#Maybe I just like soft healing romance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whirlybirbs · 3 months ago

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— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired.

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on.

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable.

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission.

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you.

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight.

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud?

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain.

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger.

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep.

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up."

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much.

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open.

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being.

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak.

"I'm fine."

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow.

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku.

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him.

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush.

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other.

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen.

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate.

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo.

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem.

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness.

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone.

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon.

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y.

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more.

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned.

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night.

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around.

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way.

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop.

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones.

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway.

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest.

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah.

Right.

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself.

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice.

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp.

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled.

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth.

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm.

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months.

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit."

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others.

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his.

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that?

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure.

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm.

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing.

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady."

Maybe you could drown yourself here.

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu.

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look.

You offer a sheepish grin.

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira.

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare.

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness.

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku reader insert #kny kyojuro #kny x reader #kny imagine #demon slayer imagine #literally don't look at me this has been my break up obsession

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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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.

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.

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keferon · 1 month ago

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Let there be angst. Let Jazz's world crash and burn as he realizes the old Prowl will never be back. The frustration of caregiving for someone you love, watching them go from being fully capable to unable to even clean themselves, their body failing them even as they are forced to exist.

Can Prowl still even feel his hands? Or can he just see them, unknowing of how much pressure he is exerting with them. Have you ever woken up with your hands numb? Unable to feel them even as you flex them, clenching and clenching hoping for that rush of sensation, of warm and cold, of rough and soft. What if you knew that sensation will never come back, that you will never feel your partner gently intertwine heir hands with yours ever again.

Make it hurt as Prowl recovers. Slowly, excruciatingly. Does Prowl's body even recognize empurata as the torture it is? Or will it heal like a bone that was broken. Sometimes fractured bones will heal wrong. It's called malunion and in order to fix it the bone must be broken once again. Will Prowl need to broken again to heal?

Of course he won't ever be like the old Prowl. Mental scars run deep, deeper than his broken frame, deeper than a surgeon's scalpel will ever cut. Some scars will never disappear, never fade, always around to remind him, never letting him forget.

When he gets new hands, if he ever does, will they ache? Will they burn and freeze, shake and chip? They won't be the same afterwards, even if his old, older, hands survive and were given back to him. The scars will remind him. The suffering lack of mobility, of losing the difference between fingers and hands, palms and knuckles. There could be no blemish upon them and yet his joints are stiff, almost immobile, and no amount of doctor's visits could explain why.

Prowl will survive. No doubt about that. But isn't life more than just surviving. What about living? What about thriving?

Prowl will heal, he always does and always will. But there is something to say when a beloved picture frame is more glue and duct tape then wood. It's kept around because no one could bear parting with it.

So yes, Prowl will die. Maybe not in frame, maybe not in mind, but he will die. And there will be someone new. Someone who shares the same body, the same name, the same spark as Prowl. Maybe that being loves Jazz as Prowl oncr did. Or maybe the trauma is too much and that fragile, loving bond of romance was swept away by the wind, embers too cold to ever reignite.

Let it be a bittersweet ending, let there be pain and hurt that will be felt long after the last words are said, the last picture drawn. Let it be known that Prowl didn't walk through hell without scars.

May the sweetness of fluff burn as it is consumed, bleeding citrus on open wounds. Prowl will never be Prowl again but there is a hope, in the long distant future, that he can smile again and can feel his hands once again.

(Short version: angst and fluff please. Hurt and comfort with a bittersweet and ambigous ending. Oh, I also typed this all on my phone w/o autocorrect so I apologize if it turns out weird and words are mispelled.)

H-hey? Hey Anon? I don’t think I will ever be to recover from this.

