#I was in so much emotional pain from a relationship that turned toxic

[starstruckgoateepuppy]

the cut that always bleeds

park jihyo x f!reader

synopsis: jihyo has been grieving over the loss of her sister, as much as you try and help her move on she seems to get more agitated and bitter which causes the biggest argument of your relationship.

warnings: drinking, kinda toxic jihyo, death and anything else i didn’t say

wc: 1.8k (its short im sorry)

a/n’s note: oh my god its been so so so long 🥲🥲 thank you @cry4mina for encouraging me and giving me ideas your soooooo nice and sweet for reaching out to me ☹️🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷x infinity

You and Jihyo have never had many arguments—mostly just bickering. This is largely because you both are understanding and mature with each other. The few disagreements between you aren't serious, and you typically make up quickly. You love Jihyo, and everyone close to you knows it. No one would have thought things would turn out like this.

-

day one

It was just your typical morning routine with Jihyo, and you nevertheless cherished every moment of it. You lived in an average-sized apartment with her, and both of you were very satisfied and content with your living arrangements.

You had been married to her for quite a while, and it was quite obvious that would not change anytime soon.

While at the table, having your hands on the delicious avocado toast that was made by Jihyo, there was suddenly a tense moment as she picked up her phone and answered the call that had been made while she was in the midst of brewing coffee. She was in such distress that you could tell something was very wrong. After a few minutes of giving her time, she put the phone down and mumbled, "My sister... she's not here anymore... she's dead." You looked at her face, her eyes glistening in the light as tears filled her eyes. You just hugged her as she sobbed into your shoulder.

You held each other for what felt like twenty minutes before gently guiding her to sit down. You assured her that everything would be okay and that her sister was in a better place now. Through her tears, she spoke about their close childhood bond and her deep regret about not interacting during the holidays. from the little times you met her sister, it was clear that she was really a nice and kind woman, it also pained you seeing how wretched she was processing all this.

you called out from work and took the next 2 weeks of just to help jihyo and her family out.

-

day 7

it has been a week since the death of your sister in law, who is now 6 feet buried underground. jihyo still hasn’t taken in the fact that she would never be able to see her sister again.

-

day 90

3 months has passed since the tragic loss of jihyos childhood best friend. to say jihyo was still taking it hard was an understatement. jihyo hasn’t been able to do much other then work and go on her phone reminiscing the memories of her sister. every chance you get, you try and get her to go out and spend some time together but she always seems like she’s out of it. as much as you try to help, she pushes it away and ignores it.

-

day 365+

it has been a year since the death of the park sister and jihyo has still yet to move on. although you still insist in trying to help her deal with her feelings and emotions, she becomes more insistent about being able to deal with herself. and you really can’t lie about how aggressive she has been lately and how much it has been frustrating you. you really just care for her and want to know if shes okay, but how could you if shes trying to push you away? you’re her wife and you feel like you should be responsible for her and her emotional needs. now she’s making you feel like you haven’t been caring and doing your responsibilities as a wife.

all of this causes a big change in her attitude towards you. her being more agitated and angry made you feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her as much anymore than you should. it gets to the point that you try to start avoiding her, worried about making her angry.

-

The clock was hitting 1 in the morning and you still weren’t home. The door clicked open, slowly creaking wider. She saw your familiar shoes and flowy silky black hair tip inside the door. The lights were turned off, just her sitting on the sofa staring at the television in front of her. You slipped off your shoes, placing your sweater on the door. you slightly jumped when you saw her figure get up from the sofa walking towards you.

“hyo? baby why are you awake?”

“don’t even think about talking to me in that sweet tone. what have you been doing at this hour? there cannot be an excuse reasonable enough for this!”

“jihyo you know i would never do such a thing! what kind of person do you take me for? its like you dont even know me anymore. you never try to even bring up a conversation with me!” you fired back at her. She was mainly the dominant one in the relationship. You never made statements like this. “i have been through so much this year and you still treat me like this like its nothing!” its like she was made to make people feel in the wrong, like she purposely wanted to make you feel terrible, like how she has been how the pass few months, and you don’t want to deal with it anymore. You didn’t want to feel like that anymore, you wanted to tell her the truth. “I have been doing my best to help you cope and deal with your grief for months and all you have been doing is pushing me away! how do you think i feel jihyo? i have feelings too! i also am devastated that my sister in law passed away! i also had connections with her but i had to care for you too!”

she stays silent for a little while, taken aback by your words. you thought it was done, maybe she started to understand that what she did was wro- “excuse me? are you trying to tell me that me grieving over my dead fucking sister is crazy? i spent my entire childhood with her, you don’t get it! i am her sister, you are her sister in law. its very different from what i know, or what? are you gonna tell me what i know is wrong too? i am never right to you, is that right?” you were left speechless, unable to process what you had just heard. “no way you just had the nerve to tell me that..” she just raised her eyebrow as you both stood there. you decided that you didn’t want to hear her voice anymore so you took your coat, packed up and left, ignoring whatever protests she was doing.

you got in you car, rethinking everything she had done and how much she neglected you. all the effort to make her feel better, all of that pushed down the drain so easily. all of that and she still called you the problem. you didn’t even know what to do and where to go. your mind was still trying to process everything that had happened in the past 15 minutes.

meanwhile, you could say that jihyo was astonished. she never knew you would go this far and leave the apartment, but she definitely knew that she did something terribly wrong. she was probably sitting on the couch, head in her hands in the most distress she has ever been. obviously she still loved you, but the loss of her sister took a toll on her and she started losing her mind not being able to deal with the pain and grief. she was starting to realise how much she messed up and had a pang of guilt hit her. she called and texted you, pleading that you would give her another chance, that she wouldn’t push you away from helping her. whatever she did you just didn’t answer, she was without a doubt starting to get worried.

it has been hours since you left the house and you genuinely didn’t even know where you were anymore. all you knew was that you weren’t ready to go back to where jihyo was. you were afraid that some unintentional words might slip out which would cause an even deeper misunderstanding with her. you hesitated checking your phone, aware that there would be tons and tons of messages and missed call notifications from her who is named as “my loml 🧡”. you needed a place to stay for the meantime, but you didn’t want to stay at her members place.

if you went to a members house they would probably question you (which isn't unreasonable at all because who the hell shows up uninvited at nearly 3 in the morning?) unfortunately you didn’t want to deal with that with how dazed you were. you knew they would very surely take you in without any protests, you just hated the fact that you would have to explain everything and make even more conflicts and problems.

after the hours of driving and reflecting on your situation. your last hope was to sleep in the backseat of your car. fortunately you had some blankets to keep yourself warm. sleeping in the backseat of your car in the parking lot of your apartment complex, something you never thought you would have to do one day.

-

at 6am

3 hours of minimal sleep, you drove to the nearest convenience store and got yourself some coffee to keep your mind running while on the verge of breaking down again. you didn’t get yourself any food, you doubt you were gonna eat it anyway and it would go to some pigeons in a park or something. you were trying so hard to prevent yourself from having to return back to your house.

you genuinely wish it could start over. things shouldn’t have been like this. there was no one to blame. no one should be forced to get over it.

-

it hits you. your facing what she faced. your sitting at a graveyard, in front of a tombstone.

there it marks the words.

“here is the forever home of

Park Jihyo“

you cry again and again, begging her to please just come back.

why did it have to end like this? you hated it, you wish you had never left the house. she wouldn’t have to go looking for you. then she wouldn’t have gotten into the car crash.

this whole thing could’ve been avoided. if you just continued giving her the time and she would’ve just allowed you to help her.

you wanted to blame the stupid drunk driver. but who are you to blame when she was driving to look for you? you made her worried? driving all around all alone. you thought losing a sister in law was one of the worst experiences. your sister in law will never know she was a reason her sister died just a year later.

[livingnotonlysurviving]

Honestly it really is love that makes the difference. I’ve been in the hospital for a couple days and yes it’s hard but my bf and so many friends have shown me love and support. I’m in pain but I’m never alone.

[tqlepatiia]

words we can’t take back | b. barnes

masterlist | pt.2

summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky lashes out, leaving y/n hurt by his harsh words. now drowning in guilt, bucky must find a way to apologize before it’s too late, but y/n isn’t ready to forgive so easily. can he fix what’s been broken?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, toxic relationship dynamics, arguments, mention of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and feelings of inadequacy.

word count: 5.9k

The mission had been a disaster from the start. Tension crackled in the air, the kind that always seemed to precede trouble. Bucky Barnes felt it in his bones, a tightness that grew with every wrong turn. It had been a simple extraction, but when they walked into a trap, chaos erupted. The sounds of gunfire ricocheted around him, the explosions reverberating through his chest like a war drum, drowning out his thoughts. But when he glanced at you—his partner, his anchor—something twisted in his gut.

In the aftermath, the wreckage of what had gone wrong stretched before him. Bodies lay scattered, their lifeless forms stark against the smoky haze, and the acrid scent of burning metal stung his nostrils. You stood there, bruises marring your skin, and your eyes, once sharp and defiant, now dulled by exhaustion. Bucky had seen too much, been through too much, and the anger inside him simmered, ready to boil over. How could this have gone so wrong?

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his voice a harsh whip in the stillness. His jaw was clenched, and his glare could’ve burned holes into you. “You almost got yourself fucking killed, you know that?”

Your breath caught, heart sinking at the venom in his tone. “I was doing my job, Bucky. I thought you had my back.”

“Had your back?” He stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides, every muscle taut with pent-up fury. The adrenaline from the fight morphed into something more destructive. “You’re a goddamn liability! You keep throwing yourself into danger like you can’t be hurt. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The words hit you like a punch, each one a jagged edge cutting deeper than the last. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on you, suffocating. “I didn’t ask for a babysitter,” you shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. “Maybe I’m the one who should be questioning if you’re fit to be my partner!”

Bucky’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing like a predator’s. This isn’t just about the mission, he thought, grappling with the frustration of watching you walk into danger. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have to worry about saving your ass all the damn time. If I wanted to deal with this shit, I’d find someone who actually knew how to handle themselves. I’m sick of dragging you through every godforsaken fight!”

Every accusation felt like a dagger, twisting in the wound he had just opened. You could see the pain and anger simmering in his eyes, but it was all directed at you. “You think I wanted this? I’m not the one who fucked up in the field! I thought we were a team!”

His laugh was bitter, devoid of humor, echoing against the wreckage around you. “Team? That’s a joke. You don’t get to call it a team when I’m the one stuck cleaning up your shit. I’m done with it. You’re not my equal; you’re just a goddamn burden.”

The air grew thick with tension, and you fought back tears, the tremor in your hands betraying you. “Maybe I should just leave, then,” you said, voice trembling but defiant. “If I’m such a problem, why don’t you find someone who doesn’t drag you down?”

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned away, trying to keep your composure, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back—a mix of anger and something softer, more vulnerable, that he refused to acknowledge. His heart pounded as the realization hit him: I pushed her away when she needed me the most. What the hell was I thinking?

As you walked away, the weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, suffocating. Each step felt like a fracture in your heart, the distance growing more unbearable with every inch. Bucky stood there, feeling the echoes of his harshness fill the void where your connection once thrived. The realization settled in, and he knew this wasn’t over. How the hell do I fix this?

But as the dust settled around him, all he could feel was emptiness, a tidal wave of regret crashing over him, leaving him alone in the aftermath of his own making.

Days blurred together into an indistinguishable mess. The tension between you and Bucky hung thick in the air, suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice grip. He paced the empty halls of the compound, the rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold metal floors mirrored the chaos in his mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, a relentless reminder of the moment that played on a loop in his head—the hurt in your eyes when his careless words had cut deep.

Memories flooded back: your laughter in the training room, the way you encouraged him during his darkest moments. He had crossed a line he never intended to, letting his anger spew out like poison, each word a dagger aimed straight at your heart. Guilt clawed at him, a beast gnawing at his insides, turning his stomach into knots. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, it felt like a punch to the gut, the weight of regret settling like a stone in his chest.

The silence of the compound was palpable, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. He’d find you in the training room, pouring every ounce of your energy into your workout, the fierce determination radiating off you like a fire. Your tear-streaked face haunted him, a ghost he couldn’t shake. You weren’t just a teammate; you were everything to him. The thought of losing you felt like ice water dousing his heart, leaving him gasping for air, desperate to rewind time.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam said one day, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the faint scent of sweat and metal mingling in the air. “You good, or are you just gonna sulk like an old man all day?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky shot back, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, his eyes averted. He could feel Sam’s scrutinizing gaze piercing through his façade.

“Seriously, man, you think I can't see through that? There’s a damn storm brewing in that head of yours,” Sam pressed, his tone a mix of concern and teasing familiarity. “You gotta talk to her. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s like watching a damn dog chase its own tail—ain’t gonna end well, and I’m not about to sit here and watch you make a mess of it.”

Bucky nodded, but the weight of his guilt felt like chains wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs. What the hell could he even say? The fear of facing you loomed larger than any mission he’d ever tackled—a monster lurking in the shadows, making him feel weak and exposed. He clenched his fists, jaw tightening, as he fought against the rising tide of anxiety.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to scream. He remembered how you had stood by him, even when the nightmares clawed at him in the night. You deserved better than his careless words, better than the pain he had caused. The metallic scent of sweat mixed with the lingering aroma of stale coffee filled the air, reminding him of the countless nights spent together, talking and laughing. Those memories felt like a beacon, drawing him closer to the confrontation he dreaded yet craved.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the wall, each step toward you heavy with uncertainty. His heart raced as he imagined your reaction—would you forgive him? The thought of laying his broken heart bare to you, the one person who meant everything, filled him with dread and hope.

As he approached, the distance between you felt like a chasm. He was ready to confront the mess he’d made, but the fear of your disappointment loomed over him like a dark cloud. Sam watched him go, shaking his head with a faint smile, knowing his friend was finally stepping up to make things right.

It was time to face the music, to turn back the clock on the mistakes he had made. The symbol of his guilt—the small, worn-out dog tag you had given him before a particularly tough mission—burned in his pocket, a constant reminder of the bond he desperately wanted to restore.

In that moment, he knew he had to find the courage to bridge the gap between them, to reclaim what was lost before it slipped through his fingers forever.

After what felt like a damn eternity, Bucky finally gathered the guts to knock on your door. Each knock echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you two. He stood there, heart pounding, fists clenched, feeling the weight of guilt that had settled in his chest like lead. Memories flooded his mind—your laughter during training sessions, quiet moments together in the compound, and the way your smile had once lit up even the darkest days. It all felt so far away now, a reminder of how easily he could lose it.

“Go away,” you called, your voice muffled but laced with hurt.

“Y/N,” he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone. “I need to talk. Just… let me in, alright?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite grasp.

Silence hung in the air like a noose, heavy and suffocating. Each second stretched into an eternity, amplifying the tension until, finally, the door creaked open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your face—red and puffy from tears, eyes shadowed with pain. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said coldly, arms crossed defensively, trying to shield yourself from the storm he had caused.

“I know. I messed up,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “And I can’t—” He faltered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I can’t take back what I said. I was scared, and I lashed out. You mean too damn much to me for that. Just… let me explain.”

You stepped back, letting him in but hesitating, your anger and hurt crackling in the air like static electricity. Bucky could feel the tension radiating off you, could see how you trembled with barely contained rage. The faint hum of the compound’s machinery buzzed in the background, underscoring the silence between you.

“Bucky, you can’t just waltz in here and throw around apologies like they’re candy. It’s not that fucking simple,” you said, your voice shaking as emotions boiled over. “Do you even get what your words did to me? They cut deeper than you can imagine.”

The memories of your last argument flashed in his mind—how he had yelled, how his words had sliced through the fragile trust you had built. He could still hear your voice trembling, see the hurt in your eyes. It haunted him.

“I know it’s not,” he said, voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. “But you have to understand—I never meant to hurt you. I was scared as hell of losing you. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I took it out on you. I thought I could keep you safe, but I fucking failed, and I can’t live with that.” He avoided your gaze, staring at the floor, ashamed of the turmoil he had caused.

You turned your gaze away, fury igniting. “You think being scared gives you the right to hurt me? Those words stick with you. They don’t just disappear because you suddenly want to make things right. You shattered something in me, Bucky, and you expect me to just let it go?” The air was thick with the weight of your words, each one a dagger aimed at his heart.

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. “I’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t matter. I want to make things right. You’re not just some partner in this crazy shit; you’re everything to me. I’m so damn sorry, Y/N.”

A heavy silence fell between you, thick with unprocessed emotions. Tears glistened in your eyes, anger mixed with pain as you struggled to hold back the flood. Bucky could see your fingers trembling, as if you were fighting against the urge to reach out for him, to seek comfort from the very person who had hurt you.

“You’re sorry? That’s it? Do you think that’s enough? You can’t just toss around ‘I’m sorry’ and act like everything’s fine! Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the person you love turn on you like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but the truth of your feelings hit him like a freight train. It shattered him, the realization crashing down harder than any blow he’d ever taken. “I didn’t mean to fuckin’ hurt you like that. I—”

“Didn’t mean to?” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “But you did! You meant every single word when you said I wasn’t enough! It’s like a poison, Bucky! Every time I look in the mirror, I see your words haunting me!”

“Y/N…” he pleaded, stepping closer, but you backed away, shaking your head fiercely. The space between you felt like an insurmountable chasm, filled with hurt and distrust.

“No! You don’t get to touch me. Not after what you said. I don’t want your pity. I want my trust back! I want to feel safe with you again, but how the hell can I when you’ve torn me apart like this?” The pain in your voice twisted like a knife in his gut.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he begged, desperation bleeding through his words. “I can give you space. I’ll listen—just don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you.” He reached out, almost instinctively, but stopped short, respecting your boundary. The small bracelet you used to wear, the one he had given you, lay forgotten on the table—its absence felt like a symbol of the trust now shattered between you.

“Maybe… maybe I need time,” you finally said, voice soft but resolute, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how to treat me with the love and respect I deserve. I can’t be your punching bag.”

“Take all the time you need,” he replied, his heart sinking deeper. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Just… I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears of a future without you.

You nodded slowly, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between you. Bucky turned to leave, each step dragging him down like a lead weight. The distant sounds of the compound faded as he walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls, to erase the hurt, but he knew he had to be patient. You needed time, and he would wait, even if it felt like forever.

As he walked away, the door closing behind him, Bucky felt a hollow ache settle in his chest—a deep emptiness that screamed for your forgiveness, for your presence. But he also knew he deserved the pain, the anguish he had caused. The only thing that mattered now was making things right, even if it took an eternity.

Days turned into weeks, and Bucky kept his distance, lurking on the edges of your life like a goddamn ghost. He was always there, a shadow in the background, never truly present, waiting for the moment you’d find it in yourself to forgive him. It was a tormenting cycle for him, hanging around the periphery of your world, the weight of his own mistakes bearing down like an anchor. He often caught himself recalling the laughter you once shared, memories of late-night talks and quiet moments that now felt like a distant dream. Those memories twisted in his gut as he watched you from afar, stealing glances during training, his gaze lingering near the kitchen where you used to share coffee and laughter, searching for a connection that felt like it was slipping through his fingers. But every time he made a move, the pain in your eyes sent him retreating, a constant reminder of the hurt he’d caused and the love that now felt so fragile.

One evening, the hum of the common room enveloped you, filled with the clatter of dishes and faint laughter from the team, but all you could focus on was the ache in your heart. You were scrolling through your phone, desperately trying to distract yourself when Bucky appeared in the doorway, hesitant and guarded. Your heart clenched at the sight of him—a mix of longing and sorrow flooding you, drowning out the world around you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and rough, as if he was still wrestling with the demons of his past.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice flat, a careful mask of strength concealing the turmoil inside. You wanted to scream, to let him know how much his presence hurt, but part of you still craved the warmth he brought.

“Can we talk?” His words hung in the air like a fragile lifeline, one you weren’t sure you could grab onto.

You nodded, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “Make it quick,” you shot back, your tone sharper than intended, trying to keep the emotions at bay.

He stepped closer, eyes searching yours with a desperation that twisted your gut. “I need to say it again—for everything. I know it doesn’t mean much after the shit I pulled, but I swear I’m trying to fix this. I’m really working on myself.” As he spoke, he clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms, a physical manifestation of the guilt that gnawed at him. “I just… I can’t keep running from this. I need you to know that.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the pressure of his words weighing down on you. “I’m trying to work through it, Bucky. But I can’t pretend everything’s fine just because you say you’re sorry.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, frustration cracking his calm facade. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet your gaze. “But you need to understand how damn much you mean to me. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t let that happen.”

Your heart ached at his confession, but anger flared within you. “You hurt me, Bucky. You can’t just wipe that away with a few nice words.”

“I know, I know! I’m fucking sorry, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls. “I didn’t mean it. I was scared, and I lashed out. But you’ve gotta see how much I regret it, damn it!”

“Scared?” you spat, bitterness thick in your voice. “You don’t get to use your fear as an excuse for the pain you caused me!”

“Then what the hell do you want from me?” His voice rose, desperation lacing every word. “You’re acting like I’m a goddamn ghost! I’m right here, trying to fix this!”

“Because I need to protect myself!” you yelled back, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Every time I try to forgive you, you mess it up again! I can’t trust you when you keep hurting me!”

The silence that followed felt like a chasm between you, both of you breathing heavily, emotions spiraling out of control. Bucky’s shoulders sagged, the weight of your words crushing him. He thought of the little trinket you gave him once, a small metal star—a reminder of a bond that felt irreparably broken.

“I fucking hate this,” he admitted, his voice cracking, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I hate that I hurt you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix this. You mean everything to me, and it feels like I’m losing you more and more every damn day.” His gaze flickered to the floor, and for a moment, he was just a man haunted by his past, the soldier who had lost so much.

Your heart shattered at the sight of him, raw vulnerability spilling out. “You don’t get to say that after everything. You’ve made me feel worthless, like my feelings don’t matter. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and expect everything to be okay.”

“I don’t want to fucking hurt you!” he cried, frustration and anguish battling within him. “I never asked for this! I just… sometimes I don’t know how to be better, okay?” He clenched his jaw, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.

“Then you need to figure it out!” you screamed, your voice trembling with pain. “I can’t keep waiting for you to get it right while I’m left feeling broken!”

As your words hung in the air, the truth of your reality crashed over you both. The love you once shared felt suffocated by the shadows of anger and disappointment. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, hearts beating in sync but desperately out of tune.

Bucky stood there, shattered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, as you turned away, the battle within you raging. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unprocessed emotions, and for the first time, the thought of walking away felt more appealing than the pain of staying. But just as you took a step, a sliver of hope flickered in your chest—a feeling that perhaps this confrontation could lead to a path forward.

“Y/N…” he started, voice thick with heartbreak, but his words got lost in the chasm of hurt between you, leaving only a haunting silence in their wake. Yet somewhere deep within, the possibility of healing lingered, waiting for the courage to break through.

Weeks dragged on in the compound, each day feeling like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The faint hum of machinery surrounded you, a constant reminder of the tension in the air. Despite Bucky’s promises to change, shadows of his past returned, casting a gloom that enveloped you both. Memories of laughter and shared moments felt like distant echoes now, buried under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. You tiptoed around him, hyper-aware that every little thing could set off alarms in your mind.

The moment of impact came like a bullet, unexpected and cruel. During a mission briefing, Bucky’s voice cut through the air like glass shattering.

“Why the hell can’t you just focus?” he snapped, eyes ablaze with fury that had nothing to do with you, yet somehow landed squarely on your chest. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and metal, making it hard to breathe. “You’re not some damn rookie! You should know better than this by now!”

“Bucky, I—”

“Just shut the hell up!” he roared, the words echoing off the walls, raw and menacing. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain the storm inside. “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be!”

Each word felt like a blow, carving deeper into your heart. This wasn’t a new dance; it was an exhausting routine, and the suffocating weight of your shared history felt more unbearable than ever. You remembered the moments when he had opened up, how he had let you in, but they felt like faint memories now. “Maybe you should take a good, hard look in the mirror,” you shot back, your voice shaky with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m not the one with the issue here.”

He glared at you, frustration boiling over, muscles tense, jaw clenched tight. You could see the flicker of his inner turmoil, the fear of losing you clawing at his composure. “You keep pulling this shit! It’s like you can’t see past your own damn feelings! Just focus on the mission for once!”

Your chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not your damn punching bag, Bucky,” you said, voice breaking under the weight of raw emotion. “You can’t keep exploding at me and expect me to take it like it’s nothing. I’m sick of this!”

“Maybe if you actually gave a damn about the mission instead of whining about your feelings, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” His words cut deeper than you thought possible, and you recoiled as if slapped. You remembered the way he used to care, how he used to fight for every person he loved, and it stung even more to see him like this.

“I care, Bucky!” you cried, tears spilling over as you fought to hold it together. “But it’s hard to keep my head in the game when I’m constantly worried about when you’ll blow up at me next! You say you’re trying, but nothing changes! It feels like I don’t even matter to you anymore!”

For a moment, his expression shifted, a flicker of regret flashing across his face, but the damage was done. “You think this is easy for me?” he shouted, voice raw and desperate, filled with unfiltered anguish. “I’m trying to be better, but you keep dragging me back into this shit!” You could see the pain behind his bravado, the memories of his past haunting him, and it broke your heart.

“Don’t act like I’m the fucking problem!” you yelled, heart racing as reality crashed down around you. “I’m not the one who can’t confront his demons! You push me away and then blame me for not being there when you do!”

Pain flickered in Bucky’s eyes, the cracks in his stoic facade deepening. “You’re right,” he admitted, voice shaking, the weight of his confession crushing him. “I don’t know how to deal with this… how to deal with you. I’m scared shitless of losing you, and honestly, I don’t know if I can fix it.” The vulnerability in his voice was a fragile thread, hanging in the air, and you felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

“Then maybe you need to sort your shit out,” you replied, heart breaking as you watched his despair unfold. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out while I’m left feeling shattered.” You recalled the shared moments, the promises made, and the weight of them felt unbearable now.

Silence fell, thick with the unsaid and unresolved. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, love suffocating under the weight of his rage and your hurt. Bucky’s shoulders sagged as he stepped back, the chasm between you widening, feeling more insurmountable than ever.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face, anguish spilling over. “It’s killing me.” The vulnerability hung heavy between you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he looked like he might reach for you, but the distance remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of everything that felt lost. Yet, beneath it all, a small part of you held onto the hope that one day, you could navigate the darkness together.

The clash felt inevitable, like a storm building for days, ready to break over the fragile space between you and Bucky. The tension in the air was suffocating, each breath heavy with unspoken anger and hurt. You stood in the middle of the training room, fists clenched, trying to hold yourself together. Across from you, Bucky stood rigid, muscles taut, his hands balled into fists. The weights he had been using moments earlier now lay forgotten on the floor, a sharp reminder of the growing chasm between you.

The silence was unbearable. Then, without warning, Bucky's voice cut through the room like a blade. “Can you just—stop fucking around? You think this is a game?” His voice cracked, but his anger was palpable, radiating from him in waves as he hurled the weights down with a force that rattled through the room, the echo reverberating like a punch to the gut.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of his words hitting you just as hard. “Maybe if you’d stop yelling for one second, you’d see I’m trying!” Your voice shook, barely holding steady under the pressure. You were trembling, the knot of frustration and hurt in your chest threatening to unravel completely.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Damn it, you’re not trying hard enough!” he snapped, his fists tightening at his sides, knuckles white. His voice—usually so steady—was strained now, as though he was fighting to keep control. The anger in his tone felt like a punch, but you could see the tremble in his hands, the way his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

The sting of his words twisted in your chest. You could feel the pressure building in your throat, choking you with the weight of unspoken feelings. “I’m trying, Bucky. But it’s never enough for you, is it?” you said, the words tasting bitter in your mouth, laced with all the exhaustion you’d tried to suppress.

His face contorted in anger, but for a brief second, you saw something deeper flicker in his eyes—something haunted. You recognized that look. It was the same one he wore when he woke up from nightmares, drenched in sweat, guilt seeping from every pore. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, swallowed by his fury. “Get your shit together,” he snapped, voice low and intense. “I’m not your babysitter. You really think I can hold your hand through every goddamn thing?” His voice wavered, but he squared his shoulders, hiding the vulnerability underneath. “You want to survive? Toughen the hell up or get out of my way.”

“Then maybe you should just go!” The words burst out before you could stop them, raw and jagged, cutting through the tension. You hated how sharp your voice sounded, like a part of you was shattering with every syllable.

For a split second, his expression faltered—just long enough for you to see the crack in his defenses, the fear creeping in behind the anger. But the moment passed, and his face hardened once more, the distance between you widening.

“Enough is enough, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired of forgiving you just so you can hurt me again.” Each word felt like a physical wound, reopening scars you thought had healed.

Bucky’s hands dropped to his sides, but his fists remained clenched. “You’re being dramatic,” he muttered, turning his gaze away as though refusing to face the weight of your words. “I'm pushing you because you damn well need to be better. I can't afford to lose you.”

There it was. The fear he refused to name. He was terrified of losing you, but he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. So instead, he buried it under anger, under demands that pushed you further away.

“You twist everything, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to be there for you, to understand you—but I can’t keep pretending that this is okay. I can’t be the person you take everything out on.”

His jaw tightened, but his hands trembled at his sides. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice quieter now, almost broken. “I’m trying to protect you. I just… I don’t know how to do this without pushing people away. I’m not good at this shit.”

“And what do you think you’re doing right now?” you asked, your heart aching. “You’re pushing me away, and I’m too tired to hold on.”

