#I hesitated to end this fic on a breakup | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minhosbitterriver · 2 months ago

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──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees.

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none.

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work.

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity.

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly.

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan.

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward.

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment.

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance.

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe.

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through.

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was.

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read:

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat.

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared.

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?"

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached.

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend.

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy.

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 @lixies-favorite-cookie @madewithchildlabor (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

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🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

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amirasainz · 6 months ago

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hey! do you think you could write something where charles starts dating baby sainz after alex, and for a change she really doesn’t like baby sainz, or even a random oc ex gf of charlie and he gets annoyed whenever anyone says anything bad about baby sainz, and just wants her to himself? Thank you! ❤️

Ok so first things first. This is just a fic and not supposed to be hate towards Alexandra.

Now please enjoy reading and don't hesitate to send requests.

-XoXo

The better Girlfriend

The breakup between Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux was far from friendly. Their relationship had been plagued by cheating rumors, and the truth eventually came to light. Alexandra, a 21-year-old art history student, had kissed another guy during a girls’ night out. When this news reached Charles, their relationship came to an end

But Alexandra’s behavior during their relationship had already caused friction. She openly expressed disdain for Charles’s job in Formula 1, even going so far as to claim it wasn’t a real sport on live TV. Her rudeness toward fans and unreasonable demands put her in an unfavorable light. Charles endured his worst F1 season while they were together, and the media and fans didn’t hesitate to express their disapproval of her.

When Charles finally broke up with Alexandra, he received overwhelming support from the F1 paddock. His fellow drivers rallied around him during this difficult time:

Lando played games with him to keep his spirits up.

Pierre offered a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.

Max made sure Charles ate proper meals.

Carlos helped him navigate the PR drama.

And his “Grid Dads”—Sebastian, Lewis and Fernando offered invaluable advice.

In the midst of the drama, Charles found solace in the camaraderie of his fellow racers, proving that the racing world extends beyond the track and into the bonds of friendship and support

But there was one person, that helped him the most. Amira Sainz, the unsung hero in Charles’s life. While others lent their support, it was Amira who stood by him, often without uttering a single word. During Charles’s tumultuous relationship with Alexandra, Amira remained an enigma—a girl he wasn’t allowed to befriend due to Alexandra’s jealousy. But now, free from those constraints, their paths converged.

From strangers to friends, and then lovers—their connection felt destined. The media dubbed them the “it-couple,” and fans followed their story with respectful fascination. Initially, Carlos wasn’t thrilled, but time softened his heart. With Amira, Charles discovered a happiness he’d never known before—a beautiful girl who became his world.

And Charles reciprocated her love in every possible way. Each morning, breakfast in bed; after races, flowers to brighten her day. He listened to her fears and troubles, making her feel cherished and protected. But Amira wasn’t just a passive recipient; she left post-it notes in his luggage, their apartment, and even his car. She comforted him after bad races, helping him navigate his emotions. Together, they shared a dog—a symbol of their bond.

Their love wasn’t hidden; they proudly displayed it online. Fans embraced them as the “it-couple,” and Charles and Amira reveled in their shared journey. In a world of engines and speed, their love story unfolded.

Alexandra, Charles Leclerc’s ex girlfriend, stumbled upon one of their date posts. What she saw ignited a fire within her—a seething rage that drove her to spend the next five hours stalking the couple and dissecting their relationship. But Alexandra’s fury didn’t stop there; oh no, she took it a step further. In a desperate attempt to reclaim her own narrative, she created not one, not two, but seventeen fake “Alexandra and Charles forever” accounts on Instagram.

The internet, however, is a merciless place. Within minutes, eagle-eyed users ridiculed her fabricated accounts, exposing the charade for what it was. Alexandra’s attempt to rewrite history crumbled under the weight of public scrutiny. Perhaps it was a desperate cry for attention or a futile bid to regain control, but either way, the digital world had spoken: “Fake news!”

And so, as the engines cooled down and the F1 tracks took a breather during the summer break, Alexandra found herself caught in a whirlwind of her own making. Meanwhile, Charles and his new love interest, Amira Sainz, continued their blissful journey, oblivious to the storm brewing behind the screens

The pitlane buzzed with anticipation as Alexandra, fueled by anger and resentment, strode toward the Ferrari garage. Her eyes blazed with determination, and the photographers snapped away, capturing her every move. Lando and Max exchanged shocked glances—what was she doing here?

The Ferrari team, despite Carlos impending departure, held a special place in their hearts for the Sainz siblings. Their camaraderie and dedication had left an indelible mark. But now, Alexandra—the wicked witch, as some whispered—had infiltrated their sanctuary.

As she stepped into the garage, the once-happy atmosphere vanished. The air crackled with tension. Alexandra’s gaze swept over the familiar red cars, the tools, the mechanics—all part of the world that had embraced Charles and Amira. She clenched her fists, vowing to tear apart the relationship that had blossomed in this very space.

If it was the last thing she ever did.

And so, the pitlane witnessed a battle of emotions—a collision of love and hate, fueled by jealousy and wounded pride. The engines roared, but the real drama unfolded in the hearts of those who watched.

She looked around at the quiet garage and immediately spottet Charles and his plaything. The tensions were high as she strutted towards them. "Charles" she tried to say in a seductive voice. When she went to hug him and kiss his cheek, he stepped away. "Alexandra, what are you doing here?" he questioned sternly. "What? Can't I see my favorite athlete" she harshly asked. "Does the stupid bitch not allow you to talk to other women?" She turned to Amira. "No wonder she doesn't, I mean look at her. I truly don't see what you see in her. She dresses like a slut. I'm sure she also sucks your dick like one and-"

“Enough!” Charles’s voice boomed, cutting through the tension. “Don’t you DARE disrespect my girlfriend. You destroyed our relationship. You used me.”He stepped closer to her, eyes blazing with anger. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never step a foot in the paddock.” With that, he turned away, leaving Alexandra standing humiliated in the middle of the room.

The air crackled with the aftermath of his words—a collision of emotions, hurt, and the finality of a chapter closing.

#formula 1 #baby!sainz!sister #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x alexandra saint mleux x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader #formula 1 x reader #no hate

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alicesivory · 4 months ago

Text

The Moon Song

Inspired by the movie ‘her’ 2013 - directed by Spike Jonze

Pairing: Billy Washington x female! Reader

Warning: smut, angst, and teeth rotting fluff (mdni), and not proof-read lol.

WC: 7005

Disclaimer: I am not comfortable using [y/n] but I won’t be using any OC since it’s still an x reader fic. But I’ll slip a nickname or two in some stories ;) Oh and I took some words and sentences from my favourite scene from the movie and the iconic monologue at the end but I revised it so it would fit into the story but all credits goes to Spike Jonze. Enjoy!

“War? You don’t got a clue- what do you know about war?! War against halal butchers? You don’t know anythin-.”

Billy nodded as tears started to build up in his eyes. Of course he knew nothing. It's as if anyone gave him a chance to know something. It’s meaningless at some point, he meant his life and all this bullshit about all of this charade. Just when he felt like a somebody, of course his sister had to crumble it all down.

Or just trying to make him snap out of it from this dreamlike state he’s in as his inner self tries to justify his actions.

He didn’t mean to be like this in the first place or mingle with those thugs.

He never did.

“-grow up, Billy!”

He nodded once more as a tear dropped from his eye.

“You done?”

“Yes, I am.”

Billy kept an eye on his sister as she stomped away from his room, and finally from his apartment.

Slamming the door.

Humiliation weighed over his shoulders as he hung his head low, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair with frustration. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. Not the way he wanted it to. Taking a deep sigh, he lets go of all of his tears letting them roll down from his cheeks. Sniffling and crying alone in his dark room. But just as wanted to just curl up in bed and cry ‘till exhaustion, he heard a knock from his apartment door.

Wiping away his tears and snot, he stood up bravely and walked towards the door. It’s probably his sister, wanting to yell or lecture him about…literally anything, really. Nothing’s good enough for her or their parents. He sighs and opens the door with no hesitation without checking who it was.

“Coming back for mo-.”

Oh, it wasn’t his sister.

Her name rolled off his tongue easily like he was dying to say her name for months. She looked at him curiously as she stood there with an awkward thin smile. “I bumped into Lana and…she looks pretty pissed. Did I come at the wrong time?” she asked, pointing towards the apartment hallway. He quickly shook his head.

“N-no! Not at all. We just had an argument- you know how it is.”

It has been…8 months and 2 weeks since he broke up with her (yes he has been counting) and 2 months since he last saw her. Their breakup was hard for him and sometimes Billy believed that their breakup was the one that caused his downward spiral. He had known her since they were in university, she was his friend before he slowly developed feelings for her. His train of thoughts were snapped away by her gasp. “What happened to your hand?”

He quickly hides it away behind his back.

“N-nothing! By the way, What’re you doing here?” He asked, not wanting to tell her the truth. What will she think of him? He can’t just dump his troubles into her.

“I know this is silly, but I forgot to take some of my stuff,” she sighed in defeat, clearly letting him brush away the topic of his hand. Billy knew what she left and he didn’t even bother to tell her since he..well..just wanted her to maybe stop by or just kind of let it stay in his apartment to remember something of her. A piece of her, some sort.

“Yeah? What did you left?” He asked, acting dumb.

“Some books and my brown watch. Have you seen them?”

“No, not at all. Come in.”

Three years ago.

Laughter filled the apartment floor as his pale cream couch was being moved from the first floor to the third floor. He was at the bottom end while his sweetheart was trying to pull the couch up. “It’s getting heavy, love!” He teased as he tried so hard not to laugh seeing them fail over and over again to move their couch up to their apartment.

What’s now his apartment, used to be their apartment.

“Hold on! Oh dear Lord-,” she cackled as she took a step back up the stairs, lifting up the other edge of the couch.

“Alright, now push!” She ordered as they finally succeeded to drag and carry the couch unison. It took them a while to finally make the couch fit through the doorway, but they managed. Back then, their apartment was still empty. No mess or dirty clothes scattering around the floor. It still smelled like paint. “Phew!” She said before crashing onto the couch. Billy follows along, putting his arm around her, letting her lean onto him.

“Tired, sweetheart?” He teased.

“Terribly.”

“Gosh I think the last time you were this tired was two nights ago when I fuc-,”

“Ew, no ew stop-,” she says with a giggle trying to get away from him but he won’t budge.

“And you told me to keep going! ‘Ah harder Billy! Harde-,”

“You are so disgusting!” She exclaimed as she covered his mouth with her palm, but he kept teasing her with his stupid dirty jokes. “Really? The last time you told me that was when I gave you backs-,”

“You are so infuriating!”

The only thing to make him shut up was tickles and her plan worked. When her fingers started to wiggle on his stomach, he burst out laughing like a mad man. “Stop! Stop!” He begged her. After one last tickle, she pulled away with a satisfied grin. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.” Billy placed his arm back around her shoulders and gave her a sweet peck on her lips. “I shall be,” she replied cockily, booping his nose. He smiled at her as he admired her features that he loved more than anything.

