires.

Since You Want More Examples of why this cant possibly be hunger for Cheeseburgers and Cheeseburgers alone, Consider Famine’s effect on Dean. Remember his doctor kink?

**when its revealed that Doctor Corman has succumbed to Famine’s poison by drinking himself to death, Dean - very uncharacteristically by the way - reacts by saying out loud

DEAN Thanks. Crap! I really kind of liked this guy.

***please note that Doctor Corman says the following to Dean in the prior scene they have together -

DR. CORMAN [to Dean]

Agent Marley, you just can't stay away.

****was that a flirtation?

***Also, Dean doesn’t want to go out and chase tail for Valentines Day.

SAM

I mean, what do you always call it-- Uh, unattached drifter Christmas?

DEAN

Oh, yeah. Well... be that as it may...I don't know. Guess I'm not feeling it this year.

SAM

So you're not into bars full of lonely women?

DEAN

Nah, I guess not. [takes a sip of his beer] Ahh. What?

SAM

That's when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong.

***oh look we are relating things to eating again. sex/lust to gluttony. hmmm hmmm hmmm

ANYHOW - *takes deep breath*

this is also the Episode Where This Scene Lives

****JACKTING JOICES

oh and speaking of jacting joices, this is also the Dean Notices Cupids Crotch Episode.

frAckles, I am once again asking why you only permit celestial beings to hug you from behi-[gunshots]

but Dean isn’t hungry. Why? Famine has the explanation, and we get it after Dean immediately runs inside after Cas heads in to complete his portion of their plan barely giving him any time to do so because he misses him that much.

FAMINE

I disagree. [Famine moves closer to Dean and touches him] Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex.

DEAN

Oh, you're so full of crap.

FAMINE

Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me!

***not Dean making all of those homophobic/homoerotic jokes every time he’s in danger or feeing uncomfortable; not that, that can’t possibly be what Famine is referencing, right?

I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated.

***not THIS parallel:

AMARA:

You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel, except… It's cloaked in shame

You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just... keep going through the motions.

***not the motions of performative heterosexuality!!

***Dean’s not hungry because in his heart he truly believes that he can’t actually have what he hungers for. That Thing Which This Episode Overtly but Also Very Clearly Made Obvious. It’s an angel riding shotgun [I did Do That and I am Not Sorry], eating a burger in the front seat of the impala. But, I’ve deviated from the meat of this essay [gunshots] [this time just for the bad joke].

BONUS

there’s Exists another episode in which a man ravenously consumes red meat; eventually succumbing to eating raw beef with his bare hands in the season prior to this one.

Yes Supernatural the Show That Brought Us Not One But Two Scenes of Persons Carnally Consuming Red Meat With Their Bare Hands.

This episode is a MOTW - the man in question is a rougaru - a monster that starts out as human but due to some specific genetic disorder (hmmm hmmm hmm crack in THE chassis hmmm hmmm) soon begins to be extremely hungry - “for everything, but eventually long pig.” AKA human flesh.

Wanna know the kicker?

Episode’s called Metamorphosis.

(GIF by jackttwist)

I’ll see myself out.

[DOUBLE BONUS for extra credit:

if you really wanna wild out, go watch the scene of Jack the rougaru looking at himself in the mirror in 4x04 - and then meander on over to 7x01 and check out God!stiel looking in the mirror as the leviathans writhe inside him over there. It’s worth the walk.]

***oh and @lilac-void im tagging you in this one because in exchange for your KIND creator content nomination I guess I will respond by cursing you with an Honorary tag in this, a Meat Meta. you’re welcome slash I'm sorry XO [but seriously thank you again for your kindness and appreciation; it really motivated me to sit down and get moving on making more content <3]

#yes I did do a meat meta #and what of it #destiel #spn #spn fandom #supernatural #spn family #myspnmeta #my spn meta #hellerism #deancas #longpost #spn analysis #spn 5x14 #spn bloody valentine #meat meta #<- I do not even want to know or see what else that tag would lead to

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years ago

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WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)

Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda. As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing. He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna. That's the story Nero is about to discover.

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past

Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you. Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music. Never thought he would come back here one day. His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries. Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle. “You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.” Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda. “What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings. “Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.” “ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided. “Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be. “I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.” “Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding

sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him. “Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!” If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.” Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was. “Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion. “So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his. “My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance. “Do you ever think of her?” New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash. “The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you

never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out. “ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”

***

Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what. “Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?” “Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile. “Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.” “When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?” Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!” “And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.” “ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.” And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that. “Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did. He knew he was. God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue. “I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.” “ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there. “ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes. “Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.

“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.” Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were? “Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but … “ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up. “Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should. He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was. Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all. “Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage. “Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance. “ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits. “ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence. “ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference. “ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son. “ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico

shouted, proud to be right. “ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them. “ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.” “ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive. “To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.” In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?” That E meant a lot to Vergil.

REFERENCES: ¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later. ² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful. ³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello. ⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore. ⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid. Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #nero's mother #vergil x nero's mother #vergil fanfiction

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s1rcus · 3 years ago

Text

The Road to Love and Truth (Blackhill)

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 2827

Chapter: 2/2

Fandoms: Marvel

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Steve Rogers, Nick Fury

Additional tags: -

Summary: Maria struggles after her night with Natasha. She gets some good advice from Steve.

Authors note: Blackhill Bingo square I3 "Steve Rogers"

Story below the cut or in AO3 here

Maria still has a huge headache. She's been debating taking another aspirin to ease it down for the past 10 minutes, but it hasn't been too long since she took the first one and it might just not be working yet. The situation with Romanoff might not be helping either.

Without thinking she's making her way towards Phil's office. She's not sure why, she knows she won't talk about something like this to him. He's a good friend but she just can't talk about her sex life with him, less about feelings. Maybe he'll have some work she can do to distract her from the night before. She can't use her key card on a day off, (Fury has made it very clear she's not supposed to be doing work during any type of leave) so she can't go to her own office to continue work.

Phil isn't in his office. Now that she actually thinks about it, he has been on a mission since yesterday. She still needs something to distract her though. Maybe Fury would let it slide this once if she'd go do work, but she'd rather not see him right now. She decides to just go for a walk. Hopefully that'll clear her head a little.

------

The fresh air does help her headache and clears her head just the tiniest bit as well. She stands outside of the Triskelion for a short time and decides to go for a short walk along the river.

She keeps her eyes mostly on the water as she walks hands in the pockets of her sweats. She probably should've changed if she's honest, but she didn't want to go back to her room. SHIELD agents weren't that rare sight around these parts, but they definitely didn't go out in their gym clothes. She kicks around some pebbles every once in a while that are lying around the sidewalk.

She loses track of time, trying to just focus on nothing but the movement of the water. And she might have let her guard down, because she gets startled, when a hand taps her on the shoulder.

"Maria, what are you doing out here?"

"Jesus, Steve. Warn a girl next time."

"I literally yelled your name when I saw you. You're not usually this distracted. Are you okay?"

There's concern on his face and Maria doesn't like it one bit. She's fine, and even if she wasn't, everyone else needs to think she is.

"Everything's fine," she lies.

Steve gives her a long look, not quite believing her.

"You can always talk to me, you know? Whatever it is that's bothering you, I'll listen."

Damn Steve, and his kind heart.

"I know," she says.

"Okay, well I'm gonna finish my run. Come and find me if you want to talk about whatever this is," he says as he runs past her.

Maria just waves him off. She continues along the river for a while longer until her headache becomes worse again. Deciding it's best to just go back and take another aspirin, she turns around and heads towards the Triskelion again.

------

Eventually Maria realises she needs to talk to someone so she heads towards Steve's quarters and knocks on his door. He opens the door with a smile. They're good friends but it's quite rare she actually ends up on his doorstep.

"Hey, Maria. What's up?"

"I slept with Natasha," she answers as she pushes past him into his room. She sits on his bed, head in her hands. She hears the door click shut as Steve closes it.

"Not what I was expecting. How are you feeling?"

Maria groans at the question, "I don't know. I find out she's queer and few days later I find her in my bed. That's not how that should go. And worst of all I want to do it again, but I don't think I can just keep it at that."

"So you want to ask her out?"

"I think so?" She says and lays down on the bed so she can stare at the ceiling. "But I'm her superior, it's unprofessional, not to mention way too complicated. How am I supposed to be able to send her out there, if I'm worried if she'll make it back? How is Fury supposed to trust in me, if I get compromised because of her? Or what if I make the wrong decision, because I can't--" Steve cuts her off. She feels the bed dip, as he sits next to her on the bed and places a hand on her knee.

"Maria, you're forgetting one important thing, she's the Black Widow, she knows how to handle herself. Do you know how many times she's saved me out there? Because I've lost count by now. And Fury won't see you any differently if you start showing normal people emotions. Also stop worrying about 'what if's. Those are situations you can't know the answers for before it's too late. And for the record, I think you're already compromised. You care more about her than you know. Have for a long time."

"Fuck", Maria breaths the word out.

"Language."

"No, I actually fucked up."

"What did you do?"

"I just left her. She wanted to talk, and I just left her. I wasn't thinking clearly. I told her it was a mistake. Well it technically was because that was definitely not how I wanted that to go, but… I let her believe I don't want her. Shit!" She gets up quickly and starts pacing around. "I gotta go find her. Tell her that I'm sorry for how I treated her. That last night was great. Not that I really remember anything. To hopefully ask her properly out." She freezes on her tracks and turns to face Steve. "What if she says no? How am I supposed to continue working with her then?"

"Maria", Steve warns her.

"Right, won't know the answers before it's too late." She takes a deep breath. "Okay, I'm gonna go to find her. I wonder where she could be."

"At the gym with Barton."

"How would you know that?"

"Just a hunch."

------

She does find Natasha at the gym. She's beating up Barton at the mats. Maria decides to just stay by the door and watch, she'll notice her eventually. Natasha seems more tense than normal, maybe even a little angry. She doesn't move around as smoothly as she usually does. Her movements are a little more jacked, more forced. Maria realises that she's not fighting with a clear head. She's trying to push her feelings out. Maria was the reason the Widow's usually flawlessly smooth fighting style looked harsh and broken. It makes her heart twinge.

Eventually Natasha pins Barton down and he taps out. She gets up and her gaze shifts to Maria's. Maria physically flinches under her gaze. She quickly straightens her back and neutralises her face, when Barton gets back onto his feet and notices her presence.

"Commander," he coughs, eyes moving from Maria to Natasha and back again. After a couple of beats of silence he starts backing towards the men's locker room. "I'll just go then."

Maria just looks at Natasha, not really sure what she's supposed to say. Before she's able to say anything, Natasha turns on her heels and heads towards the women's locker rooms. That gets Maria on the move as well. She runs after Natasha and grabs her from the upper arm.

"Natasha wait," Maria says and Natasha stops on her tracks. "I'm sorry about earlier. Can we talk?"

Natasha turns around and Maria tries to look as apologetic as she can. Natasha just stares at her for a while.

"Fine. My quarters in 10."

Maria nods and drops her hold of the other woman. She didn't even realise she had still been holding her upper arm. Natasha eyes her quickly once more before she turns around again and heads out of sight to the locker room. Maria just stands still for a while, looking after her, until she spins around as well and heads out of the gym and towards Natasha's quarters.