The silence that followed was deafening, thick with the weight of unsaid things. Bucky’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The echo of the weights hitting the ground earlier still rang in your ears, a haunting reminder of how quickly things had spiraled.

You took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the room settle into your bones, as if the air itself was colder now, heavier. “I feel invisible, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your confession. “Like I’m just a shadow, someone to absorb your anger when things get too hard. I can’t live like this anymore.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t. His lips parted, but no words came. His shoulders slumped slightly, a tiny surrender in the face of your pain.

He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and desperate now. “Y/N, don’t do this,” His voice cracked, but his body was still tense, like he was holding something back—something he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit. “You don’t need to make this harder than it already is.”

“I don’t want to walk away, Bucky. But I have to, for my own sanity,” you said, stepping back as if putting physical distance between you would somehow make it easier.

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you, unsure. “Damn it,” he rasped. “I’m trying, okay? I need you to believe me.”

“It’s too late for that,” you whispered, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so raw. His hand dropped, and the space between you felt like a canyon now, too wide to cross.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his gaze dropping to the floor as though he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. He clenched his fists again, nails biting into his palms. The weight of his guilt was suffocating, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his eyes dimmed with the realization that he had pushed you too far.

The room felt too quiet, the air thick with the aftermath of your words. You could feel the memory of every touch, every smile, every moment of laughter between you two slipping away like sand through your fingers. There was a photo—one he had kept tucked away in his jacket—of the two of you on a day when everything had felt perfect. He had carried it with him, a reminder of what he was trying to protect. But now, it felt like just another symbol of something irreparable.

“I loved you,” you whispered, stepping back one final time, tears blurring your vision as you turned toward the door. “But I deserve better.”

“Y/N!” His voice broke, desperate, as he took a step toward you, hand outstretched. His body was trembling now, fear etched into every line of his face. “Don’t fucking walk away from me! I can change. I swear, I can be better for you!”

You hesitated, your back to him, feeling the weight of his plea. For a moment, you almost turned back. Almost. But the words he had said still hung heavy in the air between you. And you knew—deep down—that you couldn’t survive this cycle anymore.

As you walked away, the echo of his voice followed you, the pain lacing each syllable a reminder of what could have been. But you didn’t stop. The silence after you left was deafening, and it swallowed Bucky whole, leaving him alone with his regrets, the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like a physical force.

He watched the door close behind you, his heart sinking with the realization that he had lost you. And for the first time, he didn’t know how to fix it.

[mononijikayu]

drunk tonight — ryomen sukuna.

"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations. His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion you’re experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, break up, fighting, crying, hurt, physical touch, sexual content, sadness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of toxic relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of fighting, depiction of sexual content, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of sexual context, mention of loneliness, toxic ex-boyfriend! sukuna, long suffering ex-girlfriend! reader;

WORD COUNT: 9.4k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says "yes, we can." and "because i love you. and you love me."; i wrote this a while back but i was waiting for the poll to end. but if sukuna wins, then he definitely has his stuff posted first. somehow, sukuna always wins my polls 😆😆😆 anyway, i hope you love this one too!!! i love you all 🫶🫶🫶

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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YOU DON’T WANT TO ANSWER THE PHONE. Late at night, your phone buzzes, its vibration cutting through the silence like a knife. You glance at the screen, feeling a chill run down your spine as you recognize the number. It’s a number you know all too well, one that you’ve tried to erase from your mind but could never quite forget, no matter how hard you tried.

A sigh escapes your lips, your heart sinking as Sukuna’s name flashes across the screen. It’s a name that once brought you comfort, excitement, even love. But now, it’s just a reminder of everything that went wrong, of the hurt and the scars that never fully healed.

You’ve blocked him on everything—social media, messaging apps, even email. You thought you had cut off every possible avenue for him to reach you, but he always remembered your phone number. 

He was always good at that—memorizing details, knowing exactly how to reach you when you least wanted him to. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, his ability to know you so well, to be so in tune with you. But now, it’s a curse, a reminder that no matter how far you try to run, he can always find you.

The text is a mess of jumbled letters and half-formed words, the kind of message that only makes sense to the sender. You can almost hear his deep, slurred voice in your head as you read it, the way he used to talk when he was too far gone, too deep into the bottle. He’s drunk, that much is obvious, and the thought makes your stomach churn.

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. There’s nothing worse than a drunk ex-text. It’s a toxic mix of emotions—regret, anger, longing—all wrapped up in a few poorly typed words. You know how this goes, how the night will unravel if you let it. 

He’ll keep texting, maybe even call, and each message will be more desperate, more incoherent than the last. He’ll say things he doesn’t mean, make promises he can’t keep, and you’ll be left holding the pieces of a conversation that never should have happened.

For a moment, you consider ignoring it, just turning off your phone and pretending you never saw it. But you know that won’t make it go away. You know that as long as Sukuna has your number, as long as he has a way to reach you, this cycle will keep repeating itself.

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the screen. You could respond, tell him to stop, to leave you alone once and for all. But part of you knows that won’t work either. You’ve told him before, and yet here you are, staring at another late-night message from the man you once loved.

Your thumb hovers over the message, the words blurring in your tired eyes. You want to be strong, to resist the pull of old emotions and familiar patterns. But there’s a part of you that’s still connected to him, a part that wants to reach out, to understand why he can’t just let you go.

But you know better. You’ve been down this road too many times before. And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like tearing a piece of your heart out, you know what you have to do. With a sigh, you delete the message, your chest tightening as you do. You close your eyes, trying to block out the guilt, the sadness, the tiny voice in your head that says maybe this time will be different. But you know it won’t. It never is.

You can’t even muster the energy to be angry. It’s all too familiar, the cycle of hurt and regret that you both keep getting sucked into. You start typing back, your fingers trembling slightly with the weight of it all.

“Sukuna, stop. Wherever you are, just stop.” You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. But you need to say this—you need to finally put it to rest. “This hurts, all of it. It’s a mess, and we’ve broken up. You need to stop chasing after me. We can’t go back.”

There’s a long pause. You wonder if he’ll leave it at that, but another text pings through.

“I can’t… I can’t live with this without trying. Please…”

You swallow hard, feeling the ache in your chest, but you’ve made up your mind. This is a wound that needs to heal, and reopening it will only make it worse.

“Sukuna, I’m done. You need to be, too.” You send the message, and this time, you turn off your phone. The silence that follows is almost deafening, but it’s the first step towards finally moving on.

You purse your lips, staring at the screen as his last message burns into your mind. You know he’s just too drunk tonight. He doesn’t really want you back—not the way he thinks he does. He’s just broken inside, sad and high, and you can feel the weight of his loneliness pressing through the words.

A lump forms in your throat as the urge to cry wells up again. It hurts because deep down, you know the truth. He doesn’t want you back. He’s just lonely, aching for something familiar to fill the void. You’ve been there before, reaching out in desperation, hoping for comfort in the arms of someone who used to mean everything. But that was then, and this is now.

You type slowly, forcing yourself to keep going, even though each word feels like a knife twisting deeper into your heart. "Sukuna, you’re not really after me. You’re just lonely and sad, and I get that. But this… us… it’s over. We ended things for a reason."

Your fingers hesitate over the next part, but you push through the pain. "We hurt each other too much. I didn’t want to be with you anymore because all we did was tear each other apart. And I don’t want that for either of us."

You take a shaky breath, knowing what you need to say, even if it feels like ripping off a bandage from a wound that hasn’t fully healed. "So put down the phone, Sukuna. It’s time to go home. You’re just drunk tonight.”

You hit send, and the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You’ve been strong for so long, but tonight, in the quiet of your room, you allow yourself to feel the full weight of everything you’ve lost and everything you’ve chosen to leave behind.

You ended things because you knew it was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier. And even though you’re telling him to move on, a part of you is whispering the same words to yourself. It’s time to let go, for real this time. It’s time to heal, even if that means facing the pain head-on and accepting that some things can never be fixed.

Your phone rings, and your heart sinks as you see his name flashing across the screen. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the decline button. You know you shouldn’t answer, know that nothing good can come from this. But some part of you—maybe out of concern, maybe out of habit—hits the green button.

“Sukuna, don’t—”

“I’m on my way.” he interrupts, his voice slurred but filled with a determination that chills you. “I need to see you. We need to talk.”

Your stomach drops, and a sense of dread washes over you. “No, Sukuna. Don’t do this. You’re not thinking straight.”

There’s a pause on the other end, a brief silence where you can hear him breathing heavily, as if he’s fighting to keep his composure. “I have to see you.” he repeats, softer this time, almost pleading. “Please. I…..I want to see you. I wanna…I wanna be with you.”

“Sukuna, please.” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re drunk, you’re not yourself. Turn around and go home. You’re only going to make this harder—for both of us.”

“I don’t care.” he snaps, and you can hear the desperation creeping into his voice. A desperation that’s never been there before. “I can’t keep living like this, pretending I don’t need you. I’ll be there soon.”

Panic starts to set in. You feel trapped, knowing that no amount of reasoning will get through to him tonight. “Sukuna, if you show up here, I won’t open the door. I mean it.”

There’s a harsh laugh on the other end. “You will. You always do.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut because they’re true, or at least they were. You can’t deny the history between you two, the countless times you’ve stood at the edge of this same precipice, teetering between resolve and surrender. 

How many times had you given in, opened the door, and let him back into your life, even when every fiber of your being screamed that you shouldn’t? You’ve lost count, the memories blurring together into a painful montage of late-night confessions, tearful apologies, and broken promises.

Each time, you told yourself it would be the last. You would stand firm, hold your ground, and finally cut the ties that bound you to him. But then he would show up—vulnerable, raw, and desperate—and the walls you had so carefully constructed would crumble in an instant. 

He knew exactly how to reach you, how to twist the knife just enough to remind you of what you once had, what you once were. And for a fleeting moment, you’d believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

But they never were. The darkness that surrounded him, that clung to your relationship like a shroud, always found a way to seep back in. It would start slowly—a harsh word here, a lingering silence there—but soon, it would consume you both, dragging you back into a toxic cycle of pain and regret. Each time you let him back in, you lost a little more of yourself, a little more of the light that once defined who you were.

But you can’t do that anymore. You can’t keep losing pieces of yourself to a love that no longer serves you, to a relationship that has long since become a shadow of what it once was. You’ve fought too hard to reclaim your life, to step out of the darkness and into the light of something better, something healthier. You’ve built yourself back up, brick by brick, and you can’t let him tear it all down again.

This time, it has to be different. This time, you can’t open the door, no matter how much he begs, no matter how much it hurts to turn him away. You can’t let him drag you back into the darkness that you fought so hard to escape. You deserve more—more than late-night texts filled with empty promises, more than a love that only thrives in the shadows. You deserve peace, stability, and a future that isn’t haunted by the ghosts of a past you can’t change.

So you take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the familiar pull of his words, the seductive lure of what could have been. You remind yourself of the pain, the nights spent crying, the days filled with anxiety and doubt. You remind yourself that you’ve survived without him, that you’ve thrived in ways you never could have imagined when you were still caught in his web.

And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like a betrayal of everything you once held dear, you know that you have to let him go. You have to close the door, lock it, and walk away—this time for good. Because if you don’t, you’ll never truly be free. And freedom, you realize, is worth more than any fleeting moment of comfort he could offer. You can’t let him pull you back into the darkness. You’ve come too far, and it’s time to finally step into the light.

“No, I won’t.” you say, forcing steel into your voice. “Not this time. If you care about me at all, you’ll turn around and go home. You’ll stop this before it gets worse.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you think maybe, just maybe, he’ll listen. But then he speaks again, his voice rough and broken. “I’m almost there. Just… wait for me.”

Your heart is racing now, your mind scrambling for what to do. “Sukuna, if you come here, I’ll call the police. I’m serious.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then, finally, silence. You think he’s hung up, but then he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for everything. But I have to try.”

He hangs up before you can respond, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone with your heart pounding in your chest. You feel sick, torn between the history you share and the need to protect yourself from the man he’s become.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You don’t want to call the police, don’t want to escalate things that far, but you need to be ready. You need to stay strong, for your own sake.

With trembling hands, you lock your door, turn off the lights, and sit down on the edge of your bed, phone clutched tightly in your hand. You wait, praying that he’ll turn around, that he’ll finally realize that what you had is gone, and it’s time to let it go. But deep down, you know this isn’t over—not tonight, not until he’s standing at your door, and you’re forced to make the hardest decision of your life.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one heavier than the last. You sit in the dark, your breath shallow and your nerves frayed, listening for any sound that might signal his arrival. Every car that passes by your window makes your heart jump, your mind conjuring images of him stumbling out, determined and reckless.

You think back to the times when things were good between you two, when his intensity was something you admired, even loved. But that intensity had turned into something else, something darker and more destructive, and you couldn’t let it consume you both any longer.

Your phone vibrates again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Another message from Sukuna:

“I’m here.”

You freeze, your blood running cold. He’s close, maybe right outside. You stand up slowly, moving toward the window with a mix of dread and resolve. Peering through the curtains, you see his figure in the dim light, leaning against a lamppost across the street, his silhouette unmistakable.

He looks up, and even from this distance, you can see the torment in his eyes, the way his shoulders sag with the weight of whatever he’s carrying. But you can’t let that sway you. You’ve made your choice, and you need to stand by it.

Your phone vibrates again, the familiar buzz sending a jolt through your already frayed nerves. You don’t even need to look at the screen to know it’s him. The notification hangs in the air like a weight, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

With a trembling hand, you unlock your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding in the darkness of your room. His message is there, short and desperate, the words filled with a plea that you’ve heard too many times before:

“Please, just open the door. We can talk, I swear. I won’t make a scene.”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep the tears at bay. His voice echoes in your mind, the deep, gravelly tone that once brought you comfort now only serves to break you down. You can almost picture him on the other side of that door, his eyes wide with that familiar mix of anger and sadness, his posture tense with anticipation. He’s close, so close that you can feel his presence like a shadow creeping over your heart.

It would be so easy to give in, to let him in one more time, to listen to whatever promises he has prepared for tonight. After all, you’ve done it before—opened that door despite knowing it would lead to nothing but more heartache. But tonight feels different. Tonight, there’s a finality in the air, a sense that if you open that door now, it won’t just be another mistake; it will be the last one, the one that shatters whatever remnants of strength you’ve managed to hold onto.

You swallow hard, your throat tight with the urge to cry. You know him too well; you know he won’t leave unless you confront him, unless you face him head-on. He’s stubborn like that, relentless in his pursuit of what he wants, even when it’s something—or someone—that’s no longer his to claim. 

But you also know, deep in your bones, that opening that door is the last thing you should do. It’s a line you can’t cross, not this time. Because if you do, you’ll be dragged right back into the storm you’ve fought so hard to escape. You’ll be pulled into his orbit, where everything is chaotic and intense, where love and pain are intertwined so tightly that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

You take a shaky breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as your mind races. What could he possibly say that he hasn’t already said? What could he promise that he hasn’t already broken? The answers are clear, but the pull of the past is strong, and it tugs at you with a force that’s hard to resist.

But you have to resist. You have to stay strong, for your own sake. Because you know that once you open that door, once you let him back in, all the progress you’ve made, all the nights you’ve spent rebuilding yourself, will be undone. You’ll be right back where you started—lost, hurt, and wondering why you ever let him back into your life.

Your heart aches with the weight of it all, but you know what you have to do. You know that tonight, you have to choose yourself, even if it means walking away from someone you once loved with every part of your being. 

So you close your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, to let it wash over you without letting it consume you. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fight back the urge to cry, to scream, to throw open that door and let everything unravel.

But you don’t. You stay where you are, standing firm in the decision you’ve made. Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, you’re choosing to protect your heart instead of breaking it all over again.

You steady your breathing, forcing yourself to stay calm as the reality of the situation sinks in. Each vibration of your phone feels like a pulse of pain, a reminder of the emotional battleground you’re standing on. You know that answering the door would only open the floodgates, allowing the turmoil and chaos of the past to flood back into your life. You’ve fought so hard to reclaim your peace, and you refuse to let it slip away now.

With a deep breath, you take a moment to center yourself. You remind yourself of the reasons you’ve decided to cut ties, the countless times you’ve faced heartache, and the strength it took to rebuild your life. This decision, though painful, is a necessary step to ensure you don’t lose everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.

You get up and move to your front door, standing just a few inches away. The cold, unyielding surface feels like a barrier between you and the chaos you’ve left behind. You listen for any sounds—footsteps, a knock—but the night is eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rumble of distant traffic. It’s as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to make the choice that will define this moment.

Another message from Sukuna pings through, and you resist the urge to check it. Instead, you focus on the decision at hand, the choice you’ve already made. You know that the best way to move forward is to keep the past where it belongs—behind you.

You glance at your phone once more and see that Sukuna has called you again. Your heart races, but you refuse to answer. You let the call go to voicemail, the familiar chime sounding distant and detached. Each unanswered call is a step towards reclaiming your autonomy, towards making it clear that you will not be dragged back into the emotional mess that has defined your relationship.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, there’s silence—no more texts, no more calls. You take a deep breath, letting the calm settle over you. You feel the weight of your decision settle into your bones, a mixture of relief and sorrow. You’ve chosen to protect yourself, to preserve the hard-earned peace you’ve fought for.

As you turn away from the door, you feel a mixture of sadness and strength. The pain of seeing Sukuna’s name, the torment of his pleas, is still fresh, but you’ve managed to hold firm. You’ve chosen not to open the door, not to let him back into your life. This choice, as difficult as it was, is a testament to your resolve, to your commitment to yourself.

You sit back down, wrapping yourself in a blanket of quiet determination. The tears you’ve fought so hard to keep at bay finally come, not as a sign of weakness but as a release of all the emotions you’ve been holding inside. They’re a reminder of your humanity, of the depth of your feelings, but they’re also a sign of your strength—strength you needed to make the right decision, no matter how hard it was.

You’ve done what you needed to do to protect your heart, and now, you allow yourself to grieve, to heal, and to move forward. You close your eyes, letting the tears flow, and in the silence of your room, you begin the process of letting go, knowing that you’ve taken a crucial step toward finding the peace and happiness you deserve.

You reach for your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you begin to type out a message. You need to be firm, clear, and compassionate, even if you’re struggling with your own emotions. You know that any form of communication right now will only complicate things, but you also want to make sure Sukuna understands the finality of your decision.

With a deep breath, you type:

“Sukuna, I can’t talk to you right now. Please, just go home. We can’t have this conversation tonight. I need some space, and I need you to respect that. Please understand and go home.”

You hit send, watching as the message is delivered. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope that this will be the end of it, that he’ll respect your wishes and leave you alone. You’ve made your boundaries clear, and now it’s up to him to honor them.

Minutes pass in tense silence, and your phone stays quiet. You sit back down, trying to calm your racing heart, focusing on the quiet around you instead of the anxiety that has taken root in your chest.

But then, a new message comes through. You don’t even need to look to know that it’s from Sukuna. With a heavy heart, you open it:

“I just need to see you. I’m sorry for everything, but I can’t let this end like this. Please.”

You can almost hear the desperation in his words, the anguish that comes from knowing he’s losing you. But you also know that this isn’t just about you and him anymore. It’s about your own well-being, your need to set boundaries and stick to them, even when it’s incredibly hard.

You type back:

“No, Sukuna. This is not the time. I’ve made my decision, and I need you to respect it. I can’t keep doing this. Please, just go home.”

You hit send, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily on your shoulders. You’re asking for something that feels almost impossible—to respect a boundary when emotions are high, when both of you are vulnerable. But it’s necessary. 

You put your phone aside and try to find a way to soothe the emotional storm inside you. You remind yourself of why you made this decision, of the personal growth you’ve achieved, and the need to maintain your peace. You try to focus on the positives of your life and the future you’re working toward, hoping that with time, the pain of this moment will fade and you’ll find a way to heal.

Hours tick by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, there’s a quiet relief in knowing that, at least for now, you’ve done all you can. You’ve set your boundaries and communicated your needs as clearly as possible.

You let yourself close your eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over you. The road to recovery will be long and fraught with moments like this, but for tonight, you’ve taken a crucial step toward reclaiming your life. As you drift into a fitful sleep, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring clarity and a renewed sense of peace, allowing you to continue moving forward.

▬ι══════════════ι▬

IF THERE WAS A LOVE STORY WORTH MENTIONING, IT’S YOURS. Because in truth, it wasn’t a love story. It was a painful hurt instead. The romance between you and Sukuna was a tumultuous symphony of passion and pain, a story that oscillated between intense highs and devastating lows. It was a love that consumed everything in its path, leaving behind a trail of broken dreams and shattered hearts. 

You, the good girl with a heart full of hope and idealism, and him, the quintessential troublemaker whose very presence seemed to stir chaos wherever he went. It was a match made in hell, an explosive combination of purity and defiance that sparked with an almost palpable intensity. 

From the beginning, there was an undeniable chemistry between you two, a magnetic pull that drew you into Sukuna’s orbit. You were drawn to his raw energy, the way he seemed to live on the edge of every emotion, pushing boundaries and challenging norms. His life was a whirlwind of excitement and unpredictability, and it was a stark contrast to the more controlled and orderly world you inhabited.

At first, the contrasts were thrilling. Your calm demeanor and responsible nature seemed to balance out his reckless tendencies, creating a dynamic that felt electric and invigorating. You believed that your love could be the force that tamed his wildness, that your stability could anchor him amidst his stormy existence.

But as time went on, the initial thrill gave way to a more complex and painful reality. Sukuna’s troublemaking ways began to seep into every aspect of your relationship, turning what was once exciting into something exhausting. His impulsiveness, once charming, became a source of constant stress and conflict. The very qualities that attracted you to him started to feel like burdens, and the harmony you sought began to slip through your fingers.

The highs were dizzying—moments of intense connection and fiery passion that made you feel alive and on top of the world. But the lows were equally devastating, each conflict leaving deeper wounds, each argument a reminder of how differently you saw the world. The love that had once seemed like a perfect escape from your own constraints now felt like a whirlwind of chaos that you couldn’t control.

Your attempts to bring order and stability to the relationship often clashed with Sukuna’s need for freedom and rebellion. The more you tried to ground him, the more he resisted, and the cycle of conflict and resolution became a relentless pattern. The love that once felt like a daring adventure turned into a series of battles, each one leaving both of you more scared than the last.

Ultimately, the contrast between your worlds proved too great. The boundaries you set were repeatedly crossed, the promises made were broken too many times. The passion that had once ignited your connection became the fuel for your destruction. What began as a match made in hell had devolved into a battlefield of emotional devastation.

You were left to pick up the pieces of a love that had burned too brightly, too destructively. The remnants of your time together were a stark reminder of the dangers of mixing such opposing forces. In the end, the love you shared was a powerful testament to the intense beauty and agony of a relationship that, despite its fiery start, was doomed from the beginning.

From the beginning, the relationship was marked by a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore. Sukuna's charisma and intensity drew you in, his presence filling every space with an almost palpable energy. There was a fire in his eyes, a promise of something deeper and more profound, and you were captivated by the allure of his raw power and unfiltered emotions.

At first, it felt like a dream. His touch was electric, his words charged with a potent mix of desire and vulnerability. You would get lost in his gaze, swept away by the intensity of his kisses, believing that this was what true love was supposed to feel like. Every argument, every make-up, every moment of passion felt like a confirmation of the bond you shared.

You couldn’t stand it anymore, how tired you were. How truly full of it you were. how emotionally drained you’ve been. You found yourself face-to-face with Sukuna in the dimly lit living room. He stood close, his gaze intense and his voice almost a whisper, yet filled with an undeniable gravity.

"I'm sorry." Sukuna said, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I just... I can't stand the thought of losing you."

You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity mixed with a touch of desperation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"You say that now, but it feels like we’re always back here, fighting and making up," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought this was supposed to be different. I thought we were building something real."

Sukuna reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that belied his earlier anger. "It is real. What we have is intense, but it’s real. I know I mess up, but I need you to understand that I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re everything to me."

You looked at him, feeling the familiar mix of pain and passion. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Sukuna. Every time we fight, it feels like we’re tearing each other apart. Maybe this intensity isn’t what I thought it was.”

He stepped closer, his voice filled with an earnest plea. “Please, don’t say that. We can work through this. I know I’m not perfect, but we have something special. We just need to fight for it, not let it slip away because of a few mistakes.”

You shook your head, tears welling up. “It’s not just a few mistakes. It’s the pattern, the way things keep repeating. I want to believe in us, but it’s getting harder every day. We’re not just having moments of passion anymore; we’re living in a storm.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I don’t want to be the storm in your life. I just want to be with you. Please, let me show you that we can be more than this.”

As his arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold reality of your situation. You said nothing as you leaned into the warmth of his body. The intensity of his words and the fire in his eyes were a powerful reminder of his hold on you. You forgave him that night once again, as you always did. And once again, you were trapped.

But beneath the surface of this passionate connection lay a darker undercurrent, one that grew stronger with time. Sukuna's emotional volatility was not just a fleeting characteristic; it was a core part of who he was. His moods shifted with little warning, swinging from intense affection to cold detachment. What seemed like an endearing quirk quickly revealed itself as a source of profound instability.

Sukuna's massive hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands you had painstakingly did. You were ignoring him again after your recent fight. You just wanted peace of mind from him. And you knew that he hated being ignored. You know he hated being forgotten. You were the only person in his life that dealt with him, all his everything — and to not have you there shatters him. As much, you suppose, when he shatters you by loving you.

His other hand wrapped around your side, pulling you closer against him with a possessive strength. You felt the heat of his body pressing against yours, his touch both demanding and overwhelming. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he started to kiss and nibble along your skin.

The kisses were intense, growing more fervent until he bit down, his teeth breaking through the delicate skin. A cry escaped your lips, a mix of pain and confusion. You could feel Sukuna speaking against your skin, his voice muffled and indistinct, but the words were lost in the haze of sensation and hurt.

The pressure of his hand on the back of your neck was unrelenting, anchoring you to him and heightening the intensity of the moment. It was only when his fingers pressed firmly against the nape of your neck that everything snapped into focus. The sharp reality of the situation cut through the fog, pulling you back to the present.

The biting pain, the tight grip, and the overwhelming closeness were all too much. You could see the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes, the storm of feelings that often clouded his judgment. In that moment, you were starkly aware of the power dynamics at play, the fine line between passion and control, and the deep-seated turmoil that defined your relationship.

The kiss, now a blend of pain and longing, was a stark reminder of the complexity of your love—both fierce and destructive. The intimacy of the touch, the raw intensity, and the sharp bite were all part of the same emotional spectrum, where passion and pain were often intertwined in ways that left you feeling vulnerable and conflicted.

You could feel your skin growing moist, a cold sweat breaking out across your entire body as you struggled to maintain your sanity against his relentless touch. Ryomen Sukuna had a way of overwhelming you, of winning you over even when you were trying to resist. His touch always managed to reach places you thought were well-guarded, stirring up sensations that you couldn’t ignore. You could feel your body betraying you, slick pooling between your legs, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your mind.

With a swift movement, Sukuna pinned you against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours. His kisses grew even more rough and demanding, each press of his lips a reminder of the intensity and chaos that defined your relationship. His hands roamed over your chest, fingers pinching and teasing, heightening the mix of pleasure and pain.

"Sukuna, slow down. It hurts." you cried out, your voice wavering as you tried to make yourself heard over the roar of conflicting emotions. The rawness in your voice was a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to make him see the damage being done. "Sukuna, we... oh, we won't fix anything with this."

His grip faltered for a moment, but only just. He paused, his breath ragged and heavy against your skin, his eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and desire. There was a flicker of hesitation, a moment where he seemed to question the reality of the situation. But the tension in his body remained, the emotional storm far from over.

Your heart pounded as you struggled to maintain your composure, to hold onto a shred of clarity amidst the haze of his touch. The physical connection was undeniable, but it was the emotional wreckage that left you feeling most exposed. The passion that once felt exhilarating now seemed like a dangerous force that threatened to consume you both.

"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations.

His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion you’re experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."

The declaration hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. You mewl softly, a sound of both surrender and confusion. His touch and words are a potent mix, stirring emotions that you’ve been trying to keep in check. 

In your turmoil, you find yourself grappling with the truth of his words. The love you shared is undeniable, and it’s clear he still feels it deeply. Yet, the intensity of him and the roughness of his touch make it hard to reconcile with the pain and frustration that have become a part of your relationship.

"Even if you love me….." you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We can’t fix everything like this. We’re hurting each other, Sukuna.”

He doesn’t pull away, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. The struggle between your emotions and his unyielding desire leaves you feeling torn, caught between the remnants of your past connection and the harsh reality of the present.

Sukuna’s grip remains firm, his dark red eyes not leaving yours. In this moment, the lines between love and pain blur — as it was with your relationship. The declaration of love feels both comforting and confounding, leaving you with the painful realization that while feelings might persist, the way you’re handling them is only adding to the emotional wreckage. You were in love with him as much as he was with you. But what was the point of this? Of this suffering?

But as he pleasured you, you never said anything. You just let him love you painfully, because that’s all he knew. It was a raw, visceral form of connection, a way he expressed what he felt, even if it was damaging. It was all he could give, the only way he knew how to bridge the gap between you.

As you felt him inside of you, there was a deep, painful connection that mingled with the physical sensations. It was a painful reminder of the way your love had always been—intense, consuming, and sometimes overwhelmingly conflicted. The pleasure was intertwined with the hurt, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other. 