He didn’t know he was able to love someone this much.

“Can’t believe we have this place to ourselves,” he said softly to her, brushing a hair away from her face. She smiled back, “Can’t believe I’m doing this with you.” They both shared a sweet kiss where no one could disturb them or interrupt them. Ever.

“I uh…I applied for the military,” he informed her as they pulled away from their kiss. “Yeah? That’s amazing..,” she said supportively, brushing his hair with her gentle fingers. “Yeah..I wanted to try, y’know? Seeing Lana on field…I want to be like her y’know? Brave…tough…,” he listed.

“But you are.”

Her words made him scoff.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m your boyfriend. It’s biassed.”

“It’s still an opinion,” she said gently, still brushing his hair. Seeking her comfort, he leaned his head on her shoulder. “You think I can do this?” He asked with a hint of insecurity in his voice. “Of course you can,” she reassured him, giving him a gentle kiss on his head.

Present day

They ramage through his apartment trying to collect all of her stuff. Piece by piece they collect the stuff she left in his apartment. “Alright we have the books…wuthering heights, pride and prejudice, little women, yada yada yada, and all I need is my brown watch. And it’s nowhere to be found- you sure you haven’t seen it anywhere?” She walked towards his gaming chair and sat on the pillowed chair while he sat on the cream coloured couch.

Normally, he won’t let anyone sit there. Even Becky, or Lana. She was the only one he trusted to touch his possessions. He smiles as he listens to her babbling and talking. He hates to admit it, but he missed it.

“Nope, not at all,” he lied.

Sighing in defeat, she starts rocking the chair as she looks around the room they’re in. “How you’ve been, by the way?” Billy shrugs at her question, acting all casual even if his life was basically crumbling down. No job, shitty friends, commit a minor crime, his sister, parents, even current girlfriend hates him. “Just fine, really.”

His answer made her smirk. “Well your hand says otherwise,” she says. Her witty answer made him chuckle. “What can I say? I’m a busy man.” He always liked how easy it is to talk to her. “What about you? You doin’ alright?” He asks, his tone gentle and eager to know if she’s been alright.

“Well, yeah I’m alright. Ups and downs here and there, y’know?”

“Compared to me, you look like you’re doing amazing,” he compliments her, leaning in to take a good look at her even if they’re a little bit away from each other.

His compliment made her chuckle.

It always does.

“Thanks..,” she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m serious though..you look amazing.” His tone genuine and full of meaning into it.

She looked at him for a moment, trying to read him before nodding.

“Well you look like you need a haircut and a shave.”

Her comment made him laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s been awhile since he felt that much comfort in him.

After a while, their laughter died down and a comfortable silence swept the room. “You seeing anyone?” she asked. He nodded, “Yeah, but it’s a bunch of crap. Her name’s Rebecca and I haven’t heard from her since last week.” She gave him a thin smile, both of them knowing that they don’t want to discuss that topic further. “And you?”

“Been on a date or two but none of them worked out,” she shrugs. He nodded again, a little bit glad to hear that. “You happy with your new book?”

“You’ve read it?” She asks with a chuckle. “Well, I saw it in a book store last week and it looks pretty cool, I might have to buy a copy after this,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean sure I like how it is,” she says. But he saw how she pursues her lips with a pregnant pause coming from her. “But I feel like it’s true to what I set out to do. So I’m happy with that.”

“I swear, You’re your own worst critic, I’m sure it’s amazing. Even that paper you wrote on synaptic behavioral routines made me cry.”

“Yeah, but everything makes you cry.”

“Everything you make makes me cry.”

A sense of familiarity washes between them. How easy it was to just talk like normal people would. Alice looked into his eyes for a moment before darting away and spots his injured knuckles once more.

“No but seriously though, what happened?” She asks, pointing at his hand hesitantly. He looked down and felt heat coming up to his cheeks.

“I uh…it was an accident.” “What accident?”

“An accident that involved me and some glass shards.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Why is she asking me all this shit?

“You don’t want to know.”

“I would love to know, actually.”

He looked at her for a while to sense any sort of hesitation in her words but the only thing he could find in her eyes was determination. It intimidates him. She could scoop anything from the bottom pits of his heart.

“For fuck’s sake, Ismashedawindowatabutchersh-“

“What?!”

“It was a fucking protest-“

“—What protest, Billy?! All I see is that you’re now doing property damage-,”

“—Am not!—”

“—Then what was that for? Why on earth would you smash a butcher shop’s window?!”

Billy was silent.

Why did he do it?

“I..”

Did he actually believe all that bullshit? Or was he just tagging along with his buddies? To be…accepted?

“Everything I do is never enough for you, is it?”

His words created this thick tension in the room. Her brows crinkled as she took his word as an offense. “Why would you say that?” She asks, her voice cracking. “Because it’s the truth-.”

“No it isn’t,” she said, stern and true. “I always felt like you wished I could just be a happy, light. ‘everything’s great’, bouncy girlfriend who always puts a smile whenever you come home either happy or angry and I’m sorry but I can’t do that, I still have feelings too-.”

Billy winces at her words and shakes his head, “No I didn’t want that.”

“You avoid me and shut me out whenever I point out something wrong about you, or us- even when we argue you never wanted to listen!—“

“—No I don’t!—”

“—It’s like as if you can’t handle real emotions, Billy—,”

“—They are real emotions, how do you—,”

“—What? Say it! Am I really that scary, Billy? Say it- How do I know what?!”

Silence hung in the air once more. They were both seeing red and they…she...he…realized how this argument was going nowhere. Billy saw how her gaze shifted, how her brow relaxed and her eyes slowly softening. Her once angry demeanour changed into what is now left with regret and embarrassment. Rubbing her arm, avoiding his gaze. God, did he really messed up this bad?

“I was gonna marry you, y’know?”

He didn’t even realize that he said those words out loud, avoiding her gaze as his head hangs low once more. Not realizing how her eyes softened, looking at the man that she once loved and believed was the love of her life. Maybe he is still the one she loves- but he sees that as wishful thinking.

“I’m sorry that came out of nowhere-,”

“—Billy, It’s okay-,”

“—But I mean it though, I…really want to marry you. Back then, after I’m finally in the military or something- but turns out none of that shit worked out, so…,” he says running his hands through his hair once again. His sentence hung in the air as he shut his mouth from talking any further.

Billy’s birthday, last year.

“You’re so infuriating..,” she giggled lowly as she laid on his bed, in his arms, tangled in bedsheets as the moon shone bright from the window. “Me? Infuriating? Is that a proper way to say to your birthday boy tonight?” Billy teasingly replied, leaning his head to hers letting his forehead rest on hers.

She giggles again shifting her whole body close to him as she clutches the blankets close to her chest to keep her warm. “Jeez sorry, it’s not my fault that you keep giving bad activity ideas for your birthday. Like, seriously? Skydiving? You know I hate heights, you arse!” She slaps his chest, earning a cackle from him. “It was just a suggestion, love that’s all…,” Billy grunts as he cuddles her tightly.

“Ugh you’re squishing me..,” she complained.

“Stop whining..,” he replied, giving her a sweet kiss on the neck. “It’s still my birthday tonight, I can hug you as tight as I can..,” he murmured sleepily. Alice chuckles and slightly shifts, facing up to him. “No but seriously though, what do you want to do tomorrow?” she seriously asked.

“I don’t know, really…probably taking you out and the lads up for a few pints. Just the usual, love,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Just wanna spend some time with the people I love.” Giving her a sweet peck on the lips.

“Yeah? You gon’ give your mum and da a visit then?”

Billy groaned as he nuzzled his face on the crook of her neck. “Knew you’d say that.”

“Oh c’mon, love…it’s been a half a year since you saw them. One visit won’t hurt…,” she said gently, running her fingers through his hair. “Yeah one visit will end up my da making fun of me and seeing my mum’s disappointment up close,” Billy sarcastically chuckled. “I won’t let them,” she whispered closely to his ear.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Her response earned her a smile out of him. “What’d I do without you, sweetheart?” He asked sultry before he started to kiss her jaw…down to her neck as his big hands snaked her waist, holding her gently. “I think you’d do just fine,” she answered with a sensual sigh. Billy smiled, nuzzling her cheek with his nose before capturing her lips with his.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with a low hum, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they explored each other's mouths. Billy took his time as he slipped his boxers down and placed them somewhere in the bed. “Mm…y’know I love you right?” He asked in between kisses as he pinned her down to bed, hovering over her. “I know,” she said. His kisses trailed down from her lips, her jaw, her neck, down to her chest. Gently squeezing and caressing one of her breast while his mouth nipped and sucked the other carefully. He’d then squeeze one to make her nipples perk so he could kiss it and suck it better, leaving wet trails down to her tummy and finally finding his treasure.

Gently spreading her legs, he could see that her white cotton panties had already left a dark wet patch on it. A smile tugging at his lips and he gently nuzzled his nose on her clothed sex. “Already all wet for me, babe?” He asked, placing a sweet kiss onto it before pulling down her panties in one swift motion as if he’d done this a thousand times already.

“C’mon…where’s my sweet darling..ah there she is…,” he muttered to himself. Without a warning he kitten licked her whole sex making her gasp in pleasure. Smirking smugly up at her, he continued to tease and lick her pussy before managing to eat her out properly. Hungrily munching on her like a starved man. He rubbed her clit gently in a circle motion as he stretched her hole with his tongue, fucking her with it.

This motion made her squirm and gasp, her brows crinkling feeling the intense pleasure that she couldn’t get enough of even if he’d done this to her more than she could count. “M gonna put a finger in, yeah?” His voice said in a reassuring and gentle tone. She nodded with no hesitation and just as she knew it, she felt his finger slipping into her. One finger then became two fingers, slipping in and out of her dripping hole as he licked her clit making her cry in pleasure.

He took his time to help her find pleasure. He could die between her legs and he’d be happy. He groaned in delight as he licked all of her juices when his fingers pulled out of her weeping hole. He couldn’t get enough of her as he licked off her juices before he had to pull away and looked up to her.

“W-wha- why did you stopped?” she asked. He hovers over her once more, “Need you inside of me.” Needily nuzzling his nose to her neck, sucking onto her. He then felt his body shift as now he has is back on the bed as she sits on top of him like a queen on her throne. Straddling him, he could see all of her. Caressing her sides, he saw how she looks down and groped the base of his shaft, giving it a few strokes.

“You okay with this?” She asked.

“Mmhm…y-yeah- fuck yeah,” he couldn’t even speak properly, blinded with pleasure.

Then he felt her lining up their sexes, his cock leaking with pre-cum as she teasingly rubs the outside lining of her pussy with it. “Don’t tease-fuck!” Before he could even finish his sentence, she slips his cock in making both of them gasp in unison. “F-fuck, Billy…,” she moaned, adjusting to him. She loved how he felt inside her. Not too overwhelmingly big or small, to her it’s the right size and girth.