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ryescapades · 3 months ago

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dandelions | kaiju no. 8

"maybe it’s the way you say my name, maybe it’s the way you play your game,"

genre/warning: narumi gen x gn platoon leader!reader, fluff, mutual pining, confession, reader is kinda oblivious and in denial, ooc? idk

a/n: back at it again with my 'narumi but he's not always the loser everyone thinks he is' agenda... also this is very much self indulgent 1.8k wc

"you're blind as fuck."

your body recoils, genuinely hurt from the insult. "excuse me? what the heck is that supposed to mean?" you pout, brows furrowed in offense and confusion.

shinonome rolls her eyes. "i stand by what i said. you're blind, y/n. if your vision is as good as ours here, you would've seen the way captain narumi looks at you."

you let out a groan. "not this again! i told you guys he doesn't like me that way. this is the captain we're talking about. he's not even the type to be into that romance stuff anyway," you say, suddenly finding more interest in pushing around the food in your tray.

at the table where you're sitting with your fellow platoon leaders, tachibana throws a calculating glance from beside you. "she's right, you know? i think everyone in our division already noticed how fond he is of you. why do you think he's been coming to our training sessions lately?" he questions.

"because it's his job...?" you say with a deadpan, and it makes shinonome let out a sympathetic laugh. "it is but that didn't stop him from skipping group trainings ever since he became the captain. look, you got injured during our last operation. captain narumi started overseeing our trainings right after the day you were discharged, even though you haven't fully recovered yet. can you see what we're seeing here?"

you can. but that still doesn't mean anything right?

wanting to put an end to the conversation, you shake your head in refusal. "you guys are overthinking this. besides, can we stop already? we shouldn't be talking about our superior behind his back in the first place." you say before making a move to leave, your comrades shaking their heads exasperatedly at how oblivious you are.

on the way back to your quarters, you manage to dispel all that you had just talked about lest you start getting your sad little hopes up.

there's no way that narumi gen, of all people, would be into someone like you. no way in hell that he would return the feelings you've long harbored for him... right?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

you hold in the curse from spilling out when your clumsy self nearly dropped the ceramic bottle. sighing in relief, you push the medicine further back into the shelf, not wanting another mishap to occur.

the infirmary is quiet at these late hours, save for the few patients resting behind their respective ward doors. here in the poorly lit backroom where most of the medicines are stored, you just finished rewrapping your wound when a soft click of the door catches your attention.

you freeze when your eyes connect with a pair of sharp, rosy ones.

"s-sir," you make a move to salute, but the low "at ease, y/n," muttered into the air has you relaxing in your position, though the way he says your name tugs at your heartstrings in a certain way.

you don't say anything next, back straightening as you watch your captain walks further into the room, his hands buried in the pockets of his pants.

once in a blue moon do you ever get the same off-duty hours as him, so it's rare to see him out of his uniform as he's clad in a white worn out t-shirt and a pair of comfy-looking sweats. your traitorous mind wanders to how oversized the shirt would look on you, given how big it is draped over his figure.

narumi casts a briefing look down at the bandage around your forearm. surprisingly, he's the one to break the silence. "how's it faring?" he asks, nodding towards your injury. you send him a small, polite smile. "it's healing well. just a few more days of redressing and it'll be as good as new,"

an uncomfortable silence then fills the room.

"you've been avoiding me these days,"

the sudden and curt statement makes you wince slightly. but of course, he'd straight away aim for the weakest point...

you softly exhale in defeat and avoid his gaze. being the realist that you are, you quietly admit, "i have." as if you could deny his claim anyway. it'd only make you look more stupid if you do.

your not-so-subtle efforts at steering clear of him were too obvious, even those around you have been questioning why you haven't been talking to the captain recently.

in your defense, what other explanation could you have given? that you were avoiding him because you like him? because his silent but attentive gestures have been getting to your head these days? because your own heart was overzealous, wanting to keep him for itself? because you were so overwhelmed almost to the point of confessing this pitifully unrequited sentiment? because you were afraid of rejection?

his forehead creases, alarm bells ringing in your mind when he steps closer to you. he hums lowly, "care to elaborate?"

shivers run down your back as you fidget with your newly wrapped arm. shrinking under his gaze, you feel like a tiny bug being observed under a microscope. "it's really nothing. you don't have to worry about it, captain." you try to convince but who were you kidding, really? he's too smart for something like that.

once again, a moment of silence blankets the atmosphere. and then his next set of words sends your head reeling into the abysmal depth of shame.