------

Natasha is punctual as ever, and appears exactly 10 minutes later. Maria follows her silently into her room. Natasha sits down on her bed, one leg under herself while the other hangs off the edge. Maria is reminded of the morning. She stays standing near the door, but is faced towards Natasha. She's trying to figure out her words, even though she's been trying to figure out what to say ever since she walked out of Steve's quarters.

"Well?" Natasha prompts her.

"I fucked up. I'm really sorry for how I treated you. I panicked and I fucked up. I try my best to keep my private life and work separate, and I mostly live at work so… I'm having a hard time, to put it lightly. I also have never done this before."

"What? Been with a woman?" Natasha asks with a serious tone. It takes Maria a beat to realise she's not actually seriously asking that.

"No, Romanoff. You know that's not what I meant. I mean sleeping with a co-worker. Actually kinda never slept with anyone without being on a date first. And especially never had someone in my bed in a SHIELD facility."

"So I was your first one night stand?"

"About that, I wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Was I that good?" Natasha asks with a smirk.

"Natasha! I'm not talking about the sex. I'm talking about all of it. Everything since the mission. Spending time together at that bar and during the mission and also everything that came after."

"Wow. Is Commander Hill getting soft?"

"No,” she says. Taking a breath she continues, “I'd just like to see if this could become something. You're one of the few people around here who I can stand, and I actually had a really nice time yesterday. And I'm not regretting what happened after, so that probably says a lot."

Natasha gives her a small smile.

"What changed?"

"What do you mean?"

"You left the room in such a hurry and now you're here saying you don't regret it."

"Yeah, that. I might've talked to Steve and he had some good advice."

"You went to Steve?" Natasha's voice sounds almost scandalous.

"Who else would I go to? Fury? Do you think I have many friends around here? People who I could talk to?"

"Fair enough."

"So, if I'd ask you out on a date what would you say?"

"I would love to, but do you really want to go on a date? Because I feel like we're not the dating kind of people."

That was actually fair, she did always hate going on dates.

"What do you suggest then?"

"How about this?" Maria is really unsure about how she should feel about the smirk that follows that one simple question.

Natasha gets up and walks towards Maria. She stops when their chests are basically touching. She grabs Maria's hands and wraps them around her waist. Then she wraps her own arms around Maria's neck and rises up on her toes to kiss her. Maria basically melts into it. Eventually she lifts Natasha up and they move on the bed. Natasha seems very impressed that Maria can lift her. Maria might be a bit hurt about that.

------

When they decide to leave for an early lunch (neither remembered to eat breakfast), they're barely 100 feet down the hallway from Natasha's room, when they're stopped by a junior agent.

"Commander, Agent Romanoff. Director Fury wants to speak to both of you."

Maria and Natasha exchange a look.

"Did he say what about?" Maria asks.

"Not really," the Agent answers but there's a look on his face Maria doesn't like. It's like he knows something he shouldn't.

Maria debates for a little bit, if she should push and get some answers from him but decides against it. She dismisses the agent and starts heading towards the Directors office with Natasha.

They get a couple weird looks and smiles on the way there. They walk the whole way in silence. Both clearly trying to figure out what Fury wants from them.

Fury sees them immediately, which tells Maria that it's something important. She's getting nervous. Natasha is here as well, so her mind goes only to a specific direction, but how would Fury know?

"Director Fury, you wanted to see us?" Maria greets him.

"Hill, Romanoff. Has either of you checked the news today or any social media?"

Natasha shakes her head. She's been awfully quiet after they ran into that agent.

"No, sir. I haven't checked my phone at all today. Pretty sure it's dead anyway. I've been a bit distracted," Maria answers truthfully. There's no point in lying.

"Well, you probably should stay out of social media for a little while but that's just a suggestion. Do you have anything else to report to me?" His eye shifts from Maria to Natasha and back.

He knows. Maria takes a deep breath. She feels Natasha's hand touch hers, a sign that it's okay.

"Yes, sir. We, uh... Natasha and I are involved."

"Will it be affecting your work?"

"No, sir."

"Then I'm happy for you," he says with the slightest hint of a smile.

Maria is surprised and she can sense that so is Natasha. She lets her posture get a little more relaxed.

"Now to the real reason I invited you in," Fury says as he pulls some tabloid articles up on the screen behind himself. They're all saying basically the same thing: Black Widow at a gay bar with a mystery woman . Some of them have clearly done a better job with trying to figure out who this "mystery woman" is because a couple of them have actual pictures of Maria along with her name. And there's pictures. Pictures of them kissing, the intense looks they changed during that night and pictures of them leaving together.

"We tried to get them down before they spread too far, but clearly we didn't manage that. Anything about the Avengers' personal life spreads like a fire. I'm sorry about the situation it puts you in."

Both of the women just nod. There wasn't anything to say. Fury takes this as his answer and turns off the screen.

"Well then, you're dismissed. Hill, if you could stay for just a little longer?"

Natasha squeezes her shoulder a little before she steps out of the room.

"Sir?"

"No reason to be that formal anymore. This is just me checking on you. How are you feeling?"

"Well, that's a lot, but I think I'm fine. It's not the way I wanted things to go, but I guess it's good that it's out. If we wish to go out, now we don't need to worry if someone sees us or not."

"Okay, still I wish the situation wasn't this. I strongly suggest that you don't check any social media for the next few days. I know you think you can handle it, but there's gonna be some bad stuff there and I'd prefer the dust settles a bit first. Also if anyone, and I mean anyone, in SHIELD gives either of you a hard time because of this, let me know. I will handle it. It's out there, so everyone knows. I wish you could've handled this on your own terms, but the situation is what it is."

Maria smiles at him.

"Thank you, Director. I know I said it won't affect my work, and I truly believe and hope so, but if it ever seems like I'm putting her before the mission; pull me out of it, if possible. I know I won't be happy about it, but I need to know that I won't be making mistakes because I'm compromised."

"Of course. But I have full belief that you'll do great even then."

Maria nods and heads towards the door but Fury's voice makes her turn around before she gets to open it.

"Also, before you go. I am truly happy for you, Maria."

Maria smiles at him and nods her thanks and joins Natasha on the other side of the door.

Natasha hugs her as she closes the door. Maria circles her arms around her and presses her cheek against Natasha's head.

"That went better than I expected." She hears Natasha mumble against her chest.

"It did," Maria agrees.

"I'm so sorry about the articles though. If I would've just realised--" Maria quiets her with a kiss.

"Natasha, there's nothing you could've done about it. The second we walked in there everyone was paying extra attention to us. Those articles would be there even if we hadn't kissed. I'm just glad we did. I don't think I would've ever dared to take this step otherwise," Maria says. She looks Natasha in the eye and they exchange smiles. "Now, how about that lunch?"

#bhb21 #blackhill #maria hill #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #marvel #MCU #My fic

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thinking1bee · 4 years ago

Text

Cheated Part 2

Requested By Anonymous

Pairings: Lena Luthor X Reader

Tags: ANGST, Violence, Blood, Humor, Some smut, Flashbacks, Fluff, Explicit Language

Taglist: @owloftheshadows

*** Lena Luthor: 3 years later***

The last 3 years with Lena had been amazing. There were definitely ups and downs, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You knew Lena could love, but you didn’t know that she could love hard. The depths of her, the pieces that everyone else didn’t get to see, she usually kept buried. Even with you, it took several months for Lena to let her walls down around you. You knew her family history. You knew that she struggled to trust, so now that you had it, you would do everything in your power to protect it. Beneath the cold exterior that surrounded Lena like a second skin, was a hurt woman who wanted to love and be loved. She wanted to experience as much acceptance as anybody else in a family, and as the black sheep of the Luthor clan, that never happened. You wanted to give Lena all of that love, you wanted her to be happy, you wanted what she wanted.

Now, you were cuddled with her on the couch, watching the live action Grinch movie, while you were both in comfortable sweats, and a bowl of popcorn nestled between your legs for easy access. Lena didn’t understand this movie, and she understood your fascination with it even less, but she never passed a chance to make you happy.

You were quiet, and with your eyes glued to the tv when Lena gently kissed you. Her soft lips ghosted the skin below your ear that met your neck, and you shivered in her hold.

“What are you doing back there?” you asked while turning your head to look at her. Lena was the picture of perfect innocence. And mischievousness. Want darkened her emerald eyes and you could feel her pull you closer to her chest.

“Oh, nothing,” she whispered. That, in fact, meant that she wanted something. And from the way her hands were trailing closer and closer to the cotton of your sweatpants, you could take a guess at what it was she was after.

Smooth and lithe fingers slipped beneath your underwear to part the folds of your center. You already knew how wet you were. Lena had a sex drive unmatched to anyone else you’d ever been with, and she was so experienced. The first time you had sex with her, she had you coming in 30 seconds and you felt like a complete virgin. Lena had to reassure you frantically that it was normal for that to happen as you were seconds away from smothering yourself with the pillow in sheer embarrassment.

A single digit dipped into your core to gather your arousal and Lena began to rub your juices lightly on your clit, effectively snapping you out of the fond memory.

“You’re so wet for me baby girl,” she husked, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear before dipping down to place wet kisses on your neck.

You couldn’t even get a response out. With the first swipe of her finger, you were already a shuddering mess. The pleasure that coursed through your veins had your toes curling.

“What about the movie?” you barely whispered before a soft moan left your lips.

Lena chuckled before she gently nibbled your neck, her finger not once pausing in their movements against you.

“Trust me, darling. There will be plenty of more opportunities in the future.”

And she was right of course. As long as Lena would be a part of your future, there would be plenty of opportunities to make as many memories as you could.

***Presently***

You went to prison with little to nothing in your possession. All you had was a photo of you, Lena, and Alexa when she was just a couple of months old. What little you had was either seized by the DEO or given to Lena. Lena. Just the thought of her and Alexa, your daughter made your heart throb. You wanted to see them more than you needed your next breath, and it was the thought of them that kept you strong enough to survive this. You wanted to hold them both in your arms, you wanted to hug Alexa close enough for you to feel her heat, you wanted to tell Lena to be strong…but there was no way. Lena was too mad at you, and for something you know that you didn’t do. It was only a week inside and you felt stir crazy. The other women kept staring at you and it made you more on edge than you wanted to be. Your arm was feeling much better, but it was still in a sling, so if a fight were to occur, you would definitely get an ass whooping.

Your picture, too precious to be lying around, would stay on you at all times if it could be helped. You were lying in bed, your cell mate doing enough pushups on the floor to put a DEO operative to shame, when a guard approached the door to your cell.

“Luthor, you have a visitor.”

Immediately, your cell mate stopped to look at you.

“Luthor?” she asked in an almost hostile voice. You hate the way the hairs raised on your arms, but you weren’t goin to show your fear. You weren’t even going to answer her. Instead, you jumped from the top bunk of the bed and follow the guard to the visitor’s area.

Once there, you immediately see blonde hair and blue eyes that sent a wave of relief so strong through you that you thought you were going to pass out. You immediately take the seat across from Kara, and you didn’t realize that you were crying until she wiped the tears away using her thumbs.

“Sorry,” you mumbled while you immediately tried to get a grip.

“Don’t be sorry Y/n. How are you?” she asked with a soft, sympathetic smile.