“You’re made for me,” he grunted as he needily thrust up begging for any movement or friction. Billy saw how she looked at him, eyes full of lust and love as she started to move up and down and rocking him as they adjust to their pleasure.

“Billy?” she called out to him as she thrust into him, her body full of sweat. “Y-yeah?” Holding her hips with his big calloused hands. “Wake up.”

“W-what?”

“I said wake up.”

Present day, Billy’s birthday.

The sun started to rise, but only tiny streaks of sun rays managed to peek through the blinds. Billy opened his eyes, finding his room empty, finding his bed empty.

Fuck, he just had another wet dream of her.

He looked down, finding a dark wet spot on his pants. Of course he did. His phone kept buzzing beside his bed, probably some ‘happy birthday’ notifications from his mum, dad, and sister. Becky didn’t even bother to send him a ‘i’m leaving you’ text. Ghosted and gave up on him.

Like the others do.

He sighs, getting up from bed and throws a shirt on himself and changes his shorts before finally picking up his phone. Then he saw it. A notification with her name on it. It’s been months since he last saw a notification from her. What is she going to say? Should he open it now? Maybe later- oh fuck it!

Hi Billy how you’ve been? I just want to say happy birthday here and hope you have a great birthday this year🎂 Sorry for the other day, I really didn’t mean a lot of those things, just wanted to see how you’ve been.

I know it’s been 10 months since we broke up and I know you probably don’t want me in your life again but I really just want to say that I wish you nothing but the best things in life. We’ve gone through a long way, we grew up together and all that shit and I just can’t act as if you don’t exist in my life. You always do in some way and I hope that’s okay.

Have a great birthday Bil.

That text was the last straw for him. He looked around his no-good apartment, in the back of his mind he remembered everything he’d shared with her in every corner of this apartment. It drives him insane how he can’t have that now. But God he’d take it all back and do better for her. Reading her text, knowing how much of a shitty person he is, and she could’ve ghosted him and never talk to him ever again yet she decided to acknowledge him as a person. Not wanting to cut him out of her life, even he himself wouldn’t do the same thing if he was her. It drove him off.

He hates the way he projects himself. But it is how he is.He hates everything in his life. It’s insufferable and suffocating in his own flat. He didn’t ask to live like this, but he knew the only person he could blame was him.

Not his family,

Not his friends,

And definitely not her.

He couldn’t stay in his place any longer but as he was about to just grab his stuff and leave the place, there was a heavy knocking on his apartment door.

Life went on for a while that summer. He jogged to his car and placed his phone on the phone holder. He opens his phone, checking if he has any texts to answer before he starts driving. He sighs as he spots her name again when he opens his messaging app. He has read her text but he hasn’t replied to her. Opening her chatbox, he realized that there were also a few things he’d like to say to her. Tapping his heel and his leg bouncing anxiously, he contemplates whether or not he should reply to her or leave it be.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

Pressing down the voice message icon, he starts to speak,

“Hey uh…hey love, thanks for the uhm message, I appreciated it r- fuck why do I sound so nervous?” Billy presses the stop button and deletes it. He clears his throat, “Hey uh, I got the birthday message, I really appreciated it, ta. I’ve been doing better…thanks for asking.” He said as he starts to drive his car.

“Listen, I…I’ve been sittin’ and thinkin’ about all the things I wanted to apologize to you. All the shit and…pain we caused each other and everything I put on you, like how you think I needed you to be or needed you to say, and I’m sorry for that..really. I think I’m just doin’ that because I want to be better for you, even until now. And you know what, you helped make the best versions of me. We grew up together and there’ll be a piece of you in me too, always. Whatever we are in the future, and wherever you are in the world I just want you to know that I’ll always look for you and…I…,” he paused.

I love you and I’ve never stopped loving you.

“...I hope you have a great day too. Bye.”

Taking all of his courage, he presses the send button.

Letting out a big sigh, he leans back onto his seat and tries to drive peacefully.

Maybe a gum will help him calm down.

A year ago.

Billy remembered it like it was yesterday. It was late at night and Billy was watching something off the old Telly. He had a terrible day. After he failed to get into the military, he tried applying for high end jobs but it didn’t work out. Did another interview today and he just knew he’s gonna flunk it. The next thing he knows he’ll get an email saying that they’re sorry and all that bullshit. He sighed, leaning his head back on the couch.

“Billy?” She called out from the doorway.

“Hm?”

“How was the interview?”

“Horrible,” he grunted.

“You don’t know that-,”

“-They laughed at me,” he snapped his head towards her to the point it sets her off. “I-I didn’t kno-,” “Of course you don’t.” He cuts her off once again before getting up from his couch, brushing her off as he passed through her. “Fine,” she muttered and went to the bedroom. “Can you just be supportive for once?” Billy snapped again as he threw his beer bottle to the trash bin. “Just for once, be supportive of me?” He emphasized, with a hint of sarcasm, bitterness and frustration. “Supportive? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all these years, Billy?” She replied, taking his words to an offence.

“Oh really? Well I don’t think you’ve been supporting me, more like nagging at everything I do!”

“Criticising isn’t nagging, Billy!”

“You call that criticising? Critics are supposed to help me be better not bringing me down!”

“I wasn’t bringing you down, Billy! I was just saying the truth! Your CV was weak you didn’t put your best qualities that should’ve been the key point-,”

“--Just stop! Stop it, you’re such a know it all, aren’t you?--”

“--Me? Ha! I’m not the one who can’t accept criticism! Who can’t accept real emotions–”

“--Oh fuck you! Atleast I’m not the one who got rejected by 10 publishers just because the book you’re writing is complete rubbish!”

Her eyes widened. As much as they like to argue, Billy will never dare to say anything about her work- most of all, her book. Billy’s rage died down as he realized what he just said. He crossed the line. He fucked up. He saw how her lips slightly trembled as she wanted to speak.

She nodded as tears built up in her eyes. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?-”

“--No, fuck- babe I didn’t mean that I’m sorry–,”

“--No, it’s fine–,”

He gently walked towards her and tried to keep her from going away from him. Trapping her in a gentle embrace. “--No, it’s not fine…I’m sorry..I didn’t mean any of that…I messed up I’m sorry,” he apologized over and over again. Placing gentle kisses onto her head. His heart sank when he heard her sniffles. Gently stroking her hair, he murmured his apology to her showering her with kisses to make it all better. “Why are we like this?” She asked in a small tone. “Like what?”

“We keep hurting each other.”

Billy’s thoughts were suddenly snapped when a notification enters his phone

Lana: Mate, I’m with Becky. She came to mine looking for you. Call me NOW.

Becky? Why did she came to Lana looking for him?

That doesn’t makes any sense.

Billy brushed it off and probably thought that Becky’s there to call him off or take her stuff from his flat or something. So he clicks on Lana’s contact number and dials her after constantly ignoring her.

“Billy!”

“Can you put Becky on?” “Where are ya? Ya sound like you’re drivin’,”

“Yeah was drivin’ to meet my mates, why? Let me speak to Becky.”

“What mates? Anyone I know?”

“Just mates, Lana.” Billy says as he takes a turn on the road. “Why, what’s going off?”

“Listen, Billy I’m not with Becky- I just needed you to call me.” Billy furrowed his brows as he listened to his sister speak on the phone.

“What?- What do you mean you’re not with Becky?- What do you mean- what- why?”

“I need to talk to ya. You’ve not been answering my calls. You’ve not been about-wh-where are you driving to?

Suddenly his car bumped into some people who were doing some protests. Flipping him off for bumping into them. “Billy? Billy- Where exactly are you?” Lana asks again. Billy flips a protestor on his side bumping into his car. “Farringdon Tube Station,” he answered Lana, annoyed.

“Listen, Billy, it’s important, what are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

“I was meant to meet the lads but they’re not here. Outside the tube he said, but I can’t see them. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

“Billy, why did you drive, was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mates asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.”

Billy looked around not finding any signs of those so called lads. Shit, he got set up. A joke, like people would see him as. Fuck.

“Yeah they’ve set me up, haven’t they? Havin’ a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads,” he says with a disappointed demeanor that even Lana could detect.

“Billy, these new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

“Lana, what you on about?”

“Nick. Nick Roberts, he’s a…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

In a flash, he finds himself in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a fucking bomb inside of his car. He could hear his heart beating rapidly, his ears ringing as it mutes everyone and everything around him. From many different scenarios in his head, Billy didn’t think he’d die like this. Trapped in a car in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a ticking bomb that’s about to go off at any minute by now. His breath ragged and unstable as he kept an eye on the timer. Swallowing a lump on his throat, he looked up to his rearview mirror. “Oh no..,” he pants to himself. Scared to death, really. He wondered if he’s ever going to survive this. Maybe he should’ve chosen better shit in his life and maybe he won’t get blown off by a fucking bomb latched onto those terrorists. If only he chose better friends, listened to his sister, he’d be at home patching things up. If he was any good maybe he’d be watching some old telly show with her.

Fuck, he didn’t even said goodbye.

He hasn't told his mum and dad how sorry he was for being a mop, and for everything he did.

“Billy! I’m here! Alright it’s gonna be fine! Just stay really still for me, I'm gonna have a look around the car.”,“Yeah you gotta do something about this,” he pants, glancing at the timer that’s still ticking. “About three minutes, yeah?” Three minutes and twenty five seconds. Twenty four, twenty three..shit! He hasn't read her new book. Lana tried to take a look at the bomb as well through the window with a worried and nervous expression. But when Billy faced her again, she tried to put on a brave face for her brother. “Okay stay still, I’m gonna go have a look- Don’t touch anything, I’m just gonna check the car okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah…just-just hurry!”

11 months ago.

Billy leaned onto the hood of his car as the night breeze swept through him. One hand on his jacket pocket, and the other holding a fag as he took a drag out of it letting out a puff of smoke into the air. Looking down at his phone, he saw that it’s 7:00 pm sharp. She should be home from work by now. He sighs, flicking the cigarette down to the ground before stubbing it as he walks to the building. After going through security, he saw his sweetheart talking to the receptionist at the lobby as she had her bag on her shoulder. After finishing her chat with the receptionist she turned around and spotted him immediately. A smile plastered on her face.

“Heya Billy…,” she greeted with a smile, hugging him with her arms around his neck. He kisses her cheek and neck intimately. “Hiya, love.” As they pull away from the hug, he has his arm around her waist leading her out of the building. “How’s work?” He asked as they walked towards his car together. “Same old, same old,” she shrugged.

“And…how’s your book going?” His question made her giggle and grins in excitement. “I just got an email that..they’re actually going to publish my book!” She cheers. “Told ya they’d love it,” he said to her smugly, giving her a kiss on the head. “I was so scared and nervous though…but I guess I just needed to take a deep breath with it all,” she said, opening the passenger door. “Yeah, you actually do need to do that,” he said with a pregnant pause. He kept his eye on her as she fastened her seatbelt.