You accepted it, allowing the moment to unfold as it did. In your mind, you grappled with the reality of your situation—recognizing that this was how Sukuna knew to express his love, even if it was fraught with pain. And so, in the midst of the storm of sensations, you let yourself be caught up in the complexity of your emotions, trying to find a semblance of understanding amidst the chaos.

Arguments became frequent, fueled by misunderstandings and a growing sense of frustration. The intensity that once seemed thrilling now felt suffocating. Sukuna's need for control and dominance clashed with your desire for independence, creating a constant struggle for power. What was once exhilarating now felt like an endless cycle of conflict and resolution, each cycle leaving deeper emotional scars you didn’t want.

The tension in the air was palpable. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clenched in frustration, while Sukuna stood across the room, his posture rigid with anger and jealousy. His eyes were fixed on you, his gaze fierce and unrelenting, the result of a recent encounter with one of your friends who had been a bit too touchy for his liking.

"You’re always so quick to run off." Sukuna snapped, his voice sharp and laced with irritation. "Why can’t you just stay and deal with things like an adult? I’ve seen the way you look at others. Do you think I’m blind?"

You turned to face him, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. "It’s not about anyone else. It’s about us. You’re always so controlling. You want to dictate every part of my life. I need space, Sukuna. I need to be able to breathe."

His eyes flared with frustration as he stepped closer, the intensity of his emotions almost tangible. "Space? That’s what you call it? I saw the way you were with him tonight. It’s like you’re trying to push me away, like you’re looking for excuses to slip through my fingers."

You stood up, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. "It’s not about looking for excuses. I’m not trying to push you away. I just need to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. This isn’t about him. It’s about the way you’re smothering me."

Sukuna’s frustration was evident in the way he paced the room, his fists clenched at his sides. "Smothering you? I’m just trying to hold onto what we have. If you’d stop running and actually listen, maybe we could work things out. But every time I turn around, it feels like you’re slipping further away."

"You’re not holding onto what we have, Sukuna." you said, your voice trembling. "You’re suffocating me. Every time we have an argument, you try to control me even more. I need space to figure out what I want without feeling like I’m being watched and judged every second."

Sukuna stopped pacing and looked at you with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I don’t want to control you. I want to be with you, but it feels like you’re constantly pushing me away. I just don’t know how to handle it when I see you getting close to others. It makes me feel like I’m losing you."

The room fell silent, the air thick with unresolved emotions. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fear of losing you. But you also felt the deep, suffocating grip of his jealousy and control. The love that once felt exciting now seemed like a battleground, and the constant cycle of arguments and attempts at resolution were leaving both of you emotionally drained.

"I don’t want us to keep going in circles like this, Sukuna." you said softly, your heart aching. "We need to find a way to be together without this constant struggle. Otherwise, we’re just going to keep hurting each other."

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I don’t know how to change things if you won’t let me in, you know that." he said, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "I just want us to be okay, but it feels like we’re constantly fighting against each other."

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the sting of his accusation. "That wasn’t flirting. I was just being polite. And even if I was, what does it matter? You can’t keep trying to control me like this. We can’t keep doing this.”

He stepped closer, his anger palpable. "You think you’re so perfect, don’t you? Always so independent, always so self-righteous. I’m the one who’s always fighting to keep us together. And this is how you repay me? By pushing me away and seeking attention from others?"

His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the control he exerted over your life. "This isn’t about repaying you. It’s about being true to myself. I’m tired of feeling like I have to constantly prove my loyalty to you. I’m not your possession."

Sukuna’s face contorted with frustration, and he slammed his fist against the wall. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you slip away while I’m left here fighting to keep us from falling apart? I’m trying to hold onto something real, and you’re pushing me away."

The hurt in his voice was undeniable, a mix of jealousy and desperation. But you could see the cracks in his control, the way his need for dominance had become a cage that both of you were trapped in.

"I’m not trying to push you away." you said, your voice trembling. "I’m trying to find a way to be myself without feeling like I’m suffocating under your expectations. We’re stuck in this cycle of fighting and making up, and it’s tearing us apart."

Sukuna’s expression softened for a moment, the anger giving way to a look of vulnerability. "I just don’t want to lose you. I know I’m not perfect, but I need you to understand how much you mean to me."

You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "I know you care, but the way you show it is suffocating. We need to find a way to be together without this constant power struggle. Otherwise, we’re just going to keep hurting each other."

The room fell silent, the intensity of the argument leaving both of you exhausted. The love that once felt like a thrilling adventure now seemed like a battlefield, with each conflict leaving deeper scars. The vibrant energy that had once sparked between you was now overshadowed by an unrelenting cycle of discord and unresolved tension.

You wrapped your arms around your chest, as though trying to hug and comfort yourself amid the emotional wreckage. Your shoulders shook slightly with the effort to maintain composure, but even more tears were inevitable.

Sukuna’s posture was a reflection of his internal struggle, his anger giving way to a raw vulnerability. He took a hesitant step towards you, his voice trembling. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What can I do, to…to make you stay?”

The softness in his voice, the genuine plea for understanding, struck a deep chord. You could see the pain and desperation etched into his features, the realization of how precariously close he was to losing you. Yet, amidst the raw emotion, you felt overwhelmed and trapped.

“I don’t know,” you replied, your voice breaking as the tears began to fall freely. “I’m tired, Sukuna. I’m tired… of loving you and losing you all at once.”

His shoulders sagged as he absorbed your words, the weight of your exhaustion evident in his expression. The tears that prickled at his eyes now spilled over, reflecting the depth of his own despair. His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet yours, the crushing reality of your relationship settling heavily between you.

The room was filled with a profound silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your sobs and his choked breaths. The love you shared, which had once been a source of exhilaration and passion, now felt like a relentless cycle of joy and pain that neither of you could escape.

Sukuna’s voice was barely audible as he spoke again, his tone carrying a sense of helplessness. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make things right when everything feels so broken.”

You wiped at your tears, the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil leaving you feeling drained. “Neither do I.” you admitted softly. “I wish I had the answers. I wish I could find a way to make things work, but right now, it feels like we’re stuck in a never-ending loop of hurt and confusion.”

Sukuna’s silence was heavy with resignation, a poignant acknowledgment of the struggle that had become an inescapable part of your relationship. The love that had once been a source of strength and excitement now seemed overshadowed by a painful reality that neither of you knew how to navigate.

In that quiet moment, both of you were left grappling with the depth of your feelings, the complexity of your relationship, and the painful truth that sometimes love alone isn’t enough to overcome the barriers that keep you apart.

Sukuna's tears continued to fall, and he moved closer, his steps hesitant but deliberate. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gesture that was both gentle and desperate.

“I never meant to make things so difficult,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought... I thought if I held on tight, if I tried harder, we could work through it. But now, I see how much I’ve pushed you away.”

You looked at him, your own tears blurring your vision. The sight of him, vulnerable and torn, added to the weight of your own sorrow. You wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but the chasm between you felt insurmountable.

“I know you were trying,” you said, your voice cracking. “But the way you tried to control things... it pushed me away more than anything else. I felt like I was losing myself in trying to make things work.”

Sukuna’s hand tightened around your arm, his grip firm but not painful. “What do you need from me?” he asked, his voice desperate. “Tell me what I can do to make things right, to fix this.”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words to express the depth of your exhaustion and the confusion that clouded your mind. “I don’t know if there’s anything that can fix this right now. I just feel... lost.”

His expression softened, the realization dawning that perhaps the damage was too great to repair immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for everything. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to handle my own fears and insecurities.”

You nodded, the sadness overwhelming. “I know. And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that we couldn’t find a way to make this work without hurting each other so much.”

The silence between you was heavy, filled with the echoes of what had been and what might never be again. The love that had once felt so alive now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the pain and the sense of inevitability.

Sukuna’s hand slowly fell away from your arm, and he took a step back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Maybe... maybe we both need some time apart to figure things out. To heal and find ourselves again.”

You looked at him, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. “Maybe you’re right. I need time to understand what I really want and to heal from all of this.”

Sukuna nodded, his face a mask of resignation and understanding. “I hope... I hope we can both find a way to be okay, even if it means being apart.”

With that, Sukuna turned and walked towards the door, each step heavy with the weight of what was ending. As he left, the silence of the room seemed to deepen. You sat down on the edge of the bed once more, your emotions a tangled mess of sadness and relief. The path ahead was uncertain, but in the quiet that followed, you felt more alone than ever before. But free. Freed from your own ruin.

▬ι══════════════ι▬

YOU COULDN’T DO IT ANYMORE IN THE END. In the end, you did break up with him. The cycle of arguments and reconciliation had become a never-ending loop, a house of cards that seemed destined to collapse no matter how carefully it was built. You loved him deeply, that was undeniable. But you also realized that rekindling the relationship would only lead to more pain, more hurt that neither of you could bear.

As you stood by the window, the first light of dawn was beginning to creep across the sky, painting the world in soft hues of pink and gold. The sight was starkly beautiful, a contrast to the turmoil that had been raging inside you. This was what life should be like, you think. You shouldn’t settle for less. You shouldn’t settle for hurt.

Outside, you could see him—still there, lingering near your door, his figure slumped against the wall. He had a cigarette against the burrow of his lips, smoke filling his face. The remnants of a wild night clung to him; he was drunk and high, his posture wavering as he waited for you. The sight of him, lost and desperate, broke your heart in a way that felt both familiar and foreign.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your decision settle heavily upon you. You knew that as much as you loved him, returning to him now would only mean opening the door to a love that had become toxic, a love that had already left you shattered too many times.

“I can’t go through this again.” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. The realization was painful, but clear. The cycle of breaking up and making up had drained you emotionally, leaving you with scars that were too deep to ignore. “Not again.”

As the sun continued to rise, its light growing stronger, you turned away from the window, feeling a sense of finality. The decision to end things was not made lightly, and the pain of walking away was immense. But you knew it was necessary for your own well-being, for the chance to heal and find a path forward that wasn’t mired in the constant heartbreak that your relationship had become.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you reached for your phone. With a heavy heart, you composed a message, knowing it was the last thing you needed to say to him. Your fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of your decision pressing down on you as you typed:

"Sukuna, this is the last time I’m reaching out. I can see you waiting outside, and I need you to understand that this is over. I love you, but we’ve reached a point where continuing this relationship will only lead to more hurt. The cycle of breaking up and making up has left us both wounded, and I can’t keep going through it. I need to move on and find healing for myself. Please respect my decision and let this be the end. I wish you well, but I can’t be with you anymore. Goodbye."

You stared at the message for a moment, feeling a mix of sadness and relief. With a final press of the send button, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. It was done. The words were out there, and now it was time to let go and start the process of healing. You took a deep sigh and pursed your lips into a flat line.

As the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the room, you felt a glimmer of hope amidst the sadness. The end of this chapter was painful, but it was also a step towards a future where you could rebuild, where you could heal. It was a chance to find peace and to rediscover yourself, away from the shadows of a love that had become more damaging than fulfilling.

With a final, lingering glance at the window, you steeled yourself for the difficult road ahead. The love you had for  Ryomen Sukuna was real, but the decision to move forward was the right one. As the sun rose higher in the sky, you began to prepare for a new day, one that would be marked by both the pain of goodbye and the promise of new beginnings. You hope the best for him, as much as you hoped the best for you. 

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

i'm soooo glad you're back!!! love your writting so much, was thinking about some ghostface¡ tate or shit yk...like everyone who flirts with reader end murdered

i’m sorry this took me so long to do 😔 but i sorta did my own twist on this request, hope you don’t mind… i love it… anyway… :)

~~~

Lovefool

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: murder, smut, stalking, obsession, very toxic, manipulation, very minor talk of drug use… virgins, yeah idk what else it’s just stalker tate being crazy for you

summary: tate’s loved you since the first moment you met, and he would do anything to be with you… anything…

word count: 4.4

~~~

2011

You stare at the boy in front of you, a mix of emotions stirring inside you. He’s your age still, you aren’t too surprised at that. You’re more surprised at the fact that he’s in front of you. It’s been so long since the last time you saw him. You remember the pain, the pure fear that paralyzed your body the last time the two of you had an encounter. It still makes you uneasy.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice weak.

He shrugs. “It’s Halloween.”

“There’s been plenty of Halloweens Tate and this is the first time I’ve seen you here. What do you want?” You reply in a harsher tone than.

Tate shrugs again and starts to play with the sleeves of his sweater. You can’t believe this is real. You want to close your eyes and pretend this is all a sick dream, though you haven’t slept in years. After a few seconds, you cross your arms over your chest and take a deep breath. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Tate the fact you even have the balls to try to find me is crazy, what happened? Did you suddenly feel some sense of guilt? Are you finally sorry for what you did to me? I don’t even care if you are sorry, I don’t care about anything except the one question I’ve wondered since the night it happened,” you say.

“What question?” He responds.

“Why?” Your eyes start to burn. “Why did you kill me?”

~~~

1993

Tate had never seen any girl as beautiful as you. Never. Not in a movie, not in a magazine, nothing. From the first time he saw you in kindergarten, he knew there was something special about you. Of course, he didn’t know it would grow into what it did until middle school when his hormones took over. His feelings for you quickly transitioned from a pure crush to a sick obsession. And the best and worst part of it all was that you had no idea.

You never really spoke to him. He was out of your league. You were popular, but not braindead popular like the people you surrounded yourself with. Tate had seen you in some of your classes. You were smart, you got the best grades in those classes. You had plans for yourself after high school, unlike your friends. That knowledge only made him admire you more.

The problems began when you started going out with one of the popular boys in your group, David. He was awful for you; Tate didn’t understand why you chose to have such a relationship with someone like that. He’d watch how David would wrap his arms around you in the hallways, leave small kisses on your cheeks, and whisper words in your ears that made your face turn bright red. It made him furious.

What did David have that he didn’t? Why was he so special? Tate knew he could give you more than David ever could. So, why were you with him?

Tate quickly became blinded by rage and jealousy.

At night he’d lie awake, the knowledge that you might’ve been out there opening your legs for another boy making him sick. That’s when the fantasies began. He imagined killing David. How would he do it? Where? In what way would leave the least amount of blood on his clothes? The image of his mutilated body consumed Tate’s thoughts. He liked it.

It was around that time that he had found the mask.

It was a strange mask he found in the basement. It had a long white face with black holes for the eyes and a long mouth. He wondered which resident of his house had left it there for him. He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care. All he knew from the second his eyes fell upon that mask was that bad things were going to happen.

He started going out at night and driving by David’s house. The mask he wore gave him a sense of power he never knew he could feel. At first, it was innocent. He’d simply drive down the other boy's road and look through his window for a few minutes before leaving. But all it took was one second of seeing you inside to blow the whole thing up. He was livid, seeing red. He decided he needed to bring his fantasies to life and get rid of David for good.

Halloween was when the opportunity to kill David became undeniable. By that point, Tate had been stalking the two of you for a month so he knew the basics. Which room was Davids, how to get into his house, and where his parents were most likely going to be. He had it all planned out. So, on Halloween night he put on the mask along with black robes that covered his entire body and ventured to the other boy's house, ready to kill.

He brought a knife, and when the time was just right, he snuck in through one of David’s open windows and started his game. He crept through the empty house, not making a sound. Getting to David’s room only took him a few minutes and what he heard from outside the door made him not regret his choice at all.

“Yeah, I know, listen she’s so close to finally giving it up to me and that’s what I’ve been working for this whole time. Once it happens, I’ll dump her, easy,” David spoke into his phone. His voice was cocky. It made Tate clench his jaw in frustration.

“Because dude, do you know how many girls from school I’ve already got under my belt? Y/N is just gonna be a name on my list. Yeah, whatever, I gotta go anyway I need to shower for the party, maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll drink too much. Okay bye.”

Before David could even get up from his chair, Tate kicked the door down and stormed in, too overpowered by his rage to think about anything but slitting the other boy's throat. He pounced on him, stabbing the knife into any part of his body he could reach. David screamed, but Tate quickly silenced him by shoving the knife down his throat. He felt empowered, he felt thrilled at the sight of his dead peer. It was amazing.

Tate didn’t waste much time gawking over his achievement, however. Once he was sure David was dead, he quickly pulled the knife out of the boy and fled out the window and back to his car. As he drove through the small neighborhoods of your guys' town, he wondered how big the news would be. Would you cry? He hoped you wouldn’t. Not over that asshole. You would move on, and Tate would wait however long it took.

~~~

The news of David’s death spread faster than wildfire and consumed Westfield High’s drama for weeks. Out of all the kids in the school, you took his death hardest. Seeing you so depressed almost made Tate regret his actions. He couldn’t bear seeing you tear up in class or show up to school two periods late. You weren’t like that.

However, as the days turned into weeks, you started to appear healthier and happier, and soon enough you were back to your normal self. Tate was glad, you were always so much prettier when you paid attention in class. He decided it was time for the second part of his plan to finally act. Though he was incredibly nervous, he knew it was then or never. He couldn’t risk you getting a new boyfriend that he’d have to kill again.

So, one day, he followed you into the library when the two of you coincidently had a study hall during the same period. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears. There you were. sitting at one of the tables alone studying, and he was going to speak to you. He’d thought up conversation starters all morning along with taking a few extra hits off his bong to help with the anxiety.

He shook the nervous thoughts from his head and grabbed his notebook from his backpack before walking in your direction. Your head was down, your hand moved aggressively across the paper as you wrote your notes. Tate stood at the other side of the table for a few seconds simply admiring you. His hands were shaky, his breathing uneasy. God, you made him lose his composure by existing. It was excruciating.

After he was done staring, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Hey y/n, do you mind maybe helping me with some of that psych homework?”

Your head shot up, your eyes instantly meeting his. He swore he couldn’t breathe. You, y/n, were looking at him on purpose. At that moment he didn’t care about what you were going to say, he didn’t care if you completely rejected him. All he cared about was how good it felt to have your eyes on him. Such innocent, loving eyes.

“Oh, yeah of course Tate that’s actually what I’m working on right now. Just sit, we can do it together. Unless you’re like super behind,” you answered.

“Are- Are you sure?” He couldn’t help the uncertainty. Did you really say yes to him?

“Yeah... should I not be?” You replied with a smile.

“No- sorry.” He sat down across from you. He could smell your perfume; he’d never been this close to you. “I just wasn’t sure if you even knew who I was.”

You chuckled. “How could I not know who you are? We’ve literally been in the same school system together since kindergarten.”

“I don’t know. You’re you know popular and stuff,” he said as he opened his notebook.

“Not really, besides even if I was that wouldn’t automatically make me forget anyone. But anyway, you can use my notes in a second, I’m almost done with the page,” you responded. You looked back down at your work and started writing again.

Tate nodded despite you not paying attention and watched as you wrote. He felt like that whole conversation was another one of his daydreams about you. Was he really sitting across from you? Or was it another mid-class nap? He cracked his knuckles to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and thankfully, he wasn’t. It was all real life.

“Sorry if this comes out as creepy, but I feel like I haven’t seen you around in a while. I mean, when was the last time we even spoke?” You suddenly spoke, your eyes back on his.

“I guess you weren’t looking hard enough to see me,” he said with a shrug. All his confidence was a facade because on the inside he was losing his mind.

He noticed the way your cheeks slightly turned pink before you replied. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t. But I should have been.”

He knew deep down you were going to be his for so long, but at that point, he knew he had already achieved his goal. You were his.

~~~

“What is this place?” You asked as you clutched your cardigan around your body.

Tate smiled and grabbed both of your hands in his. “I told you it’s a surprise. Patience is a virtue.”

“I have patience, but I also have a lower body temperature than usual and it’s bothering me so I would really appreciate it if you’d just take me to the surprise already,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It’s seventy degrees.”

“Yeah, but it’s also windy at the beach and it’s probably colder than seventy because of the ocean’s temperature.”

Tate sighed and leaned his head down to press a small kiss on your lips, a feeling he still hadn’t gotten over. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Terrible, naughty things I hope,” you replied, kissing him again. “But please lead me to your special surprise beach spot.”

Though he wanted to stand there and kiss you all night, Tate obeyed your request and began to lead you further down the beach. It had been a few months since the two of you started talking, and to say it progressed would be an understatement. Tate had truly underestimated how easy it would be to capture your attention. All you wanted was a sweet, caring, genuine boy and he could be all those things easily.

So, after a month of being friends, he asked you out and you said yes. The relationship grew deeper with each day, and it didn’t disappoint him one bit. He loved everything about you. The way you’d lie on your bed with him and talk for hours, the way you’d make your relationship with him public by holding his hand in the halls, and most importantly the way you never expected or wanted him to change to fit in with your friends. You liked him for who he was, and it melted his heart.

It was your three-month anniversary, and Tate wanted to make it special. Even though he knew before the two of you got together that you were a virgin, he didn’t know to what extent you were. He quickly became aware you had done most things already, just not full sex. At first, he was annoyed at the fact that you weren’t completely his because he had never done anything with a girl before you. But after the first night, you went down on him, he wasn’t that upset anymore.

On this night he planned to take the next step with you. He had it all set up. The blankets, the lights, all of it. As the sight of his setup came into view, he watched your face light up. You squeezed his hand and grinned up at him.

“Is this really for me?” You asked.

“Yeah, do you like it?” He replied.

You nodded and sped up to reach it, dragging him with you. Once you made it you dropped down to sit on the blanket, urging Tate to do the same. “This is so cool. You’re the first boy to ever do something like this for me. I love it.”

“I’m glad, I know how you like sentimental things,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “And I’ve been wanting to show you this spot for a while. I used to come here a lot as a kid and watch the waves with my dad... before he left. I wanted to make it special with you because you’re not like my dad. Right?”

“No, I’m not. I won’t ever do anything to hurt you like that. I lo- I like you Tate, a lot.”

Tate only stared into your eyes, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his life. You almost said you loved him. He knew then that night was going to be the night you finally gave yourself to him. Something in your eyes made him certain. Your eyes were dark. You stared up at him as if he were the only boy in the world. There was a feeling in the air, one of lust and fear.

“I’ll never want to hurt you either,” he mumbled after a few seconds. “I doubt I ever could.”

You gave him a small smile and placed one of your hands on his cheek. You caressed the skin with your thumb as you slowly started to lean your face toward his. He accepted your lips on him, kissing back instantly. It was the moment he’d been working up to for years. He was finally going to lose his virginity to you, and you to him. Nothing would ever compare.

~~~

The sound of Nirvana mixed with skin slapping filled Tate’s room. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips when he looked down at you. Your back was arched so perfectly, your waist looked impossibly small, and your ass looked incredibly big. The side of your face was smushed against one of Tate’s pillows. You were so red, so loud you had to bite your hand to spare the whole house from hearing. Tate took in a deep breath and slapped your ass, his thrusts not faltering for even a second.

“Fuck baby, you look so pretty right now. You take me so well,” he whispered. He wrapped some of your hair around his hand and yanked you up, making you practically scream. “Yeah, you like that. You like being manhandled y/n?”

You let out another moan but didn’t reply. Tate slapped your ass again and threw you back down to the mattress. He leaned over you, your sweaty body feeling perfect against his. He was close to finishing. He’d already made you cum a few times that day, so he wasn’t too concerned about where you were. All he was concerned about was getting closer to you before he came.

“I love controlling you, you’re so helpless. Fuck I’m so close,” he mumbled in your ear. “You’re mine, all fucking mine forever. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to take you away from me.”

You made a noise and Tate couldn’t hold back any longer. He came inside you, his cock pulsing heavily. You groaned; his cock was hitting your cervix too hard it hurt. He waited a minute or so before finally pulling out and moving to the spot next to you on the bed. He’d never felt anything as amazing as having sex with you. He was breathless.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about what just happened that he didn’t notice your sad expression. When he eventually looked at you, he saw your frown. Immediately he turned to his side and faced you, reaching out one of his hands to brush a few of your hairs behind your ear.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“It doesn’t look like nothing you look sad; you can tell me whatever it is.”

You sighed and turned your head to meet his gaze. “Why do you like hurting me? Like during sex and stuff. You’re always so rough and I don’t know you’re really mean and sometimes the stuff you say is… scary.”

“How is it scary?” He laughed.

“You said you’d kill anyone who would try to take me away from you,” you said.

“Yeah, I would. I swear I’ve said this shit to you before. I would do anything for you, or to keep you,” he responded.

“Don’t joke about that Tate, you know I’m scared of killers because of what happened.”

“Oh, so this is about David? Why are you even thinking about him y/n he’s been dead for months. Do you miss him, or something is that it?” He questioned; his tone harsher than before.

You scoffed and sat up. “You’re seriously making this about me missing David?”

“Well, is that what this is about?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered before you stood up and started to get dressed.

“Oh, my fucking God y/n I’m sorry for whatever I said wrong while we were fucking. Can we just move on already? I don’t see what the big deal is,” he snapped.

“No, we can’t just move on. You scare me sometimes Tate like genuinely. I know you mean it all in a sweet way but it’s weird. I love you but you don’t hear me saying I’d kill people if they talked to you or looked at you a certain way. That’s not normal.”

Tate sat up. “I wish you would say those things. I wish you loved me as much as I love you. I’d do anything you ask; I would shoot up the fucking school if you wanted me to.”

You looked at him, he could see the terror and fear in your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am. I don’t get why you’re acting so scared. I’d never hurt you I don’t even think I could if I wanted to, you mean more to me than any person alive or dead,” he answered.

“You’re sick,” you mumbled. You grabbed your bag and walked to the door. “I think we need some time apart; you aren’t sane.”

His heart practically stopped. “What?”

“We need to stop seeing each other for a little while, I can’t take this insane shit Tate. I’m sorry. You know I love you, but I need you to get some help before I can be with you.”

Before Tate could reply, you left. All he could do was stare at the door, a million thoughts roaming his head. Did you really just break up with him? Was that it? Did you just throw away everything the two of you had because you felt his love was too strong? It didn’t feel real.

As the night progressed, he tried to call you, dozens of times. But each call was either declined or rang out. His anxiety grew with each ring of the phone. Why weren’t you replying? Who were you seeing? Did he really mean so little to you that you could leave so easily? His mind spun with scenarios, each one worse than the last. By the end of the night, he had convinced himself you were cheating on him, and the following days only worsened his state of madness.

You ignored him completely in school. Every time he tried to talk to you, you either turned away or walked away completely. It hurt him terribly. He couldn’t understand what had changed so fast. He chased you around the halls for days, trying his hardest to get your attention. But it never worked. And so, his love for you began to fade into an awful rage.

He couldn’t let you just walk away from everything the two of you shared. You were his. Only his. He couldn’t let you leave him, not like his dad. He hadn’t spent his entire life chasing you just to end up losing you. No. So, he began to formulate a plan. He’d leave you alone for a few days then calmly ask you to meet him at the beach, in the special spot he once made for you.

He wasn’t surprised that his plan worked. You were predictable.

When the night came, he made sure he was prepared. He snorted a line, packed his bag full of your favorite things, and set off. As he walked down the beach, he made sure the knife he hid was secure in his pocket. It was smaller than the one he’d used on David, but it would do the job just as efficiently.

You arrived a few minutes after him, a sad expression on your pretty face. He fought the urge to run to you with open arms.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. Only a few feet separated your bodies, he wished he could close it. But he needed to be patient.

You took a deep breath, you looked nervous. “Yeah, look Tate I... I’ve thought about it and I... I really think we should stop seeing each other for some time.”

“Why Y/N? I love you, so fucking much. I’m sorry for what I said, I can change, I won’t say shit like that ever again. I’ll be gentle, I swear. Just give me the chance I can be whatever you need me to be,” he replied desperately. He opened his bag and pulled out your favorite candy. “I love you; I really do. Please give me another chance.”

He watched your eyes fill with tears. You wanted to give in, he could see it in your eyes. But you only shook your head and wiped a fallen tear from your cheek.

“No. I’m sorry. Tate, you aren’t gentle, that’s not who you are. And I don’t want you to pretend to be someone you aren’t.”

Tate swallowed hard. “You promised me you’d never leave me; you said you were nothing like my dad. Was it all a lie?”

“Of course not!” You exclaimed and took a step closer to him. “I love you; I really do. That’s why this is so hard.”

“If you love me, why can’t we work this out? Don’t lie to me Y/N.”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from watering, nor could he stop his lips from quivering. He dug the bouquet of your favorite flowers out from his bag and held them out to you.

“Please,” he mumbled. “I need you.”

You caved. You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight. He could feel your muffled cries on his chest, it pained him. You were a sensitive sweet girl; it was both your blessing and curse.

“Maybe in a few months, we can try again, I don’t know.” You looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “We just can’t be together right now. And I mean we’re going to graduate soon, and I might go to a college far away, how would that even work? But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s too late for that Y/N, you’ve already hurt me.” He dropped what he was holding and dug one of his hands into his pocket. He touched your face with his other hand, your tears covering his palm. “You’ve planned on leaving me this whole time. I wanted to give it another try you’ve made up your mind. I guess it just comes down to one thing.”

“What?” You asked.