“I’m in literal hell. I shouldn’t be here Kara and you know that.”

She nodded and was silent for a minute.

“I recruited James and Winn to help me,” she offered. “Winn may have found possible evidence that’s linked to you being set up, but it’s not enough to prove your innocence.”

She said the last sentence in a rush before your hopes could get too high. It was silent again and you almost dreaded asking your next question, but at the same time, you needed to know.

“And Lena…?”

Kara shook her head, and you closed your eyes as you tried to swallow your anger and disappointment.

“I’m sorry Y/n, but she won’t come.”

Against your willpower, the tears began to well behind closed eyelids and you almost bit your lip off in an effort to keep them back.

“She really thinks I did it, huh?” you said in a voice that sounded too broken even to your own ears, and in a millisecond, Kara was enveloping you in a warm gentle hug.

“No touching!” one of the guards barked and you flipped him off.

“I’ll try again,” Kara promised. “But you know how Lena is.”

And that made you laugh because you did know how she was.

“Stubborn as hell.”

“You know it,” Kara said with a smile.

“If Alexa gets that trait from her, I’m going to be so totally screwed.”

Kara laughed and you two sat back down and kept talking.

***Lena Luthor: Hurt***

You and Alex were assigned a major mission together and it required you to fly halfway across the world to the access point and jump out the plane from thousands of feet in the air to reach it. J’onn entrusted you two with the mission, with Kara as support in case anything major happened. The objective was clear, to find and eliminate a hostile alien. All attempts of reasoning and subduing them had been futile, with the alien breaking free and causing more damage to both people and property in consequence. Kara wanted to take care of the alien herself, but they had immediately surrounded themselves with enough Kryptonite to kill her if she got too close. A big team of agents would alert the alien to our presence and that was something we had to avoid. If it had to be done, it would need to be done right, and as you and Alex crept down the halls of an underground, concrete facility, you mentally rehearsed the plan in your mind. You were to flank the alien and whoever had a clear shot first, was to take it. Luckily, this particular alone had no notable active powers. According to their dossier, they had heightened intelligence when it came to strategizing and demolitions, making them still dangerous.

“Are you guys okay in there?” Kara asked you over the comms.

“Yeah, we’re alright,” Alex answered. “We’re headed into the main room. Do you have eyes on us?”

There was long pause, and you could practically feel Alex cock an eyebrow.

“Kara?”

“Uh, yeah...the room you’re headed into is lined with lead. I can’t see inside. Please be careful.”

“Perfect,” you groaned. “At least this one is prepared.”

Alex chuckled lightly, your sarcasm not going unnoticed. You approach the door and look at her.

“You ready?”

Alex nodded and you kicked open the door, which was surprisingly easy. One of the hinges flew off of the door from the force of your kick and you eyed it warily. Standing back to back, you and Alex had pistols draw as you searched for the target. The room was bathed in a green glow. The abundant kryptonite cast an eerie light throughout the room, and though the room was illuminated, the radioactive crystals that embellished the room cast more shadows than the light could chase them away.

“Do you see anything?” Alex asked you quietly and you shook your head.

“Eyes open. Spread out.”

You were about 10 feet away from Alex when you saw the shiny glint of something small being pointed towards her, and it was too dark for you to get an accurate shot. You reacted, sprinting towards Alex faster than ever, and you reached her, your arms encircling her body and turning her around, when you heard several pops from behind you.

It happened too fast, and you could feel several points on impact on your back, along with Alex raising her gun to fire at your attacker. You landed on top of her harshly and rolled away from her before you could hurt her further. As you settled on your stomach, that’s when you felt it, fiery agony spreading through you, along with a warm wetness that was soaking through your suit. Alex ran to you, her hands steady as she gently lifted your head.

“I heard shots, is everyone okay?” came Kara’s voice through the comms.

“Y/n has been shot, and it’s bad Kara. One bullet barely missed her spine.”

“Okay I’m coming in,” Kara said.

“What about the kryptonite?”

“Alex, what about her? She’s worth it and we don’t have time to waste.”

You heard the full conversation, and you went to say something when a bone wrenching cough exploded from your mouth. Along with it came a mouthful of blood and it was like you couldn’t stop it. Mouthfuls of it kept coming up and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

“Shit! One of the bullets pierced her lung. She’s drowning in her blood.”

Kara crashed through the ceiling some feet away and immediately gasped in pain. You lost the ability to keep you head up but through blurry vision, you could see her veins highlight green beneath her skin. They throbbed in time with her heartbeat and she took ragged breaths in an attempt to breathe through the agony. Kara barely had the energy to look you over properly like she wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” was all she said before she scooped you into her arms. Your scream of pain was muted by gurgles of blood and you felt bad when you coughed it all over her and her suit. Kara went back to the hole she made and stood under it.

“Will you be okay?” she asked Alex and then grimaced as the pain increased.

Alex nodded, knowing for sure that she shot the alien in the head.

“Yeah, just get out of here,” she said, rushing Kara out before she got incapacitated along with you.

The fly home was a blur, and the time spent in the medical bay was as equally faded into oblivion. All you remember is your back and how it ached and burned in the worst ways imaginable. You were tired, so when a nurse slipped a mask over your face and told you to sleep, you happily obliged.

You woke up to Lena, who was beside you with your hand in her grasp. She was tired, the exhaustion and frustration etched clearly into her face. You tried to blink and shake the grogginess from your brain, but it only served to agitate your wounds. You winced and hissed as tears came to your eyes.

“Don’t move,” Lena said softly, but the look on her face betrayed the sentiment in her voice.

“Are you mad?”

She was silent and green eyes studied you. As the seconds ticked on, they got softer and softer until she smiled at you.

“No, I’m not mad. I was worried. Alex told me that you got four gunshots to the back and one of them pierced your lung. The nurses had to stabilize you long enough for Kara to go back and get her. Alex was the only one you could do the surgery.”

You sighed and kissed the back of her hand sweetly, loving the fact that you’ve woken up to see her again.

“You couldn’t do it?” you asked her.

She shook her head. “You would have drowned in your own blood before I would get here.”

Everything was quiet for a minute as you held Lena’s hand tightly. You were about to say something when the shiny glint of something on your hand distracted you. You squinted as you brought your joined hands closer to your face. Maybe it was the medication or the fact that you’ve been out for some time, but it looked like a ring.

Lena laughed as realization dawned on you.

“Lena is this what I think it is?” you asked incredulously.

“At this rate, you’re going to get yourself killed. I at least want you to be my wife before that happens.”

She paused as she got on one knee beside the bed and looked into your eyes.

“Y/n L/n, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” she asked you.

Cue the record scratch that had you frozen in surprise on the bed. You weren’t too sure if this was real, and you went to pinch yourself, but your movement caused your back to flare painfully.

“Are you okay?” Lena asked, more confused than anything.

“This is real? Like, this is happening, yes?” you asked.

Lena laughed and kissed you gently on the lips. That caused your heart rate to skyrocket and the heart monitor connected to you went crazy. It was only a few seconds when you heard the sounds of feet running towards your room and Alex rounded the corner, skidding to a stop in front of the bed. She looked at you, and then Lena, before she scoffed and crossed her arms.

“Guys, seriously?” she said, unimpressed.

You smiled and showed her your hand. Her eyes drifted to the ring that adorned your finger before her eyes got big and she squealed in excitement.

“Well???? What did you say?” she demanded excitedly.

“I’m saying yes of course.”

Part 3

#part 2 #enjoy guys #supergirl fanfic #lena luthor #lena x reader #angst #humor #flashback #fluff #violence

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lokisasylum · 4 years ago

Text

Saw this tag last night and thought it was pretty cool, but was passing out from exhaustion from the vaccine so I couldn’t do it.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). see if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some of your favorite authors!

1. No Ordinary Love [BTS, yoonmin - Still in the works, but I wanted to add it because I really like the Prologue]

When I entered the club that night… I wasn't expecting anything to happen beyond a casual conversation and perhaps sharing a few drinks.

I knew very well how delicate the situation stood between us after a disastrous breakup years ago, followed by a bittersweet reunion that ended anything but friendly.

No, I wasn't there to beg nor did I want him to take me back. Jiminie had his life and I had mine.

All I wanted was someone to talk to… and he was there for me.

Can you blame me for that?

2. Forever, You Said. [BTS, jikook, vampire au]

All my life I wanted nothing more than to get away and live my life the way I want. So why… does it suddenly not feel enough? Why do I feel like I'm missing something? - Jungkook

3. Lunatic High [BTS, fantasy au]

The sound of his own harsh breathing echoed loudly in his ears, only matched by the sound of his erratic heartbeat as he ran half blindly through the field.

4. Heal My Heart [BTS, jikook; historical au]

"Did you come here to yell at me too?"

Jimin rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the smile that was already forming on his lips at the sight of the young knight sulking in the corner of the room like a child.

"Of course not. I’m your physician not your squad leader or Seokjin-hyung for that matter." The elder reassured him while placing the bowl of water, rags, ointment and bandages on the nearest table. "So obviously I’m here to treat your wounds… just like I always do." He added in a smaller voice, more to himself than to Jeongguk.

5. A Promised Scenery [BTS, vmin; canon]

It was 4:00 AM, but they hadn't gone inside when they said they would half an hour ago.

Or rather they had meant to.

But the minute that their hands were clasped so tight, like they never wanted to let go, and their eyes met in a whirlwind of emotions, shy smiles and embarrassed laughter. That moment was the first time where the world stopped spinning for them.

6. You're my Tear/You're my Fear [BTS, jikook; songfic]

A broken home.

A sad song.

The curtain rises, but its the same old story from before. Different scenarios, but always the same ending.

7. Yoongi's Confession [BTS, yoonmin; canon]

Our entire relationship, our love, our life can only be compared to a violent car crash on an empty road at night under the pouring rain.

Lots of dark moments, heartaches, blood, sweat and tears.

It’s how it started... and ended.

8. Love Cravings [BTS, vminkook; a/b/o]

Jungkook groaned as his phone rang for the 20th time that night when he had finally gotten into his car.

All he wanted was to get back home, to his warm bed and SLEEP like he deserved. Was that too much to ask?

9. Dirty Habits [BTS, jikook; labeled as “late valentines smut” LOL]

Jungkook stumbled through the front door of his apartment, nearly tripping on the ‘Welcome Home’ mat that never quite made you feel as welcome as it was intended to.

10. So Trust Me [BTS, vminkook]

--Words of love, encouragement, good health, best wishes, and strength continued to flow in waves every minute into his cell phone. Lifting his spirit and filling his heart with joy little by little though not as fast or as overwhelming as it normally should.

It’s been a hard year, not just for him, but for everyone.

Even with all the happiness and beautiful memories being created around him, there was still sadness lingering in his heart. But he wouldn’t let it show, not yet, not here.

11. The Reason [BTS, vminkook]

“Jimin-ssi, keep your defense up!!” Jungkook barked out without breaking his stance as he watched the other male stumble backwards on to the snowy ground with a loud thud.

Taehyung watched from the side, leaning against the wall next to the glass sliding doors to their apartment. Worry etched on to his features behind the large scarf half covering his face to protect him from the cold weather. It’s not the first time he’s come to watch his two lovers spar, but as to why the two insist on doing it at such an early hour in the morning where it’s the coldest its beyond him.