“Hey, babe?”

“Hm?”

He gently strokes her hair. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry about that night. I was a big dick to you that night, didn’t know what came over me…,” he said carefully to her. “It’s fine–,”

“Don’t say that it’s fine, bub. It’s not. It was stupid and fucked up for me to say about your book. Those 10 publishers who rejected your book were also stupid. I think everything you write is amazing. Can’t wait for the next one.” He kissed the back of her hand, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. “You forgive me?” He asked. Billy saw a smile creeping on her face, “I’ll forgive you. If you promise you’d buy a copy of my book everytime I release one.”

“Easy, I’d buy Five.”

“Five, huh? I’ll keep your promise, Washington.”

He chuckled, giving a kiss on her temple.

“Promise, love.”

Present day, Cranstead Fields.

What felt like an eternity of Lana checking the bloody car, he gripped his steering wheel while glancing at the timer once more. Two minutes and fifty three seconds. Fifty two…fifty one…his heartbeat was banging like a drum inside of his chest. Breathing in, breathing out. Lana looked at the timer and the bomb through the passenger seat’s window, trying to find a solution and just..anything! To turn that stupid bomb off. But her expression wasn’t that convincing. It scared him.

“How bad is it?” He had to ask Lana.

Lana could only look back at him with a nervous smile. “It’s fine,” she lied.

“I can tell when you’re lying, man! So how bad is it?!” He asked again.

He kept screaming his sister’s name as she went away for awhile- but she can’t just leave him, he needed his sister. Screaming out Lana’s name like a mad man, his face gone red as he cried inside his car. He does not want to die. He swore it felt like hours inside that stupid car. From the rearview mirror he saw Lana running back to him. “Billy! Listen to me! LISTEN TO ME! LOOK AT ME, YEAH? The timer means nothing! They put it there as a trick so you’ll open the door–,”

“--please–,”

“--Can you hear me?!”

“...please,” he begged again.

“Don’t touch it! Stay still! It’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh fuck,” His head hangs low as he realized that there’s no way out of this situation.

“Listen to me, I’m your sister, okay?!”

She’s his sister.

“You need to trust me, I’m gonna go and get some stuff–,”

“--Lana please, don’t go–,”

“--You gotta trust me! It’s gonna be fine.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded. Okay. It’s gonna be fine. It is. It is.

He resisted the temptation and fear of opening the door. But when the timer ran out, it freaked him out. But everything was silent, no explosion or anything going off. There he realized that Lana was right. It was a trick. Okay- fuck. He has to stay focused right now. Watching from the rearview mirror once more, he saw Lana’s team hurriedly bringing their tools.

“Alright Billy, we’re gonna just take off the rear window so you could crawl out, yeah? Stay. Still,” Lana reminded him calmly. She takes a glance at the bomb once more, giving him a thin reassuring smile. “See? It’s gonna be fine. Don’t touch anything.” Billy nodded at her words even if he was internally screaming. Slowly, he saw how her team plucked out his rear window. “Okay Billy, just slowly crawl right out. We got you,” Hass says, reaching out his arms to pull Billy out. Billy nodded and carefully crawled from the front seat, avoiding the shift gear or anything really! Not wanting to trigger the bomb. As he reached the backseat, the timer of the bomb went on again.

“Shit!” Billy screamed, hastily scrambling out of the car. He lets his sister and Hass pull him out taking his arms. “Get me out of here!” He screamed as they all grunted, pulling him out of the car. Billy landed on the ground with a thud and the team ran from the car as the timer counted down from five.

“Fuck, ma ankle!” Billy winced as he rubbed his ankle that got twisted after he got out from the car to the ground.

Four…

“Billy!” Lana screamed from afar.

Three…

“Shit shit shit shit.”

Two…

Billy tried to walk as fast as he could, away from the car.

One.

Billy didn’t explode in the car, but his ankle got twisted and his leg was burned from the sparks of the explosion. Laying down on the hospital bed after consulting with medical staff in the ER, Lana accompanied him throughout the day. Not leaving his side. Even his parents came to check up on him. His mum was crying, thinking that he died or something. It made his heart warm by the fact that he had a second chance with his family. His dad hugged him for the first time in years which was also surprising. But, he liked that surprise.

“Miss, you’re not supposed to go in there-,” he heard one of the nurses said from outside. What kind of commotion is happeni-.

And there she was.

Panting like as if she was just running a marathon, she stood there by the ER doorway. Then she saw him. “Billy!” she sighs in relief before instantly running to him. Billy couldn’t believe it as they both embraced each other. She hugs his head close to her chest, her heart beating rapidly.

“H-how did you-,”

“--Lana called me,” she says with a relieved smile, running her delicate fingers through his hair. Billy turns to look at Lana and saw Lana sipping her coffee with a mischievous smile that says; ‘Thank me later’ all over her face. He gave his sister a nod before turning back up to her.

“Are you okay?” She aks, concerningly. “Never better, love.”

He was done with being afraid. Done being a coward.

In her embrace, he pecks her lips.

Even though she was quite surprised, he earned nothing but a smile from his sweetheart.

“I’d say yes, y’know?”

“About what?”

“If you still want to marry me.”

Billy smiles to her. Guess he gotta save up then.

A/N: I SWEARRRR this fic took me so long to complete cuz it’s so overwhelming to write especially the Cranstead Fields scene- I had to go back and forth on youtube to keep the dialogues and description right꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱. But anw, thank you so much for reading until the end! I hope you guys enjoyed it and I still had so much fun writing this fic. I hope this fic makes sense, cuz I really wanted to keep it as accurate as possible with ‘Trigger Point’ in the first place(゜▽゜;). I’m up for requests for any Ewan characters and if you want me to write something in the future or you have ANY fic ideas, don’t hesitate to hmu! My inbox is open :D THANK YOUU!!!

P.S, I would like to give a little shoutout to @/targaryenrealnessdarling and the Cranstead Fields scene was also inspired by their Billy Washington series fic called “It’s Who We Have” so please check their blog as well they wrote so many amazing fics.

That’s all! Love, Alice!ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Tags🎀: @ladytargg @anukulee @michaelsgavey @whencokewascasual @fan-goddess

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wandagcre · 11 months ago

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

better than the rest | kate bishop 🔞

(Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s very much appreciated!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetcakes! Sweetcakes, Sweet–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

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

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

“Uh, that I cannot fix. I’m sorry?”

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

Were you shamelessly checking her out?

Yes, very much so.

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

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

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

You start buckling your seatbelt.

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

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

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

Can’t you?

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

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

“Well, you do keep losing your keys.”

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take the chance, petulantly placing yours atop hers.

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

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

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

You feel her squeezing your hand.

"Yada, yada. Just drive, Kate."

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

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

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

How could you not have seen it earlier?

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

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

Having you so intimately? Kate was going to combust.

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

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

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

She sharply inhaled.

“I’ll make it worth your time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kate, what—"

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

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

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

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

No, Kate was choking you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Guess you bring out the best in me."

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

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

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

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

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onlygarden · 5 months ago

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[spring is beautiful, and it must end] - nishimura riki

genre: angst (im sorry)

description: a month after your breakup with ni-ki, he returns with the desire to revive your love.

a/n: i think this might be my favorite fic i’ve written so far. even the draft made me want to cry hehehhe

the soft, hesitant sound of a knock echoes through your house, gently luring you towards your front door. you comply with the request, twisting your door knob, and pulling the front door open in no hurry at all.

a slight breeze caresses your body, the tranquility of the warm wind nearly soothing you enough to distract you from the crisp chill that nipped your senses. ni-ki stood in front of you, the frigid air which surrounded him tangling with the comforting heat of the summer.

it had been a month since you’d seen him. one month since you’d decided you could no longer grow harmoniously with him.

the summer air drifts along ni-ki’s features, his hair dancing gracefully against his skin. you imagine it must tickle a bit.

he inhales sharply as his eyes float along your features, immersing himself in every crevice of every characteristic that made you. it felt like an eternity since he last laid his eyes on you.

“hey,” ni-ki says, his deep voice littered with gloom, “i’ve really missed you.”

the sound of ni-ki’s voice still sounded so familiar to you, and it would be dishonest for you to say that you didn’t miss him, too.

you sigh, tears already igniting beneath your eyes. your composure would give out quickly, it seemed. it hadn’t been very long since the love between the two of you had withered to an unsightly brown, after all.

“ni-ki,” you start, the hope for more words to leave your mouth dying as soon as ni-ki’s name tumbled across your lips. ‘i miss you, too’ and ‘i love you’ failing to reach his ears.

“noona, i just want you to know that i’m sorry. with every part of myself, i regret how i treated you,” he tells you. his eyes filled themselves with yours, swelling painfully with the desperation planted behind them.

you don’t recall ever seeing ni-ki wear such dejection. his posture was notably feeble, his usual confidence absent from his body.

he stares into the eyes he learned so well, gathering the conflicted sadness his words placed within them.

“i know we haven’t spent very much time apart, and i know how selfish i was, but i want to make things right,” ni-ki places both of his large hands around one of yours. you trembled underneath his touch, much like a flower.

“i couldn’t get used to my life without you. it made me realize, that, everything i need is you.” ni-ki squeezes your hand with just enough intensity to convey his ferocious yearning. his voice began to quiver, and his eyes ached from the tears which sat anxiously above his eyelids, begging not to fall.

“i want to show you how much i’ve grown, i want to keep growing with you,” he confessed, his hands which clung to yours beginning to tremble, too.

as beautiful as ni-ki’s apology was, you knew that your time with him was like spring; it bloomed enough to warm the two of you, and graciously surrounded you both with an array of such breathtaking scenery. but you realize now, that it only started so beautifully because it would eventually end. the cold and icy shift of ni-ki’s behavior created an environment that was unfit for the lovely flowers you two once nourished. his selfishness and immaturity steadily enveloped the precious flowers you shared, draining them of their colorful beauty until they wilted pathetically. the hail of ice was so damaging, that, no amount of nurturing could ever make them bloom as beautifully as they once did.

you and ni-ki were only beautiful within spring.

you didn’t fight it, knowing it would be in vain, and you allowed the tears to spill past your unconvincing cloak of composure.

“ni-ki, i know you’re sorry, and i do believe you,” you cry, and ni-ki’s eyes don’t leave you once.

“but,” your eyes leave ni-ki’s for a moment as you muster the courage to utter your next sentence. ni-ki is certain he already knows the words that will leave your mouth.

“we need to let this go,” you tell him.

ni-ki’s hands loosen brutally around yours. every movement from ni-ki causes a pang in your chest as you witness the manner in which your words hit him.

your pain was unimaginable, too.

you rush forward and hug ni-ki, feeling as his arms fervently latch onto your form, his grip pleading with you to let him stay forever.