“If I can’t have you, no one can,” he whispered before he pulled out the knife and plunged it into the side of your neck.

~~~

2011

“I killed you because I loved you,” he answers. “Because you were going to leave me and find someone else.”

All you can do is stare at him in silence. You think back to everything that happened. How could you have been so blind? It couldn’t have been your fault though. He would’ve killed you anyway. You think back to all the times Tate made you uneasy, all the times he would say things that creeped you out. Deep down you must’ve known that’s who he is. Maybe you knew all along.

Maybe you loved him because of his darkness.

You exhale a long breath. “We don’t have that long till midnight.”

“So?”

You shrug. “Wanna hook up?”

[muletia]

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[tfp] obsessed!ratchet x human!reader

summary: when his emotions turned overwhelming, ratchet tried to hate you instead, to protect both of you. despite his efforts, he cannot stop caring about you

cw: angst, obsessive thoughts, emotional manipulation, mentions of jealousy and possessiveness, ratchet is kinda toxic in this (but he gets better i promise)

word count: 1250

At first, he tried to hate you. To push you away, to make you despise him just as much as he tried to despise you. To turn passion into hatred, to move to the opposite end of the spectrum, yet still burn with the same fervor, the same intensity. Hatred was, after all, easier to manage than love—easier to understand, easier to explain, and easier to back up with facts. Love was an unknown, raising millions of questions he could never answer. Hatred hurt less. And although both passions were fierce in their own right, Ratchet could swear that the first one was far less damaging.

At first, he tried to be cold. Indifferent toward you, mean, and grumpy. He would throw comments at you that he could have easily kept behind his denta because he knew they would hit a nerve and wound you to some extent. He wanted you to leave him alone, to grow disillusioned with him. To stop interacting, to stop looking, to stop being a part of his daily life.

Another warm relationship was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Ratchet was tired. Tired of war, tired of being a medic, tired of patching up his friends only for them to return with fresh, bleeding wounds—or not return at all. Every mech and femme he grew close to either died or suffered, and he had to watch. Watch as the light faded from their optics, as energon poured from their wounds, as they lost limbs. You weren’t a Cybertronian, but would associating with him not weave a similar fate for you? One filled with pain and suffering? If the war didn’t harm you, his feelings surely would—what difference would it make? And your death was something he could not survive.

That’s why he wanted to prevent it. To break the vicious cycle, to stop the machinery of torment. To give himself no hope of a happy ending because he knew it was never meant for him. He couldn’t afford to think of himself. Ratchet was harsh, unfeeling. He made sure that every word he said struck like an icicle, that it hurt. Yet he wasn’t sure who was suffering more. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain, but in this situation, he saw no other way. In a sense, he was saving you from catastrophe, from a collision that would destroy you both. He preferred to deliver the blow when his feelings were just budding, before his infatuation grew into something unmanageable. At least then, you’d both have a chance to recover.

But he found himself checking on you. Ensuring you were all right, even though he had just done so moments ago. He found himself having needs that terrified him because he was never supposed to feel them. Even with a carefully laid plan, with his rigidly set values, Ratchet’s thoughts circled taboo. He contemplated touch, intimacy. Happiness that wasn’t meant for him.

He often wondered if you understood why he had to be the way he was; what kind of clay the war had molded him from. If he explained the details, would you grasp his intentions? Understand that he couldn’t afford the luxury of love? He only hoped you didn’t think it was your fault, that you had made some mistake, even though he gave you no reason to think otherwise. And that hurt more than any sharp remark he ever hurled your way.

It was a pity that by the time he acted, it was already too late. You had cast your spell, enchanted him and his processor. You haunted him during the day, in dreams, when you visited your alien friends, and when you were at home. You appeared in his thoughts when he least expected it, yet when he needed it most. At first, sporadically—when you hadn’t visited them for a while, when he began to miss the sound of your chatter near his workstation. When the lack of your presence started to bother him. Then, you appeared more frequently, and fleeting memories turned into fantasies and daydreams. He stopped thinking he’d like you to sit with him and started longing. Intensely, fervently.

Still, he believed his plan would work. That he could end the relationship he had nurtured for so many months. But you had entirely different plans. Consciously or not, you dismantled the calculated, artificial hatred, tearing down the walls he had begun to build around himself.

The first time you touched him to draw his attention, Ratchet was convinced his knees would buckle under his weight. Suddenly, new colors entered his field of vision, and where you touched him, an explosion of sparks erupted, an electricity incomparable to merely being in your presence. The touch was more vivid. Raw and intimate, and so incredibly powerful that it broke him. It pierced through his defenses, reached so deep that Ratchet abandoned his plan. He stopped trying to change your relationship at an unnatural pace and in a dishonest way. Oh, what a fool he had been, what a burden to both you and himself.

Mending the fractured relationship didn’t happen quickly, nor was it easy, but it gave him time to loosen the collar and allow himself to enjoy your company. Your presence brought comfort and peace. Even when you disagreed, when arguments grew heated, Ratchet clung to those shared moments. He wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world and would fight to keep them going. He grew jealous when you claimed you wouldn’t speak to him again, though he knew it wasn’t true. He knew, but he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into his servos whenever you started talking to someone else. He wasn’t proud, but seeing you in your rightful place, close to him, made everything feel right again. Everything returned to normal.

“I owe you my sincerest apologies,” he once said to Optimus, choosing a day when the base was nearly empty, save for him, his friend, and the two humans who had changed their lives. Whether for better or worse was yet to be determined.

“You have done nothing that could cause me harm,” Optimus replied.

“But I did not understand,” he said. “That has changed somewhat recently.”

The medic’s gaze anchored on you, dispelling any doubt in the leader’s mind. Optimus began to pity his friend.

“Will it ever improve? Will this torment ever bear anything good?” Ratchet asked.

Optimus fell silent for a moment. “I am unable to provide an answer to that. However, I am certain that surrender is not the correct course of action, and you must not pursue it, for it would destroy the benevolence you have labored so long to cultivate. [Name] holds you in great regard; I would urge you to keep this in mind.”

For Ratchet, it was already too late for retreat, though he had lost the battle with himself. You had entwined yourself too deeply in his spark, taken a permanent place in his processor. He failed to keep his feelings in check, and they took over, spreading everywhere.

He started with hatred, using it as a familiar form of self-defense. Now, when you come to him with the tiniest scratch on your finger, Ratchet is ready to wage a war for you, blinded by his feelings. Ready to protect you at all costs, dedicating every free moment solely to you. He was finished, undone, but the fact that his demise would likely come through you no longer mattered to him.

[suntoru]

─ ✰ TO YOU, WHO I LOVED THE MOST.

─ SYNOPSIS: letting go is hard to do. satoru can't imagine a universe where you are not his world, you'll always be. he'll always love you, just in secret.

─ WARNINGS: angst, breaking up, mentions of a toxic relationship, reader referred to as his pretty girl once, crying, swearing, 3k words

─ AUTHOR'S NOTE: dedicated to one of my moots. i'll always love u no matter where you go, even if it means i can't be there with you. i'm so incredibly proud of you, never forget how much i treasure you. 그래도, 놔두기가 힘들어.

he's practiced this. he had rehearsed this moment meticulously, running through the scenario in his mind countless times like a well-worn script. standing before the mirror in his bedroom, he'd practiced every word, every gesture, until they felt like second nature. it was supposed to be simple: just a quick stop to gather his belongings, utter a final goodbye, and then depart. and then cry for the rest of his life because he won't ever love anybody in the same way ever again.

in his carefully constructed mental landscape, there were no more than five conceivable outcomes, each neatly categorized and mentally prepared for. but you, clutching onto his sleeve like no tomorrow, begging him to stay wasn't one of them.

your knuckles strain against the fabric, turning white under the force of your grip, while fat tears trace pathways down your cheeks. every word that tumbles from your lips is tinged with disorientation, punctuated by cracks that mirror the fractures in your heart. you're crying, your sobs echoing in the small space between you, and with each tear shed, it feels like another piece of him crumbles away.

your breathing is ragged, hysterically bawling your eyes out as he stands there solemnly. it's a painful reminder that his presence in your life only brings you heartache and agony. he can feel the weight of your anguish pressing down on him, a burden he can't shake off no matter how hard he tries. his heart clenches in his chest, aching with a depth you may never fully comprehend.

"i'm sorry," you manage to choke out between sobs, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "please don't leave." each word is a desperate plea, a futile attempt to hold onto something slipping away. it infuriates him, but not at you— god, never at you. the anger that burns within him is directed solely at himself. why are you sorry? you should be cursing him out, scratching up his car and slapping the shit out of him.

he's the one who fucked up, he's the one at fault, the one who shattered your heart into a million irreparable pieces.

so why, he wonders, why are you the one suffering? it only intensifies the ache in his chest, making it all the more agonizing to turn away from you.

"why are you crying?" gojo murmurs, his voice soft as he tenderly brushes away the tears staining your cheeks. it's a gentle gesture, one filled with a tenderness he can't afford to indulge in. each touch feels like a stab to his heart, a reminder of the pain he's caused and the irreparable damage he's wrought upon your fragile heart.

it hurts— hurts more than he can bear to know that this is the last time he'll ever see you, to know that the final memory etched into his mind will be of you, tears streaming down your face, struggling to even breathe. his pretty girl.

his hand moves to caress yours, his touch tender yet firm as he tries to pry your fingers from the fabric of his shirt. but your grip is like iron, unyielding and desperate, only serving to elicit more heart-wrenching cries of pain from deep within your chest.

"you can't go," you plead, your voice small, trembling with anguish as tears continue to cascade down your cheeks, leaving trails of devastation in their wake. "y-you promised... you promised me that it was going to be us forever and ever. y-you pinkie promised me..." your words cut through the air like shards of glass, each syllable a piercing reminder of the shattered dreams and broken promises that now lay scattered at your feet.

the weight of your despair hangs heavy in the air, suffocating and relentless, as the reality of his impending departure threatens to crush you beneath its crushing weight. everything hurts— the ache in your chest, the rawness of your throat, the emptiness in your soul— as you cling desperately to the fleeting remnants of a love that was once so pure and true.

"i know," he whispers, the words barely audible over the sound of your heartbreak. each syllable is heavy with the weight of his remorse, his longing, his love. he knows he said it, but he can no longer mean it, his heart screaming out in agony as he watches you crumble before him. despite how every instinct in his soul is telling him to stay, his rational mind, cold and calculating, reasons against it, reminding him of the harsh truth he can no longer deny.

your heart is pure, untainted by the darkness that consumes his own. it doesn't deserve someone like him, someone who has caused you nothing but pain and sorrow. he was selfish to ever believe that it could work, to entertain the foolish notion that a heart as precious as yours could ever love a heart as tarnished as his.

he is too broken to love. he's toxic, a poison seeping into every corner of your life, corroding the beauty and innocence you possess. you deserve so much better, someone who can love and cherish you in the way you truly deserve, in a way he will never be capable of. it tears at his soul, ripping him apart from the inside out, to let you go and to watch you find happiness with someone else. but he knows he has to do it. for your sake, for his sake, for the sake of the love he once believed in but now understands he can never truly be worthy of.

"i'm sorry," he sighs, the weight of his words heavy with sincerity. deep within his being, he truly regrets his actions. his voice, once meant to sing praises, now tainted by harsh tones that should never have been directed at you. his eyes, crafted to adore you, now bear the weight of regretful stares instead of the admiration they were intended for. his hands, meant to hold you tenderly, have instead caused you to flinch, a painful reminder of the hurt he's inflicted.

he's a monster. he's ruined you.

"it'll be okay without me," he promises, his voice trembling with the weight of his sorrow. he's trying desperately not to let the tears escape, not to show you the depth of his pain. a thousand times before, you've weathered storms together, but this time feels different. this time, it's final. but to you, it feels like the end of the world.

gojo's not just a pebble in the vast expanse of your life; he's a rock, solid and unwavering, filled with the very essence of your existence. without him, it feels like the air has been sucked from your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath in a world that suddenly feels cold and empty. the thought of facing each day without him by your side is unbearable, a daunting prospect that leaves you feeling lost and adrift. he's been your anchor, your guiding light through the darkest of times, and now, as he stands before you, ready to walk away, it feels like the light is dimming, fading into darkness.

"no, it won't," you croak out, your voice breaking with the weight of your despair. how could it ever be okay? it feels like the sun is leaving the earth, casting everything into darkness, leaving everything living to wither and die. you will die without him. how can you face a world without his presence, without his love to sustain you? you cling to him desperately, your grip tightening as if you could anchor him to your side with sheer willpower alone.

in your heart, you already know it's over. but maybe, just maybe, if you beg a little harder, if you hold on a little tighter, you'll be able to convince him to stay. your heart races with panic, the fear of losing him consuming you from the inside out. tears continue to stream down your face unabated, blurring your vision until all you can see is the hazy outline of his form before you. you sniffle, your breath hitching in your throat as you struggle to compose yourself. but how can you be expected to let go? how can you afford to lose him?

"it isn't the end," he reasons softly, his voice cracking with emotion as he presses your face deeper into his chest, shielding you from the tear that escapes his eye. "just the end of our story. but i promise there'll be someone else. someone else who is perfect for you, someone else who won't ever hurt you like i have." his words feel hollow, like empty promises meant to soothe the ache in your heart. how can he speak of someone else when you know, deep down in the depths of your soul, that you were meant to be together?

"but i don't want someone else," you sob, your words muffled against his chest. "i want- need you." your confession hangs heavy in the air, you're making this so much more difficult, and he can feel the weight of your pain pressing down on him, threatening to suffocate him with its intensity. but he can't be selfish again. he can't hold on to you when he knows deep down that he's not what you need, that he's only bringing you more pain and heartache.

so he holds you tighter, his arms aching with the effort to keep you close, even as he knows he has to let you go.

"one day, years from now, you'll be thinking of this day and laugh. when you're with the man of your dreams, walking down the aisle in your pretty white dress... you'll be so thankful for him," gojo says, his voice carrying a bittersweet melody that echoes through the empty spaces between you. his smile, though strained, is meant to offer comfort, yet his heart is turning blue with the weight of his own sorrow.

"at the end of the day, it wasn't meant to be us. at least not in this lifetime. in this one, i'm a lesson," he continues, his words heavy with resignation. he knows that he's been a chapter in your story, but not the final one. and while his heart aches at the thought of your pain, he knows that sometimes love means letting go, even when every fiber of your being screams to hold on.

"i know it hurts right now," he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he reaches out to brush away your tears. "but there will be a day where it won't hurt anymore. that i can promise."

you shake your head, unable to accept his words, unable to bear the thought of a future without him by your side. your head aches with the weight of your sorrow, and all you want is to fall asleep in his arms and wake up to find that this was all just a bad dream, that this really isn't goodbye. but reality is cruel, and as much as you wish it were otherwise, you know that this is the end of your story together.

"w-we can work this out," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with the effort of holding back your emotions. your words are desperate, a last-ditch attempt to salvage what's left of your shattered relationship. you know deep down that it's futile, but you can't bear to let go without a fight. "w-we can go to therapy, and things will be okay again..." his touch is tender as he strokes your cheek, his own eyes brimming with sorrow and regret as he gazes down at you. his heart aches with the weight of your pain, but he knows that staying will only prolong the inevitable.

"i think we both know it's too late for that," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. he knows that he's already cracked your heart, and any longer he stays will only make it shatter beyond repair.

"can you do something for me?" gojo's voice is tender, his touch gentle as he cups your face, tilting it upwards to meet his gaze. "hate me. slap me, cuss me out, just please... don't cry anymore. i want you to forget about me and move on." you're too pretty for all these tears, he thinks, even as they cascade down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the depth of your pain. but even in your sorrow, you're still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

his heart aches at the thought of causing you more pain, but he knows that letting you go is the only way forward. what he's asking of you feels impossible. how could you ever forget about him? even if you wanted to, you don't think you'd ever be able to hate him. the mere thought of it sends a fresh wave of anguish crashing over you, leaving you gasping for air amidst your tears. you can't bear the idea of moving on without him, of letting go of the love that has defined your existence for so long. your throat constricts, a choked sob escaping your lips as the weight of his request settles heavily upon you.

"i love you," you say weakly, your voice barely above a whisper, a last desperate attempt to hold onto him, to make him see the depth of your love. tears blur your vision, cascading down your cheeks in a torrent, but still, you cling to him, refusing to let go.

'i love you too,' he wants to say. yet the words that come out are a pleading, "please don't." but actions speak louder than words. his touch is familiar, comforting, as he combs through your hair like he used to when you cried over silly little things, on those off days when everything felt overwhelming. his fingers draw comforting patterns on your back, tracing constellations of stars as if to remind you that even in the darkest of nights, there is still beauty to be found.

you don't want to let go of him, because letting go means accepting that it's real, that it's truly over. it means saying goodbye to lazy sundays together, to midnight makeouts, to screaming karaoke in the car. letting go means he'll become a stranger, a mere memory, something that you both swore on your very lives would never happen.

you're lost without satoru, and he's lost without you. no exchange of 'you were a wonderful experience' passes between you two, for both of you understood, without needing words, that the other was everything. but what's shattered can't be pieced back together, and if this continues, you'll both suffocate under the weight of what once was. and the truth is, you're both better off apart, but it'll never feel like it.

no one will ever understand you like satoru did. no one will intuitively sense your emotions with just a glance. no one will ever fathom the extent of your love for him. the child within your heart stubbornly rejects it, unwilling to let your prince charming depart from your fairy tale. it takes every ounce of strength for you to loosen your grip, to slowly let go. and it takes everything for him to gently coax your hand away, to peel it off with tender care, and to press one last kiss to your trembling hand.

it takes all your willpower not to collapse on the floor, to stifle the gut-wrenching sobs that threaten to escape, and to acknowledge the painful reality that your satoru is leaving. for good. one glance is all it takes for both of you to know it means 'i love you.'

if he had known he had to leave so soon, he would have cherished every moment, held you close as if his life depended on it, loved you just a little bit harder.

he struggles against the overwhelming urge to hold on, his heart torn between the desperate longing to remain by your side and the agonizing realization that he can't undo the damage he's caused. you were, and still are, and will be for the rest of his life, his everything—the very essence of his existence, the light that guided him through the darkest of times. he promised to cherish and protect you, to love you with every fiber of his being, and deep down, he still means it with every beat of his broken heart.

but he was selfish, consumed by his own desires and fears, blind to the pain he inflicted upon you with every careless word and thoughtless action. he put himself first before you, heedless of the consequences, and in doing so, he did more than betray your trust— he betrayed your heart. as he gazes into your tear-stained eyes, he knows that he must bear the weight of his sins, must suffer a thousand lifetimes without you by his side. for in losing you, he has lost not only the love of his life but also a part of himself—a part that can never be reclaimed or restored.

"i know how much you hate goodbyes, so... see you again, my love. in the next universe." he whispers, his voice barely audible amidst the echoes of your shattered hearts. it's not just a statement; it's a solemn promise, a vow etched into the fabric of existence. with unwavering resolve, he swears, on his six eyes, that the next time your souls intertwine, he'll be worthy of cradling your heart.

in that universe, he'll stand by you through every joy and sorrow, holding you until the very end, sharing every breath until the final moment. in that universe, it will be his hand you hold as you walk down the aisle, his vows that bind you together as husband and wife, and his love that fills your days with endless warmth and devotion for all eternity.

just... not in this one.

and so, with a heavy heart and a soul burdened by regret, he forces himself to take a step back, to release you from the grip of his selfish desires, knowing that it's the only way you can ever truly be free. and with a heavy heart, he departs swiftly, each step echoing the ache within his soul. he resists the urge to glance back, knowing that if he does, he'll crumble under the weight of your sorrow, ensnaring both of you in an endless cycle of pain.

he leaves, not out of indifference, but out of a desperate hope that someone else will step in to fill the void he's left behind. it's a sacrifice he makes for your sake, a bittersweet farewell that holds the promise of a new beginning, even as it breaks both of your hearts irreparably.

a sacrifice to you, who he loved the most.

© SUNTORU 2022-2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson ships in order of how toxic you should write them as adults in an established relationship imo (no batcest and we can discuss the harem at a later time)

Least

Dick X Wally: this is the quintessential friends to lovers story it’s adorable. Naturally a lil bit of toxicity bc nightwing is not a healthy person but still the ratio is 99% cute and 1% angst as adults. Feel free to angst away with the Robin/KF thing

Worlds where this is cute: young justice, earth prime pre Wally meeting Linda.

Dick X Kori: listen to me, if you ignore all the shitty writing (yes the babs wedding thing) they r perfect <3. The only person who I believe can be the lights light ya know. The broke up because they both took hits they couldn’t recover from but they still love each other and they’re my favorite canon pairing they should get back together and have a kid and be a cute lil family.

Worlds where this is cute: TT, Earth prime, DCAU, injustice, titans tomorrow, Lego Batman (every single earth actually)

Dick X Zatanna: cute, childhood crush turned sweethearts turned friends nothing to say here I just don’t think it would be toxic

Worlds where this is cute: young justice

Worlds where this should never happen: all the rest (she dated his dad)

Dick X Joey: I love them so I’m biased their relationship is on par with Dick and Wally taking field trips in the 80s. Also this is joeys most popular ship and that makes me laugh. BUT ANYWAY they’re just very homoerotic and I feel like they respect each other enough the toxicity would be on the lower side.

Worlds where this is cute: literally anytime before he possesses his dad’s body.

Times this is concerning: post possessing nightwings body (anyone remember that happening I just ignore it now, cuz I hate the whole evil Joey thing but if you wanna take this ship from 30% toxic to 140% write it post possession with the dude who had autonomy issues)

Dick x Kara: I just feel like the hero worship would get in the way a little bit

Worlds where this is cute: worlds finest

Worlds where this isn’t: the rest

Dick x Roy: I love them sm ur honor (despite how low I’m putting this, it’s one one my top ships) listen Dick and Roy adore each other and would die for each other, but the baggage?? The years of expectations?? The fights??? The fact that Dick gets more and more closed off when he’s mad usually but him and Roy in the same room and fists fly?? But the only people who can talk to Dick when he’s spiraling are Roy and Donna. Like ROY HARPER is one of Dick people!! You don’t understand how much I love how they can hurt each other while loving each other so so so much. They cause me pain. I don’t believe they’d ever mellow out Dick and Wally tho bc they’re whole relationship is heated they have never had a chill emotion about each other in their history of being characters that exist in the same space.

Worlds where this is cute: literally any world where the titans exist/have existed with speedy and Robin as core members

Worlds where no?: new 52 (I hate new 52 and ignore it tho so no universe sucks bc new 52 isn’t real and can’t hurt me)

Dick X Harley Quinn: see I hated this ship and I hate it in canon but I once read a fic that was good enough I now ship it on the dl and think it would be good for Harley to be with someone who can be a safety net. But like this is AU rare pair type shit and it’s low bc I literally cannot picture a canon universe where this isn’t the most toxic thing ever.

Worlds where yes: DCAU (AU) not even the canon one like the AU of the AU that is the DCAU (take a shot Everytime I say AU)

Dick X Shawn Tsang: I’m sorry yall Shawn was such a boring character I forgot she existed but I remember that she broke up with him after he lost his memory cuz she thought he was ghosting her and like not only does it feel like she just existed to give dick a love interest. Also this comic featured the character death wing and so it’s so low not bc the ship sucks except it does bc why dick?? Are you dating someone who hates heroes?? Why r u like this??? Stopppp but also bc imo the ship has a white bread type of content that is toxic to me personally and that’s more important.

Dick x Bea Bennet: I loved them sm in the beginning, best part of the Ric Grayson arc and then they added the spyral ties and made her a pirate and tbh that ruined it for me. Dick and Bea only work as a cute relationship if Bea is a way out or a window into the outside world like something to ground the man who is always trying to get his feet off the ground. It would be interesting. But now she’s just another another relationship where he didn’t know who he was dating and tbh I don’t think he’d be down for that post literally everything that’s ever happened to him romantically after the age of 16

Dick Babs: yes it’s this low, no I will not change it. It should be lower but I used to ship this so it’s only my fond memories keeping it this high. Babs slept with his father after dating him in at least 2 universes. Dick left Gotham for freedom and she quite literally drags him back Everytime they’re together it feels like about 30 years of Dicks character development is erased. And let’s not talk about Barbara used to be a congress woman Gordon. They deaged her to make her a decent love interest for someone who was a kid when she was running for congress. And because of the fact their characters don’t naturally balance out the way some of his other canon ships do (Bea, Shawn, KORI(the best canon ship imo), hell even Helena) it leads to the characters becoming flanderizations of themselves. Dick is a loveable himbo whose only defining characteristic is his ass and I hate to say it Barbara Gordon literally just turns into female Bruce and I hate it so much but genuinely read though some of their older stuff it’s like..ugh. Anyway I hate this ship I think it’s bad for both of them and while I’m not babs biggest fan I still like her and she and Dick should be best friends who get drunk on weekends and shit talk the bats and their respective teams (titans, birds of pray)

Dick X Helena bertinelli: yall wtf is this ship, if this is your main ship? Why? Tell me? Like what?? Helena??? Esp prime earth Helena?? He has more chemistry with midnighter than her (but we are not discussing the harem so I will remain silent)

Now the most toxic ship that isn’t incestuous is so obvious bc no one has ever pictured this ship with a modicum of health in it except its creator (derogatory) I’m 99% sure every single fic tagged this also has the domestic violence tag

Dick X Catalina Flores. Yeah no a billion times no this shit is so toxic the jack Napier fell into it and became the joker. This shit so toxic it only serves as a trauma boat for another person to swoop in and get him out I hate this so much.

Now dick is an old character so he has about a billion other relationships. But these are either the recent ones (Shawn, Bea) or the ones that have a lot of ao3 clout (birdflash) or something that makes my heart soft (dick and Joey) plus his most iconic 2 pairing I will not be getting into characters like Daphne, Clancy or Betty or anything else or the creepy ones like the fact he’s had shit with both catwoman and taila.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[imyourbratzdoll]

I have a request you are up for it. I kind of had this idea where Steve Rogers really screwed the Reader over in their past relationship and cheated on her with Sharon and dumped the reader for her. Even the avengers don't talk to her anymore and made her look like the toxic one in the relationship. two years later it's his and Sharon's wedding day and it was a beautiful and wonderful, however reader returns and decides to kill seek her revenge on Steve and Sharon and the rest of the team. Let's just say she gets it and Steve suffers. (Reader is a witch by the way)😈

hello honey, I hope you like what I've done.

summary - steve cheats on you, causing the team to turn against you to save the world from hating him. years later, you finally seek your revenge.

warning - angst, torture, cheating, dark content, badass female

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

It had been two years since Steve Rogers broke your heart, you thought that would be the worst of it, but the fact the team turned on you and screwed you over by making it seem like you cheated on Captain America, causing the world to hate you, treating you like shit until the point you snapped. If they wanted a bad guy, they’ll get one. 

You sat in a dark room as the tv played, your ex was getting married to the tramp he cheated on you with. Your golden eyes sharpen as you glare at the screen, causing it to explode in sparks. You grin, the whole team would be in that church, making this so much easier for you. 

Your hands glow as you begin to hover, your long black dress falling gracefully around your legs. “Oh, the day that the Avengers fall and all by my hands.” Your laugh echoes throughout the room and you disappear, reappearing in front of the god-awful building. “Oh god, could their taste be any worse?” Your hands face down, levitating toward the church doors and flinging them open with your magic. The whole room falls quiet. “Well, well. Where was my invitation?” 

Your head tilts as Sharon huffs. “You aren’t welcome here!” Your eyes move around the room, connecting with each person. “Hello? Get the fuck out! Didn’t you realise you weren’t welcomed when Steve left you for me?!” 

You smile, your gaze moves back over to hers and you stare. Watching as she shivers under it. “Sharon, Sharon, Sharon. You should know not to mess with a witch, especially a pissed off one.” Your hand flies up, stopping a bullet midair, you slowly tilt your head, looking at the small metal object before your gaze follows where it came from. A grin forms on your face as you connect with Natasha’s. It appears you found something that made the big Black Widow shudder with fear. 

“Y/n, stop this. You are only hurting yourself.” You blink, once, twice, thrice before your laughter fills the room, sending chills up everyone’s spines. “Why are you laughing?! Do you not realise how insane you look right now?!” 

“Sweet, sweet Natasha.” The bullet melts as you direct your hand toward her, lifting her in the air, watching her dangle as she struggles. “I’m not hurting myself, I’ve finally healed from the pain you all put me through. Because, sure I loved Steve and it felt like my heart had been ripped out when he constantly cheated on me with some wannabe tramp. But I could’ve lived through that, what I wasn’t expecting was the heartbreak from the people I considered family.” A growl rumbles within your throat, eyes glowing brighter with each word and emotion. “I can no longer hurt myself when you did a wonderful job of it for me.” You twitch, you can feel the stupid witch trying to enter your mind, her magic feels like something irritating, like a jumper that continues to itch because someone made it out of that horrible fabric.

You continue your hold on Natasha, turning your head, gold meets red. “What are you doing, Little Witch?” You blink, sending her flying across the room, crashing into a row of ugly flowers, causing you to scrunch your nose. “Ew, who chooses weeds for their special day?” You huff, feeling a body slam into you and your other hand reaches out, strangling Vision as he tries to charge again. “What is with you people, don’t you know it’s rude to just attack a person.”

“Y/n stop. That’s enough.” Two years ago, your heart would’ve pounded inside your chest from hearing his voice. But now, your heart lies cold within your body. The rest of the team that you don’t have a hold on, stand, readying for a fight. It felt comedic. “If you don’t leave, we will make you leave.” 