12. Peppermint Kisses [BTS, vminkook]

Something was up in the dorm and Jungkook didn’t like it one bit.

And that something was related to two particular members of Bangtan.

The 95z.

13. UNSTEADY (Prequel to All or Nothing) [BTS, jikook; canon]

I watched him lie through his teeth again today during practice. But it wasn’t just today, there had been many other times where I had watched Jimin do the same; skipping meals, sleepless nights, and when nothing else worked he’d wear himself out with excessive practice hours in the studio by himself.

But I’m not blind, I know it’s on me… yet he still insists on taking the fall by himself for what happened that day.

14. The Sleepover [BTS, vminkook]

Taehyung was the first to stir awake that morning with a long groan. His lashes fluttered weakly against his cheek as he tried to fight off both sleep and nausea from his system.

The hangover making its presence known with a vengeance.

15. All or Nothing [BTS, jikook; canon]

The door to his and Hoseok’s shared room slammed so hard that he could have sworn the thing would come off its hinges any moment.

How dare he?

How fucking dare he?

16. Beautiful Tragedy [BTS, jikook; soulmate au]

When I was four my mother used to tell me stories about Soulmates and how they were always bound to find each other no matter what. Because they were destined to be.

Born and made for each other.

No distance was too far, no language became a barrier, no obstacle too high or low to overcome. No hardship was too much to bare. Because soulmates were two halves of the same soul who's primary purpose was to find their way back to one another and therefore spoke their own language in their hearts.

17. Private Show [BTS, jikook; canon]

“You’re late.” A voice scolded from somewhere in the still dark room.

His hand immediately left the doorknob to reach for the light switch, revealing a figure leaning on the farthest wall, against the mirrors. His pink hair hidden by a cap worn low which also hid his face, a jean jacket over a black buttoned up shirt, dark ripped jeans and boots.

It was Jimin.

18. Sin For You [BTS, vmin; AU]

He was singing our song again at our favorite karaoke bar.

Our secret song… the one nobody knows about. That keeps us connected even at times when we had been involved with someone else.

19. It's all in your mind [BTS, canon with some subtle jikook]

It felt strange to be back home after being away for so long while filming the second season of Bon Voyage, and with a new comeback sometime in September, the schedules were sure to be tight for the rest of the year. So everyone at the dorm tried to make the most of it by getting organized and rest.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I mean... it said favorite opening LINES, in PLURAL.

WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED TODAY, KIDS?

That I need to work on my entries better =_=

Repeated patterns I may have noticed? Hmm... that I usually start the opening scenes with someone walking into a room (usually angry and throwing shit LOL), or describing sounds/smells/feelings.

And that in most cases its JK walking into said rooms and literally walking into some unknown chaos 😌😅 (said chaos being Jimin).

Tag... I don’t know if any of my favorite authors are here on tumblr, much less if I’m following any of them because lately I’ve been checking out authors who announce their work via twitter.

But if any of my moots are authors, go for it.

#tag #tag game #tag meme #bts #bts fics #jikook #vmin #vminkook #AO3 #ao3fic #bts fanfics #bts fanfiction #fanfiction tag

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alwaysachorusgirl · 4 years ago

Text

An Exile of Our Own Making

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 1,023

Square: “Exile” by Taylor Swift

TW: very mild swearing, a lot of angst, brief mentions of therapy

Tagging: @thatesqcrush (And if anyone wants to be tagged in a future post, please let me know. I don’t have a tag list yet, but I can make one.)

A/N: Songs lyrics used are in bold. This takes place prior to “Sightless in a Savage Land”, and I do have a follow-up story planned.

When you walked into Forlini’s a few days before Christmas Eve you weren’t sure what to expect. You certainly hadn’t been expecting Rafael to call and ask to see you after almost three years. Your therapist probably would have said that this was a bad idea. And she would be right. She usually was, even though half the time, you didn’t want to hear it. You were meeting your former lover, whom you had never gotten over, in a place that served alcohol. This had disaster written all over it, but after you finished your shift at SVU you went anyway. You didn’t tell any of your colleagues that you were meeting him, that would have brought on too many questions that you didn’t feel like answering. The plan was to have a drink, hear him out, say your own piece, maybe get some desperately needed closure? Yeah, it was wishful thinking on that last one.

You almost didn’t recognize the man you still loved when you first saw him. He was already sitting the bar, nursing a glass of his favorite whiskey. He was still as handsome as you remembered. You had heard from Liv that he had grown a beard, but this was your first time seeing it. It looked good on him. Your heart was now pounding in your chest. A part of you wanted to run right back into his arms, but you held back. This wasn’t the time and there were still too many unresolved issues between the two of you.

“Is this seat taken?” you inquired, walking up to the bar and sitting down on the stool next to him.

“Y/N,” he greeted you, a soft smile forming on his lips. “It’s good to see you. What are you drinking?”

“It’s good to see you too, Rafael, Jack and Coke? Make it a double?”

He nodded and signaled for the bartender and ordered your drink. The bartender put it down in front of you a minute later. You thanked him and took a sip before turning to Rafael.

“So, I thought you weren’t going to be back in town until after New Year’s,” you said, trying to keep your tone friendly, but you were balancing on breaking branches, your resolve already on the precipice of cracking.

“My mother wanted me home for Christmas, and you know how she is about that kind of thing. And I had to get some things squared away with my new apartment before the holidays, so here I am. I really have missed you, Y/N.”

“I’ve missed you, too, but you could have called sooner, or texted, or emailed, or something, anything…”

“I know, you’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just that after everything happened, I wasn’t thinking straight. I just knew I needed to get of New York, figure things out. I know how much I hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that- “

“Do you?” You cut him off. “Do you really have any fucking clue? Because it sure as hell felt like it took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it! I stood by your side the whole time, I defended you, never gave up on you, and you just left! You broke my heart, Rafael, you broke me…”

“Cariño, I’m sorry, I never meant- “

“No Rafael, I don’t want your apologies, or your excuses.” You pushed what was left of your drink away and turned to face him. “I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.” The tears were falling down your face, but that wasn’t going to stop you from saying what you’d kept bottled up inside for years. “I would have followed you anywhere, you know that, right?”

He nodded. “But your job, you career, I just couldn’t let you- “

“That should have been my choice to make, not yours, “You cut him off again. “I’m a grown-ass woman, and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. We should have talked about it back then, but you shut me out. You made me feel like nothing, no, less than nothing. Actions have consequences, and yours affected everyone around you, including me. Did you ever stop to think about that? To think about me?”

“Every damn day,” he answered, tears brimming in his own eyes now, “and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I know I screwed up. Leaving you is hardest thing I’ve ever done…”

“Then why did you do it? You could have chosen me, chosen us, but you chose exile, in the most literal sense of the word. But when you did, you left me stuck in own exile, what my therapist would call a “mental and emotional exile of my own making”. And she’s right about how it’s easier for me to be broken, and miserable, and not get over you, instead of actually making an effort to get on with my life.”

“Cariño…” Rafael tried reaching for your, but you pulled away, and tossed some cash on the bar from your wallet.

“No Rafael, I’m not your problem anymore. You made that very clear when you left.” You turned and started to head for the door.

Wait!” He called after you, and when you stopped and turned back, “for what it’s worth, I still love you. I just need you to know that.”

“I still love you, too, Rafael, but you’re not my homeland anymore. I can’t let you hurt me again.”

And with that, you walked out of Forlini’s and left him standing there. You had said what you needed to say, but it only made you hurt that much more. You hailed a cab back to your apartment in Brooklyn. You knew it going to be long night, and you needed time to think. You still loved him, but could you forgive him? Could you let him back into your life? You weren’t sure yet, but you weren’t going to be making that decision tonight. No, tonight you would crawl into bed and cry yourself to sleep. You could plan your next move in the morning.

#thatesqcrush vday bingo #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #rafael barba imagines #fan fiction #svu fanfiction #exile #raul esparza

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flowerpowell · 4 years ago

Text

The Royal Holiday Romance (Liam x MC)

PART FIVE

A/N: We’re almost done with this mini series! Thank you to everyone who leaves feedback - it’s such a motivation to keep writing! I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter as well!

Rating: G

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @twinkleallnight @kingliam-rys @sfb123 @iaminlovewithtrr @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @lodberg @shanzay44 ❣

“Lunch?”

Victoria smiled at the message Liam just sent her. She had just shot her scene of the day and was packing her bag to head back to the hotel.

“Gladly.”

“I can be at your hotel in twenty minutes, is that alright?”

“Perfect :)”

Twenty minutes to change her clothes and refresh herself wasn’t a lot but she wanted to see Liam so bad that she was actually glad she didn’t have to wait too long. She was falling for him, slowly but steadily. It was the first time she let herself catch any feelings after having her heart broken by a senior in her drama club, when she was a freshman. The guy who had been her crush for a few months, broke up with her on the day she told him she loved him, claiming he couldn’t be in a serious relationship with a freshman because he had a promising career and she didn’t.

Victoria shook her head trying to get rid of the memories. It was a long time ago. And Liam was different. And most importantly, he wasn’t any famous or concerned about his career.

~~~~

“I’m telling her today,” Liam murmured, putting on his coat. Drake’s raised eyebrow suggesting he didn’t believe his best friend’s promises.

“I really am. That’s why I invited her to lunch today. I’ll be honest with her.”

“I hope so. She was honest with you and it’s only fair you tell her the truth as well.”

“I know. But you can’t blame me for not wanting her to see me as the King. I really enjoyed being just Liam with her.” Liam sighed. Why was his life so complicated?

“I understand but I also think that if you want to continue it, no relationship should be based on a lie,” Drake replied.

Relationship.

Liam smiled at the thought but his smile quickly disappeared. He wasn’t sure if she would want to continue this relationship or whatever it was after learning the truth. Dating a King wasn’t anything like dating a normal guy. She said she didn’t like being in the center of attention, which was why she was struggling as an actress but being a King’s girlfriend or wife would be putting her literally in the center of attention.

What wife? Liam, stop thinking about it. You’re getting ahead of yourself, yet again.

It was so easy to think about it, though. He felt understood, he felt like a part of him, a long forgotten part of him was unlocked again with her. And it was mostly because… she saw him as Liam. He was just Liam.

If only my life was easier.

~~~~

“I don’t understand why this place is so empty this time of the day! The food is delicious,” Victoria commented as she took another bite of her lasagne.

Liam bit his lip not wanting to admit it was the most popular place in the town but he closed it for them to have a conversation. He didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him before Victoria learned the truth.

“And the owner is so nice! I don’t have that many followers but maybe if I posted a picture from here on my Instagram, it’d get more customers. Oh! Or I can ask Hana to post the picture! She has twenty million followers!” Victoria took out her phone and snapped a few pictures.

“That’s so kind of you,” Liam noticed. He was falling more and more in love with her. She cared about people she didn’t even know and she wanted to help them. She’d make a great Queen. Liam couldn’t stop thinking what it would feel like to be cared for by her just the same, if she was his wife.

“Victoria, there’s… something I wanted to discuss with you,” he started. Victoria put down her phone and locked her eyes with his.

“Did something happen?”