“i love you,” he tells you. you love him too, and that’s what you tell him.

“i’ll still think about you, even tomorrow,” ni-ki continued to cry, realizing that once he let go of you, everything would become real. he needed to soak up as much of you as he could.

for you and ni-ki, love only existed temporarily.

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shintin · 1 year ago

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Forbidden Flames

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot

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

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

Word count: +11 k.

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

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

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

You can read the "Disclaimers" at the end.

Song Recommendation: Forbidden Flames Playlist

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

Back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But wait!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn't do this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The realization washed over him, dispelling any remaining doubts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Satoru."

"S-Say it kinder."

"Satoru."

"Say it slower."

"Satoru."

"Say it gentler."

"Satoru."

"Say it louder."

"Satoru."

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

"Satoru…"

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

"Satoru!"

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

…

"Say it."

"Satoru."

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

"SATORU."

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

"Satoru."

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

"Satoru."

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

"S-Satoru…"

"Say it as if you need me."

"Satoru."

"Say it again."

"Satoru."

"Again."

"…Satoru."

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

"Satoru."

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

"Toru."

"No. Not like this."

"Satoru?"

"Please."

"Satoru."

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

"Satoru…"

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

"Satoru."

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

"Satoru."

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

…

"Say it!"

"Sa-to-ru."

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

"Sa…toru."

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

"Satoru…"

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

"Satoru?"

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

…

"Okay. It's—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What an irony!

The strongest wasn't fearless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

All that mattered was this.

This.

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

Oh, My!

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

Again.

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

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

You used to love this, remember?

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

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

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

He pressed his lips against your upper lip.

He ran his tongue along your lower lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Take it easy— ahhh!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if this was a dream?

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

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

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

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

And you took your time.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck! You were full of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about your students?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru.

Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo, The Strongest.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Disclaimers:

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

Art is created by me.

Are you cursing me for writing this? :D

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madlori · 6 months ago

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Here's where I am with Buddie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But.

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

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

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

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

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

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barnesafterglow · 7 months ago

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night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

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

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

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

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

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

“Wha-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

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

“But-”

“No.”

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

But fuck him. This was your moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

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wolffnichols · 3 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by my beloveds @honestlydarkprincess and @watchyourbuck thank you so much babes!!

Here's some of the eddiejosh chapter of Eddie's Hot Girl Summer Fic

One by one everybody eventually leaves until it’s just Eddie and Josh remaining. They're quiet for a while, Josh still drinking wine like it’s his solace from the breakup while Eddie ends up getting a beer. Putting his lips to the bottle and holding it just right reminds him of Chuck and the other night. “I think I'm into guys.” Eddie blurts out not thinking. Josh snorts. “No shit.” He glares at him. “What do you mean by that?” Josh seems to sober up when his eyes grow into saucers and he straightens in his seat. “Holy shit, sorry! Is this you actually coming out?” Eddie shifts into his seat. “I guess so.” “What…brought this on?” There's something in his face that makes it seem like he has some theories. He hesitates for a moment. “Well, I sorta fucked a guy. Wait more like he fucked me.” Josh smiles like the Cheshire cat. “And did you like it?” “Obviously.” “Did you plan on fucking a guy?” “No, that's the thing. I mean I always thought I was straight.” Josh gives him a pointed look. “Okay maybe I had some non-straight thoughts but I always pushed them aside. However, now that I’ve had sex with a guy it’s like it's open this whole can of worms. But I can't stop thinking that maybe it's just this one guy one time thing.” “Well, do you wanna try it with someone else?” Eddie sighs. “I really do. But I just don't wanna hookup with a random stranger. With Chuck we connected first and now I don't know if I can just connect with every stranger I meet. I wish it was with someone I knew.” “I’d fuck you.” Josh blurts out and then puts his hand over his mouth.

Tagging:

@bidisasterevankinard @evanbi-ckley @buddiekinard @monsterrae1 @dorkydiaz and anyone else who wants to do this!

#eddiejosh #eddie diaz #jeddie #eddie's hot girl summer fic #kj's writing #wip wednesday

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jessybarnes · 1 year ago

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Bunker Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

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

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 4,667

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

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

One year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m. Fine."

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

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

“No! Just leave me alone!”

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

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you trust me?”

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

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

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

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed and shook your head.

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

Dean shook his head and chuckled.

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued.

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you?

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

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

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

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

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Later,” you promised.

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

“Why?”

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

“What if I don’t want you to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, Y/N -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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marvelous-llama · 9 months ago

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NCT recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

Could´ve been by @bambikisss

Yuta x fem!reader (wc - 6.3k) idol AU, exes to lovers - angst, fluff(ish), smut You tried your hardest to avoid Yuta as much as possible following your harsh breakup. After being paired with him for a performance, you try to make it through it without bringing up the feelings that you tried to keep down.

How I Met Your Mother by @edenesth

Yuta x fem!reader (wc - 4.9k) established relationship, retrospective - fluff, angst(ish) An innocent question from your eight-year-old son takes you and your husband on a trip down memory lane, nearly a decade ago. You both recount the story of how you first met, where Yuta heroically rescued you from an attempted abduction.

glossed over by @gyukult

Yuta x fem!reader (wc - 18.2k) best friend´s brother, childhood friend to lovers, slowburn, university AU - fluff, angst, smut, hurt/comfort, coming of age times in your life where you thought nakamoto yuta was just your best friend’s older brother, a guy you had a little childish crush on. but little did you know, there was more than what meets the eye.

insufferable by @wincore

Yuta x fem!reader (wc - 4.5k) enemies to lovers, coworkers to lovers - fluff, angst

Old flame by @xofanfics

Yuta x fem!reader (wc - 3k) best friends AU - angst, smut, fluff You never made a move on your best friend because he had a girlfriend. But when he’s single again, you’re not.

deep end by @yutaholic

Yuta x fem!reader (wc - 22k) strangers to lovers, love at first sight?, heir!Yuta - fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort What started as a very simple arrangement becomes an unexpected romance when you find yourself falling for rich playboy Yuta, whose one rule in life is to never get attached, but with every moment spent with you, he begins to change his mind.

Eye for an eye by @mayaflowerxs

Yuta x fem!reader (wc - 8.7k) university AU, age gap, best friend´s father!Yuta - angst, mature themes, fluff(ish), smut As the new transfer in college you managed to befriend the popular sweet innocent girl everyone deems her to be. But as you uncover her true colors, you decide to put her in her place by going after someone whom she truly cares for, her father.

series

Highway to heaven & Runaway with me by @justwritedreams

Yuta x fem!reader (wc - 2.1k + 2.2k) university AU, friends to lovers - fluff, suggestive?

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct x reader #nct smut #nct recs #nct 127 recs #yuta #nct yuta #nakamoto yuta #yuta x reader #nct yuta x reader #nakamoto yuta x reader #yuta smut #nct yuta smut #nakamoto yuta smut

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monzabee · 2 years ago

Text

feather – pg10

masterlist

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

Pairing: pierre gasly x ex!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, please.” He pleads once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Non,” Pierre breathes out in disbelief.

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

“I think her name was Belinda?”

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

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

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

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

Well, too much for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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imaslutforcuddles · 1 year ago

Text

ESCAPISM

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

summary | after being broken up with, you plan on being sad and lonely but others convince you sex just sounds too good not to drown in. You end up meeting someone at a bar, who you might just love forever.

words | 2k

warnings | smut (18+) oral (f receiving) fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pinv, DRUGS (don’t mix drugs and alcohol), substances, high sex, subby reader, drunk sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare, little angst, self pity, breakup bullshit, swearing, sex jokes, bitches, arguments, mention of cheating, idiots in love, a little bit of a sad ending.

A/N | i have been living off of escapism and i couldn’t not write a fic about it, imagine meeting eddie in a hot and sweaty club... Reader is called bean as a nickname in this because it’s cute, don’t judge. Also, this has a platonic love circle with y/n, robin, and steve (although he’s not really brought up in this). Their like a lil family. I might do a part two if yall want. DON’T DO DRUGS KIDS. 18+ MINORS STAY BACK.

a little context if you care to listen find myself in a shit position the man that i love sat me down last night and he told me that it’s over

You shoved a box in his hands with tears streaming down your cheeks, “There. it’s all your shit, now fucking go.”

He grunts a little but stays put, “You know i still care about you right.”

Sighing you start to push him out the doorway and onto the cold, “Have a good life Jason.”

You aggressively moved your hand toward the door signaling that he needed to leave, when his heavy body wouldn’t move.

Huffing as your eyes start to burn,

“Just leave, never ever talk to me again.”

He stares at you longingly as if he hadn’t ended just fucked another girl.

“I’m sorry.”

You slam the door and smack your face in disgust,

how could he have done this to you?

- Three weeks of sulking later -

Robin groaned, “Oh come on y/n! We have to go out and get some, or at least you. God knows how long its been since you’ve been eaten out!”

Your eyes widened and you huffed, “Jesus Fucking Christ Robin! I’m fine!”

She stares into your soul arms crossed and eyes squinting.

Raising your hands in defeat you exhale the air you had held while having a staring contest with robin, “Fine, but i don’t need some random dude to make me feel better.”

Robin shrugged, “Ehhhh not sure about that, but you at least need some weed or something.”

You smile and snuggled deeper into your bestie, “Love you robin.”

She grins and looks over at you, rubbing your shoulders with her soft palms.

“Love you too bean.”

Nights with Robin had been frequent since the breakup. It would start the same very time too, you’d call sobbing about him or about your depression and she’d show up at your doorstep with open arms.

Things would be so different without Robin, you can’t believe you have a friend as amazing as her.

dumb decision

The next day you saw her, she came in with a wide mischievous smile and two occupied hands, holding with clothes fit for a prostitute.

“Robin what the fuck is that?”

She shrugged, looking from the outfits to you.

You grasp the thin fabric if your hands, it did feel really nice..

“A little something to cheer you up? We can look like hot chicks, maybe fuck, maybe get some free drinks.”

You hesitated, free drinks..

“Alright fine.”

and i’m out on the town with a simple mission, in my little black dress, and this shit is sittin

So here you are, sitting in the back of the club holding a glass of champagne waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet and fuck you into oblivion.

As much as you didn’t believe in fairytales, this might as well be one.

You scoff as a girl in your ‘friend group’ makes some lame joke about being horny and ready to party, and Robin hands you a joint and leans down to the shared table you were sitting at to snort another line.

You take a long hit from the shared joint, “This is so fucking depressing.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a slut.”

Some other girl across from you shouts over the music blasting around you,

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

Your face starts getting hot, you did not leave the comfort of your house just to get hated on by some random friends that Robin met up with at a shitty club.

“I called you a slut. I mean come on, you got cheated on. It seems like you were too slutty for poor Jason.”

She grinned and you took another long hit.

Damn can this shit start working?

“Do you even hear yourself? Your a fucking dumbass. So stop running my energy your not even worth it.”