You throw your head back, letting out another chilling laugh before your head falls forward and you glare at your ex. “You make me leave? Do you think you’re stronger than me? You may be Captain America, but deep down you’re just that weak little boy back in the 40s.” You float over to him, black and gold magic building beneath you in a cloud and the anger builds in your veins. Your hands fly back, throwing those you had in your hold against the church walls before you reach in front, releasing all your magic onto the one man, watching him fall to his knees. “You and your team are no match for me, Steve Rogers. You will never be, you will all fall before you even manage to take me with you.” You lower to the ground, standing over him, leaning over, moving your face close enough that it looks as though you are about to kiss. “You will beg me for your life. It may not be today or a year from now, but you will.” You grip his chin between your fingers, forcing him to look into your eyes as you smile. 

Your eyes flash, stopping Tony from approaching, his Iron Man suit begins to slowly enclose on him, squashing him from the inside. “Not so fast, Mr Stark.” Your magic wraps around Steve’s body, keeping him in his position as you turn and face the rest of the Avengers. You look at each and everyone of them, letting your magic explode around you and the room, wrapping around them. “Soon you will all fall, no longer loved, no longer remembered. The world will move on without you and in your demise, you will beg me for help, falling deeper and onto your knees. Sacrificing your beliefs and pride.” You begin to descend from the steps, smirking. “Hm, why don’t I continue to torture you guys some more.” 

With a wave of your hand, all their nightmares come to life. Every single person or thing that they don’t want to face appear in front of them, torturing them, allowing you to sit back and watch with a smile, a glass of wine appears in your hand as you watch them all suffer. A few hours pass and you grow bored, making everything disappear along with yourself. 

While your magic circulated around them, it allowed you to see their future and it gave you many ideas to how you could continue to ruin their lives. Starting with the man who destroyed you. You close your eyes, feeling your spirit escape you and travel back in time, appearing in front of a woman that many looked up to. 

“Peggy Carter.” She spins, looking around for the voice. Your eyes glow and your magic surrounds her. “The love you feel for Steve Rogers will turn into hate, he will appear soon and will want to stay. You will fill his head with every hurtful thing you’ve thought of. You will see who he really is and how much he has changed when he was the smaller version of himself. You will destroy him, rip out his heart and squash it in front of his eyes. He will finally know how it is to feel his heart being broken.” She blinks, walking over to the photo of Steve, staring at it, and wondering why she has it before Peggy grabs the photo and drops it into the bin. 

You smirk, disappearing back into your time and body. Your eyes open with an evil glint, staring right at the readers.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

YOU LITERALLY SAVED MY LIFE

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing(s): Dark!JJ x Reader, Sarah x Reader, Rafe x Reader

Warnings: domestic abuse, physical abuse, strangling, gaslighting, alcohol, mentions of blood, toxic relationship, controlling behavior, trauma, rape, 18+

Summary: Y/n trusted JJ, who initially seemed to be the love of her life, but ultimately became the source of her deepest fears.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 4 - Help

"Y/n, what happened?" Sarah's voice is urgent as she pulls you inside, concern etched in every line of her face.

You collapse into her arms, unable to hold back the sobs. "JJ... he... he did this to me," you manage to choke out, the words spilling forth in a torrent of pain and fear.

-

"He hit me, Sarah. He kicked me. Sarah's expression shifts from concern to disbelief, her brow furrowing. “Y/n, stop," she says, her voice tinged with frustration.

"Stop trying to make JJ out to be a terrible person. He would never do something like this."

Your heart sinks at her words, the disbelief cutting deeper than you thought possible. "But it's true," you plead, clutching her arm desperately. "You have to believe me. Look at me, Sarah. Look at what he did."

Sarah shakes her head, stepping back from you. "No, Y/n. I can't believe that. JJ loves you. He wouldn't hurt you. This... this must be something you did to yourself. Maybe you fell, or..." She trails off, unable to meet your eyes.

The accusation feels like a slap in the face. "You think I did this to myself?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper. The pain and betrayal are too much to bear, the hope you had clung to shattered by her words.

“Y/n, you're clearly upset and confused," Sarah insists, trying to sound calm and rational. "You need help, but not the kind you're thinking of. Let's get you to the hospital, and we'll figure out what really happened."

You push her away, shaking your head vehemently. "No, Sarah! You're supposed to be my best friend," you cry out, the betrayal cutting deep. "Why won't you believe me? No one ever believes me!"

Your breathing becomes rapid and shallow, panic setting in as the reality of your situation crashes over you. The walls seem to close in, and your vision blurs as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Y/n, calm down," Sarah pleads, reaching out to you again. "I'm just trying to help."

But her words do little to soothe the rising tide of fear and desperation. "You're supposed to be my best friend," you repeat, your voice breaking. "How can you not believe me?"

The room spins as the panic attack grips you, overwhelmed, you turn and run out of the house, leaving Sarah standing there, unsure of what to do.

The night air hits you like a slap, but you don't stop. You keep running, driven by a desperate need to escape the suffocating disbelief and betrayal. Sarah's voice calls after you, but it's drowned out by the sound of your own racing heartbeat and gasping breaths.

You don't know where you're going, but you know you can't stay. The pain, both physical and emotional, drives you forward towards the jetty. 

As you reach the end of the jetty, your legs give out, and you collapse against the weathered wood, sobs wracking your body. The cold night air and the gentle lapping of the water against the posts do little to soothe the storm within.

You curl up, hugging your knees to your chest, and begin to speak to yourself through the tears.

"I can't take this anymore," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "Why doesn't anyone believe me? Why does it have to hurt so much? I just want the pain to go away."

The darkness of the night feels overwhelming, the stars above indifferent to your suffering. The weight of betrayal and fear presses down on you, and the future seems uncertain, filled with more anguish than you can bear.

"I can't do this," you murmur, tears streaming down your face. "I just can't keep going like this."

You cry harder, the sobs shaking your entire body as you rock back and forth. "I just want it to stop," you plead to the night, your voice breaking. "I want the pain to go away. Please, someone, help me."

After a few seconds, a voice pulls you out of your cries. “Y/n? Are you okay?" It's Rafe. His concerned tone cuts through your despair.

You look up, your vision blurry with tears, and shake your head. "No, I'm not okay," you manage to say, your voice trembling.

Rafe steps closer, his face etched with worry. "What happened? Why are you out here like this?"

The words catch in your throat as you try to explain, the flood of emotions overwhelming you. "JJ... he... he hurt me," you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "I don't know what to do, Rafe."

Rafe's expression shifts from worry to shock, then quickly to anger. "He what?" he nearly shouts, his fists clenching at his sides. "That bastard did this to you?" His voice is filled with a mix of fury and disbelief as he looks over your battered form.

You nod, fresh tears streaming down your face.

Rafe's eyes blaze with anger. "I can't believe this," he mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Y/n, I'm so sorry. I had no idea he was capable of this. You're coming with me right now. We need to get you to a hospital."

He kneels down beside you, his voice softening with concern. "Can you walk? We need to get you some help."

You try to stand but collapse back down, shaking your head. "I can't walk," you admit, shifting slightly. As you do, Rafe's eyes widen in horror as he notices the blood seeping through your pants.

"Did JJ do something else to you?" he asks, his voice filled with dread.

You nod, but quickly add, "Not in the way you're thinking. It's worse."

Rafe's face pales, the fury and concern mixing into a determined resolve. "We need to get you to a hospital now," he says, more urgently. "I'm going to carry you, okay? You're going to be safe."

With great care, he lifts you into his arms, holding you securely. As he makes his way to the car, you cling to him the physical pain to much to bear. 

Rafe places you gently in the passenger seat and rushes to the driver's side, the engine roaring to life as he speeds towards the hospital. The drive is a blur of pain and worry, but Rafe's presence beside you is a steadying force.

When you arrive at the hospital, Rafe doesn't waste a moment. He scoops you up into his arms and runs into the emergency room, shouting for help. "Someone, please! She needs help!"

A team of doctors and nurses quickly surrounds you, placing you on a bed and wheeling you into a separate room. One of the doctors turns to Rafe, saying, "Sir, you need to wait outside."

Panic surges through you, and you grab Rafe's hand, pulling him close. "I want him to stay," you say, your voice trembling. "Please don't leave me alone," you plead, looking up at Rafe with desperate eyes.

Rafe squeezes your hand reassuringly. "I'm not going anywhere," he promises, his voice steady and calm. He looks at the doctors, his expression firm. "I'm staying with her."

The doctors exchange glances but ultimately nod in agreement, recognizing the intensity of the situation. They allow Rafe to stay by your side as they begin to assess your injuries.

The bright lights and sterile environment of the hospital are overwhelming, but Rafe's presence anchors you. He stays close, holding your hand, his eyes filled with unwavering support and determination.

"You'll be okay, Y/n,” he whispers, his voice filled with conviction. "I'm right here with you."

The doctors carefully assess the injuries below your waist, their expressions grave and focused. They gently ask what happened, but the words catch in your throat, and tears stream down your cheeks. The pain and fear are almost unbearable as you try to find the strength to speak.

Meanwhile, a nurse performs an ultrasound, her movements gentle yet precise. The room is filled with an eerie silence as the monitor displays what was once a growing life, now still and silent. The nurse's face softens with empathy as she meets your tear-filled eyes.

“Y/n, can I speak with you alone for a moment?" the nurse asks gently, her voice tinged with compassion. "I need to discuss something important with you."

Your heart sinks at the thought of being alone again, “It’s okay, it just don’t want to be alone, squeezing Rafe's hand for reassurance. "Please don't leave," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Rafe gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be right here," he promises softly, his eyes full of concern and support.

She takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before speaking with gentle sincerity.

“Y/n, I'm so sorry to tell you this," the nurse begins, her voice soft yet steady. "Due to your injuries, unfortunately, the baby has died."

Tears well up in your eyes, but you nod silently, the truth already weighing heavily on your heart.

"We will need to take you into surgery to remove the placenta and the baby," the nurse continues gently, her words a solemn reminder of the next steps.

You take a shaky breath, the reality of the situation hitting you hard. "I knew," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "My boyfriend... he found out I was pregnant. He... he beat me to get rid of it."

The nurse's expression darkens with empathy and concern as she listens, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she says softly. "You're safe now, Y/n. We're going to take care of you."

Rafe's presence beside you is a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions. His jaw clenches with restrained anger and sadness, but he remains silent, offering you his unwavering support.

"We'll prepare for the surgery," the nurse assures you, her voice a soothing balm. "You're not alone in this."

The nurse's voice softens further, her expression a mix of sympathy and resolve as she continues to hold your hand. “Y/n, given the circumstances you've described, I'm also obligated to call the police," she explains gently.

As the nurse leaves to make the necessary calls, Rafe turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and restrained anger. He sits down beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of emotions.

"Are you okay, Y/n?” Rafe asks softly, his voice tinged with sorrow. "I'm so sorry you've been through this alone."

Tears well up in your eyes again as you meet Rafe's gaze. You take a deep breath, trying to find the words to express the depth of your pain and gratitude for his support. "I'm... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "But I'm glad you're here."

Rafe reaches out and gently squeezes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "I'm not going anywhere," he promises, his voice steady.

[7waystreet]

toxic | min yoongi

synopsis — it's the night before your wedding but your ex bf yoongi reels you in for a taste of what you've been missing

genre — fluff; smut

warnings — 18+, TW! cheating, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex

word count — 2.3k+

It's the evening before what any other person in the world would most probably feel beyond excited for, not even being able to properly voice the happiness which consumes their breath. Having found that one special person completing the unsaid void in their hearts, almost everyone goes into it with the mindset of only wanting it to happen once in this lifetime. Your wedding.

But you find yourself slipping out of the family festivities early under the pretense of wanting to get a good night's rest being the bride, silently hiding back in the heavy shadows before the much anticipated ceremony tomorrow. Looking for an escape from the overwhelming burden weighing all the way down to your gut, you secretly change into a baggy set of sweats and pull your hood up, eventually cowering in the corner of the sports bar at your hotel lobby, all alone. You feel pathetic sipping on your drink late into the night hours, the urge to yell at yourself for being ungrateful for the wonderful things you've been blessed to have in your life only getting stronger as the alcohol begins spiking your bloodstream, your thoughts concluding on the fact that you're just utterly insane for somehow still not being content with your fiancé's love.

But you now find yourself wondering... is love just about being content? Or is love about experiencing every single one of those all consuming and wild emotions that drive you to the depths of craziness, but also give you that exhilarating rollercoaster ride of pleasure and thrill, than otherwise?

Your head sways sideways in painful defeat, a drunken chuckle escaping your lips as your mind drifts off to your past. Of course you'd tried the latter with nearly no success, the memories of that long term toxic relationship soon flashing before your eyes like a movie, an aching numbness sucking the life out of your body.

Despite everything that's happened, you still can't stop thinking about Yoongi.

How could you possibly forget him when he was your first? Your first kiss, which he'd ever so gently pressed into your trembling lips after he'd walked you home late at night from that house party. Your first boyfriend, the way his cheeks had turned cherry red when he'd mustered up the courage to ask you out still fresh in your mind despite it being years and years ago. He was even the person you'd lost your virginity to, the night he'd snuck in through your window to sneak into your sheets sorely rippling through your brain like a wave threatening to drown you. He was your first love, and your first heartbreak too.

"Would you like another drink, miss?" the bartender's voice drifting from somewhere up ahead rips you out of your drowse, your head nodding in acknowledgment, still hanging low under your hood, to further your wishes to deprive yourself from any sensations.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking so much at this hour."

Like a snake lying patiently in wait until he chooses to slither back in, Yoongi smoothly takes the seat right next to you on the high top chairs at the bar, the comment he's just made in his deep voice jolting your body into a wake state as if you'd been shocked to life with a defibrillator. You obviously don't have the courage to turn and look at his face, purely out of the fear that you'll get lost into those cunning eyes again, but you can still tell it's him from the attractive scent of his pinewood musk cologne mercilessly seeping into your senses, dangerously sucking you back into the reminiscence of falling asleep to that same smell while being snug in his arms.

"How did you even find me here?"

"I can spot my own sweatshirt easily, even from a mile away."

Your face streaks hotter as your eyes quietly drift down to really observe the black FG hoodie you'd inattentively thrown on earlier, not even thinking twice about how it'd actually belonged to Yoongi when you'd stolen it from him back in the day when you two were still dating, a right of passage for any girlfriend in the case, of course.

"Still mad I never gave it back to you?"

"Nah, it looks way better on you than it ever did on me" you can hear a slight sigh in his upbeat voice, his tone of speech quite easy to decipher, and you'd understood perfectly well Yoongi had indeed grinned to himself while speaking those words.

A smile curls up on the already loosening muscles of your face, your swerving mind fully malfunctioning and finally ordering your head to turn in his direction, just in time to catch Yoongi flash his endearing gummy smile, a heart warming sight you hadn't been graced with for ages. A heart wrenching sight you've no doubt missed.

"What do you want Yoongi?"

"Nothing. I'm just here to check up on you and make sure you're ok before, you know, the big day."

A hint of spitefulness no doubt lingers in his fake act of sounding perfectly unaffected by it all, even the true master of disguise failing miserably to hide his strained feelings about the reality you're both trapped in at that given moment.

"Hah. How sincere of you... Where the hell were you when I really needed you?"

His entire demeanor tenses up to a rock when your unexpected words pierce him like shards of glass, his thinned lips pressing on each other while his saddened eyes peer into your glistening ones, his mind clearly thinking his thoughts through in a flash for a few brief moments before saying something he'd later end up regretting.

"We've talked about this. You really wanna go there again?"

With a whip of frustration, you veer your gaze away from him in a swipe, your elbows digging into the bar top at once, your bare face now buried rigidly in your palms. Your eyes remain tightly shut, stars beginning to sparkle in your dusky vision from your eyeballs being intensely pressured into your hands, your breathing certainly shaky as you try hard not to blow your head off in the anger that's surging through your chest.

"Hey look at me" Yoongi's hand softly twists up around your wrist and tugs at you, the feeling of his palm touching your skin like a sharp burn.

"And do what?! Stop trying to be nice now... it's too late! You fucked everything up!"

It's true. Yoongi's scorching love always came at a conditional price, not any of that unconditional shit you see everywhere in the movies and dramas. You'd done everything you could to support him in his difficult venture of establishing himself as a music producer in this tough industry, selflessly spending countless hours with him in the studio for moral support, sacrificing your own health and pushing your own dreams aside to fully be there for him.

But what did he even do for you? Slap a bandaid over your hurt by buying you the most expensive and exquisite gifts with the flowing cash in his bank account, without ever prioritizing you when you really needed him to be there. All you had asked was for him to really invest some time to strengthen your relationship, but the constant neglect because of his rising career became the last nail in the coffin, finally breaking off your trust in him for never being a dependable partner.

"You know I was trying to make money. For our future together. To make sure we were financially stable and secure."

"How happy is that money making you now with having to see me get married to him?"

"And how much happier are you with him than you were with me?"

The icy cold silence that follows forces you both to freeze up, exasperated eyes locked into one another as you silently sit there with a breathless shake, shocked by the sudden direct questions you'd thrown onto each other. But you both seemingly know the answers to those no matter how wretchedly wrong they seem, perfectly understanding each other without even a need for words.

Yoongi's hand gradually moves up from your wrist, quietly loosening up your clenched fist and sliding his palm along yours, his pretty fingers intertwining with yours before he lightly squeezes your hand.

"Come with me."

It's like a fatal poison, his raspy voice, the sweetness of it brutally addicting, and you're sure it's only going to consume you in the end. Your brain keeps saying no but you're still unable to escape him, your feet now following along his as if they have a mind of their own.

You're not quite sure if you're using your hood to hide your shame or just your face as you enter the elevator with Yoongi, hand in hand, not daring to look up or making eye contact with anyone in case someone from your family spots you, Yoongi's feet eventually guiding you over to his hotel room. Your heart feels like it's going to give out when he closes the door after you've both entered the four walls of security, guaranteeing your privacy, your stomach setting on fire, when he gently pushes your back against the door.

Yoongi's hands skim over your curves, his grip finally firming around your waist right as your mind goes blank, his face slowly pushing in closer until you can feel his breath on your nose, your quivering lips instantly pressing back into his when he impatiently kisses you. Even after all of these years of not being intimate with him, you both seem to find your rhythm as if your bodies were hardwired into it, his chest rubbing into yours as the kissing heats up in no time. Yoongi gently sucks on your tongue, still remembering just how much of a turn on it is for you, unexpectedly taking a pause and moving back from your lips with a big smooching sound.

"Are you still on birth control?"

Your nod of reassurance calms down the visible anxiousness stirring on his face, one of his arms dipping straight underneath your thighs while the other supports your back, being held up in his arms making your heart skip a beat, all while he walks you over to the white linen sheets on the fluffy hotel bed. Yoongi ceremoniously throws you on top of the mattress, a gasp leaving your mouth as your body bounces from the motion, your tense gaze taking in the sight of him standing there untying your shoes for you, his eyes firmly fixed on your face as he does it, not wanting to miss capturing even a second of emotion he's making you feel. He swiftly throws your shoes away behind him, the pair loudly smacking the wall in the hotel room before he slowly leans forward and begins undressing you from your sweats, tossing everything away messily onto the floor, eventually leaving you naked and shivering in bed right in front of him.

And just like that, he's already on his knees for you, his head tucked in between your legs despite his eyes rooted on you, his mouth swishing in a quick motion to drip out his spit onto your folds right before his tongue slowly glides it around to get to wet. He way he flicks on your clit with the tip makes your toes curl up in excitement, the familiar sound of him moaning at the sight of your pleasure prickling up your back in painful goosebumps. He doesn't hesitate to jam his tongue in your hole and place open mouthed kisses on your clit, the motion upping your heart palpitations at once, forcing you to run out of breath and tense up in your place.

"Fuck. I missed the taste of your pussy."

There's absolutely no thoughts running in your mind now except for what your eyes are visually processing, Yoongi edging you on to only pull his mouth away to make you wait just a little bit longer, his legs rising back up to his feet before he starts taking his clothes off one by one, giving you enough time to ogle at every inch of his naked figure in front of you, the vision of his slim stunning body forming a deep knot in your chest.

He's already spun you around and made you get on all fours, now cutting you off from observing the way he looks, only allowing your senses to experience how his body makes you feel being pressed up against your back. His thick cock angles towards your heat, and the way he teases you by rubbing it along your folds for him to meet with your dripping wetness drives you fucking insane. Without any warning, he tightly enters your heat with a slam while you both close your eyes in unison, diving deep into the nostalgic comfort which had imprinted straight onto your souls.

You knew Yoongi loved hitting it from the back because he always liked seeing your ass jiggle from the action, and he gets to live his dream one last time before you become someone else's, the palm of his hand spanking your buttcheeks for the full effect, leaving a red hand print as if to mark you as his in wild desire. Your face scrunches up and teeth bite into the pillow as he spanks hard another time, his cock ramming in and out of you with full speed, just how you like it though. Rough sex with him got you off like no other, the way he mastered the understanding of the fine line between real pain and pleasure a turn on in itself, and he knows just how much you admire that, his nails now digging into your ass and pulling you even closer to thrust even further in to hit your g-spot.

You can't help but clench around his length in no time, a growl escaping his mouth when he feels your walls tightening up around him, the moans that follow furthering both of your pleasure as the friction finally pushes the two of you over the edge. His cum mixed with yours slips out of your heat as he pulls his cock out, flopping down on the bed next to you in a breathless state, your own body still experiencing the waves of your orgasm as if it didn't want to ever stop feeling it.

"Don't marry him, (y/n). Let's try to make this work. I'll do better."

[xenyasplacex]

BABY TRAPPED PART 2

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!OC

Summary: Chris is in a toxic relationship and the only thing keeping him there is his daughter.

warning- Toxic relationship, Miserable Chris, Shouting, Abuse, Physical Abuse, emotional abuse, Talk of isolation, crying

A/N : Soooooo, it’s been a while! see my dumbass thought i posted this a few days ago but turns out i just saved it to drafts 😍😍😍

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Part 1 <—> Part 3

Things had changed in Chris’ household. Chris knew that through his life there were going to be times where he had to sacrifice certain things he thought he couldn't live without if he wanted their marriage to work and so far he had sacrificed a lot. Sometimes he thought about how younger Chris would look at him now. He had let this woman completely take over his life. First he had to sacrifice his friendship with nate who was a ‘bad influence’ on him, then he had to sacrifice his relationship with his parents who were ‘brainwashing’ him, then he had to sacrifice his friendship with Madi, Tara, Quen and Madison Beer because they were all ‘flirting’ with Chris and disrespecting his wife, he had to sacrifice his relationship with his older brother Justin because ‘he took to much of Chris’ time’. So, so, so many sacrifices had been made to make Aaliyah happy and yet here she still was, making his life miserable.

The couple were planning to move. That's what started the whole ordeal. The couple had decided to pack up and move to San Diego about a year ago and they only had 3 more days until they were gone for good. Well, to be completely honest it was more of Aaliyah yelling and Chris being too scared to do anything to stop it. Apparently she wanted to be closer to her dad and step mom which confused Chris because from what he knew, she hasn't spoken to her father since she told him she was pregnant. He still remembered when he told his brothers. Matt started crying on the spot which really did shake Chris to his core. Matt always said he hated Chris and thought he knew it was a joke he still didn’t think that Matt would be so distraught over Chris Leaving. They still planned to do Youtube. They planned to rotate, one week they would be in Los Angeles and the other they would be in San Diego. It would be tough but they had no other option. The whole argument started when Chris had stated he wasn't sure if he liked the dark brown wood for the floor that Aaliyah had chosen in front of their interior designer. He wasn't rude or malicious, he was simply voicing his opinion, but it was enough to have Aaliyah beating him for “embarrassing her.”

“You ought to wrap that wrist up.” Aaliyah said from the doorway of their living room staring at her husband who was hunched over their couch, trying to wipe the remaining blood from his mouth. He looked up at his wife with nothing but pure terror. The tyrant was back.

“Relax, i'm not here to hurt you,” Aaliayh chuckled as she approached him. Laughing, she was laughing. How could she be laughing? 

Aaliyah sat next to Chris examining his face and Chris simply froze. She had done this to him. She was the one to hurt him. She was the one who bruised him, she was the one who caused him to be bleeding out and now here she was, sat next to him like a loving wife. She leaned forward and abruptly brought her hand up to his face. By pure muscle memory Chris jumped back, preparing for the next blow to his already weak body. She laughed. Again. She laughed at his pain. 

“I'm not going to hurt you silly,” She laughed, “I'm just here to clean you up.”

Her smile was so deceiving. With that smile she could light up an entire room, she could have bored you outta your mind listening to her ramble about the most useless things but you would stay there and listen in the hopes of even catching a glimpse of that smile. She is so addictive yet she was poisonous. Like a hard drug, something you can't seem to live without even if its slowly killing you. 

After about half an hour she had fully cleaned Chris’ cuts and bruises and had kissed him so many times her lips were puffy and she was starting to feel slightly light headed. It was late, Adriana had been asleep for hours at this point and Chris was slowly starting to slip into unconsciousness

“I'm so sorry Chris, you know I love you right?” She said as she rolled on top of him in their shared bed.

“I know.” Chris said, not bothering to look at her, instead he stayed fixated on the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the same thoughts as always racing through his mind.

How did he end up here?

How could he let this happen?

Why couldn't he just man up and take his child and leave?

Why couldn't he protect his own child?

Why couldn't he tell his brothers?

Why couldn't he te-

“Chris!” Aaliyah yelled as she sat up, looking at him slightly agitated.

“Huh?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No.”

Alliyah simply rolled her eyes before getting off him, “And im not good enough for you to listen to as usual. Some excuse of a husband you are.” She grumbled angrily.

Chris knew he had to deescalate whatever it was that was brewing or he could end up sleeping in his car tonight, so he sat up, resting against their head rest before picking Aaliyah up slightly and sitting her on his lap. He then kissed all over her face down to her neck until she was giggling uncontrollably.

“Chris stop!” She laughed, not pushing him away though.

“I'm sorry, it's not that I wasn't listening to you, I'm just so tired. Tell me what you were saying again, I promise you've got my full attention”.  Chris said before resting his head on her chest.

It was moments like this when Chris thought maybe things werent os bad. He was here with his wife, in their joint bed, kissing and laughing, enjoying each other presence, basking in joy and lo-

“I think it's about time we cut off your brothers.”

Moment ended.

“What?” He asked, whipping his head up. He was shocked. Him and his brothers were a package deal. It had been all of them or none of them for so long. His brothers were something he could rely on because they were countistant. You can’t exactly stop being a triplet after all, and now here she was. Getting rid of the one piece of consistency he had through tough times.

“Chris, you are far too reliant on them, I mean 3 weeks ago we got into a little argument and you picked up our child and spent the night with them. That's not normal Chris.”

It wasn't a little argument. She hurt their daughter. She hurt his daughter.

“Listen to me Chris,” Aaliyah started again, adjusting herself slightly so she was straddling him, “Chris I love you, I’m doing this because I love you. I mean what type of example would that set for Adriana? You need to learn to be strong on your own. Not with Nick or Matt holding your hand through life.”

Chris was silent, looking down at his lap through the whole speech.

“Chris, I am all you need. You don't need them, the fact that you've cut everyone else off and have been just fine just proves all you need is me, you don't need anyone else Chris i promise you.” She said sweetly before pressing a kiss to his lips which isn't reciprocated.

“I just… I need to think about it.”

“What?” Aaliyah asked, sitting up and starting to get off Chris once again.

“Those are my brothers Ali, I can't just get rid of them.” “Yes you can!” Aaliyah exclaimed. “Chris when we leave in 3 days you are to block their numbers and get rid of them or I promise you, you will never see Adriana again. If me and Adi aren't good enough for you then you don't deserve us at all. You don't need them Chris but you need me and you are a coward and a cheating bitch for even thinking you can have all of us to yourself.”

“I've never cheated on you Ali…” Chris tried to protest but she cut him off.

“What, you really think I'm that stupid? All the times you ‘go to your brother's house to film’ you think i don't know you're out being a whore. You dont think i know your out there fucking any bitch who comes within a 5 foot radius of you. You don't think I know? You're pathetic.”  She screamed at him. Chris couldn't even say anything. The claims were so far-fetched that he didn't even know how to defend himself. “Get the fuck out of this room Chris.” She said finally before turning over.

“Ali I didn't ev-” 

“Chris get the fuck out of this room!” Aaliyah screamed again. When Chris didn't move, frozen in pure astonishment she started punching him in the head.

The first punch was enough to snap him out of this trans, the second punch was enough to kick off a heavy migraine and the ones that followed were enough to add more fuel to this fire. 

“Get out! Get out! Get Out!” she screamed again and again, landing punch after punch. 

Chris quickly scrambled to his feet and ran for their bedroom door, trying to avoid the objects that she was hurling at him. When he finally got out of the room he just stood there for a while taking in what had just happened. He had to get rid of his brothers. His shoulder to cry in, his light at the end of the tunnel. He had to get rid of them. Slowly Chris found himself sitting on the floor, knees to his chest simply sobbing. He had to get rid of his brothers.

He had to get rid of his brothers.

“Nick stop!” Chris laughed as he watched his brother throw Adriana up in the air before catching the giggling girl again.

“I can't stop, i'm not gonna be able to see my niece any time i want anymore, i have to take in every moment i can.” He said before resting Adriana on his hip.

“I still can’t believe you're actually leaving.” Matt said softly, looking at his triplet brother. 

“Chris can you please tell him you'll call him everyday. I keep telling him we're still gonna talk all the time but the kid just won't listen.” Nick laughed, throwing Adriana into the air again. Chris’ smile faltered a little at that.

It had been 2 days since his argument with Aaliyah and she was still set on Chris cutting his brothers off. The only reason he was even allowed to come and see them was because he had promised that today would be the day he cut them off.

“Hey Adi, why don’t you we let Aunty Sunday put Nemo on for you the living room huh?”