“No… Yes. Well…”

“Okay, wait, I think… I think I get it,” she said sadly.

“You… You do?” Did she google him? Did someone tell him he was a King? Did—

“I do. You had a great time with me but I live in America and you live here and I’m an actress, well, a crappy one if you ask me but whatever, and you don’t think it’s gonna work out and maybe it’s better if we’re friends.” She finished and Liam’s eyes widened.

“That’s not exactly what I planned to say,” he ran his hand through his hair. It was a nervous twitch that he had and the one Victoria always noticed.

“You probably would say something more elaborate with your lovely accent; mine is just a short, harsh, American version of it,” she tried to laugh but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I… wasn’t trying to break up with you… I mean… We’re not dating…Or are we?”

“No… I think? I don’t know… I thought, after yesterday…” she trailed off and quickly composed herself. “I probably got carried away. I’m sorry. I understood it all wrong. Of course we can be friends.”

Liam blinked a few times trying to understand her chaotic speech. She truly was the most interesting woman he ever met.

“No, I thought the same. I mean, about dating. I mean…” Goodness, he was awkward. For someone who gave speeches on a daily basis, he was very inarticulate at the moment. “I never asked you properly to be my girlfriend but I would very much like you to be one.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “So that’s what you wanted to talk about? I assumed you wanted to stop seeing me.”

“No! Never!” The owner of the restaurant looked up from his phone at Liam’s raised voice. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. Quite the opposite, I was hoping we could see each other more but I wasn’t sure if you would want to.” Because I’m the King of the country, my schedule is busy and I lied to you, he added in his thoughts.

“Why wouldn’t I want to? Liam, I might have met you recently but I feel like I know a lot about you. And I told you a lot about me, too. And… And even though, I’m not the first to jump into a relationship like that, I feel that what we have… would be a good base for our… relationship. I think,” she mumbled.

Liam closed his eyes. She did know him. She knew him better than all the nobles he’d known for ages. She got to know the side of him that was unavailable for everyone else. She got to know Liam. And he couldn’t pretend he didn’t like it. He loved being Liam. Not King Liam. Liam. Just Liam. And he could be that with her.

“Does it mean… you do want to…” He started, unsure of where he was going.

“Be your girlfriend?” He smiled at her faintly. “Absolutely.”

~~~~

“So just for the record.” Drake was pacing back and forth in Liam’s bedroom. “You met up with her to tell her the truth… But ended up asking her to be your girlfriend… Without actually telling her the truth?”

“So it may seem.”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Drake, please. I know what you’re trying to tell me but I have no idea what to do.”

“Um… tell her truth?! Maybe?”

“I wish it was that easy,” Liam huffed.

“Would be easier if you told her who you are from the very beginning.”

“I know! I tried! I couldn’t! I don’t… I don’t want to lose her,” he added quietly.

After lunch, Liam took her on a walk and they spend a whole day talking and kissing. He felt so happy he couldn’t say anything. To say he scared to lose her would be an understatement. He was terrified.

“Listen, Li… You know I want the best for you but the chances that you’ll lose her are higher when she doesn’t know. The longer you wait… Let me just say, it may end very badly for you.”

Liam sighed as Drake left his room. He knew it. He knew he shouldn’t wait so long with telling her. But for some reason, being with her made him forget about being a King.

How could he ever bring that up?

~~~~

He couldn’t tell her.

They met up every single day for almost two weeks and the topic was never brought up. He couldn’t. When he was with her, he forgot about the whole world.

Every evening, when he came back to the palace, with a lovesick smile on his face, he couldn’t look Drake in the eyes because he knew what his best friend would tell him.

And he’d be right.

But Drake never saw the way Victoria looked at him. He didn’t know how Victoria made Liam feel. And he could never know, how nearly impossible it was for a King to find something like that.

He was equally surprised and happy that Victoria still hadn’t figured out who he was. He once broached the subject and Victoria told him she never checked the Internet or television or read any magazines. She said she hated gossip and didn’t want to read anything about her online. Liam sighed with relief at her words. His secret was safe, at least for a little longer.

He was also happy when Victoria told him she prolonged her stay in Cordonia. She finished shooting all of her scenes but decided to stay a bit longer, at least until Hana would be finished with her scenes. Which meant she was staying for at least five more weeks.

That meant five more weeks with her.