Her smirk disappeared as your face stayed unfazed and stoic Your getting fed up with these girls around you.

How did she even know his name? Bitch probably fucked him too.

Grabbing your glass, you got up and headed to the bar for some more liquid courage.

“If the drugs won’t fucking cooperate maybe the alcohol will.” You groan.

Walking up to the bar you had almost wished you stumbled a little. To at least show your a little high, but no.

“What do you want?” A bartender grunted to you, if you weren’t so done with people’s attitude you might have actually cared that he was grumpy.

“The strongest shit you have.”

He took a deep sigh and smiled, “I’m sorry i was a bit rude there,”

You shook your head, “It’s all good buddy.”

He grabbed a glass and a bottle of what looked like a mix of Spirytus and tonic, you tut and grin. “What makes you so sure i wouldn’t like something sweeter instead of tonic?”

Looking up at you he chuckled, “You don’t look like a sweet type.”

Putting a hand to your chest you fake a sniffle, “I’m offended. I’m totally the sweetest person you’ve ever met,” you pause waiting for a name. He smiles realizing why you’re not continuing, “Eddie, my name is eddie. What about you sweet stuff?”

“Aha funny, i see what you did there.”

When you finally tell him your name his face softens, “That’s a beautiful name, it suits you.”

Eddie reaches for your hand, “Would you like to hang out with me after my shift?”

You squint your eyes, “That depends.”

His face contorts, he’s confused.

“On what sweetheart?”

Smiling you put your other hand on top of his, moving in closer to him. “On how quickly you can finish serving everyone else and start serving me.”

You grin while he just stands there awkwardly, “You don’t understand what i’m saying do you?”

Eddie awkwardly chuckles and shakes his head.

“Not in the slightest.”

Smiling, you reach for his collar to pull him onto your lips. You feel him tense up but soon relax and kiss back, “You don’t have to kiss me just because I kissed you.”

He smiles at your concern, “Don’t worry,”

Leaning in as close as he can from across the bar counter, he pecks your lips again.

“I wanted to.”

Watching him grin as he writes his number down on a nearby napkin and slides it over to you just makes you even more horny.

“Text me, I get off at one.”

You tuck it in your bra and smile, “Oh, I definitely will.”

He nods and walks off to serve more people, “Can’t wait sweetheart.” and you watch him the whole time. You watch as his arms flex while tossing around drinks, you bite your lip as he smiles at other customers.

You would have watched him the whole night but robin eventually found you staring, all alone and took pity on you.

“You look fucking depressing,”

Scoffing you get ripped from your spot on the stool, “I’m good right where i am robin.”

You wish that you would start to slur your words a little. I mean, it would make sense after all the glasses of alcohol you’ve been inhaling.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

Robin may have come to get wasted, but she doesn’t want you to regret your decisions more than you already do now.

She slid her hands under your slick armpits and held you up by your waist, thinking that without her you probably would have fallen straight on your face.

And yet, you were fine without her.

Scoffing to yourself and shaking your head, you push her away. “Just because i’m not with him anymore doesn’t mean i need you to take care of me!”

You could tell Robin didn’t expect you were somewhat sober, she thought you were just wasted like all her other friends. But she shakes off the hurt and surprise in an instant, she knows what you’re doing.

“I don’t think that you should be yelling at the only person who’s here for you.”

She walks away with a huff and leaves you alone. While, you frown and turn away to look at eddie. Who is still serving anyone with the flick of a wrist.

“Hey! Eddie.”

He turns to you and smiles mouthing a hello back.

When you wave at him to come over, he can’t help but feel a growing buz at the bottom of his stomach.

“What can I help you with sweetheart?”

“Your shift is over.”

You watch the confusion fall over his features, “I thought it ends in thirty-” Smiling, you grab him by the collar and pull your lips to his ear. “Your shift is over Eddie.”

He almost purrs at the way your voice whispers his name.

You push him against his bedroom door and moan into his mouth, “Mfmh Eddie.”

Eddie smiles at your whining and flips the two of you around, pushing his groin to yours. The making out only stops for a second as eddie pulls at your shirt, you grin and help him take it off.

Harsh puffs are pulled out of your mouth when Eddie latches his lips to your throat, sucking red spots all over it.

“Agh,” You pant and pull him closer to your neck, and push your center towards his own.

“I need you Eds.”

He grunts and pushes you onto his bed, grabbing his belt and ripping it off his pants.

You start to drool watching him undress, his body was lightly toned but oh so beautiful.

As you start to reach for his dick he stops you and sighs, “As much as i’d love for you to touch me, I need to be inside you.”

He grips your dress and pulls it off you in an instant groaning at the way your panties were drenched in your juices.

“Is that for me?”

You whine and shake your head. “It’s all f’ you Eds.” Pushing your head back you moan as he puts his fingers on your clothed core.

He chuckles and rips your panties off, pushing a finger in between your folds and huffing at how warm you were.

“A-ah Eddie!” Your body shakes at the sudden contact, and he pushes the finger inside you making your eyes widen and back arch.

“Mmh is my sweetheart sensitive?”

You whine as he sticks another finger inside, pumping in and out slowly.

“Eddie more please!” You beg and plead as he just stares down at you with a smile.

He nods and smirks, “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

Eddie moves closer to you and starts to lick your clit. You just about cum then, but continue pleading for more.

“Please, please, please!”

Soon enough the licks turn into sucking and slurping. As if he was a man starved, Eddie eats you out like a meal. Your back arches even more when you start to feel a coil in your stomach building up. As if he heard you, Eddie sucks on your clit harder and it snaps.

Your body shakes and your thighs close around Eddies head as he continues licking you through your orgasm.

Eddie then comes up for air, as he smiles and huffs. “Your pussy tastes fucking amazing.”

With a whimper you pull his body closer to yours and reach down to grasp his cock, “Need you.”

He almost growls as you pull out what you wanted most and stroke it, “Damn sweetheart, your hands are soft.”

You chuckle and help position him so he can push in comfortably.

When he does finally fuck you it’s slow and soft. At first, you thought it was just going to be sweet until he started speeding up and pushing in harder.

As you moan he just pistons faster and rougher.

“You like that sweetheart?” He grins when you moan loudly in response, not being about to give a worded answer.

You can feel his shaft getting harder as he gets close to release.

Eddie grunts and huffs, pushing as fast as he can into you.

“Ugh sweetheart i’m gonna cum!”

He reaches down to your clit and rubs, as you writhe and squeal gripping his shoulders. “Oh, Eddie!”

The both of you reach your peak together, hands pushing against each others bodies.

When Eddie comes down from his high, he gets up and grabs you a towel wiping his cum off you.

“Here you are sweetheart.”

He smiles and gets in bed next to you trying to hold you close, but when you feel something other than lust for him you push away.

“This was just a hookup, an escape. Okay? Nothing more.”

Eddie frowns, but nods moving away from you. After a couple minutes of silence, you decide it’s too hurtful to just stay when you’re trying to convince yourself you aren’t good enough for him.

“I think I should just go.”

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things season 4 #escapism #070 shake #smut #smut fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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strayrumia · 6 months ago

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Unfamiliarity (oneshot)

felix x fem!reader

Synopsis: After her break-up from her long-term relationship, [Y/n] is left wondering if she was deserving of love and gentleness. Fortunately for her, she has a best friend who's been supporting her since the beginning. Not only that, but he's also more than happy to show her she deserves the love she longed for. -or- [Y/n] is left touch-deprived and doubting that she's deserving of anything wholesome after having left a relationship that left her with nothing but heartbreak, trauma, and neglect. Her best friend proves her wrong.

Genre(s): fluffy ending, implied best friends to lovers (can be taken platonically), angst Other tags: non!idol au, (wholesome) physical touch Content/Trigger Warning(s): mentions of SA (s*xual ab*se) and emotional ab*se from past relationship, very heavy mentions of insecurity and feeling worth is based off s*x, mentions of food

[A/N]: This is more of a ventfic and something that I wanted to just let out. It might not be the best fic I've written as it has a VERY open ending/lacks a proper ending. I also wrote this late at night, very head-empty. I hope if you do read it, you'll feel heard or a reminder that you deserve the love you give to others! <3

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Weeks.

Has it been weeks?

No, it's actually been a few months since the day you gained the confidence and willpower to walk out on your past and very toxic relationship. You've kept track. After all, you thought your ex would be hurting too, until you've discovered from mutual friends that he had already moved on.

That's right. At first, it was a mention from a mutual that they've heard him mention on his own socials that he was going to a concert - a concert of a group you were very confident he didn't know nor listen to very much. Then the day came when it was the supposed concert. You saw on another mutual friend's Instagram that he was seeing the group with the same girl he told you not to worry about countless times prior. The same girl who he would not hesitate to make time when she said the word, yet when you asked him for his time, he would throw a fit. Then goes the most recent news - that he was supposedly trying to get on his coworker.

This boy was the same one who told you, when you sobbed to him while trying to stand your ground, that he didn't agree to this relationship ending and he wanted to continue fighting for you two. The same one that told you that he'd rather you stay with him and heal than walk away. The same one who told you, "will we ever be together again in the future?"

It hurt.

It hurt knowing that this person you gave five long, hard years for threw you away so easily. You fought for him despite your friends and family refusing to support your relationship, despite the fact that they all mentioned how he had red flags yet your young, naive self gave him the benefit of the doubt. You fought for him, yet you got taken advantage of in more ways than you want to remember while he felt little to no remorse for his actions as his words never aligned.

It hurt knowing that while you gave a lot of love to him, you're left wondering if you're even enough for another person, if there will ever be someone in your life to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. While you were still healing, your ex, who you walked away still full of love, was ready to find the next person to fuck around with.

Though many of your friends suggested you to hop on the dating apps and just fuck your feelings away to those who had no strings attached, you knew you couldn't do that. You love with your whole heart. Sure you can sleep with others and enjoy the sex life with potential partners who shared your kinky fantasies, but how can you? Your relationship was full of one-sided lust that you felt like you were only good for sex.

You were healing a lot faster now that months had gone by since your breakup, but it didn't stop the thoughts of insecurity that would constantly come up every now and then. You've gone on many hangouts with friends who happened to be dating and seen just how wonderfully they treat each other and it makes you wonder... 'Will I ever get that kind of treatment?'

After your breakup, you made a vow to yourself that you would set aside as much time as you can to spend with your friends and family, the very people who supported you individually from the start and continued to even after that. Through each hangout, your best friend, Felix, was there every step of the way.

He was always there since the beginning. He was there when he warned you about your ex before you got into that relationship. He was there during your entire relationship, albeit being at a bit of a distance to respect your space and privacy with your partner. Lastly, he's there for you right now.

You had spent the whole day with him, letting the day be a normal hangout - one that allowed you two to enjoy board games with other friends before they had to go home, leaving you alone in your small apartment with Felix.