Sunday was Matt’s girlfriend who Adriana absolutely adored. He watched as his daughter toddled into the other room before looking at the confused faces of his brothers.

“I need to talk to you two.” Chris stated bluntly before taking a deep breath and just letting out. It’s now or never and though he preferred never, he cared for his daughter too much to let her go without a fight.

“I love you guys. I really do. I love you with everything in me. You’re my best friends and I genuinely don’t know where I would be without the two of you but I just. I just think I need some time. Some time away from being a triplet to just think about my wife and my child. I just, I need time, you know?”

They didn’t know and they didn’t get it.

“Time? Like how long are we talking, like a week, maybe two?” Matt asked, Chris couldn’t bear this, he couldn’t even look at him. “Or like maybe a month?”

“I was thinking more like a few years,” Chris replied softly.

There it is. The bomb was dropped.

It was silent. Nobody said a word. Everyone was too shocked to even comprehend what had just been said. A break? For a few years? How does one simply decide that they need a break from being a triplet and how do they decide that need a break for so long?

Nick especially wasnt having it. Nobody optionally has a break from being brothers. Especially not triplets.

“What did Aaliyah out you on to this?” Nick spat with nothing but anger in his tone.

Chris and Matt were stunned but for different reasons. Matt because he couldn’t believe his brother would actually voice an accusation like that, and Chris because of how accurate it was.

“Wh-, what are you talking about Nick.”

“Don’t play games with me Chris. You don’t think we’ve seen the difference? You suddenly can’t make it to hang out or you suddenly can’t reply to messages after a certain time?” Nick screamed as he stood up off his couch.

“Nick I don’t know wha-” Chris tried again before being interrupted again.

“And I’ve seen the bruises little one!” Nick yelled again.

Caught.

Chris was stunned. They couldn’t know. If they found out they would only see him as week and unfit to be a father.

“What the hell are you talking about Nicolas!” Chris shouted as well, taking a step forward.

Nick rolled his eyes before grabbing Adriana’s baby bag, picking up 2 clean baby wipes and quickly coming at Chris. Chris flinched hard but that didn’t stop Nick from swiping the wipe across Chris’ face, revealing the concealer he was wearing and a purple bruise that had formed on his face.

“Yeah then what’s this?” Nick yelled showing his younger brother the wipe.

“Nick,” Matt interjected, trying to calm everyone down, “let’s all just take a deep breath okay?”

“What the fuck Nick, how dare you accuse my wife of something so evil! I fell down the stairs a few days ago! That’s were the bruise is from you sick fuck.” Chris yelled back.

“Oh spare me!” Nick replied. “So what happens when something happens to that little girl huh? What happens when she won’t let her have friends or go on playdates or go to the park? what happens when she isolates her daughter the same way she’s isolating you!”

“You know what, this is exactly why I can’t be around you. You’re all delusional and this sort of environment is not good for my child.” Chris yelled, picking up Adriana's baby bag and walking out of the room to grab Adriana.

He walked through the room, seeing Adriana and Sunday playing together. Without saying a word he picked his daughter up and started heading toward the door. “Chris? Chris what happened to your face?” Sunday tried to ask before hearing her own boyfriend running through the room.

“Chris! Chris stop!” Matt yelled while chasing after his brother who didn’t even turn around.

Chris walked straight to the car before gently putting Adriana into her car seat while Matt tried to calm him down.

“Please Chris, Nick was just trying to help, he loves you.” Matt tried to reason but Chris simply wasn’t having it.

“Nick he just accused my wife of beating me I can’t just le-”

“Chris!” Matt yelled, starting to get annoyed. “Chris we love you. More than anything and he’s just hurt that you’re leaving us. I mean a break? Come on Chris.”

That did make Chris feel bad. He always had his brothers. He wouldn’t be where he was now if not for them and now he was leaving them. Chris just felt so awful.

“I’m sorry Matt, I just… I just have to.” Chris replied softly looking down.

It was silent for a minute, then Matt spoke up. “Okay, and when this break ends we and Nick will be waiting for you, because we love you.”

With that Matt brought Chris into a hug. A proper hug. That was all Chris needed for the silent tears to come crumbling down. He was sure how long they were in that hug for before he felt another pair of area wrap around him.

“ I love you Chris, you have to know that.” Nick said, voice thick with tears.

“I know and I’m sorry. I love you guys too, both of you, so much” Chris said pulling away from the hug.

Matt then made his way over to the back of the car where Adriana had been buckled in.

“Hey baby, it looks like I won’t be seeing you for a while. You rember your Uncle Matt okay?” Matt told her making her giggle a little, not fully understanding the situation.

“And don’t forget your Uncle Nick either.” Nick interjected.

“Okay I promise I won’t. Pinky promise.” The little girl promised holding out her pinky fingers for both men to intertwine their fingers with.

The two said their goodbyes to their niece before shutting the door and looking back at Chris.

“Look, I don’t know what type of arrangement you and Ali have, but you protect that little girl or I will, you hear me?” Nick warned him.

Chris simply nodded, too emotional to trust himself to let out any sort of words. 

“I’m sorry, and I love you guys,” Chris said one last time.

“We love you too Chris. You take care of yourself okay?” Matt said one last time.

With that Chris got into his car and started to reverse out of his brothers drive way while his two brothers watched. Once he had fully reversed, he caught one last glance at his brothers, noticing the tears streaming down their faces. He wanted to stop the car, run out and tell them everything but he simply couldn’t. Instead he gave them one last smile before driving off. Now he was fully alone. Nobody to talk to, nobody to help him. He had nobody at all.

And with that, one single tear swam down his face.

TAG LIST:

@betasturniolo

@mattsbitchh

@nicksloverrr

BONUS SCENE

Nick just stood there in his drive way, tears running down his face. “Now what do we do.”

With that Matt took his phone out, going to ‘find my’ where a moving air tag was displayed. Nick’s eyes widened slightly, realising exactly what Nick had done.

“Now we go and help our brother.”

A/N: Heheh, Part 3 has already been started 😘

luv ya,

Xenya 🖤

Part 3

[strangespector]

You Said You’d Be Here

Summary: Conflicting schedules, a broken promise and physical altercation that leads to disaster

Words: 1013

TW: Slight violence that happens by accident. Nothing major, but you have been warned.

Falling in love with Jenna Ortega was like stepping into a dream. I met her at a small meet and greet session for her book launch, in a dimly lit café. We hit it off immediately, our chemistry undeniable. The early days of our relationship were filled with laughter, late-night conversations, and stolen kisses. Jenna was everything I had ever wanted—talented, kind, and full of life.

However, as her fame grew, so did the demands on her time. She was constantly traveling, recording, and performing. The time we once had for each other dwindled, replaced by hurried phone calls and fleeting text messages. I tried to be supportive, understanding that this was her dream, but it was hard not to feel left behind.

Our first big fight happened after she missed my birthday. She had promised she would be there, but a last-minute opportunity to perform at a high-profile event came up, and she couldn’t turn it down. I spent the evening alone, my heart aching with disappointment. When she called to apologize, I couldn’t hide my hurt.

“You said you’d be here, Jenna,” I said, my voice trembling. “I know your career is important, but so is our relationship.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, sounding exhausted. “I didn’t want to miss it, but you know how important this performance was.”

“It feels like I’m not a priority anymore,” I confessed. “Like I’m always coming second to your career.”

Her silence spoke volumes, and I knew then that things would only get harder.

The fights became more frequent. I resented her growing fame and the way it seemed to pull her further away from me. She, in turn, felt trapped between her love for me and her passion for her career. The tension between us grew unbearable, and we found ourselves arguing over the smallest things.

One night, after a particularly heated argument, things escalated to a level I never imagined. Jenna had just returned from a press tour, and I had planned a special dinner to welcome her back. She arrived late, visibly tired and irritable. When I tried to express my feelings, she snapped.

“You don’t understand!” she yelled, her eyes flashing with frustration. “I’m doing this for us, for our future!”

I tried to stay calm, but my own frustration was bubbling up. “It doesn’t feel like it! It feels like you’re doing it for yourself, and I’m just an afterthought!”

Jenna’s face twisted in anger. Without warning, she grabbed a heavy candle holder from the table and hurled it at me. I barely had time to react, and it struck me on the forehead. Pain exploded through my skull, and I stumbled back, feeling something warm and wet trickle down my face. Blood.

Jenna's face immediately changed from anger to horror. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking as she rushed toward me. “I didn’t mean to—”

I held up a hand to stop her, my vision blurring. “Just... just stay away from me,” I managed to say, my voice cracking. I couldn’t look at her. The betrayal, the physical pain, and the emotional wound were too much to bear.

I went to the bathroom, dabbing at the cut with a wet towel, trying to stop the bleeding. Jenna stood at the door, tears streaming down her face. “Please, let me help,” she pleaded.

I shook my head, unable to meet her eyes. “No, Jenna. This... this is too much. I need to go.”

Her sobs followed me as I left the house, my heart breaking with every step. The realization that our love had turned toxic was undeniable. I knew then that we couldn’t continue like this. The break turned into a breakup, and just like that, our relationship was over. The heartache was overwhelming, and for weeks, I struggled to move on.

But time, as it always does, began to heal my wounds. I started focusing on myself, rediscovering passions and hobbies I had neglected. Slowly, I began to find joy in the little things again. It was during this time that I met Sabrina Carpenter.

Sabrina was different from Jenna in so many ways. She was grounded, attentive, and genuinely interested in spending time together. We connected on a deeper level, our relationship built on mutual respect and understanding. Sabrina helped me realize that while Jenna had been a significant part of my life, she wasn’t the only source of happiness.

One evening, as Sabrina and I sat on the porch watching the sunset, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I had loved and lost, but I had also grown and found love again. Jenna would always hold a special place in my heart, but I knew now that moving on was the best thing I could have done for myself.

Years later, I ran into Jenna at a charity event. She looked as stunning as ever, her presence still magnetic. We exchanged pleasantries, and it wasn’t long before the conversation turned personal.

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted, her eyes filled with regret. “I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone. I wish things had turned out differently between us.”

I felt a pang of sadness, but also a sense of closure. “We both had to follow our own paths,” I said gently. “I’ll always cherish the time we had, but I’ve moved on. I’m happy now.”

Jenna nodded, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “I’m glad you found happiness. You deserve it.”

As Sabrina joined me, her presence a comforting reminder of the life I had built, I introduced her to Jenna. There was no jealousy, no lingering heartache—just a sense of acceptance and peace. We had all grown in our own ways, and while our paths had diverged, they had led us to where we were meant to be.

Sabrina turned to me and smiled, her eyes filled with warmth. “You know, I’m really glad we found each other,” she said softly.

“Me too,” I replied, squeezing her hand. “Me too.”

[yanderes-galore]

First of many. Here we go.

Angel Dust (Platonic)

Your prompts

2

28

61

Sure! These prompts give mental breakdown vibes so... that's exactly what you're getting, lol (Or at least it's what I'm aiming for-)

Yandere! Platonic! Angel Dust Prompts 2, 28, 61

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"

"Do you know how hard it is to wear a facade? Just to get people to like you?"

"Being alone is worse than you hating me."

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Emotional Manipulation, Mental breakdown, Drinking/Intoxication, Clingy behavior, Poor mental health, Drugs mention, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Projecting trauma, Unhealthy friendship, Swearing, Mature themes, Angst, Overly affectionate behavior, Dubious turned forced companionship.

Since you became a Sinner and entered the Hotel, you were close with Angel Dust. At first you found him a bit jarring and crude. Eventually, however, you managed to become a support system for the both of you.

Naturally you knew about Angel's job. He worked for the Overlord Valentino and said Overlord overworks and... Hurts him. The thought made your blood boil, but it wasn't like you could pick successful fights with an Overlord as a Sinner.

Angel appreciated the sentiment, even if he had to hold you back from attacking his boss.

The issue with Angel's job was his behavior due to it. He was often self destructive, ranting and venting with you and Husk over a strong drink. He's often stressed... But you're always there to help.

In fact, it seems you became a coping mechanism for Angel. With you, he feels like he doesn't have to drown himself in alcohol and drugs. Even Husk notices how calm yet clingy Angel is when you enter the room.

He's always playful with you, a smile on his face when you show concern. You care so much about him.... Angel isn't sure what he'd do without you.

Which is why when you push him away... He nearly breaks.

It's his toxic trait, he's too selfish when it comes to you. However what Sinner or Demon isn't selfish? He's allowed to have nice things, isn't he?

Angel had a tendency to be... Possessive. You are one of the only ones to care for him like this. Which... Makes him follow you around... And be a bit manipulative.

He's allowed to have you... Right?

So who are you to deny him his comfort?

Angel wasn't in his right mind when you chose to distance yourself from him. He had recently come back to the Hotel from a job at Val's studio. He already wasn't pleasant before he had a few drinks.

Yet when he called your name in a needy tone, you didn't come. Why? Well... It seems you noticed you were becoming an unhealthy coping mechanism for him. You knew it wasn't healthy.

But Angel wasn't going to just let you ignore him... Not after all he's gone through.

He didn't care how unhealthy it was. Angel knew he needed you. You helped him get rid of the pain.

Like an addict to a drug... He needed to stay beside you to forget about Val.

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!" Angel yells, his voice in a hiss. "Do you know how in demand I am!? You're lucky I give this much care to you!"

Angel knew deep down he was corrupted. Every sinner was, especially someone like him whose always around Valentino of all people. As much as he hated to admit it... He was acting the same way Valentino acts around him towards you.

"Are you just going to ignore me...?" Angel seethes, laughing softly when you back away from him. "Really now? You act all sweet then abandon me in my darkest moments...."

"I don't mean to, Angel-" You frown. "You've just... This has all been unhealthy lately and-"

"We might need a break?" Angel clicks his tongue, glaring at you. Despite this... You still see a certain softness in his eyes. "Hell no. Healthy? When is any relationship healthy in Hell?"

Angel Dust steps closer, wrapping himself around you in an attempt to feel your warmth. You can tell he's drunk and it appears ranting to Husk didn't work. You push your friend a bit, but he tightens his grip with an annoyed groan.

"Do you know how hard it is to wear a facade? Just to get people to like you!?"Angel growls, "I'm so fucking tired of playing these games!"

"Angel, please! You're a mess...!" You plead, unable to pry the demon off you as you fall onto the couch.

"With you, I don't have to play pretend!" Angel cries out, grip unrelenting. He's in a haze... Unable to think properly. "I can be myself..." You feel his grip loosen... "I don't have to act with you, I don't need to play a role... I just get to have your comfort."

You frown when he slips off you a bit, leaning against you as tears spill down his cheeks. He hated being vulnerable... But he felt he could do that with you. Which is why...

"You can't leave me alone!" Angel sobs, "You can hate me if you want... I don't care...."

He looks you in the eyes... You can see the hurt in his gaze. You don't want to encourage him. However... You find yourself giving into his emotional manipulation.

He really has learned from the best at it.

"Being alone is worse than you hating me." Angel admit, pulling himself closer against you. He perks up when you embrace him... Hiding the grin on his face.

"I don't hate you...." You whisper, the demon watching you closely with watery eyes. "I just wish... You had an easier way to cope."

"You're better than any drink or drug, doll." Angel winks, grinning softly. Even if you were just friends... He was always so affectionate. "Not sure what I'd do without you...."

You stay silent as Angel busies himself with holding you. Truthfully, he'd rather die again than give you up. Part of him feels bad for using you...

Yet he's used to it. Perhaps he's learned more from Val than most think...

"You should feel lucky to have me...."

[heizlut]

Promises

ꕀ cw: toxic relationship

ꕀ tags: switch fem!reader, dom!geshu lin, angst to smut, manipulation, rough/raw sex, creampie, oral fem!receiving, cheating, just overall toxic shit, lowkey emotional/soft ending

ꕀ nsfw under the cut

ꕀ m!list here

a/n: this might be the longest fic i’ve ever written😗

The relationship you have with Geshu Lin was hardly conventional. Both terrible for each other, but unable to let go. It was like a drug, the constant fights, the lies, the twisted love…

It wasn’t like Geshu Lin didn’t love you, no, it was more that he loved you too much and it honestly scared the fuck out of him. He didn’t know how to love you correctly even if he wanted to. A healthy relationship was an abnormal concept to him.

He was always a cold man, always harsh, always looking for something to keep his adrenaline pumping when commanding his soldiers just wasn’t enough. The sadistic side of him always craved more, relishing in the way you’d fight with him, loving how beautiful you looked when upset. It was wrong, he knew that.

But you always came back to him, that was one thing that would never change.

၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.

After yet another heated argument with you, Geshu Lin found himself wrapped up with two cute medics in his office and a large, half-drunk bottle of alcohol on his desk. His tongue was down one of their throats while he groped at the other. Sure they didn’t feel like you, not even close, but he needed to let off some steam, yet still craving the spike of adrenaline that came with the drama.

You didn’t want to stay in your shared home any longer, wanting to find him, wanting to fix things even if it was only temporary. Whenever he left the house after a fight, he was usually found getting shitfaced with some of his soldiers. So with a heavy sigh, you step out of your home and head towards the base.

The soldiers greet you politely, but some duck their heads and keep walking, knowing exactly what was going on in their general’s office. The door to the office was left open, Geshu Lin didn’t exactly care who saw his transgressions, knowing none of his soldiers would say shit about it besides give him a disappointed look.

Standing at the open door, your heart drops. The expression on your face had you looking like a scorned angel. “What the fuck, Geshu…”, your voice cracks slightly. His eyes snap to yours and for a fraction of a second, he froze.

You looked so beautiful, ethereal even, with such a heartbroken look on your face that it made his heart spike. The shock of seeing you didn’t last too long before a smirk graces his lips, pulling away from the two medics.

“There’s my pretty doll~ Come over here, baby. Don’t be mad”, Geshu Lin coos, patting his lap. But you stay in your spot, unable to move, unable to think. Geshu Lin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he takes you in, giving you a fake pout, clearly playing the victim.

“I was just thinking about you, baby. I missed you. Don’t you see how hard it is without you?”, he speaks. Then he pauses, reading the expression on your face, “Oh, come on, don’t cry, babe. Look, I’m not paying attention to these girls anymore. It’s all over now. We’re good, right? I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Geshu Lin gets up from his seat, sauntering over to you. He leans in, trying to plant a soothing kiss to your cheek, “Besides these girls are just dumb little medics, doll. They don’t even compare to you…”

You quickly turn your head away from his attempt to kiss your cheek, then give him a sharp glare. Even with such a look, there was still pain and even concern. “You know, I came here to check in you and make sure you were okay because I was fucking worried”, you start, a tear of anger rolling down your cheek, “But you’re apparently just fucking fine with two ditzy medics hanging off you.”

Geshu Lin’s confidence falters, just a bit. He knew it would be a mistake to push you too far right now. Even though the alcohol in his system made him braver, he was smart enough to know when to reel it in. He reaches out, trying to wipe away the tear, but he stops short, unsure of how you would react.

"I'm always fine, babe. You know that," he said, his tone now a little more subdued. "You need to stop worrying so much. You're gonna go crazy." He gave a weak chuckle, clearly not feeling it. "It's not like they're anything. They're just...a distraction. A way to keep me busy while you're busy doing your own thing." Geshu Lin’s voice grows quieter, more desperate as he tried to assuage your anger as he steps back, sitting back down.

“Please, babe, don't leave me here all alone. We should go home and make up, like we always do. I'll make it up to you with my body and my mouth, I promise… Or you can stay here with me, doll. I'll make you feel better either way." He shifts in his seat, leaning towards you with pleading eyes. His hands reach out, hovering over your hips, ready and desperately wanting to pull you onto his lap if given the chance.

Tears still brim in your eyes, looking like you could break down right then and there. You look at the two girls who sit there awkwardly, clearly feeling the tension between you and the general. If looks could kill, those medics would be dead on the spot.

But then you look back at Geshu Lin, your gaze a little softer towards him. “Get rid of them”, your words are commanding but the tone of your voice is quiet. It’s a bit eerie to hear and it makes Geshu Lin’s heart pound in his chest.

His expression falls into defeat as he realizes the game was up. With a sigh, he flicks his wrist dismissively at the two girls, speaking with a curt tone, “Get out of here.” The two medics reluctantly get up and make for the exit of his office, one daring to cast a dirty look at you over her shoulder for ruining her fun.

Now that you two are alone, Geshu Lin shifts in his seat, his arm resting on the back of the couch as he looks up at you. The vulnerability fades from him and his cocky attitude returns, “What do you want, doll? You came all the way here to make sure I was okay. How sweet of you. And here I was, thinking you couldn't care less about me. Clearly, I was wrong”

His voice is laced with cynicism, but with a hint of genuine curiosity. Geshu Lin wanted to know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours. Were you genuinely here because you were concerned and wanted him home or were you looking for another fight, either way was thrilling to him.

Even with his words and his tone of voice, you feel yourself falter. There was nothing new about this. Geshu Lin would always be the same and you would always crawl back into his arms. You move forward, straddling his lap and settling against him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the crook of his neck, “Shut up.”

Geshu Lin’s eyes widen as you settle into him. He didn’t know quite how to react, but he feels himself growing hard at the feel of your body on his. It was a visceral reaction, one that he couldn't control. His arms instinctively drape over your waist, squeezing you tight as if he’d been dying to hold onto you.

He inhaled roughly as you bury your face into his neck, the scent of your hair mingling with the faint stench of alcohol in the room. "Fuck, baby," he mutters, his voice a strained whisper. He didn't know how to respond to the vulnerability he was seeing in you.

Geshu Lin wanted to kiss the top of your head, to reassure you that everything would be okay, but he didn't. Instead, he just holds you close, his heart pounding in his chest. The tension between you was palpable, a mixture of anger, lust, and love.

You press your lips to his neck, making Geshu Lin’s breath hitch and his body tense up as shivers run down his spine. As your lips pepper soft kisses up to his jawline, a low groan escapes him, his eyes fluttering shut. “Why did you do this… Why even get with those girls when you have me…?”, your voice is quiet and soft, but still laced with pain as you continue to press kisses to his skin.

"Because... because I'm an idiot, I guess. Because I'm the general and it’s something I can do. Because I'm drunk and I can, and because I want to feel alive." Geshu Lin’s voice is thick with regret. "But you know what the worst part is, doll? I don't even like them. I just...fuck, I don't know..."

He opened his eyes, staring into yours, his expression raw with emotions. "I like it when you're mad at me, though. I like the way you look when you're pissed off at me. That also makes me feel...alive. It makes me feel like I'm important to you or something."

Geshu Lin’s hands tighten on your waist, an almost desperate need to hold onto them, “But really, I'm sorry, babe. I swear, next time, I'll come home to you. I'll stay away from those stupid medics. I promise." He knows his promise to you is empty, it was one he’d told you over and over and yet here you were…all over again.

He leans in, pressing his lips against yours, the kiss intense, almost as if to make amends for the night's events. It was sloppy, rough, and filled with a hunger that Geshu Lin couldn't control, his tongue seeking out yours and demanding entry.

You part your lips, letting your tongue move against his. The kiss is full of hurt, rage, and desperation as your lips press with his. This was a routine that would continue again and again, both unable to break out of it.

Geshu Lin’s body responds to your passion, his hands roaming up and down your back, gripping your ass before he squeezes it, pulling you closer. The kiss intensifies, becoming a battle of dominance, each trying to take control, your tongues tangling and dueling in a primal dance.

He could practically taste the hurt and rage in your kiss, and it only fueled the fire within him. He was addicted to this rollercoaster of emotions, the highs and lows pulling you closer and pushing you further apart.

As the kiss broke, Geshu Lin’s breaths are ragged, his eyes dark with desire. "Let's get out of here, babe," he whispered, his voice husky with lust. "We'll go home and I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll make love to you, treat you like the angel you are."

His hands begin to roam again, his fingers slowly making their way under your tank top and sliding up your spine, tracing the curves of your back. He was making promises that he'd break again in the future, but in this moment, he wanted to make it right. It was a temporary fix, a Band-Aid over a gaping wound, but it was the only way he knew how to keep you close.

Your lips graze his as you speak, “Then take me home…” Your words are hushed against his lips, still lingering with traces of hurt and a need to reign him back in, to have him love you like you needed him to. Geshu Lin’s eyes gleam with excitement, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he nods, "Okay, doll, lead the way." He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as he stands up.

He was feeling cocky, the booze and adrenaline coursing through his veins. He can’t help but smirk, his grip on you tightening as he leads you out of his office and off the base. Geshu Lin leans a little, speaking so that you’re the only one who hears him, “I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget all about this. I’ll make sure of it.” He knew that the night was far from over. He was eager to make amends and to bring you back into his world, even if it was just for one more time.

၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.

Once you both enter your shared home, you immediately strip off your clothes, standing naked before him. Geshu Lin’s golden eyes widen, his lust growing at the sight of your bare form. But the piercing look in your eyes sends a shiver down his spine.

“Come on, make me forget. Show me that you love me”, your voice is thick with tension and hint of desperation for him to make all this go away, to just love you. Without hesitation, Geshu Lin mirrors you, quickly stripping off his clothes and revealing his toned, muscular body, his cock throbbing and leaking with anticipation. His eyes never leave yours, drinking in the sight of you, his own desire burning brightly.

He takes a step towards you, his hands caressing your body, lingering on your breasts, your back, your hips, then moving down to your ass, gripping it hard and pulling you close. "I'll show you love, babe," he whispers, his voice thick with desire as he begins to kiss a trail down your neck, and to your breasts. His tongue laving at your nipples and making them harden.

Geshu Lin pulls back only to gently push you towards the bed, to which you sit on it, legs spread and with a heated gaze. His eyes trail down to your slick pussy as he takes in the sight of your arousal, his cock hardening further at the sight.

He crouches down and leans in, blowing cool air on your wet slit, making you shudder and your hole twitch. “You're mine, and I'll show you how much you mean to me. Trust me, baby, I'll make you feel like the angel you are, and nothing else will matter," he promised, his voice low and dangerous.

Your eyes grow heavy-lidded with lust and a twinge of anger and hurt. You reach forward, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, tugging slightly. Geshu Lin’s eyes darken, the tug on his hair arousing him even more. “Then shut up and eat my pussy”, there’s a viciousness to your voice, but it also hold a deep need for him.

A wicked smile spreads across his face, and without saying a word, he begins to eat you out with a hunger that’s intoxicating. Diving in, his tongue explores every inch of your pussy, lapping at it, nipping at the sensitive skin, and flicking his tongue against your clit, causing shivers of pleasure to run through your body.

Geshu Lin kept up the rhythm, teasing and pleasuring, his hands gripping your hips tightly. His fingers dig into the soft flesh, holding you still and allowing him full access to your body. He could taste the urgency, the anger, and the lust, and he fed off it. It fueled him, making the experience even more intense.

A low growl left his throat as he continued to feast on your wet cunt, making you moan and writhe on the sheets beneath you. His tongue never stops, never giving you the chance to catch your breath, to think, only just to feel. Every now and then, he'd look up, his eyes filled with lust and devotion, pleasing you as if his life depended on it.

He can see the waves of pleasure crashing over your body, the knuckles of your fingers gripping his hair even tighter, desperate, needy, and raw. The room was filled with the sound of their moans and the slurping noises from Geshu Lin’s mouth, the scent of arousal in the air.

Your back arches off the bed as your eyes roll back, moaning so prettily for him. Your grip tightens on his hair even more, giving him a stinging sensation that went straight to his cock. Your hips roll, pushing your pussy further against his mouth and tongue, desperate to regain control the relationship.

Your moans are music to his ears. He feels a surge of triumph, a mixture of satisfaction and vindication as his tongue brings you closer and closer to the edge. Geshu Lin keeps up the rhythm, now more determined, wanting to make up for everything.

He knew this was the key to reeling you in, punishing and pleasuring you at the same time. It was a complex dance, a fine line between pain and pleasure. Geshu Lin wanted to see the full force of your orgasm, to make you lose control, to make you forget everything but the pleasure he was giving you. But he didn't want you to forget this night, this moment, and the way his mouth made you scream his name.

He would make you his again, if only for a moment, in the most primal, obsessive way. His mouth relentless, his tongue merciless, his grip unforgiving, and his drive insatiable.

It’s not long before you cum hard all over his tongue, legs shaking and chest heaving. Geshu Lin lets out a satisfied growl as your juices coat his tongue, the taste and sensation of it only fueling his hunger for you.

You tug his hair once more, pulling him away from your soaked cunt. “Come here and fuck me”, the viciousness in your voice is all the same as before carrying along something primal within it and you finally release your grip.

There’s a wicked gleam in his golden eyes as you command him. Geshu Lin crawls up onto the bed, his eyes filled with lust as he positions himself between your legs. His hard cock throbs, standing proudly as pre-cum leaks from the tip. "As you wish, doll", he whispers, his voice thick and husky as he lines his cock up with your entrance.

Geshu Lin gazes into your eyes, staring for a moment before slamming into you, drawing a loud meek from your lips. His cock fills your tight cunt, stretching it to fit his girth. He leans in, nibbling on your neck, breathing heavily, "You belong to me, you know that, right? And I’m all yours", he growls, the words dripping with dominance and obsession.

Geshu Lin begins to move, his hips thrusting forward slowly at first, savoring your body, then picking up the pace, his eyes never leaving yours. He was marking his territory, filling you up completely.

He’s rough, intense, and possessive, his tongue snaking out to lick the bead of sweat on your neck. "I love you like no one else could ever love you, and I'll never let you go, babe," he said between panting breaths, his voice filled with desire, greed, and need.

You dig your nails into his back, not caring if it hurt. It was only fair your boyfriend felt a bit of pain. The sensation makes Geshu Lin hiss but his thrusts never cease. “Just shut the fuck up and fuck me harder”, you command. Your voice is rough, angry, hurting, and desperate.

Geshu Lin can feel your need, your anger, your pain and desperation, and it only fuels his own lust. He drives into them harder, a nearly violent force, the sound of skin slapping and wet squelching fills the room.

He leans down, nipping at your ear, "I'm sorry. I'll never do it again." Geshu Lin’s words came out between thrusts, his body relentless, his cock filling you with every drive. "You're the only one for me, babe. I swear it."

He continues to pound into you, his grip on you tightening and his eyes fixed on yours, never faltering, never breaking the connection. He was showing you through his actions, his intensity, that you were his priority, his everything, that he was yours.

Geshu Lin wanted you to forget the past, to feel loved, desired, cherished, and to hate and love him all at the same time. His breathing becomes ragged, his thrusts more powerful, each one sending pleasurable pain coursing through both of you. It’s a battle of dominance, claiming each other, lost in the chaos of desire and need.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Nails digging into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Your eyes stay on his, your gaze piercing yet heavy-lidded. “Then quit doing that shit- NGH!”, your harsh words are cut off by the orgasm that washes over you. Your pussy clenching hard around his thick cock.

Geshu Lin’s eyes roll back when he feels you cum on his cock. As he refocuses, he stares into your eyes, a primal lust consuming him, his thrusts becoming more aggressive, as if trying to leave an internal mark on you, to be forever remembered. He was a hurricane of emotions, a mixture of lust and apology all wrapped into one.