And five more weeks of hiding the truth.

~~~~

Victoria was walking to her hotel straight from the set. It was a beautiful day, sunny but cold, and she decided to take a longer way home. Besides going on set and dates with Liam, she didn’t walk anywhere by herself. She didn’t have to. Liam showed her around and she felt she knew Cordonia very well. She was strolling along the street, admiring the view when she noticed two girls, teenagers maybe, pointing their fingers at her and laughing.

Oho, someone does watch my crappy movies and recognizes me.

She smiled at them and walked past them, ignoring the laughter.

Victoria didn’t even manage to walk five more meters before she noticed a woman sizing her up.

Another fan? She wondered as she smiled lightly. The woman didn’t like it. She came up to Victoria and jostled her.

“What are you doing?” Victoria asked but the woman spitted on her.

“Whore!” She yelled, making all the passersby stop and look at them.

“Excuse me? I think you mistook me for someone.” Victoria took a step back. She never played a whore in any movie and she was sure the woman made a mistake.

“You’re a whore! Leave our King alone, you American bitch! You won’t get famous using him!” The woman yelled. Victoria quickly backed away, noticing a few people taking photos. She ran back to her hotel room and closed the door. To calm down, she took a long shower and made herself a cup of tea.

“Tori?” She heard Hana call out.

“Here!” Victoria answered from her bedroom. Now that she was calm, she decided to go online and see why people were taking pictures of her and what happened. She had an uneasy feeling that the woman didn’t make any mistake, however, she still didn’t understand what she was saying.

“You okay? I’ve heard someone attacked you on the street?”

“I’m fine. It wasn’t an attack. I think a lady mistook me for someone. But some people took pictures of me and I want to check if they wrote anything.”

Hana nodded and sat down next to her friend as Tori opened a new tab and googled her name. Both Victoria and Hana raised their eyebrows when they saw the headlines:

American Media Whore Seduces the King! How Victoria Brooks, an actress known to no one is using King Liam to get on top. EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS.

With shaking hands Victoria opened the article, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. Hana looked at her concerned.

“I don’t understand, Tori… You met the King?”

“I didn’t! I never even saw him!” Victoria was nearly crying. “He never showed up at the dinner and I never heard of him again!”

Victoria closed her eyes as the page was loading. She always hated attention but it seemed like she couldn’t escape it. But who came up with such lies?

The page loaded and Victoria saw pictures of her and Liam; their date in the park, when they were leaving her hotel, them kissing on the beach… But what did it have to do with the King?

She turned to Hana and saw her friend, staring at the photos with her eyes wide open in shock.

“That’s… the guy you’ve been seeing?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“Yes. That’s Liam. I just don’t understand it… Is he related to the King? Or what?”

“Tori… This is the King. Liam. King Liam. He’s the King of Cordonia.”

#choices #the royal romance #the royal heir #king liam #playchoices #liam rys #king liam x mc #liam x mc #trr #choices trr #trr liam #my fic

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peeterparkr · 5 years ago

Text

perfidy;tom holland|9

chapter 9: the polaroid

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: tim, tom and the broken ankle

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: swearing, alcohol mention, angst, smut (skip the * if you don’t want to read it), car sex, marriage mention

word count: 7.7k

here’s a playlist

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) : tweets, Instagram and a text

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist

wanna be tagged?

Hi, to make up for not posting yesterday, have a longer chapter.Tell me what you think. Stay safe.

When seeing a story there’s always a before and after the story. If it doesn’t matter, then it shouldn’t be said.

Problem is, it mattered to y/n, and Tom. Who were each dealing with a problem that technically shouldn’t matter to them but it did. It really did. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be talking about it.

Tim had been kind enough to drive her to her building, but she had kept on talking, cueing Tim to follow after her, and when she hadn’t used the lift, Tim knew something was up. Because when y/n took the stairs, it meant she really didn’t want to go home yet. It’s something he had caught during their relationship. Sure, Tim may have not known her since children like the Hollands, but Tim had been the one to actually observe her. He had learned because he wanted to, not because he had lived with it.

And he knew y/n didn’t do it on purpose, she probably didn’t even know she did it. But Tim followed after her knowing she probably really had to talk about it.

Tim had regretted the breakup the moment it had happened because he had been the one to give up. But he thought he needed a breakup, because it was getting repetitive, not because he had stopped loving her. Especially not because of the reason for the breakup. They hadn’t really addressed it yet. Not again. He knew they had been on different stages of their relationship, but he never really thought how far off of each other they were. The worst part about their breakup was how aware he was that they still loved each other.

He watched her as she was making her way up.

“It’s wrong, right? This is wrong. You see it too, right?” She asked him.

Timmy chuckled, “what is? The fact you’re not using the stairs?”

“I… No, the fact that,” y/n stopped midway. “I… The fact that Harry and Emma are engaged.”

“Why is it wrong?” Tim bit his lip. “They love each other.”

“But… is it love really?” Y/N crossed her arms looking up. “No, no, I know it’s love it’s just…”

“What do you mean, y/n?” Tim dug his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the wall knowing y/n would probably sit any moment now.

“I don’t know … I know love and it,” she sighed as she finally slid her way down to sit on the stair.

Tim smiled watching her but then sat beside her. “They do love each other.”

“Well, yes they do,” she sighed, “I’m just…”

Tim watched her.

“Harry asked me about it, and I told him not to do it and he did anyway?” She frowned.

Tim chuckled softly, “you’re angry Harry didn’t listen to you for the first time.”

Y/n shook her head. “Not really… but I am his best friend! And I’m sure Sam said no too, I talked about it with Sam, his twin brother and best friend told him to wait. And he didn’t.”

“Why does he need to wait?”

“He’s young… he’s 22 and…wait at least until you turn 24, man, I dunno.”

Timmy laughed. “But what does age have to do with that?”

“But think about it, Tim. It’s soon in their relationship.”

“Maybe, but who’s to judge timing when it comes to love?”

She sighed, “we wouldn’t know much about timing but…”

Tim scrunched his nose. “You’re right I wouldn’t.”

She closed her eyes. “Tim it’s .. not that.”

He gave her a sad smile, “What is it really?”

She stayed quiet and leaned against the wall. Timmy watched her, and pushed a strand of her hair back.

“I love Emma, alright? I seriously… she’s one of the best friends that could’ve come into my life,” y/n started.

“But?” Timmy rested his head on his hand.

She chuckled watching him. “But I know Harry.”

“You know Harry,” Timothee agreed.

“I’ve known him his whole life literally and—“

“So then you know he is in love with her,” Tim added.

Y/N bit her lip. “I know many things about Harry.”

Tim nodded. “Then?”

“I think he’s not being fair,” she said. “He is… it’s just, they’re too young…”

“Too young?” Timothee watched her. “I think you’re just scared of marriage, y/n.”

Y/N froze. “I’m not…”she suddenly turned colder. “but they’re not ready.”

“How do you know that?” He asked.

She raised her hands. “It’s obvious!”

“Well when I asked you, you said no because you weren’t ready and- if she said yes then it means she was ready.”

“Tim.”

“You said it, didn’t you? you said ‘I’m not ready and that’s why I’m saying no’.”

“But I knew I wasn’t ready,” she gulped.

Tim coughed. “And will you ever be?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Timmy.”

“I, well, y/n, you know I’m willing to wait a lifetime for you, but…”

She stood up. “This wasn’t about us.”

Timothee sighed. “Well, we hadn’t talked about it.”

“I—-well…”

Timothee stood up. “I’m sorry y/n, but breaking up when knowing we both love each other isn’t easy, I mean we basically broke up because I loved you so much I proposed.”

She glanced away. “That wasn’t the reason why we broke up.”

“No, I know,” Tim dug his hands in his pockets. “it was leading towards it for a while, didn’t it?”

“No, I… Tim, I don’t want...look, I… I meant about Harry…” she sat back down.

“I think you’re just scared that Harry shouldn’t have done it for the same reason as to why you said no,” Timmy pointed out.

“It’s a completely different situation,” she frowned.

“Is it really?” Tim day on a lower step. “Because I know you said no because you’re unsure about your feelings towards someone else.”

She didn’t say anything for a bit. Maybe she didn’t want to admit it to herself.

“No, Tim it wasn’t that.”

“I’m…”he took a deep breath. “I’m okay with it, y/n, as okay as I can be.”

“Tim.”

“Look, I’ve seen the way you look at him,” he shrugged.

She stood up and climbed upstairs nervously. “Tim, no, let’s not have his conversation, please I’m already struggling.”

He closed his eyes. “I know, I see that,” he said as he rushed after her and stopped her.

“See what?”

He scoffed. “The way you look at Tom? Maybe? God, y/n.”

“With pure hatred?” She defended herself as she let out a lsugh. “Tim please I don’t really want to have this—“she kept going upstairs.

“I think you should go for it,” he mentioned.

She stopped and looked back at him. “What?”

“Yes, go for it,” Tim insisted. “isn’t that kind of the reason we broke up?”

“No, Tim, let’s not go there,” she pushed.

“Y/N,” Timothee calmly followed after her. “we were friends before all of this and I know, I think… I think you should try something with him.”

She was confused, Tim tried to map out the emotions she was going through. She licked her lips as she only watched him. Tim only gave her a gentle reassuring smile. But of course she was perplexed, a man who claimed to love her telling her to go with someone else.

“What?” She asked.

“Give it a go.”

“You’re insane.”

He finally stepped on the same level as her. “Y/N, you loved him once, and I know there is still that feeling pounding your head.”

“And what would I even do?”

“Dunno, that I don’t want to know, but let yourself fall for him and then you’ll know it. Give it a go.”

She bit her inner cheeks. “I would never give it a go again because he’s hurt me before, alright? My heart can’t bear that again, and I don’t feel anything—“

“There it is,” Tim chuckled. “So something has happened before.”

She gulped and looked away. “Not really, no.”

“Are you sure?”

“I did have feelings for him,” she admitted.

Tim laughed. “That’s brand new information!”

“Timmy.”

“I am very aware y/n and he has feelings for you,” he pushed.

She rolled her eyes, and kept walking, Tim only followed after her. “That’s the part where I know you’re crazy.”

He watched her with disbelief. “He looks at you the same way I look at you.”

She laughed cynically. “No Tim, he doesn’t...maybe he looks with lust, I dunno he’s a devil.”

“Nono, I’m very observant, y/n,” he reminded her. “and I mean you do this with everyone,” he scoffed. “but you take his breath away.”

“No.”

“And lately he takes your breath away.”

“No, Tim.”

“I honestly,” Tim rubbed his face. “and I hate saying this,” he commented. “you don’t know how much I hate saying this y/n but I really think you should try something... get rid of that feeling you have because I know you, you probably have that little thought roaming in your head,” he pushed her hair back. “Go and try something with Tom, ask him out.”

“Tim.”

“You know you want another heartbreak from Tom,”he sentenced. “and if it takes another heartbreak for you to realize we’re meant to be then…” he shrugged, as his hands landed on her waist.

“Timothee,” she said breathlessly.

“I’ll be here if you want to be in love, I’ll be here when he breaks your heart.”

“Timmy.”

He stepped closer. “You know we’re perfect for each other.”

She looked away. “Sometimes too perfect.”

“But if you love Tom,” he let her go and stepped back.

She frowned. “I don’t…”she confessed. “I should focus on my writing instead.”

He followed once again after her, as she finally reached her apartment.

“Ah yes, tell me what’s the story?”

She looked at the door, and laughed to herself. “I’m writing about falling in love.”

He chuckled. “Such an irony isn’t it.”

You wouldn’t believe it

He leaned against the door not letting her get in. “And how is that going?”

“It’s… going, I am writing about someone falling in love with someone, the truth is I don’t know what makes people fall in love.”

Tim smiled. “Hm, want me to tell you what made me fall in love with you?” He leaned close to her, making her blush.

“Do tell.” She watched him, and she did exactly what he had expected her to do. She looked him in both eyes, her sight traveling from one eye to another..

“The way you look into both my eyes,” he grinned.

She gloomed. “Hm?”

“You do this thing y/n,” but he couldn’t look away from seeing her. “when you look at both of them, your eyes travel, people usually only look at one eye but you always make sure to look at both, to make sure people know you really listen.”

She Cackled nervously. “And that’s what made you fall for me? That I probably can’t focus enough on one eye,” she appealed as she tried to search for her keys.

“Hey, I’m only starting okay? I love the way you’re so… you, you know? The way you don’t care about what everyone says, the way you—“he places his hand on her face. “The way you are brilliant, and so passionate and—ardent and—“

“Those are synonyms.”

“And the way you don’t take bullshit from anyone,” he continued laughing as she finally opened the door, she didn’t walk in, she leaned against the door watching him.

“I give that vibe off yet—“she chuckled. “But you know? Does that make people fall in love?”

Tim only rested his arm right above her and watched her. “Dunno,” he gulped. “Maybe? Or maybe it’s the little details, the props, you know? Flower pots… it’s the moments y/n, a walk under the rain, losing breath after laughing,” he continued, as he could smell her perfume, and he heard her hands mingling with her keys. She was shaking, and Tim knew that her heartbeat was going fast, maybe not as fast as his. He knew she loved him. “Or a coffee in the morning, a kiss…” and he knew she wanted this too, so he didn’t hesitate on leaning over to give her a quick peck to taste the remaining cherry on her lips. He had seen her nibbling on cherries the whole day, supposedly they were for the drinks but Tim knew she loved the sweet taste of the sugary fruits.

She kissed him back, slowly and scared. But then she pushed him away.