After the mutual friends had left, Felix had noticed your mood shift slightly towards the end of the game night and decided to bake you some chocolate chip cookies as a treat to cheer you up. He knew they were your favorite sweet treats after all. While he prepped the ingredients and put up a YouTube video in the background, you scrolled through your Instagram feed lazily, only to have the worst timing and notice the same girl you were warned to not worry about post about your ex yet again. Yes you were doing better in this healing process but the pain was still ever so present.

You let out an exasperated sigh as your head dropped into your folded arms against the counter, causing Felix to look up from the video and pause. "Are you alright?"

You only responded with an unhappy, muffled groan in your arms. Felix raised an eyebrow at you as his gaze shifted towards the phone in your hand. Your screen stayed stagnant on the post with your friend and your ex.

"You know, you could always remove this girl from your socials. Why don't you? It's not like you still talk to her." Felix suggested, taking your phone out of your hands and analyzing the post.

"She hasn't done anything directly to make me have a reason to cut her off... it wouldn't be right." You retorted. That thought often crossed your mind without him even mentioning it if you were being honest. It would lift a mental load on you to remove the last person who wanted to associate with your ex from your social media, but you still felt it was wrong to remove someone who never hurt you, at least with intention.

Felix scoffed. "Does it matter? She doesn't know him well enough to know what he did to you, or to anticipate what he might do to her. If it helps you in the long run, you might as well do it."

You ignored his reply, your thoughts were going elsewhere anyway. You stared into nothingness as the post's image burned into your brain, how happy the girl was to be beside the abuser. Your thoughts were going all over the place if you were being honest.

'Why do you want to associate with him? He's a horrible person! Ugh, but you don't know...'

'You don't even know how terrible he is, but I guess sometimes people only learn the hard way...'

'He literally told me not to worry about her and how he only saw her as a little sister figure but why was his hand so dangerously low in that photo...'

'Just how many lies did he feed me to keep me from trusting my gut feelings...'

'She is a pretty girl with a gorgeous figure... it's no wonder he kept his eyes on her.'

'She was the one worth driving an hour and more for without hesitation. She was the one he was willing to treat out to restaurants and gift flowers for. I was the inconvenience after all...'

Your thoughts were becoming sadder and darker as they went through each and every lie he told you. Tears began to well in your eyes until you suddenly felt your hand getting tugged, dragging you out of your thoughts and into the situation at hand. Felix started leading you towards your couch and maneuvered you into sitting onto his lap.

"Wh- Felix, what are you doing? I-I'm heavy!" You started to get embarrassed and immediately tried to lift yourself from his lap, only for him to keep you there with his arms. He kept you in a gentle yet firm embrace that prevented you from trying to escape.

"You're not even heavy, stop it." You stopped squirming and just continued to avoid his gaze. You knew if he saw the tears threatening to fall from your eyes you would hear it from him, but he surprisingly said nothing as he kept you in his arms.

He reached over to the side and grabbed a blanket nearby, drooping over his back before he took each end to make his way to wrap you in. He gently cradled your head into his neck, his head sitting softly atop yours. His other arm kept you in an unescapable hold while rubbing small circles on your back. Although you wanted to escape out of embarrassment, you didn't retaliate to his small, gentle gestures. You felt your muddy thoughts begin to clear out as Felix continued to cradle you in his arms.

"Felix... what are you doing?" You repeated with more naivety and less aggression.

"What does it look like, [Y/n]?"

Your face began to flush, but you tried your best to pay it no mind. "You don't need to do this to me, okay? I don't... I don't deserve it."

"Why do you think you don't deserve it?"

The post burned into your mind again. "Because... there are better people out there who deserve it more than I do." Like her. I'm not someone you should be doing these kinds of things to. I don't deserve it.

"Hmm... maybe you're right, but I know you deserve to feel secure and have affection too." Felix replied, adjusting slightly to turn your head to face his direction as he started brushing his fingers through your hair, pushing your loose strands away from your face to the best of his ability in your position. The gesture small yet soothing, an unfamiliar feeling that you definitely leaned into and enjoyed every minute of.

"I can't imagine what he put you through but what I can tell you is that you too are deserving of more than just being treated as an object. You're not an object, you're a human, okay? So don't ever treat yourself as anything less when you deserve more."

You felt the tears in your eyes rebuild from the ever growing happiness in your heart hearing his words, but you fought them from overflowing. You shook your head, wanting to retort more but as you opened your mouth, the words never left your throat. It felt that if you tried to counter Felix again, the tears would win over and you wouldn't be able to stop. 'I really don't...'

"[Y/n]," he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head. "You deserve to feel loved too. You deserve to experience the joys of getting a wonderful surprise from your support system. You deserve to be invited and brought to cute and romantic dates with lots of effort. You deserve something even as simple as handholding!"

It's as if he felt your tears fall because he pulled you away from him to use his free hand to gently wipe away the tears from your eyes, not caring that they lightly stained his sleeve and shirt. He continued to brush your loose hairs away from your facial features as he made sure you kept your eyes on him. "You are loved and you will experience that love too. If you allow me, I will show you exactly how you should be treated - although, it might just be the same as what we already do."

"But... what would be the difference between the things we do now compared to the things we will do after this point?"

"Well, I guess I won't have to hold back how I feel about you. That would probably be the only difference." He said with a small chuckle. "But you don't have to worry about anything, I don't expect you to feel anything right away nor do I want you to feel rushed into deciding anything with me. I just want you to experience the love, respect, and happiness you're supposed to have."

You thought about it with a smile. Your current experience with Felix as of recently has been filled with nothing but joy and laughter. There would be times where you would vent about your healing thoughts and he would generously offer an ear and shoulder. Most of the time, however, it was genuine laughs and happiness that triggered your habit of hiccupping when you laughed too hard. Those memories you've made with him recently just made you enjoy his presence more and more. It was no lie that he made sure he always thought of your picky habits whenever others wanted to go to a restaurant, how he made your heart flutter with every smile he shone at you and every gentlemanly gesture he did in consideration of you.

It wasn't going to be an easy lesson to relearn but you knew exactly what he was trying to teach you. You don't know how to accept such kind and affectionate gestures because you were so used to bland, lustful touches. You didn't think you deserved to be treated so delicately when all you've known is how to be used and thrown to the side when the other was no longer satisfied.

It was hard, but you can feel your healing process become much easier and smoother with Felix by your side. After all, he knew you best, he witnessed you through your highs and lows to the point where he learned what ticked you off and what brought you the highest joy. He's someone who observed and applied what he learned to make sure you would be treated with the respect you deserved.

It won't be quick and it won't be easy, but one thing you know for sure is that you felt the most safe and loved with him than anyone you can ever imagine.

-End-

#tw abuse mention #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #felix x reader #felix scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

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piratefalls · 11 months ago

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new list, new year, (trying out a) new header, new post day. i'm back after a nice little vacation where i got almost zero reading done, so no one is more surprised by the amount of holiday fic here than me.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five. list six. list seven. list eight. list nine.

No Consequences by AnchoredArchangel

"I sort of came out as bisexual to both Nora and myself when we were watching that fucking snoozefest of a Royal Wedding years ago, and I told her with no hesitation that you were on my list.” Suddenly, Henry looks very present in this previously one-sided conversation, eyes boring into him even if he sounds a little choked as he clarifies, “I was on-” “My No Consequences sex list,” Alex confirms brazenly, “Yeah." Or: During an inadvisable spot of dating years back, Alex and Nora made a game out of making extensive lists of celebrities they could hook up with without it being cheating. One breakup and several years later, Alex meets someone on his list for the very first time at a charity gala and decides it's appropriate to tell him all about it.

Wash a Bad Day Away by stellarmeadow

Alex has a bad day and needs to drown it in a tub.

this year I will fall by railmedaddy

Henry has many regrets in his life, but leaving the ice rink after a literal run in with the potential love of his life without even obtaining his name may be his biggest. With his family visiting for the holidays for the first time and ever-present work deadlines looming, he's too busy to think about how to engineer his own happy ending worthy of the novels he edits. But what if fate has other ideas?

the mountchristen pharma job by coffeecatsme

The alarm blares. Still, the man slides the key again and enters the room. He closes the door behind him, flips the flash drive in his palm. Walks to the room that’s supposed to be empty, the room they made sure was clear before they made their move. Except it’s not. And the man recognizes that head of blonde hair all too well. Henry fucking Fox-Mountchristen. Six years ago, Mountchristen Pharma's reckless actions caused Rafael Luna's death. Alex and June want to make it right, but they're not the only ones.

Take a Trip Into My Garden by @sparklepocalypse

Alex groans. From the sound of things, he’s in no better state than Henry. “Why in the absolute fuck does your family have a fucking Viagra orchid?” (A sex pollen fic that takes place on the grounds of Kensington Palace between the Cornetto scene and the interview blitz.)

you could call me babe for the weekend by weather_stained

It's been three years since Ellen Claremont lost the 2016 Presidential Election, and Alex hasn't seen Prince Henry since the Rio Olympics. When Alex, June, and Nora take a post-finals trip to a Vermont ski resort, Henry and his best friend Pez are the last people they expect to see waiting in line for the chairlift. To Alex's great displeasure, Nora and June end up quite takenwith Pez, and Alex is forced to spend time with Henry. In one weekend, they become closer than he could have ever imagined.

come away with me by rizcriz

Alex closes the door behind himself and turns into his tiny apartment with an exhausted sigh. As he turns to flip the lightswitch, the subtle sound of fabric rustling hits his ears; carefully, he unclips his gun at his waist band, flips the light switch, and turns around, pulling the gun on the intruder. He nearly drops it at the sight of a familiar head of shining blond hair. “What the fuck?” Alex asks, taking a step in, and reaching with his free hand into his holster for the pair of cuffs he knows he clipped in this morning. “Intel said you were in London.” Henry Fox, international thief and conman, tilts his head where he’s sitting in Alex’s favorite armchair. “Honestly, Alex,” he says, waving a hand. “Put the gun away. We both know you’re not going to shoot me.” “Fuck you,” Alex hisses on impulse. “Put your hands up.” -- or Con Man Henry and Interpol Agent Alex

(Dil)Do It Yourself by happinessofthepursuit

“Listen,” Nora starts, turning her body once more so that she’s sitting sideways in the chair with her legs thrown across the armrest. “I did the math. There’s a 79% chance you’re gonna become a slut to the power of the prostate, and while we’re not dating anymore, it’s my duty as your fellow slutty bisexual to get this party started.” Or, when Nora drags Alex to a holiday dildo workshop, he doesn’t expect to find someone to use it with.