He couldn't help but smirk, "I'll never do it again," he pants. It was a lie of course, his body tensing, his balls tightening as he felt his own climax approaching. "I'm yours, babe," he says, the words a plea, a promise, an apology, echoing through the room, his voice thick and hoarse, as he pumps into you, chasing his high.

Geshu Lin lets out a deep, guttural moan, the sound echoing in the room as ropes of hot, sticky cum flood your cunt. He collapses onto you, his body trembling and heart racing, sweat dripping from him. His breaths are heavy and his forehead presses against yours as he looks into your eyes. His cock is still inside you, softening, but he doesn’t move to pull out.

Your breasts move with every panting breath you take. The tension slipping away but always lingering. You knew his promises were empty, every word a lie. But for now, he was yours and you were his. Your features soften slightly but hold a hint of conflicting emotions hidden underneath.

Geshu Lin leans down, pressing a kiss to your neck, his hand moving to cup your breast, squeezing gently as he waited for you to speak, to break the silence, to forgive him or to not. He had laid himself bare, baring his soul in the most primal and raw way. The energy between you is charged, the emotions a tangled mess, but for now, it was a moment of peace before the next storm.

You look into his eyes with a mix of hurt and love, a small frown on your lips. Reaching up, you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair and then caress his cheek- a sharp contrast to how aggressive you were earlier. “Tell me you love me…”, your voice comes out soft, almost pleading.

Geshu Lin swallows hard, a wave of vulnerability washing over him as he looked into those deep, intense eyes. He knew the question was a test, an ultimatum, but he didn't flinch.

“I love you, more than I hate myself," he whispers, his voice shaky, honest, and real. "I'm sorry for everything, everything I've done, everything I'll do. But you're mine, and I'll love you until you can't stand it anymore."

Geshu Lin’s words were raw and heavy, a confession, a promise, a plea, a declaration of his love, a self-loathing confession, and an acknowledgment of his flaws. He holds onto your gaze, not breaking the connection, his cock still inside you and neither of you pulling away.

You let his words linger, your heart twisting in your chest. The room is heavy with the weight of your emotions, your history, your love, and the toxicity. Time seems to stand still, waiting to see if you would accept it, forgive him, or reject it.

You gently pull Geshu Lin’s head towards you, pressing your lips to his. It’s gentle and soft, full of pain and love. His heart races in his chest when your lips meet his. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, his hand gripping your hip, tugging you closer. His tongue teases yours, exploring your mouth with a need to reaffirm your connection with a blend of emotions- hope and fear, love and turmoil.

He loved you fiercely and he hated himself just as much. The kiss was a silent plea, an apology, and an admission. His body trembling, as he tries to show you through the kiss that he was sorry, that he loved you, that he'd never leave you, no matter how many times you’d break up.

Geshu Lin clings to this moment, this kiss. His chest heaving, as he tries to show you with every inch of his being that he meant every word he said, that he'd change, that he'd never hurt you again, that he'd make things right. Maybe it was a lie, but maybe he wanted to change.

The kiss was it’s own secret language, a silent agreement, an implicit understanding that you’d both try to make it work, at least for tonight. Geshu Lin continues to kiss you, his lips soft against yours and unwilling to break the connection, unwilling to let you go, unwilling to let go of the hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to heal each other.

၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.

a/n: this apparently came from the depths of my soul, good god… see you all in therapy😃

[alwaysmicado]

Sink or swim

12.3k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 8

WARNINGS: 18+, no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, flashbacks (toxic relationship, bad mental health), mention of miscarriage & surgery, smut (nothing too graphic), Tommy Miller x f!reader SUMMARY: You reminisce about the late-night conversation that changed your life forever. Joel shares a secret. A/N: Guys, it’s finally here!! This part was hard for me to write, but I’m beyond happy with how it turned out. We learn so much about reader’s past and her relationship with Tommy, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to share it with you. Have fun reading (even though it’s a bit sad) and please let me know what you think! I wanna know all your thoughts!! 🤍 Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics.

series masterlist | main masterlist

The ocean stretches before you like a vast expanse of liquid silk, its rhythmic waves kissing the shore with a gentle insistence. The sun, now in its descent towards the horizon, casts a warm glow, painting the water and sand in hues of amber and gold.

You’re perched on a weathered bench, sneakers softly tapping against the sand, lost in thought as you watch the waves roll in.

Dressed in yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt, with an ice cream cone in hand and sunglasses shielding your eyes from the brilliant rays of the setting sun, you blend seamlessly into the serene scene before you.

You appear inconspicuous, just another person soaking up the sun and breathing in the fresh air. No one can see the anguish gnawing at your heart, the tumult in your head, or the pain in your hand that makes you want to scream.

No, no, you look far too calm for that, too composed, too happy.

Besides, what would someone like you possibly have to feel bad about? Seriously. You just love to wallow in your own sadness, don’t you? You haven’t changed at all. You’re still your insecure, annoying, unlovable self. God, even your inner voice is irritating. Do you hear how pathetic you sound? Of course he wouldn’t lov–

Shut up. 

You focus on the waves as they dance and sway, their melodic rhythm a soothing balm to the cruel thoughts echoing relentlessly in your mind.

The ocean’s song, a symphony of calming whispers and gentle sighs you’ve loved ever since you were a little girl, envelops you in its embrace, drawing you deeper into a state of quiet reflection. The cool breeze dancing through the air brushes against your sun-kissed skin, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean and the promise of new beginnings. 

With a gentle tilt of your head, you take another lick of the strawberry soft serve you bought at the ice cream stand near the boardwalk, feeling the familiar comfort of the cool creaminess dance across your taste buds. It’s been a few months since you last indulged in this particular treat, sharing it with Joel after a rough day at work.

As the cold sweetness melts on your tongue, bittersweet memories of that afternoon flood back with vivid clarity. You can almost hear Joel’s infectious laughter as you scarfed down the icy treat a little too eagerly, his eyes crinkling with amusement at your inevitable brain freeze. But it wasn’t just the shared laughter and playful banter that made this memory so special. 

It was Joel’s genuine interest in hearing about your day, about you, his calming presence grounding you and making you momentarily forget all your troubles. He provided you with a warmth that seeped into your bones, a connection that felt effortless yet profound. Like it could be more.

Reflecting on it now, perhaps that should have been a hint that things were more serious than you wanted to admit right from the beginning. Oh well, dwelling on it is futile now. Because you did finally admit it, didn’t you? And not only that, you basically shouted your feelings from the rooftops last night, laying your soul bare.

Fucking embarrassing.

How are you supposed to come back from that? How are you supposed to ever look into Joel’s eyes again? 

There’s a reason why you stopped psychotherapy after a few months, there’s a reason why you don’t have any close friends beside Tommy, there’s a reason why your dating life has consisted of a series of superficial hookups over the past couple of years.

“Fear of intimacy,” your therapist called it. “A response to sustained trauma.”

You walked out of that session and, fueled by defiance, decided to fuck the first guy who caught your eye, just to prove to yourself, and to your therapist, that you were very well capable of intimacy.

Lying in bed that night, lonely and empty, you couldn’t shake the truth of her words. You hated her guts for forcing you to confront your inner demons, but she did have a point in everything she said.

It’s an uncomfortable truth.

There’s nothing in the world you fear more than people knowing what’s going on inside your head, knowing what you feel, knowing your vulnerabilities and weaknesses—knowing the real you.

And last night, that fear came true.

Your innermost thoughts and feelings were on display for Joel to see, leaving you exposed and raw. The memory of your outburst, of his shocked face, weighs heavily on your mind and heart, filling you with a deep sense of shame and regret.

For a moment in that bathroom, you felt yourself transported back to all the times you’d scream at Simon for whatever he did to fuck with your feelings that day, just for him to laugh in your face or call you manipulative when you’d inevitably start crying tears of hurt and frustration. 

Does Joel see you differently now, knowing the depths of your insecurities? Will he even want to look you in the eye after witnessing what the real you is like? Have you lost your chance with him, and, did you ever even have one?

You sigh deeply and lick around the top of the ice cream cone to catch the drops threatening to run down, humming at the deliciousness.

You haven’t eaten anything else today, too nauseous from your meds and the knot in the pit of your stomach to find food appetizing. You haven’t slept for more than two consecutive hours, too agitated to find any real peace. You also couldn’t stay home this morning, as your apartment suddenly felt like a cage threatening to suffocate you.

Instead, you’ve spent your day off window shopping, aimlessly wandering from one coffee shop to another, your hands now jittery from too much caffeine on an empty stomach. You’ve ambled down the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds surrounding you, before finding yourself drawn to the familiar comfort of the ocean.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the display on your phone lighting up with Joel’s name, the device resting on the bench beside you alongside your bag.

You know you’ll have to take his calls and talk to him like an adult at some point. And you will. But this moment, this moment right here, belongs to you and your thoughts alone.

And to the hermit crab making its way through the sand just a few feet away from you. Your lips curl into a smile as you watch the determined little creature, impressed by its resilience in such an unforgiving world. Maybe you would’ve been happier if you’d been born as a hermit crab. Who knows.

As you swallow the last bit of your cone and lean back, feeling the sun’s gentle warmth on your skin, you can’t help but think of the first time you found yourself on this bench, watching the sunset. It feels like that was an entire lifetime ago, and yet, you vividly remember the overwhelming exhaustion that weighed you down, the sense of loneliness that engulfed you—how utterly lost you felt.

You allow your thoughts to drift, captivated by the soothing cadence of the waves lapping against the shore.

Three years earlier

The sun is down.

Staring into the void, you’re consumed by solitude, the cool breeze coming from the water a thin barrier against the weight pressing on your shoulders. The world seems distant, the murmur of the ocean a mere backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your troubled mind and the beat of your empty heart.

This is it. This is where you were always supposed to be.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, quietly drifting through the corners of your memory. With each passing moment, you meticulously comb through the fragments of the past few months. They offer no solace, only a stark reminder of how you reached this point.

In the stillness of the evening, you find a strange sense of calm, a numbness that dulls the edges of your emotions. Tears refuse to come, leaving only the echo of relief at the resolution of it all.

You open your eyes again, fixating on the endless mirror of the sky before you. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart. The salty tang in the air, the rhythmic melody of the waves, the laughter of birds mingling with the gentle lull of the breeze—everything.

You dig your naked toes into the sand, relishing the connection to the earth beneath you. The sensation is grounding, peaceful, almost–

“Hey there, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

A man’s voice, rugged yet gentle, breaks through the silence, interrupting your thoughts. His words dance in the air, pulling you reluctantly back to the present.

Are you kidding me?

With a slow and deliberate movement, you lift your gaze from the horizon, meeting the eyes of the stranger who has disrupted the sanctuary of your thoughts. You rest your elbows on your knees and sigh deeply.

“Oh my fucking god,” you murmur, rubbing your temples in annoyance and disbelief. “The sun’s been down for two minutes, and the first creep’s already here.”

“Wha–” 

You look up at him. “Do you have like a radar or something where you get a notification every time a woman sits alone on a bench somewhere?”

The dark-haired man blinks in surprise, his expression caught between confusion and amusement. His brow furrows, his mouth slightly agape as he processes your words. After a moment of absorbing your outlandish accusation, his lips curve into a wry smile.

“Darlin’, I’m just–”

“Look, dude. If you’re here to murder me, could you at least spare me the whole blah blah you’ve got planned and just do it? Thank you.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s not entirely sure if you’re joking, but your sarcastic tone tells him you’re at least not scared of him.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I assure you I got no such plans. Just thought I’d check in on a fellow soul contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his attempt at humor. “Yeah, well, I prefer to contemplate in peace.”

When he doesn’t budge and just…stares at you with those big, dark eyes of his, you take a moment to size him up. 

Your gaze drifts down from his eyes, tracing the contours of his muscular chest visible beneath a fitted white t-shirt. It lingers briefly on the obnoxiously large belt buckle adorning his waist, then travels down the length of his denim-clad legs to his cowboy boots. Despite the surreal encounter, you can’t help but notice how incredibly attractive he is. 

God, what’s wrong with you?

“Look, sweetheart,” he says calmly, his voice a blend of warmth and reassurance. “I’m not trying to get into your business or anything, but it’s gonna get pretty chilly out here soon.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks. “We could go grab a bite to eat if you want, and my place is right arou–”

“How subtle,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’m not going home with you, dude.”

“Fair enough, but at least let me call you a cab and wait with you until it arrives, hm?”

His soft voice and patronizing tone are starting to grate on your already frayed nerves. You’ve been sitting here, not taking up any space, minding your own fucking business, and even that wasn’t good enough, apparently.

Okay, world. Hint taken. 

“What the hell is your problem?” you blurt out. 

“What do you mean? I’m just–I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” The question bursts from your lips like a dam breaking under pressure, laced with frustration. “Do you see me holding up a sign where I’m asking for your help? Huh? Or is this more about you and some, I dunno, bullshit white knight fantasy you’re acting out?” 

Your eyes narrow, fixing on him with a challenging glare, daring him to justify his intrusion into your solitude.

“No,” he responds calmly, his furrowed brow adding gravity to his words. “It’s because I’ve seen enough shit in my life to recognize when someone’s in need.”

The sincerity in his gaze catches you off guard, rendering you momentarily speechless. It’s as if this…stranger is peering into the depths of your soul, seeing past the walls you’ve erected to protect yourself. 

His face softens, the lines around his eyes relaxing as he meets yours. “Mind if I take a seat?”

You shrug indifferently, though a flicker of curiosity dances behind your eyes. “Suit yourself.”

He smiles warmly as he settles beside you. “I’m Tommy, by the way,” he offers, extending a hand. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually, you decide to reciprocate by telling him your name and shaking his hand with a soft sigh.

As his hand envelops yours, there’s a brief surge of something unspoken deep inside you, a connection allowing two disparate souls to briefly intertwine before returning to their separate paths again as soon as he lets go.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, darlin’,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, his mustache curling slightly as he smiles at you.

The faint scent of his cologne drifts towards you, mixing with the salty aroma of the sea air. As you gaze at him, your eyes trace the lines etched around his eyes and mouth, evidence of a life fully lived. Strangely, there’s something comforting about his presence, something that makes you feel a little less alone. 

You give him a subtle smile before turning your head back towards the ocean, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy watches you silently, noticing the vacant look in your eyes and the way your gaze seems to be fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. He furrows his brow slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he contemplates how lost you appear in that moment.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?” Tommy’s voice breaks the silence, his tone casual yet curious, as if striking up conversations with strange women on the beach is a regular occurrence for him.

Well, it probably is, you think to yourself.

“I, uh, wanted to watch the sunset,” you answer softly.

“Hm. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Should’ve been here and seen it too instead of wasting my time at that damn bar.”

“Oh? How did you waste your time? Can’t have been that bad, judging by the lipstick stains on your face,” you murmur.

“What? Where?” Tommy blurts out, his eyes widening in surprise as he hastily rubs at his lips and cheeks, searching for any traces of lipstick on his fingers.

You stifle a laugh. “I’m just fucking with you,” you deadpan, shooting him a quick glance. 

He stares at you in mock offense for a moment before his lips curl into a wide grin. “Touché,” he says, thoroughly entertained by your dry humor. “But yeah, things didn’t go the way I would’ve liked them to.” 

“What, she didn’t wanna go home with you either?”

“Very funny. But no, things were going well.” He sighs dramatically and rubs his forehead. “But then her husband showed up and kinda threw a giant monkey wrench into our plans.” 

“Wow, tough break,” you scoff, shaking your head in mock sympathy, “not getting to fuck a married woman. I hate it when that happens.”

Tommy chuckles. “Alright, alright, I didn’t know she was married, for the record. She wasn’t wearing a ring or anything.”

“Sure,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you cast a skeptical glance in his direction.

“What are you up to, then, darlin’? Hm?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Besides not making out with married women?” You hear Tommy’s laugh beside you and wiggle your toes in the sand. ��Just enjoying the ocean, I guess. I’ve missed it.” 

“You’re not from here?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Hm. You’re gonna love it. There’s lots of cool things to see and do, especially for young people like you.”

You furrow your brow. “Why are you talking like you’re ninety years old and I’m your estranged grandkid?”

“I dunno,” he sighs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess…turning forty did something to me.”

“Married women apparently still throw themselves at you. You’re gonna be fine.”

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that seems to echo across the beach. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, punctuated by the gentle sound of the ocean and the occasional cry of seagulls wheeling overhead. 

“What brings you here, then?” Tommy asks, observing your profile. You look tired.

“I told you, watching the sunset.” 

“No, I mean what brings you into town? Vacation or family or something?”

You turn to look at him, tilting your head slightly as you study his expression. “Why do you care?”

“Just making conversation,” he says with a smile, a glint of genuine curiosity shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me. We can talk about something else if you want.”

“Like what?”

“Like did you know it’s illegal to own just one guinea pig in Switzerland?”

Your bewildered look amuses him. 

“It’s true. You’re required, by law, to get your guinea pig a little guinea pig friend. They won’t sell you just one. Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. “What kind of women do you pull if this is how you flirt?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Who says I’m flirting?”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a smirk, then turn your head back towards the water. “But what if they want to be alone?”

“Hm?”

“What if you get a guinea pig in Switzerland and you have to buy a second one to keep it company but the first guinea pig actually just wants to be alone on a bench and then some other guinea pig with a mustache shows up and asks weird questions? What then?”

“Well,” Tommy starts, happy that you’re seemingly warming up a bit. “I think the first guinea pig would quickly realize that the other, dashingly handsome guinea pig isn’t that bad and just wants to be friends. And then they’d be friends and run around together and eat hay or whatever.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and you know, I think us humans aren’t that different from them. I don’t think we’re meant to be alone either.”

You look at him. “Is that why you came to talk to me? Because you don’t want me to be alone?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I guess not,” you murmur softly, your gaze drifting to the patch of dry skin on the back of your right hand. “And I’m, uh, not here for any special reason. I just…needed a break from home, I suppose.”

“And you have a place to stay, darlin’?” Tommy’s voice carries a gentle concern as he leans slightly closer, trying to see your eyes. 

“Yeah, I booked a hotel room a few minutes from here,” you lie smoothly. “With sea-view and everything. Just haven’t checked in yet.”

“Where did you put all your stuff?” 

“My stuff?”

“Yeah, your clothes and teddy bears and whatnot.” 

You nudge the backpack sitting on the ground next to you with your naked foot. “This is my stuff.”

“Oh.” You must have really wanted to get away if you traveled this lightly, Tommy contemplates silently.

He used to do the same, packing a bag and escaping, seeking solace in the open road. But he learned the hard way that you can’t outrun your problems. They always find a way to catch up with you, no matter how far you go.

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Have you had dinner already?”

“I had a bagel at the airport this morning,” you say nonchalantly.

Tommy’s brows furrow slightly, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” If you had even the slightest bit of energy left inside of you, you’d find his shocked face amusing.

“Okay, that’s just unacceptable. Wait.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens a food delivery app. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want pi–”

“Yes, you do. I’m not gonna have you starving on my watch.”

You raise an eyebrow. “On your watch?” 

“Yeah, on my watch. Now, what kind of topping–”

“Pineapple.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pine. Apple.”

“Oh, but I’m the weirdo,” he mutters, shaking his head and giving you the side-eye as he reluctantly adds pineapple as a topping to your pizza. “Anything else? Anchovies? Corn? My tears?”

“Jesus, don’t have a heart attack. Are you Italian or something?”

“No, just not a complete monster.”

You can’t help but chuckle, your smile lighting up your face for the first time in what feels like ages. Tommy’s eyes linger on you a moment too long, captivated by your sudden radiance, before he tears his gaze away as your smile fades once more.

Clearing his throat, he shifts his attention back to his task, fingers tapping away as he types the description of your location for the delivery.

“Should arrive in twenty minutes, the app says.” 

You nod and lean back, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you watch the waves again. 

“When did you decide to fly out here?”

“Last night.” 

“How? Why?”

“Simple. I took out a map, closed my eyes, and this is where my finger landed. And as for the why…well, home just didn’t feel like home anymore, you know?”

“Hm. I know that feeling.”

You turn your head and look into his warm eyes. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. It took me almost a decade after retiring from active duty to feel home again, or like I was safe, or like I belonged. It’s, uh, not easy to get that feeling back once you’ve lost it. I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Tommy says with a somber tone. He really is sorry. 

You look at him for a moment and give him a tired smile. “It’s okay,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “It wasn’t home to begin with. Not really.”

“Whatever your reasons are, you’re brave for leaving.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure, I’m brave for running away.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Look, it’s okay. You don’t need to try and make me feel better ‘cause I’m not sad. But I’m also not gonna act like I’m not a coward who accepted far too much shit for far too long ‘cause I’m very much not brave.”

You sigh deeply. “I should’ve gotten the fuck out of that miserable town and relationship years ago. But now it’s too late.” 

Tommy furrows his brow and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“Are you married?”

“No, darlin’, I’m not married.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“So there’s no one special in your life right now?”

“Nothing serious, no. No attachments for me.”

“Hm. No attachments,” you murmur. “That sounds nice.” 

Tommy nods. “It is, most of the time at least. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss being in love.” 

“You’ve been in love before?” You tilt your head and look at him with genuine curiosity. 

“A few times, yeah.”

“And the women you were with…they loved you?”

“Yeah, they did.” The soft smile lighting up his face tells you he has pleasant memories of his former partners. How nice that must be. 

“Do you ever wonder why it didn’t work out?”

Tommy’s expression turns introspective, his gaze drifting towards the horizon as if searching for answers in the distant waves.

“I have,” he admits after a pause, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. “But I guess that’s just how life goes sometimes. People drift apart, circumstances change, life changes...”

“Do you think it’s possible to hate someone you love?”

Your question catches him off guard, and the look in your eyes concerns him. “Well,” he says calmly, carefully choosing his words, “I can’t say I’ve ever had that experience, but I could imagine that’s how my brother felt about me back when I was spiraling and he had to watch me make bad decision after bad decision. He loved me, I know he always has, but he also hated me for what I was doing.” 

“Sounds like a good brother,” you say, mustering a smile. 

“He really is. Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, but I don’t talk to them,” you say, your tone betraying a hint of sadness before you quickly mask it with indifference. “My, uh…best friend was like my sister though.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, you know,” you murmur, the smile on your lips not matching the bitterness in your tone, “that friendship kinda ended after I saw her sitting on my boyfriend’s lap, shoving her tongue down his throat.”

“What the hell? When was that?” 

“Hmm, about a month ago. And you wanna know the real kicker? They’ve been fucking for like half a year. My best friend and my boyfriend. Laughing their asses off behind my back. Hilarious, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’. They’re shitty people for doing that to you. You didn’t deserve any–”

“How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“How do you know that I didn’t deserve it? You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I may not know you,” Tommy says gently, “but I know that no one deserves to be treated like that, especially by the people they trust. It’s hard sometimes to see things objectively because we’re our own worst enemies, but I’m telling you, you didn’t deserve that.” 

“I’m not sure that’s true.” 

“What makes you say that?”

You look into his eyes, and the pain he can see in yours breaks his heart.

“Because, I fucking loved it. Everything he did to me, all these years. I loved it. I could’ve left him after he cheated on me for the first time, the second time, the hundredth time, but no. I loved how he came crawling back to me time and time again, promising me the world, telling me he only loved me.”

You pull away, hands resting on his chest as you try to find your words. Simon’s intense gaze has your mind swirling with conflicting emotions, and your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your body trembling as he presses you against the wall with his body. “You–you say you’ll change, you say you’ll never do it again, you say you regret hurting me. And I forgive you. Every time. But nothing ever changes. You do it again and again, not caring how much you hurt me.” He places a hand on the wall next to your head, pushing your shirt up around your waist with the other, his touch on your naked skin sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down at you with a hint of amusement, a devious smirk appearing on his face as he searches your pleading eyes. “I’m serious, Simon,” you insist, unsuccessfully trying to convince yourself of what you’re saying. “I’m done.” Leaning in, he traces your neck with his nose, your heavy breathing and the way your tits press against his chest making his cock twitch in his jeans. “Is that so?” he murmurs against your skin before softly sucking and kissing on your flesh. “Why are you doing this?” you breathe, instinctively wrapping your arms around him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you draw him closer. His leg between yours presses against your core, and you can’t help but whimper desperately at the feeling. “I love you,” he whispers, his warm breath gently caressing the curve of your ear, his words piercing your heart like a poisonous dart. “No, you don’t,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sadness, your eyes betraying the turmoil raging within you. Despite the ache in your heart, a part of you still yearns for the comfort of his touch, the familiarity of his presence, the illusion of affection he gives you. You need him, need to feel him, need him to love you—even if it kills you. In this moment of vulnerability, you surrender to the torrent of emotions flooding your senses, pressing your lips against his in a desperate attempt to drown out the pain, to silence the screams that plague your mind—eagerly drinking his poison straight from the source. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer, offering yourself up to him with each rough tug, fervent kiss, and harsh bite to his lips. He matches your energy, gripping the back of your neck with a bruising hold as he hastily opens his jeans to free his cock. “I hate you,” you choke out, the words laced with bitterness and the raw intensity of your need for him as your heart races and your vision blurs. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, baby,” Simon murmurs with a smirk, his words a cruel reminder of the tangled web of emotions that binds you to him, even as you struggle to break free. With a deft movement, he pulls aside your panties, sliding his hard cock through your wet folds as he holds your leg up around his waist. “Oh fuck,” you moan as he pushes inside you in one harsh thrust, your fingernails reflexively digging into his scalp. Overwhelming pleasure mingles with the anguish of your body betraying you, even as your mind screams in protest. Your walls clench around Simon with fierce intensity, his repeated thrusts against your G-spot having you close to orgasm within a minute. “Tell me, baby,” he pants, his eyes gleaming with triumph and satisfaction as he watches in real time how his poison travels through your entire body, your mind, intoxicating your very being with his essence. “Tell me how much you hate me while you come on my cock.”

You tilt your head and give Tommy a tired smile. “Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?” 

“No, sweetheart, you’re not pathetic for wanting to be loved. You’re human and our feelings can be…complicated, irrational, dangerous. But you got yourself away from a toxic situation despite your feelings and that takes a lot of strength.”

“Hm.” You draw shapes into the sand with your toes, your heart heavy in your chest.

“Is he…why you left? You had to get away from him?”

“Surprisingly, no,” you say pensively, lost in thought as you fold one leg beneath you on the bench. “Things weren’t that bad after I decided not to care anymore. You know you can just wake up one day and realize it hurts a lot less to just not care about anything? Amazing. So yeah, that’s what I did.” You shrug and rub your left thumb with your right one.

“Of course, he didn’t like that at all, not being able to emotionally drain me anymore. He even told me I was depressed or some shit, acting like he cared, when all he actually missed was me giving him the reactions he wanted,” you scoff, bitterness dripping from your lips. “Coincidentally, that’s when he and my best friend started fucking.”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, that’s beyond fucked up. Do you, uh, have someone to talk to about all this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean apart from handsome cowboys in too-tight jeans late at night?”

“Did you just call me handsome?”

“Don’t think so,” you give him a playful smile, then turn your head to watch the waves doing their mesmerizing dance. Despite the light-hearted banter, a hint of sadness flickers across your face. “But no, I don’t have anyone left.”

Tommy’s expression softens, his eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and concern as he listens to your words. He reaches out, but catches himself before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Why did you leave?” he asks gently.

“I saw her.”

“Who?”

“Laura. My best friend,” you say, shuddering at her name. “I came out of the hospital yesterday, stood at a red light, and then I saw her. Looking right at me from the other side of the street. We hadn’t talked since before I almost died a month ago, ‘cause she never bothered to answer any of my calls or texts…and there she was. Daring to look at me with those fake-ass tears in her eyes like she isn’t a fucking sociopath.”

“What did you do?”

“I just…looked at her, knowing I could never see her again. I walked away, went to mine and Simon’s apartment, grabbed a few things, and went to the airport.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here.”

The weight of your experience hangs heavy in the air, casting a somber shadow over the conversation. Tommy nods thoughtfully as he absorbs your words, until he suddenly shakes his head, chastising himself for his own stupidity.

“Okay wait, I’m sorry, but did you just say you almost died? What the hell happened?”

“Oh,” you scoff, a wide smile spreading across your face, its brightness contrasting sharply with the dullness in your eyes, “it’s nothing. One of my fallopian tubes burst ‘cause my dumbass gynecologist failed to diagnose an ectopic pregnancy, so I was hemorrhaging and had to have emergency surgery to get it removed.”

Tommy’s reaction is visceral: his eyes widen in shock, and his mouth falls open slightly, a silent gasp escaping him as the gravity of your words, spoken with horrifying casualness, hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’...”

“But hey, the doctor said I’m completely fine at the check-up yesterday, so I guess that’s what I am.” You shrug and smile at him, but your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat.

“Darlin’, I’m so sor–”

“Don’t, please. It’s okay,” you interrupt softly, shaking your head. “My ex told me to have an abortion when I told him I was pregnant, and I wouldn’t have been a good mom anyway, so it’s best for the baby that it wasn’t born into the shitshow that is my life.”

“Dar–”