“No, Tim, please I can’t do this to you,” she confessed as he watched her.

“Do what?”

“No, no, I—“She looked down. “Tim I am really not—I don’t want to hurt you, alright? I need time… I…”

He watched her.

“This is too complicated,” she squeezed her eyes closed.

Tim sighed as he walked back. “‘It’s alright,” he took a deep breath. “But just so you know, y/n, I am not giving up yet.”

She sighed with a small smile. “Timmy.”

“Tom will never be able to kiss you that way, I’m sure,” he pushed. “I’m sorry, I’ll… I’ll leave now. See you on set.”

“Tim…” she looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

And he left, not knowing who had had their heart most broken. But he didn’t want to think about it. He used the elevator.

Meanwhile, Tom was also freaking out over the sudden news of the engagement.

“I don’t want to tell Harry he fucked up but he fucked up didn’t he? I love Emma and I know he loves her but this is wrong,” Tom said.

“Yeah… I mean,” Haz didn’t really want to go over this with his best friend as he had already heard him talk and talk and talk about it on the ride.

“Getting married? That’s… crazy,” Tom continued.

“No, getting married is not crazy.” Haz rolled his eyes.

“No I know but,” Tom opened his fridge to get a beer as he threw one at Haz.

“But what?” Haz asked as he opened it.

“The timing…” Tom took a long sip.

“Doesn’t that just come in perfect time for you?” Haz pointed out.

Tom frowned. “What do you mean?”

Harrison laughed. “Look, Tom, I didn’t ask much into it before but you are in love with y/n, and that is a big deal,” he commented.

Tom coughed. “Not really...shit it’s weird you know.”

“I’d say I’m surprised,” Haz admitted. “but now that I’ve been thinking about it all day, you haven’t been subtle about it.”

Tom looked away. “What?”

Haz chuckled and stared at him, incredulous.

Tom waited for an explanation.

“Come on,” Haz pushed. “The way you hate on Tim, they way that even if you claim to hate her—“

“I do hate her,” Tom interrupted.

“Even if you claim to hate her,” Haz emphasized. “You're always there.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Well but that’s because she’s important to my family.”

“The way that you literally always find a way to be around her just to bother her, and the way you literally know everything about her… Like you literally know everything.”

“Everything she hates.”

“Oh my god, why are you trying to deny this?”

“I’m not denying it… but that doesn’t have to do with anything.”

Harrison frowned. “Doesn’t it, though? You are in love with her, I know it, it’s okay to admit it.”

“Well okay now that you put it that way,” Tom coughed. “Yes I am in love with her,” he continued. “But what do you want me to admit? That she takes my breath away every time I see her but I won’t... and yes she’s probably on my mind 24/7,” Tom sighed as he played with the beer cap. “and she’s literally driving me crazy and I want to kiss her all day long and fuck, she’s so pretty, and god, the way she speaks? And doesn’t care at all, and the way she turns everything pretty?” Tom smiled to himself. “God and she smells amazing doesn’t she? Like... I don’t know shit about flowers but I know she smells like them…” Tom bit his lip. “but ... that doesn’t matter because she won’t know this and if she knew this I’d blame you.”

Harrison just blinked. “What the fuck?”

Tom frowned. “What?”

Haz laughed. “You are literally so in love with her.”

“I’m not.”

Harrison watched him with disbelief and not understanding one bit of Tom's head.

“Okay yes I am, but it’s hard okay?” Tom gulped.”This is literally the first time I ever tell anybody. Dunno.”

Harrison laughed. “Mate... but now it’s so clear,” Haz had to hold his head, “like... her last birthday?”

“What about it?”

“First, that’s why you were killing Timothee with your glance. “

“I hate Tim,” Tom barked. “He is annoying and boring. Because he’s so dreamy, and fuck, he gave her a ride didn’t he? He’s trying to take her back.”

“And he will if you don’t do anything,” Haz pushed.

Tom scoffed. “I can’t.”

“You need to pull another stunt as you did on her birthday?”

“What stunt?”

“Gosh, it makes so much sense now,” Haz asserted. “The gift you gave her?”

Tom smirked, pleased of himself, he had known that he had been the one with the best gift. Not even Timothee with the new Polaroid. And the gift had had y/n texting him for a complete week believing there was something wrong with it, and that I’m any time it would turn out to be a prank. It wasn’t.

“Please,” Tom scoffed arrogantly. “everyone knows she likes The Rolling Stones. She’s so typical.”

“But giving her an original vinyl? Signed?” Haz pushed.

Tom gulped. “I—well, what about it? I’m in love with her, now you know it.”

“Nothing, I’m just calling myself out for being so fucking blind—“Harrison dipped his drink. “How long has this been going on?”

Tom leaned against the counter. “I... well, since forever,” Tom smiled to himself. “Not that... Look, when I’ve dated other girls,” Tom coughed. “I’ve loved them and only them but somehow y/n always finds her way into my heart and that’s annoying like... god”

“I’m just surprised I didn’t notice,” Harrison said.

“I’ve been pretty good at hiding it, even when we’ve kissed I’ve made everyone believe I didn’t like her,” he admitted.

“Even her huh?” Harrison questioned.

Tom sighed. “I couldn’t. Because Harry loved her and if she knew I liked her back when she liked me—Then I would’ve been an asshole to my brother because he’s been the one who was nice to her all this time. And he—He deserves someone like her, and she deserves someone like him.”

“But Harry is engaged now.”

“That’s—I don’t know, I think he’s still in love with y/n,” Tom said. “And I feel like this is a perfect way for Harry to escape rather than actually facing it.”

Haz shook his head. “I think he really loves Emma.”

“I do too, but marriage?” Tom frowned. “Dunno, maybe you’re right.”

Harrison nodded. “God, how was I so stupid? I can’t believe I never saw it.”

“Well, stop it now, okay? I still dislike her and I will keep on disliking her, and I will act like I hate her.”

Harrison frowned. “That’s very stupid.”

“Is it? Look,” Tom took out his phone. “I’ll text her that I hate her and she’ll answer back just that she hates me too.”

Haz frowned. “I don’t get it,” He frowned. “If you now know this, why don’t you just…?”

“It’s complicated.”

Harrison frowned. “Dude she liked you too,” he reminded him. “Why would you do everything you’ve done if you—“

“I may have wanted her to know I liked her,” Tom admitted. “But then I remembered I shouldn’t and—I don’t think she’s ever believed I like her, even when... the fucking yellow flowers.”

“I’ve never understood why it means so much between you both and why you always get tense when they mention it.”

“It’s been a constant prop in our... relationship it’s... nothing,” Tom rubbed his face as his phone vibrated. “She just texted me back.”

Haz watched him. “And?”

Tom coughed, blushing. “She just said… your place in 30?”

Harrison burst out laughing “She wants the d, great, but no, tell her not to come over.”

Tom frowned. “Why not?”

“A, I’m here.”

“You can pretend you’re not.”

Harrison frowned. “That’s gross, I… and okay, but a, I’m here and b) Tom, if you’re in love with her having this whole thing, will only make things worse. You should pursue a relationship instead.”

“Who says I want a relationship? I’m alright like this.”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “You’ll only end up hurting yourself.”

“I can’t want it,” Tom explained. “Besides, I think I’ve hurt her enough for her to not to want one.”

“What do you know?”

“I know her enough, alright? And she probably wants to go back to Timothee Chaglabob.”

“Chalamet-“

“I swear Harrison,” Tom rolled his eyes. “But—I mean if this whole benefits thing works out then I’m good, would I want a relationship where I can kiss her all day and be all adorable and take her everywhere and just make her laugh all day? No. I don’t want any of it, she’s annoying.”

Harrison only watched him, “are you fucking listening to yourself?”

“Yes, I don’t—I am in love with her but I don’t like her.”

Haz couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Tom was probably the most stupid man he’d ever met.

“I genuinely can’t act nice around her,” Tom admitted. “I’m—I can’t.”

“What if you try?” Haz frowned. “Take her somewhere nice, be romantic, see how she responds and then you’ll see how it goes.”

“No.”

“You know what? I don’t even know why I’m arguing with you, you’re so stupid,” Haz said before heading to his bedroom. “Please don’t be too loud.”

Tom only stared at his phone, and texted back: “come here now.”

And Tom knew it took her about 20 minutes to come, so he showered, and he got all dressed up, and then changed into something less nice, a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He even put on some lotion. He had combed his hair back then ruffled it a bit so it didn’t look bad. But he stared at the house? Did he have to light up some candles? Or was that too romantic and out of place for their new title. He lit some up anyway. Should he play music? He bit his lip but searched for some music.

But this was stupid right? It didn’t have to be this way. It wasn’t romantic. This was not nice.

But before he could even make a decision to turn everything off, y/n had knocked on the door.

And he felt like this was wrong but he couldn’t act like it. And honestly, he’d be an idiot if he denied having any sex.

But y/n was having her own thoughts. She felt guilty. But she technically had Tim’s approval. Didn’t she? But it was wrong and she didn’t know why.

But she had to admit that Tom had left her hot and bothered after kissing her neck in the bathroom. Besides, she could try that thing with Tom. She had to change this whole sexual relationship into an actual relationship. Did she? Or maybe she could only have fun.

Of course, that the moment she’d sent that text everything had probably gone to shit. When driving over to his place she realized how this sounded only like a random booty call when it actually wasn’t. Maybe it was. This was y/n wanting to talk with someone without being judged and someone who probably was on the same page as her.

Because this had her on the edge and as she had typed in some words to her script she actually took into account that she didn’t want to do this.

She needed to change the script. She could lie. She could write about it without living it. But she wrote about it: enemies with benefits. It had a ring to it, it sounded catchy. Hating each other in the day, but pretending to love at night. It wasn’t a sin. Because she technically didn’t have to try anything, maybe she could tell her boss that she really didn’t want to pull such a shitty thing. But writing about sleeping with the enemy… it was sexy.

This was so selfish of her. But Tim had reason on what he’d say, maybe she did want to give one last chance to this. She wouldn’t compel, however. How could she?

She was scared but the moment Tim had told her to give it a go, a thought had swirled in her mind. Could she give it a go?

But she hated him. There was some kind of awakening inside her. But she had to remember what he’d put her through. And how even with this he could turn around and run the other way, far from her. And she won’t be able to hide again.

But sleeping with him couldn’t hurt as long as she wasn’t the one to catch feelings.

When the door was opened she saw Tom, with his hair wet, and smelling so good, his lotion suffocating her and begging her lips to go straight to his neck. The drops on his forehead only there to fill her imagination.

He gave her a grin, but then stared at her sweatpants.

He gave her a second glance and chuckled. “So how is this—“

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to talk to and I really don’t want to tell Harry because well it involves him and I had to talk to someone but I don’t know why I thought of you.”

Tom blinked. “You…what?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

Tom chuckled. “Why?”

“I dunno. You know what? Forget it, it’s silly… so,” she squeezed her eyes closed. “Pants off, Holland,” she ordered as she then pushed him against the wall, slamming the door closed and then smashed her lips against his, forcing Tom to close his eyes and place his hands on her waist, his fingers pressing down on her back. She could taste a fainted beer on his lips, and she could smell his shampoo, she could tell he had just showered.

He laughed as he pulled away. “That’s—That’s?”

“I’m sorry I’ve never had a booty call before.”

“I can tell.”

She rolled her eyes and playfully nudged him, letting him go.

“But you wanted to talk?” He chuckled mockingly. “I didn’t know kids these days were calling it that way.”

“Forget it.” She looked around and chuckled to herself. “Candles? And music?”

Tom chuckled. “I—well.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic aren't you?”

“Yeah I was about to turn them off, though,” he admitted. “I kind of forgot I was going to sleep with my worst enemy.”

He blew out the candles and turned off the music.

She chuckled. “This is stupid.”

“Why? Want me to turn them back on?”

“I don’t know, it just—is,” she said. “Besides, I think this is the first time I haven’t had any alcohol on me before doing this.”

“Huh, we’ve been pretty drunk, right?” He bit his lip.“What did you want to talk about?” He wondered as he approached her.

“Nothing.”

“What if we—talk about it while we go for some alcohol?”

“You want to talk?”

“That can be another benefit.” He took her hand back.

She frowned as she watched him, unsure as to why he was acting this particular way. He cupped her cheek, but then frowned.“Weren’t you with Tim?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I saw you leave with him,” he commented.

“I… well, I was but…”

He smirked. “Hm, he can’t satisfy you—and that's why you come to me.”

“What the fuck Tom?” She pinched him on his arm, earning a laugh from him.

“Let’s go for a drive, we need alcohol,” he yelled as he took out his keys.

“You know what? No, fuck off,” she stormed off to her car as Tom followed after her.

“Y/N, no, come on, come on,” he stopped her, taking her from her waist, hugging her from behind placing kisses on her neck. Tom had learned quickly. A kiss on her neck would have her down on her knees. Of course, like everything Tom learned about her, he’d be using it as a weapon.

“Why are you so obsessed with Tim?” She frowned, as he continued to pepper her neck with sloppy wet kisses, making her stomach fill up with butterflies. “Tom.” But he didn’t stop, his hands were now travelling down her stomach, as he sucked on slightly on her neck and then his lips delicately landed on her collarbone. “Thomas,” she closed her eyes.

He snickered against her neck. “You sure you want to leave?”

She closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath against that sweet spot on her neck. She nudged his ribs and then pushed him back.

“Y/N,” he smirked with lust as he pulled her back to him. “Hm, should we go back inside?” He asked as his lips landed on hers, biting on her bottom lip.

She cupped his ass and then deepened the kiss, now he was the one to soothe into her touch, as she slid her tongue in.