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What's on My Mind) by affectionatelyrs

Alex hums, turning around to pull open the freezer drawer. “You want anything?” But Henry barely registers his question. Not when Alex is slightly bent over, allowing Henry a perfect view of his perfect ass. Each individual ridge of his spine is visible due to his lack of shirt. All of these things combined would normally be a large enough issue in itself to render Henry dumbstruck, except— Except, that’s not the only thing that Henry’s faced with. Right there, clear as day: blue lace, delicately peeking out from the waistband of his joggers. Henry’s hand immediately flies up to his cheek. The skin is hot to the touch, and he feels the imprint of where the material once lay like a brand. - Or, With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought

i've forgotten if they're green or they're blue by metacrisis

When the worst snowstorm New York city has had since the Great Blizzard of 1947 snows Alex and Henry into their Brownstone, Alex falls into a bizarre dream and awakens in a world much like his own. Only it seems like he's suddenly five inches shorter, five years younger and why is Henry the only person who can tell? AKA, Movie Alex falls into Bookverse before he and Henry get together.

Ho for the Holidays by @whimsymanaged

“Listen, don’t worry about this,” Henry says quickly, already mentally crafting the passive-aggressive text he’s going to send Pez. “Better luck next year. I’ll just be off—“ “Hold your damn horses.” Alex stops Henry with a fast, surprisingly gentle hand to his wrist. His eyebrows furrow. “What did you put on your questionnaire?” Henry’s ears go hot. “That’s none of your business.” Alex scoffs and leans in closer. “Baby, we matched. It’s safe to say we have at least some interests in common. Be honest—was it because you confessed to having a secret desire to slap me?” Or, Pez organizes an event called Ho for the Holidays, and these two idiots get paired up.

Waiting in the Wings by DracoWillHearAboutThis

Henry had always known he would end up in an arranged marriage. He had not expected, though, to end up in an arranged marriage with Prince Alex Claremont-Diaz, who he'd secretly been in love with for the past fifteen years.

Fill My Stocking by songliili

Alex has spent the past fifteen minutes talking with David about his favourite treats. Not that the dog answered, but Alex was undeterred and kept going, uncaring that Henry had asked him to give him an hour and then he’d join him in hanging up fairy lights and mistletoe everywhere. Very well. If Alex wants Henry’s attention, he'll have it. It's probably not what Alex thought he’d accomplish with his little scheme, but it's a compromise between Henry's needs and Alex's wants, and that's all that can be done. OR: Alex wants some attention and Henry has to get creative.

Here With Me by SatinBirds

When Zahra asks, “Would it make any difference at all if I told you not to see him again?”, it’s the easiest thing for Alex to categorically answer, “No.”

because it's Tuesday by headabovethewater

Right, so, here’s the thing; Alex hasn’t shaved in a while. He’s been so consumed by stress for his exams, his thesis, the post-election work he’s been doing for Ellen… It’s been a bit much for Alex, and while Henry is impressed by the fact that he’s able to keep himself standing and functioning, he has noticed that the scruff on his face has increased. A lot. Oh, Henry has noticed, alright.

i want to mark my skin (it is paper thin) by violetbaudelairequagmire

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subj: Tattoo Reference Attached: 1 file (orionsketch.jpg) Hello, Attached you’ll find a line art drawing of the constellation Orion. The shoulder blade is the intended location. Best, H.J. Fox OR: It's a Tattoo Shop AU!

Can't Buy Me Love by everwitch

Alex is a high end escort. Henry is his wealthiest client. He's also a total asshole, which Alex has zero patience for. He'd never let a client walk all over him like that, not even one with striking features and an air of firm authority that Alex has to keep reminding himself he’s not attracted to. But over time, Alex learns there's more to Henry than fiery insults and cruel dismissal. So much more. Alex is in so much fucking trouble. He should end things with Henry before he gets burned. (He couldn't end things with Henry if he got paid for it.)

He Was Here With Me by absoluteaudacity

Arthur lives: a wishlist

(Door)Dash to the Heart by bleedingballroomfloor

The man looks up when Henry opens the door. "Henry?" Henry clears his throat. "That's me," he manages. "Cool," the man says. "You're making me hungry for breakfast with this order, man. Which is bad for me, because my breakfast is usually just coffee, and there's no way I can drink that this late." "Uh," Henry says. He's pretty sure dashers don't talk this much during orders. "Anyway," the man says, handing the bag of food to Henry, "enjoy your night." Five times Henry gets late-night food from his insanely hot DoorDasher Alex, and one time they get food together at a normal time.

(here's my number) so call me, maybe by villageidiot

"I could go a few days without contact, you know." Henry looks over at Alex, who's splayed across the couch, and places a finger on the page he's reading to keep his place. "I'm…sorry?" "While you're gone, I mean. I could handle a few days of not talking to you." Henry still looks a little baffled. "Is this something you want to do? I'm still unclear on the 'why' here." And so is Alex, honestly. or: five times Alex fails at the whole "go a whole weekend with no contact" thing (and one time Henry does)

the beagle, the ghost and the wardrobe by stutteringpeach

Henry’s new flat comes with one unexpected feature: it’s already inhabited. But not by a human. By a ghost.

Night Class by OrchidScript

Alex how found the simplest solution for all the facts he had been presented. There were plenty of them to make sense of. Alex was taking the path of least resistance, accepting that whatever remained after all was stripped away must be the truth. June could laugh at him for the rest of time if she wanted. He was right. He knew he was right. He had to be right because nothing else on earth or in the universe made sense. Henry Fox — his smarmy, entitled, wealthy, bland, irritating neighbor — was a vampire. Alex knew it. He could prove it.

Piss-up in a brewery by clottedcreamfudge

"I hate this," Alex says, not for the first time, and Henry covers his face with his hands. "Yes," he says, a little muffled, "that's coming across." "It's not, like, personal," Alex clarifies, even though it fucking is. "I just don't really like sleeping with other people. I mean, sleeping in beds with other people. I like having sex-" "Yes, alright," Henry says peevishly, not moving his hands at all. "You needn't extol further on your love of intercourse." "Who the fuck talks like that?"

Sleepless Nights by stripyjumpers

Henry's insomnia has been getting worse. He thinks it's fine, until it all finally catches up to him.

move fast (and keep quiet) by HypnosTherapy

Henry’s smile goes slightly strained at the edges. In his ear, Nora hisses at Alex to walk away. He firmly ignores her. “What brings you here tonight, Foxy?” Henry brushes Alex’s hand off him. “The same thing that brings us all here,” he answers. “Not only a girl’s best friend, after all.” -- Alex is a spy tasked with securing a case of diamonds being auctioned off by black market smugglers. Henry is a rival spy who happens to be tasked with receiving the same case of stones. When Henry wins the auction, Alex has to retrieve his target, no matter the cost.

Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured by myheartalive

“Fox,” he hisses through his teeth. “How about you take the tube tonight? Or go for a nice long walk?” Henry’s stunned. “Excuse me?” “Yep, I will excuse you. Now do us both a favour and find another way to get home.” — OR enemy co-workers Henry and Alex get unwillingly shoved into a cab together (and finally sort their issues out)

the best intentions by smc_27

He sees the flyer when he’s in town picking up the fabric and books June wanted from the market. Once a year. On the prince’s birthday. The chance for his one true love to rescue him from the tower. A cash prize to go along with the prince’s hand in marriage. The title of Prince Consort and a palace of their own. Alex knows himself. He knows how people are with him. He’s made people fall in love with him without even trying for it. He’s had to break hearts since he was 15 and Charlotte Marks told her father she was going to marry Alex. He can get some cloistered prince on board.

A Life, in Names by th0ughts

Macsomething continues to flounder. “I arrived just as someone came out, you see. A woman, with the hot pink jacket? I told her that I’m Roy Maclanahan—” (bingo. Henry knew it was Maclanahan.) “—here for Mr. Claremont-Diaz, I work with him you see. He invited me over, to look through some documents? And she told me that I was in luck, that he was home. “Either way I am so sorry to have disturbed you your hi—Henry. She must’ve been mistaken. I’ll take my leave and return when your husband’s arrived.” Maclanahan is wringing his hands and looks just about a second away from nervously combusting but the entire ordeal has Henry’s face blooming in a smile. _____ Musings of a life, in four surnames.

In my dreams (In your dreams) by lizzie_bennetdarcy

He opens his mouth to tell Alex it's fine, they can stay, when Alex shakes his head. "The room is spinning. That's not fun. Alright, sweetheart, let's go home." He jumps up from the stool, and immediately lists sideways into Henry. "What will it take to get you to carry me home?" "More than you're prepared to give, I'm afraid." Kiss me, marry me, have my children, please. Alex is very drunk, and very affectionate, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for Henry to pretend like he isn't completely in love with him.

when he breaks so beautifully by viciouslyqueer

Henry thinks it’s just been a rough day – it certainly wouldn’t be the first time – but he only realizes just how wrong he is when his boyfriend actually gets home. Slumped shoulders. Twitching fingers. Red-rimmed eyes glistening with tears. Henry’s heart breaks on sight. — Alex has a rough day at work and asks Henry to be mean to him. Henry praises him instead.

Twenty Seven Batters by politics_and_prose

A ballplayer will refuse to stop playing because they want one more hit, steal, strikeout. One more homerun. One more win. So they get old and they lose their skill and embarrass themselves long after they should have hung up their spikes. If that’s the rule, then Alexander Claremont-Diaz is the exception. Because today, at age 38, Alexander Claremont-Diaz is six outs away from a perfect game.

forever yrs, for evermore by indomitablelove

‘Wake up,’ Henry whispers. Alex turns and squints his eyes open. He looks at the clock. ‘Baby, why the fuck are you waking me up at six am? I’m on vacation.’ ‘I’ve got a surprise, come outside. You can go back to bed after, I promise,’ Henry tells him with a smile. ‘I’ve made you coffee.’ Alex sits up with a squint and a stern, unimpressed look on his face. ‘You better have a fucking good reason for getting me up at sunrise.’ --- or, a lake house proposal fic

Aged Like a Fine Wine by allmylovesatonce

At a gala for the Okonjo Foundation, Senator Alex Claremont-Diaz runs into Prince Henry of Wales for the first time in two years. Something is different about him, and it's not just the revelations that came out the last time the two saw each other. When they're encouraged to spend more time together, it lights a spark that could send both of their lives into a tailspin. Will Alex resist the temptation or will he find the courage to pursue what he's wanted far longer than he's let himself acknowledge?

All our Sweetest Hours Fly Fastest by AHistoricDistraction

It has been three years since they were outted and Henry and Alex have finally settled into a groove that works well for them, except for the fact that it feels like they're always having to steal time together. Queen Mary constantly coming up with excuses to get Henry out of public events with Alex isn't helping, and Alex is done with it. After a long conference in Tokyo that Henry couldn't attend, Alex's flight home being delayed is the last straw and he calls Henry to say they need to figure out a better way to do this, to which Henry agrees. But fate has other ideas. Alex's flight goes missing somewhere over the Pacific, no trace of it to be found, leaving Henry and Alex's family struggling to not lose hope while unable to do anything.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged, either for author purposes or just to know when these go up! see you next tuesday!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb #rwrb rec list #firstprince #red white and royal blue #rwrb fanfiction #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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