“I swear to God, Tommy, if you say ‘darlin’’ in that stupid, sexy accent of yours one more time,” you cut him off with a playful glare. 

He smiles at you, though worry lingers in his eyes and tugs at his heart.

“I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean,” you muse, welcoming the breeze cooling your hot face down. “It’s kind of poetic that my journey ends here.”

“It really is beautiful here, I’m sure you’d love livi–” Tommy starts, but you’re not hearing him.

“You know, I have this recurring dream where I drown, but instead of feeling panicked or scared I just feel peaceful, light. Like the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders. I don’t thrash or struggle, I just…let the water take me under and I can finally breathe.”

Concern flashes in Tommy’s eyes, but he quickly masks it with a calm expression, not wanting to alarm you.

“That sounds intense,” he responds gently, choosing his words carefully. “Dreams can be strange sometimes, but that one sounds like it’s trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s your mind’s way of processing all the heavy things that’ve been weighing on you."

He shifts slightly closer to you, his tone soft and reassuring. “But you know, maybe it’s worth exploring with a therapist or someone who can help you unpack it. Sometimes talking about these things can bring some clarity and relief.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say absentmindedly. 

“Darlin’, please look at me,” Tommy’s voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, his gaze penetrating through the fog of your mind. If you had any tears left to cry, the sincerity in his eyes would surely coax them out right about now. 

“About what you said earlier…you–you don’t deserve people treating you badly, or any of the bad things that happen to you. You never did, you hear me? You were supposed to be loved, protected and cared for, but you weren’t, and that’s not fair, and most certainly not your fault.”

You tilt your head, studying his face intently. Why does he care? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? But hey, he’s trying to be nice, and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again. So, you’re trying to be nice back. 

“Thanks,” you say softly, mustering a smile. “But enough about me and my dumpster fire of a life.” You shift in your seat, untucking your leg and stretching it out in front of you. 

“I’d rather hear about you and how you get your hair to be this healthy. I can never get mine to look that good. Do you think it’s because I just eat garbage, don’t drink enough water and don’t get enough sunlight?”

Tommy chuckles and nods understandingly, recognizing your attempt to shift gears, and decides to play along until you both hear the pizza guy calling for you.

Your insistence to pay for your own pizza and drink falls on deaf ears, so you begrudgingly accept Tommy’s invitation and thank him for ordering food. Surprisingly, you find yourself ravenously hungry after taking the first few bites of your pineapple pizza—that you originally only wanted to mess with Tommy. But even he has to admit it isn’t half bad after you make him eat a slice.

As you’re eating together and the night deepens around you, the street lamps along the boardwalk spending enough light, you ask Tommy about his life. 

He shares his journey of enlisting in the army as a teenager, grappling with PTSD upon his return, and navigating through troubled times. He tells you about the unwavering support of his brother and how therapy helped him cope with his demons. You delve deeper, asking him about his wishes for the future, about his hopes and dreams.

You enjoy hearing about his life, about his experiences that are so different from yours. It’s comforting to get lost in someone else’s story for a bit. It’s a refuge, a welcome escape from your own tiring existence. 

Pizzas devoured, you sit side by side, enveloped in the soothing melody of the ocean’s whispers. Time seems to lose its grip as you share both laughter and quiet, the minutes and hours slipping away unnoticed like grains of sand carried by the tide.

As tranquility settles between you, the world around you seemingly forgotten, a question gnaws at your insides, its weight palpable in the silence. It’s a question you’re reluctant to voice aloud, knowing it will rupture the delicate bubble you and Tommy have found yourselves in. Yet, it persists, demanding acknowledgment, refusing to be ignored.

You take a deep breath.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He gives you a reassuring smile. “Of course, darlin’.”

“Why won’t you go home?”

Oh. Tommy looks deeply into your eyes, his own filled with turmoil, and finds that he can’t lie to you. 

“I can’t,” he admits softly, turning his gaze towards the distant horizon.

You nod slowly, turning your head towards the water as well. “You know why I’m here.”

“Yes,” he says simply, his acknowledgment laden with a quiet understanding.

You steal a glance at him, your eyes searching for comfort in the weary lines on his face. With a tentative gesture, you place your hand on the bench between you, a subtle invitation for connection.

Tommy, sensing your unspoken plea, catches the movement from the corner of his eye. His gaze meets yours as you turn your head, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, he understands. Without a word, he responds, reaching out to cover your hand with his own. 

His touch is protective, a silent promise that you’re not alone. 

“Do you…do you think that makes me a bad person?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you lay bare the depths of your fears.

“No,” he responds softly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “You’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

For the first time since your miscarriage, tears glisten in your eyes, shimmering like fragments of shattered dreams under the moonlight. Tommy’s words offer a glimmer of solace, touching your broken heart. 

Silence settles between you two, heavy with shared pain. You sit like that for a while, two strangers finding kinship in the gentle embrace of this summer night.

Gently squeezing your hand, Tommy turns to look at you after a few minutes. “I need you to do something for me,” he says, his voice tinged with urgency. You look into his eyes, finding comfort in the warmth of his presence.

“Please stay with me tonight,” he pleads, his fingers tightening around yours, anchoring you to the present moment as if afraid you might slip away into the night. 

“We can stay here, we can go for drinks, we can go dancing, we can break into the zoo—whatever you want, sweetheart. We don’t have to talk about anything, and I promise I won’t bother you anymore if tomorrow you decide that’s what you want, but please give me a chance to show you that I ca–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Okay.”

As the gentle breeze around you whispers secrets of hope and renewal, you find yourself nodding in agreement, a silent promise to give him the chance he so earnestly seeks—to let him show you the light that flickers within the darkness. 

Tommy is momentarily stunned as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation. But there’s none to be found—only a quiet resolve that speaks volumes. A wave of relief washes over him, and he can’t hold back the wide grin spreading across his face.

“So, there’s a place a few minutes from here where we could dance, or there’s the bar I went to earlier, or we could–”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I’m tired. Could we maybe…could we go home?”

Tommy’s face lights up even more. “Yes, yes, of course, darlin’. My place is right around the corner.”

“Great,” you say with a small smile. 

You put your socks and sneakers back on, your movements slow and unsteady after hours of sitting. As you stand up for the first time, your legs wobble beneath you, but Tommy is quick to react, reaching out to steady you with his hands on your waist.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you realize your hands are gripping his shoulders for support.

“That’s alright, darlin’. I got you.”

“You’re so cheesy, you know that?” you say with a playful roll of your eyes before removing your hands and taking a step back. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not working,” he teases back with a smirk.

“Whatever. Can we go?” You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“After you, my lady,” Tommy says with a gallant flourish, gesturing for you to go first. You shake your head with a theatrical sigh, but play along and start walking.

He falls into step beside you, eager to lift your spirits with an array of random animal facts he’s accumulated over the years, and, much to your amusement, with some particularly funny stories about failed hookups, like the one from tonight.

As you draw closer to his apartment, he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and comes to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask if you need anything.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, tampons, make-up wipes, solution for your contacts, hair conditioner, lotion—I don’t think I have any of that at home, but there’s a convenience sto–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, touched by his consideration. “I got all my essentials in my backpack and really don’t need anything fancy. Thank you, though.”

“Are you–”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you interrupt softly. “Thank you.”

Arriving at Tommy’s apartment, you’re struck by its elegant yet welcoming nature. It’s spacious and tastefully furnished, with a modern aesthetic that speaks to Tommy’s discerning taste. You can’t help but wonder if his job as a contractor affords him such a nice living space or if he’s secretly a trust fund kid—or a very successful drug dealer.

“Must be nice,” you think to yourself.

As Tommy ushers you inside, you’re enveloped in a sense of warmth and comfort as the space feels distinctly homey, with its wooden furnishings and cozy accents that evoke a rustic charm. The polished hardwood floors gleam under soft lamplight, casting a warm glow throughout the living room.

Tommy assures you that you’re welcome to make yourself at home as he heads into the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

Despite its hominess, the apartment remains impeccably clean and organized—a testament, perhaps, to Tommy’s meticulous nature. Every surface is spotless, every item in its proper place, reflecting a discipline that may well stem from his army training.

As you explore further, you do notice small touches that hint at Tommy’s personality—framed photos of him and his friends, a worn but well-loved armchair and couch positioned opposite the TV, horse figurines on the sideboard, and a few potted plants scattered throughout, adding a touch of life to the space.

Your eyes are eventually drawn to the record player nestled in one corner, surrounded by a collection of vinyl records. The sight brings a smile to your face, appreciating the nostalgic feeling it gives you. You’re pretty sure you used to have the same model in your childhood home.  

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you hear Tommy’s voice behind you as he hands you the glass of water with a knowing smile. “You like Jazz?”

“Thanks. And yeah, I guess?” 

“Okay, wait a sec.” He moves with practiced ease, flipping through his collection of vinyl records until he finds the one he’s looking for. With a gentle touch, he carefully removes the chosen record from its sleeve, handling it delicately as if it were a precious artifact.

You sip on your water and watch in fascination as he places the record onto the turntable, the soft click of the needle finding its groove. As the first notes of a smooth jazz melody fill the air, you can’t help but smile, the music enveloping you in its warm embrace.

Tommy catches your eye and grins, nodding in approval as if to say, “See, I knew you’d like it.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his arm with your elbow. 

“Want me to show you around?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so this is the bedroom,” he says, leading you down the hallway and into the room where you’ll be sleeping. The bed sits neatly made, its dark sheets promising a restful night ahead. “I’ll change the sheets for you in a bit, okay? And I’ll be sleeping in the living room on the couch.” 

“I, uh,” you murmur, but stop yourself, shaking your head. “No, forget it.”

“What is it? It’s okay, you can tell me.” He searches your eyes as you meet his gaze, waiting patiently for you to answer him. 

“Could you maybe…not change the sheets?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Instead, he nods understandingly and immediately assures you, “Sure, I’ll leave the bed as it is then.”

You offer him a grateful smile and as if sensing your need for comfort, he asks, “Do you need a shirt to sleep?” Without waiting for your response, he retrieves one of his shirts and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, taking the shirt from him and holding it close. It’s soft and smells nice.

“And here’s the bathroom,” Tommy continues, leading you through the space. “Feel free to take a shower if you want. Spare towels are here, and there’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet here. Toothpaste is over there. I even got fancy face masks if you wanna try, they’re in here. You think you got everything you need?”

“I think so,” you smile at him before leaving the bathroom to grab your backpack. 

As you’re about to head back, Tommy slips in ahead of you. You watch as he discreetly removes all the razor blades, a silent but clear gesture of concern for your well-being. You understand what he’s doing, and although it stirs a pang of humiliation and shame inside you, you don’t say anything and act like you didn’t see it.

After he leaves the bathroom, you take a moment to compose yourself before closing the door, peeing, taking off your clothes, and catching a glimpse of the small surgery scars on your belly. They appear to be healing well, already looking much better than even a week ago.

With a deep breath, you turn on the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over your body, soothing away some of your tension. As you lather up, enveloped in the steam and the rich scent of Tommy’s body wash, there’s a knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts.

“Darlin’?” Tommy’s voice sounds through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to check if you were okay.”

“I’m okay. But you seriously need to start buying body wash for adults, dude. I’m gonna be smelling like a fourteen-year-old boy now, and I don’t know how to feel about it,” you tease. 

“Ha ha, you brat. Enjoy your shower.”

You smile to yourself and appreciate how clean Tommy’s shower is as, in your experience, that is not something you can count on with men who live alone.

As you lather shampoo into your hair, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of peace amidst the chaos of recent events. It’s all so surreal.

Once rinsed, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in one of Tommy’s plush towels, the soft fabric hugging your body in a tight embrace. With the steam still lingering in the air, you take your time cleaning your face, brushing your teeth and detangling your wet hair, these simple acts of self-care something you’ve neglected in the weeks prior.

Luckily, your past self decided to pack a fresh pair of panties and a pair of soft yoga pants you can change into now, Tommy’s shirt completing your pajamas for tonight. 

Slowly, you step out of the bathroom, the soft light of the living room floor lamp casting a warm glow on the scene before you. Tommy’s sitting on the couch, bathed in the gentle ambiance of the record player’s music.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, he seems lost in thought, fingers rhythmically tapping against the glass, his eyes focused on the spinning vinyl. As you approach, he looks up, a small smile gracing his lips as he welcomes you to join him.

“Okay yeah, I get it,” he quips, his tone playful as he notices how perfectly his shirt accentuates your eye color. “You look better in my shirt than I ever could. There’s really no need to rub it in.”

Chuckling, you settle into the cushion beside him, feeling the warmth of his presence. It feels oddly comforting to be close to him again, his cologne a familiar scent.

But as you sit beside him now, something shifts in the air, a subtle change that you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s as if a newfound awareness has settled between you, casting a different light on the space you share. And as you steal glances at Tommy, you start to feel restless, your heart rate quickening.

Oh.

The realization dawns on you slowly, creeping in like the first light of dawn, illuminating the depths of your emotions. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, mesmerized by the way he sits on the couch, his posture relaxed yet undeniably confident. 

Your eyes trail over the breadth of his shoulders, down his strong arms, his sculpted torso, and settle on his spread thighs, the subtle flex of muscles visible beneath the fabric of his jeans. Each movement, each shift of his body, only serves to deepen the intensity of your attraction to him.

You’re in trouble. 

His handsome face holds a certain allure, drawing you in with its rugged charm—especially with those warm eyes and the beautiful facial hair. As you look at him, really take him in, you can’t deny the flutter of arousal stirring deep within you.

A flutter that’s enough to urge your scrambled brain to make a move.

Tommy catches your prolonged stare, and his brows furrow slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. You gather the courage to ask for a sip of his whiskey, unwittingly biting your lip as you wait for his answer. 

“Of course, darlin’,” he agrees, leaning in with a broad smile, bringing the glass closer to you.

As your fingers brush against his on the glass, you feel a surge of electricity pass between you. His pupils dilate ever so slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. You take the glass from him, your fingers lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a slow sip, relishing the smooth warmth of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. Your eyes never leave his as you lick your lips, the gesture not lost on Tommy as he watches you intently.

The flicker of desire in his eyes tells you that he’s captivated by your silent invitation, but as Tommy accepts the glass back, a faint frown tugs at his brow, his expression suddenly tense.

“Darlin’, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice husky with restraint.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as you ask, “Why not?”

“Because,” he breathes out, “it’s making me want to do things I shouldn’t.”

“Hmm, but what if I told you that I want to do those things, too?”

Tommy swallows hard as you scoot closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours. His pulse quickens, evident in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, unsure of what to do or say next.

When your hand lands gently above his knee, his body tenses at your touch. His lips part slightly, as if he’s about to speak, but all he manages is a heavy breath.

“Tell me to stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean in slowly, searching his eyes. You can see the conflict raging within him, desire warring with restraint, and you wait for his response.

With a shaky exhale, his gaze drops down to your lips, his entire being filled with longing and uncertainty. But as your palm wanders up his thigh, drawing closer and closer to his growing erection, his resolve begins to crumble like sand underfoot. 

Unable to resist any longer, he leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet fervent kiss. His hand instinctively finds the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your wet hair as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet urgency.

Feeling you so close, feeling your soft lips against his, he surrenders to the moment, to the sweet sensation of your embrace, letting himself be consumed by the taste of you.

And yet, in the back of his mind, he’s painfully aware of the circumstances of your meeting.

“I don’t think…this…is a good idea,” Tommy mumbles breathlessly against your lips as you whine needily for more.

“I don’t care,” you breathe, pulling back for a moment to hold onto his shoulders and straddle his lap. His cock twitches in his jeans as you scoot forward, your warm core putting delicious pressure on it. Smiling, you put your hands on his chest and lean in to kiss him again. He cups your face with his hands, kissing you back deeply before nudging your nose with his. 

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, his pupils so dilated his brown eyes are almost completely black. 

“Let me look at you, baby” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. With a smile, you straighten up and place your hands behind you on his thighs, giving him a great  view of your spread thighs and torso.

“Is this okay?” Tommy asks softly as he traces your thighs with his palms, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body.

You nod your head yes, and his lips curve into a smile as his eyes roam your body and face with adoration. His hands wander over your hips, under the shirt you’re wearing, along your waist and further up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing yours as his hands come to rest on your waist. 

“I’m sure you say that to every girl willing to sit on your lap,” you tease with a smirk, putting your hands on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm. 

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.” His words carry a weight of sincerity as one hand reaches out to tenderly caress your cheek, while the other glides over the soft skin of your back. “C’mere baby.”

As you lean in, his lips capture yours with an almost desperate hunger, his kiss rough and deep, as if he fears you might vanish if he doesn’t hold onto you tightly enough. His hands glide to your lower back, hovering just above your ass, hesitant to go further yet craving to pull you closer, to feel every inch of you pressed against him, to consume you whole. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle. I won’t break,” you say softly, leading his hands down to your ass. You hum in satisfaction as he grabs it, feeling the strain of his arousal against your aching pussy.

“Tommy,” you whine quietly against his lips, begging him to understand how desperately you need him.

Lost in the moment, you both sink deeper into the kiss, the world around you fading away until there’s only the heat of each other’s bodies and the rhythm of your shared desire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands roam your back, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch.

But as the intensity of your kiss grows, so does the weight of uncertainty. Tommy pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy as he searches your eyes for reassurance.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers. “We don’t have to…”

“I want you, Tommy,” you purr, your eyes glazed. 

Your hips rock against him, trying to relieve the tension that has grown between your thighs, eliciting a deep groan from him. His hands move to your waist, helping you grind against him. 

“Oh shit,” he pants, reveling in the needy moans leaving your lips. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” he admits with a soft shake of his head, looking at you with wide eyes, still moving you against the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss and suck at his sensitive neck, leaving purple marks behind. You feel his grip tighten, his restraint slipping as he responds to your touch with a low groan.

Lost in the overload of sensations—feeling your warm body, your soft lips and wet tongue, your urgent movements on him, hearing your moans and whispered pleas—Tommy is ready to give you what you both want.

But right as he’s opening his belt with deft fingers, he inadvertently turns his head and catches his reflection in the window. Watching you writhe on top of him, clutching his shirt, his own face twisted in ecstasy, a sharp pang of guilt shoots through him.

This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be doing this.

You move to kiss his lips again, but as you do so, you catch the concern in his eyes, and your heart sinks. “Hey,” you whisper, your brow furrowed, an anxious smile on your lips. 

Your fingers trail gently through his hair, seeking reassurance, but when his movements cease and his touch withdraws, panic floods your senses.

“No, no please don’t stop,” you beg, your desperation evident in every word. You press against him, your hips moving with urgency, aching for the connection you crave so deeply. “I need you.”

Your hands gently cup his cheeks, your pleading eyes flitting between his. 

“Please? Tommy?”

Feeling something bump against your leg, you’re called back to the present.

“Oh, hi there, buddy,” you coo, looking down at the toddler who just faceplanted in front of you. You lean down and offer your hand to help him up. “What are you up to, hm? Just running around?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his face breaking into a toothy grin. “You wanna sit up here and wait for your mommy?” You lift him up, putting more pressure on your bandaged hand than you should, and set him down beside you. “Great view, huh?”

He babbles something unintelligible, his little arms flailing as his excited laughter fills the air. “You’re so right, buddy,” you agree, following his gaze to the sparkling blue, “the ocean is beautiful.”

“Benji? Oh, there you are,” a lady in a swimsuit calls out, walking towards you with a relieved smile. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she says to you, her tone apologetic. “Benji, how many times have I told you not to run away, hm?”

The toddler giggles in response to his mom’s reproach, his little arms reaching out for her. You can’t help but laugh along with him. 

“Think twice before you decide to have kids,” the lady says with a deep sigh, lifting her son onto her hip. “They’re not always as cute as they look.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckle.

“Say bye to the nice lady,” she prompts, her voice warm and gentle.

Benji turns to you, his eyes bright with innocence, and waves enthusiastically with his chubby little hand.

“Bye Benji,” you coo, returning his wave with a big smile, your heart warmed by his adorable gesture.

You sigh and look at your phone. You have two new messages from Tommy.

Maria says she can’t wait to see you tomorrow. And that she’ll personally drag you here if you decide not to show up. 

You’re family and there’s nothing you can do to escape us ;)

You swallow hard and can feel your puffy, irritated eyes starting to water behind your black glasses. What the fuck did you ever do in your insignificant life to deserve this kind of love?

Your phone lights up with another text from Tommy. 

just accept it <3

You snort and shake your head. You’re so grateful for his friendship. It has changed a lot over the last couple of years, of course it has, especially after he started dating Maria, and more recently since you started…seeing his brother without telling him. 

But the fact that you’re still honoring your yearly tradition to have your late-night talk on this very bench, is a testament to the depth of your bond. It’s a cherished ritual, marking the anniversary of your first meeting. You meet here, under the evening sky, exchanging stories and laughter, and indulging in pizza after sunset.

Two years ago, Tommy told you he met someone before you left his apartment the next morning. 

“Sweetheart?” “Yeah?” “I, uh, I got something to tell you.” “Shoot.” “I met someone.” Your fingers halt as you’re tying your shoes, the world around you suddenly still as his words sink in. You stare at the floor, tension building in your heart. “We’ve only been on two dates, but I–” “Really like her,” you finish his sentence as you tie the laces into a knot, straighten up and meet his gaze. “Yes.” That’s it, then. You’ve been replaced. “Does that,” you clear your throat that feels incredibly tight now, your voice shaking, “does that mean we can’t hang out anymore?” Tears well up in your eyes as you feel a rush of panic flood through you. You look down and try to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. “Of course not,” Tommy says, his tone gentle yet firm. “Nothing and no one in the world could ever keep me from spending time with you.” “Okay,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper as you hastily wipe away a tear with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry for crying, I–I don’t mean to.” “Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Tommy says softly, closing the distance between you two. His hands find their place on your shoulders, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Darlin’, look at me.” You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes brimming with fresh tears. “I mean it,” he says with a comforting smile, looking intently into your eyes and cupping your face with his hands. “I promise I’m not going to leave you. I will always be here for you.” You study his face and tell the nagging voice in your mind to shut the fuck up. This is Tommy. He deserves love, he deserves happiness, he deserves someone who can give him everything he wants.  And that’s not you. You give him a kiss on the cheek and a sincere smile. “I’m really happy for you, Tommy.”

You did continue spending time together—Tommy kept his word and didn’t abandon you—but as more and more time passed, you would see him less and less as his relationship with Maria deepened.

You expected that to happen, it didn’t hurt any less though.

One year ago, he told you he was going to propose to her, and you spent all night brainstorming ideas on how he could do it. After she’d said yes, they both let you know one day over dinner that they were going to elope, just the two of them, and you were the only person they’d tell beforehand. 

A few weeks ago, Tommy beamed with pride as he shared that they were trying for a baby, the twinkle in his eyes warming your heart. Despite the joyous news, you couldn’t resist teasing him for planting that image in your mind.

After you’d shared your stories, and your pineapple and pepperoni pizzas, he very casually asked you if you were seeing anyone, and you said, “No.” 

“You’re a horrible liar, darlin’.” “I’m not lying. I don’t like anyone except you.” “Stroking my ego’s not gonna get you off the hook, baby.” “Hmm, I’m pretty sure it’s working though.” “The longer you deny it, the more obvious it gets, you know.” “I’m not seeing anybody, Tommy.” “You really wanna play semantics with me?” “Alright, alright. I guess I’m…kinda seeing someone.” “Why just ‘kinda’? Does the guy not realize what a lucky bastard he is?” “It’s not him. It’s, uh…you know me.” “Yeah, and that’s why I know you’ve caught feelings.” “Ew, don’t say that.” “Well, it’s true. It’s written all over your pretty face.” “You suck, you know that?” “Yeah, it’s part of what makes me so charming. Does he know?” “I dunno, probably not.” “Are you gonna tell him?” “Uhh, I don’t think so.” “Why not? All this time I’ve known you and I’ve never seen you in love before. You can’t just…ignore it.” “Tommy…” “Don’t even try it with the puppy eyes, I’m immune to them.” “Liar.” “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t tell him.” “Easy. If I never tell him, it’ll never hurt.” “That’s not how it works.” “You just couldn’t let me live happily in my delusions, hm?”  “Sweetheart. I know you’re scared, and you have all the reason to, but…sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith, you know?” “I’m not sure I can.” “What does your gut say?” “My gut says he’s too good for me and that he wouldn’t like me if he knew who I really am.” “As someone who does know who you really are, I can assure you that it’s a privilege I wouldn’t miss for the world.” “I just…don’t wanna mess things up, Tommy.”  “Look. Nothing lasts, but nothing is lost if you try. Everything changes and everything is alright.” “Wow, that was beautiful…you’re really starting to feel that rum and coke, huh?” “You know I’m right, baby.”

It’s funny, really. 

You actually entertained the idea that Tommy might be onto something, that perhaps opening up to Joel could bring some semblance of peace, that perhaps you could be happy together. Yet here you are, back where you started, the familiar ache of loss settling in your heart, whispering that everything is far from alright.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforming into a canvas of vibrant colors,  reflecting off the rippling surface of the water, you take your shoes and socks off. You sink your toes into the soft, grainy sand, relishing its comforting texture. 

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, allowing the rhythmic sound of the waves to soothe your racing thoughts. With each exhale, you remind yourself that you’re safe, embracing the tranquility of the moment as the colors of the sunset dance across your eyelids. 

You feel grounded, peaceful, almost—

“Hi, darlin’.”

“Jesus, you scared me,” you startle with a gasp, snapping back to reality as Joel’s voice unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you saw me,” he says with an apologetic smile on his lips, his big puppy eyes looking puppier than ever.

You sigh exasperatedly and take off your sunglasses. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his words stumbling over each other, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just...I thought I–I mean, I wanted to...”

“Joel,” you interrupt him, too exhausted—physically and emotionally—to beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His brow furrows slightly and his heart plummets as he sees your bleary eyes, a pang of concern settling heavily in his stomach. “I wanted to see you, darlin’,” he confesses softly.

Your gaze sharpens with curiosity and suspicion as you ask, “But how did you know I was gonna be here? And can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

Joel hesitates for a moment, then sits down beside you, his movements cautious as if afraid to spook you. With a nervous glance in your direction, he clears his throat, his voice low and hesitant.

“I, uh,” he begins, his words faltering slightly, “I went to your place after work to see if you’d maybe talk to me in person. But you weren’t there. And then I went to your office to see if you were working late, but I saw Kristen and she said it was your day off. You could have been anywhere at that point, so I went to Tommy’s and…told him.”

His eyes flit between yours, anxiously searching for your reaction. 

You blink slowly, processing Joel’s words with a sense of resignation rather than shock. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you realize that, at this point, nothing surprises you anymore. With a tired nod, you acknowledge Joel’s actions, feeling too drained to muster any significant reaction.

“How’d he take it?” you ask quietly.

Joel exhales deeply, a wry smile on his lips. “He isn’t too happy with me right now, but I think he’ll get over it.”

“Hm.”

“Darlin’, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice wavering with emotion. “I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but after last night, I just…I couldn’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to me.”

As Joel speaks, you keep your gaze averted, unable to meet his eyes, your focus fixed on the sand beneath your feet. You hear every word he says, each one echoing in the silence between you, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your reluctance to face him, Joel’s unwavering gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes silently pleading for understanding.

In the midst of the tense silence, a sudden clarity washes over you, and your heart speaks before your mind can catch up. Just as Joel opens his mouth to apologize again and explain further, you interject with your own question, the words tumbling out softly into the stillness.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something missing...like a piece of your heart is somewhere else? And no matter what you do, you’re always gonna be incomplete?” 

You meet Joel’s gaze, your eyes searching his, peering into his soul with a vulnerability that lays bare your deepest feelings. 

“I don’t feel like that when I’m with you,” you whisper.

Joel’s brows furrow in a mixture of surprise and tenderness as your words sink in. His lips part slightly, his expression softening with understanding as he processes the weight of your confession.

“Would you, um,” you clear your throat, “would you hold my hand and just sit with me for a bit?”

Joel’s eyes beam with adoration as he gently envelops your hand that’s clutching your shirt, delicately prying it away and intertwining his fingers with yours. With a soft, reassuring smile, he places your entwined hands on his thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

As you both gaze out at the vast expanse of the water, the waves lapping against the shore in a mesmerizing dance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you like a warm blanket.

You still carry the weight of unresolved issues and uncertainties in your heart, acknowledging that they loom on the horizon, demanding attention. But for now, they can wait.

Your hand in Joel’s feels right, and in this shared moment right here, that’s enough.

Thank you for reading! 🤍

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