She pulled away as he was left dumbfounded, earning a smirk from y/n. “No. Let’s go for that drive.”

He blinked. “Y/N.”

“Cmon let’s go”

“Y/N.”

“Haz is in there, isn’t he?” She questioned.

“He’s asleep.”

She looked away.

“I have beer,” he explained. “We can chug down 8 of them at once and then you’ll forget it’s me who you’re screwing and pretend it’s someone else.”

She scoffed. “Like who?”

“I dunno, Chris Evans.”

She laughed. “I’m not pretending I’m screwing someone else, I just have to… Get to the idea.”

He placed his hands on her waist. “So?”

“No, I’m angry at you,” she pushed him away and then headed to her car.

He let out a cackle, and followed after her, he pecked her cheek before pushing her slightly. “Isn’t that the point, though?”

“No,” she got into her car.

He laughed not letting her close the door. “I love your car is old, just adds in more to the aesthetic.”

“Can you let me close the door?” She begged.

“No,” he chuckled as he sat on her lap.

“Thomas.”

He chuckled. “Hm,” his cold lips landed on her chin. “Y/N.”

She closed her eyes, and Tom slowly closed the door. Y/N opened her eyes with surprise as Tom was now letting his hands inside her t-shirt.

He started to nibble on her ear as she closed her eyes back, her hands roaming through his hair, he licked near the earlobe. Y/n blushed as she then walked her fingers through his chest lining every muscle on his body.

Her fingers shrivelled at the end of his t-shirt as she slowly pulled it off. He smirked as he finally kissed her lips, slowly and coordinated at first but the kiss getting sloppier as her fingers pressed against his bare skin. He tried shifting her as his hands cupped her breasts now, kneading them as he pleased.

She let out a soft moan, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue now sliding in. Tom took her waist in his hands as he then tried to pick her up.

“What are you doing?” She asked between kisses as he tried moving her.

“Sh,” was the only response he gave her. But he reached for something under the seat desperately . He finally reached for something as he pushed the car seat back, giving them slightly more space to move.

He kissed her again, smiling slightly against her lips.

He managed to pull off her shirt, revealing the red lacy bra she had so kindly and carefully chosen.

He took a second to stare at it, catching his breath as he stared at the red bow in the middle of her breasts.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, y/n,” he gasped as he looked at her face now, with her hair puffed up, and only her eyes covered with slight mascara and a faint pink from the makeup she’d worn at the party. A trace of red lipstick was seen there too.

She grinned at him as she pulled him back down to meet her lips with him, she giggled against the kiss.

“I hate you but I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he caressed her cheeks with his lips. He dug into his pocket and took out his wallet, searching for the condom.

She didn’t say anything as she slightly bucked her hips against his, her core pooled from every single kiss he had placed on her body, she grinned herself against him to get a sort of friction. Tom managed to move just slightly to path down his way to her chest, leaving a trail of his kisses as it shined with the streetlight.

Her hands went down to his sweatpants that were hiding nothing as his hard length was begging to come out. Her slick hand found its way inside his sweatpants as she palmed above his boxers. He only curved up his hips as she started to graze the tip of his cockhead, as it twitched with the slightest touch.

He curved again but now hitting the claxon, both of them scared by the loud noise, they laughed at each other.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath as she tried to hide her giggles. “We have to be careful.”

“No shit,” he laughed as his hands migrated to her thighs, opening her as he managed to pull down her own sweats, revealing the red lacy panties matching with her bra. “All dolled up for me?” He asked cockily as his fingers brushed the little bow on the fabric.

She bit her bottom lip as he found his way down to nuzzle her breasts. She was feeling just slightly guilty that Tim had kissed her just hours before. The little space they had could only give them such movements, but her hand didn’t leave his cock as she traced it up and down, his length swelling up . He moaned just slightly and cursed under his breath as he pushed down his underwear, he couldn’t help it anymore.

“I need you,” she whispered. “Tom, I need you,” she moaned. He wrapped the condom around him.

He nodded fervently as he finally without any warning, pulled down her red panties and pushed into her. He had to take a deep breath as he felt her drenched pussy covering him up. She moaned, enjoying the full blister as he had filled her up.

“So tight,” he moaned as he shifted above her, slowly bucking his hips up and down, her hands landed on his ass, as if trying to push her further into her.

“Oh god,” she gasped, as she danced her own hips around him, with the reduced space they had to barely move but the friction against the seat.

Tom was deep buried in and he slowly started to hip in and out quickly, finding a pace that had y/n moaning his name, but he covered her mouth, and she pushed him further in, trying to avoid another claxon accident as before.

And the windows were fogging up from the heat created between them. Y/N needed to get her grip as Tom kept pushing into her, filling her up until he could feel himself in her stomach roughly. His lips trying to catch hers in between gasps and moans.

“Tom,” was all she could say as her fingers painted down in the blurred window. Her back now moving faster with the help of her sweat.

She was rolling her eyes back with delight as Tom was hitting her right in the spot, she reached down to circle her clit but Tom replaced her hand with his, as he circled it slowly, teasing her at first. But then rubbed it fast enough for her to wash out her orgasm.

But her own hands scratched his back as she was trying to catch her own breath, as she tried to get a grip of the reality that was going in between. The smell of sweat combined with his lotion and her own perfume. The taste of beer combined with her own taste of cherries.

She couldn’t hear anything, only his gasps and her name coming from under his breath. She moaned just slightly as he thrust in and out, a fast rhythm, that was getting sloppier with each thrust.

He was shaking and he finally curved in, he groaned but then finally shivered as he came right into her, her clenching pussy just tightening it.

He moaned her name, throwing his head back as he then plopped himself above her, catching her breath. He finally pulled out but remained kissing her neck.

He kissed her once again, as she caught her breath, little gasps as her fingers swirled around his hair. She stared into his caramel eyes and then cupped his face, pecking his lips just slightly, his hair now combined with droplets of his sweat and the water from his earlier shower. His cheeks red as he continued kissing her.

“Shall we go for that ride now?” He asked, chuckling slightly.

“I don’t know if I can drive,” she admitted as she moved her legs, panting softly.

He smirked cockily. “Hm, I’ll be driving your car then.”

She rolled her eyes as he tried to sit up, once against hitting the claxon letting out a loud noise.

They laughed at each other.

“Well if Haz wasn’t up, then he sure is by now,” he chuckled.

He pulled up his underwear and sweatpants.

“Mmh, drive shirtless,” she pleaded.

He smirked. “Alright.”

The ride was quiet at the beginning. Y/n had put in Tom’s t-shirt. Tom’s hand would land on her thigh every now and then but y/n would flick it off. However, her own hand hadn’t left his leg. He would cough and slightly move trying to remain calm. Y/N only smirked.

“You hungry?” He asked, as his hand landed on Hers, squeezing it slightly.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“I’m craving breakfast,” he commented as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly.

“At 1am?” She laughed pulling her hand back.

“Why not?”

“Isn’t like a worldwide known rule not to have breakfast with your booty call?” She pointed out.

He laughed. “I love how you keep calling me a booty call.”

“Well aren’t you?” She giggled.

He grinned. “Well, but it’s not the morning so it wouldn’t be cheating the rules, it’s against the rules to have breakfast the next morning.”

“Huh.”

He chuckled. “And I know this place that’s open 24/7.”

“But isn’t it against our other rules? We are enemies, Holland.”

“I’ll make you choke on a waffle, don’t worry,” he pushed. “And besides we can get it to go and have it somewhere else, therefore… Not breaking any rules.”

She sighed. “Fine. Let’s go have breakfast.”

Y/N had to give him his shirt back as they went to the place. But as soon as they were back in the car, y/n was hesitating. She would be driving now.

“It’s late, Tom I should probably go back home,” she reminded him. “I’ll drive you home and—“

“Or we could go to the treehouse,” he commented.

“The treehouse? At 3 in the morning?” She laughed. “I’m not sneaking into your parents’ house.”

“Why not?” He laughed. “It’s not sneaking in, really, I’ve got the keys, and I’m allowed to go there.”

She chuckled. “You really want to take me to your parents’ house to have breakfast?”

Tom scrunched his nose. “Well if you put it that way.”

“That would get you in trouble wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Let’s go then,” she smirked as she took a sip of her milkshake.

And they were quiet for the ride, as Tom would only sing along to the songs playing on the radio. Y/n’s old car couldn’t play anything but cassettes, which at the moment Tom didn’t really want to listen to. He knew most cassettes had been a gift by Timmy.

He had been honest, he loved her car. An old, silver vintage car. It belonged to her grandparents and she had been keen on getting it back on.

Tom only watched her as she was licking the tip of her lips and focused on the road. Or so did Tom think.

Because what he didn’t know was that y/n was debating with herself over the current events. The fact that Harry was engaged. The fact that Timmy had kissed her and the fact that she had ended up having car sex with Tom anyway.

But she stayed quiet, and even quieter as they sneaked into the Holland’s household, y/n trying not to chuckle as they made their way to the garden.

They managed to climb to the top, y/n being helped by Tom as they tried to get their breakfast intact as they pushed it up.

Eventually, they were at their old treehouse, where there were too many memories for them to even remember.

Their breakfast hadn’t really survived as the now soggy pancakes and waffles were crumbled up. They didn’t care anyway.

Tom had been brushing her hand for a while now as they peacefully and quietly ate. They were on the floor of the treehouse sitting right in front of each other. The food placed in front of them as they both ate from each other’s plate.

“Are we gonna talk about it, though?” She asked as she pulled back her hand just as Tom had brushed it again. This was too nice for it to be real. She was only expecting Tom to pull any kind of stupid stunt he liked to pull.

Tom cleared his throat, glancing slightly at her. “What?”

“Your brother? going insane?”

Tom laughed, “Ah you think it too?”

“It is insane, he asked me about it like two weeks ago and—“

“You said no, right?” He frowned.

“Yes I said no, I told him that he should wait—“

“Because he should!” Tom agreed.

She looked down at the waffle with strawberries. “This is crazy.”

Tom licked remaining syrup off his fingers. “Haz didn’t agree with me.”

“And Tim didn’t agree with me.”

“Ugh,” Tom groaned. “Timothee Chalkboard.”

She only smiled, rolling her eyes. “Why do you hate him?”

“He’s dumb—“

“He’s not.”

“ and I can’t believe you are so smitten with him.”

“We’ve had this conversation before, Tom,” she rolled her eyes.

He chuckled as he stared down at the food. “God but what do you see in him?”

Y/n cleared her throat. “I am not dating him anymore, I’m not—”

He smirked. “Oh, so you are not into him.”

“That’s not what I said,” she rolled her eyes.

Tom scooted closer, as he poked her with a soggy bite of waffle. “Are you into someone else?”

She groaned cleaning her cheek. “Hm no, not really,” she looked away. “But going back to your brother it’s crazy right?”

“Super crazy like Harry you’re so-”

“Young! Yes, and they’re not—”

“Ready!” Tom finished growling. “I mean they do love each other.”

Y/n nodded. “But it feels off right?”

Tom nodded in agreement as he smiled at her. “Gosh, who are we? Agreeing on something?”

Y/n laughed. “Right?”

“We sleep together and we agree on things?” Tom squeezed his eyes.

“Ha, maybe everyone was right,” she commented.

“Huh, maybe they were,” Tom grinned.

Because truly everyone was right. Even if they were stupid enough to admit it.

“This place brings back so many memories,” Tom admitted as he looked around, it looked dusty and old and really forgotten. Some toys were there, boxes full of crayons. Stories waiting to be told.

“Yeah, like the time you pushed me off and I broke my ankle,” y/n recalled.

Tom laughed. “I’m sorry, I was an asshole.”

“Was?” She questioned. “I’m probably being poisoned right now.”

“Mmh,” he reached for her pancake. “I didn’t, see?”

“You haven’t had any of my milkshake, could be here,” she pointed out as she took a sip.

He grinned. “You figured my evil plan, killing you with milkshake.”

She chuckled. “But so many memories, yes,” she looked around. “I think this is the place where we filmed amazing movies here, you remember?”

“I do,” he laughed. “But please we have more memories rather than only when children.”

“I remember that one time when you were...17 I think and you got drunk and jumped off and landed on me,” she recalled again.

“Shit, that was your... “

“Elbow, yep,” she laughed. “You really have a thing with breaking my bones, huh?”

He smirked. “Yeah, almost broke your legs tonight.”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes.

“No, but… Really, I’m sorry I was a real asshole to you all these years,” he apologized.

“Oh, so this is what I needed? We had to have sex for you to finally realize what big of an asshole you were?”

He gulped. “No, I knew it.”

“That makes it worse,” she groaned as she rolled her eyes.

“I know.”

“But,” she chuckled. “All good now, you bought me a pancake so I can’t be mad at you,” she grinned as she took a bite. “That is until you come up with another type of bullshit.”

“So pancakes now, huh? Not yellow flowers got it,” he smiled sadly.

“Yes, pancakes,” she cleared her throat, as she then reached for her backpack, pulling out a Polaroid camera. “Wait, smile.”

Tom watched her but then smiled at her, posing as he took a bite. And y/n snpped the picutre, as Tom leaned over to see it, and then y/n waited for the picture to dry out, she could feel him breathing against her neck, he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder and she knew it when it finally revealed itself, so simple, a picutre of Tom biting on a waffle in the middle of the night. But she knew it, she’d give it a go.

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