"you like me, don't you?"

your body tenses, hands clenching into fists as you feel the mild trepidation rolls off you in waves. you squeeze your eyes shut to gather your bearings first before reopening them.

"i... did rin tell you?" you try to swerve his attention away from the obvious answer. narumi shrugs his shoulders, "no. i found out myself. you should've done better at hiding it if you didn't want me to find out."

oh, at that point you wish a sinkhole could just open up and swallow you whole. this is beyond embarrassing, it's downright humiliating.

in the end you just silently curse under your breath. "it's whatever, i guess. can we just get it over with already?" you grumble, not bothering with formalities anymore. you'll deal with the punishments for that later, right now you just want this conversation to end already.

"huh? get over what?" narumi lifts an eyebrow, and you throw him a flat look. "you're going to turn me down, right?"

his expression turns to that of a bafflement, and then incredulous. he starts to approach even closer, causing you to panic and sputter nervously, your hands coming up in a weak attempt at fending yourself. "did i say something wrong? my bad, i— captain, w-wait, why are you coming closer—"

"i'm not gonna reject you, y/n," he claims, crossing his arms.

the statement stops you short, your face contorting into an incomprehensible look, "wait, what?" the man is nothing if not persistent, invading into your proximity even further.

your heartrate surges up, your head beginning to spin when there's less than a meter separating you. your arms swiftly shoot out to his shoulders to distance yourselves, ignoring the feeling of his lean, broad muscles beneath your touch. "sir, please—"

narumi grabs your wrists while clicking his tongue in the process. "hey, i just said i'm not rejecting you," he grunts as he feels your strength straining under his hold.

when his words fully register in your head, you falter for a moment. "what, does that mean you like me then?" you ask skeptically. with his face slightly twisted, he answers, "yes."

you blink, and your next response comes almost instantly. "no, you don't." narumi jerks back, surprised and a tiny bit offended. "why do you get a say in who i like?"

you shift uncomfortably on your feet. "well, you're you. and i'm... me," you vaguely says, your arms flop a little bit but still acting as a boundary separating the two of you.

"hah? the hell with that— oi, stop pushing me already!" somehow, someway, the two of you engage in a push-and-pull situation, with narumi trying to get closer and you scrambling to stop his advance with an arm shoved against his chest.

it would've been hilarious if someone were to walk in right now, for the situation you're in is way too comical to not laugh at. like two cats angrily pawing at each other, probably.

narumi has had enough of your bullshit eventually, so he snatches your wrists again, pinning them firmly to your front. the action leads to you being forced to retreat a step or two, your back pressing to the cabinet wall behind you.

the hitch in your breath is audible as narumi unknowingly leans in, the space between you decreasing to less than a span now. "agh, you're so stubborn! how many times do i have confess for you to believe me?" he groans, a free hand ruffling his two-toned hair in frustration as he glares at nothing in particular.

there is barely any light in the room, but it still doesn't hide the pinkish hues tinting your captain's cheeks. the endearing sight causes your own cheeks to redden as well, feeling your body heats up as you realize how affected he seems, how real everything is.

you give him no reply, but that only drives him to do more. he glances down to your lips, pupils dilating in the dark as you come to realize his intention.

the space between you shrinks. narumi loosens his hold so that he can trail a finger gently down the side of your jaw, his other hand setting itself on the surface beside your head to cage you in, just as your ribs are caging in your wildly thundering heart.

not knowing what to do with your hands, you end up tugging at the front of his shirt. with only a hairs breadth away between you two, his lips lightly brush against yours in a whisper.

he's about to finally close the distance when a faint crashing noise from outside of the door snaps you out of your lovesick haze. sucking in a sharp breath, you immediately push him away as he does the same, stepping back to separate yourselves again. both of you are suddenly reminded that you're not alone in the infirmary.

the air turns awkward, but you can't help the small smile from growing on your face when you notice narumi's irritated face, his gaze turning softer when it locks on to yours.

you never asked what he’s doing in the infirmary to begin with. though even if you did, narumi would never tell you that he has been secretly frequenting the place, occasionally asking the medical staffs to keep up with your condition and in hopes that he would run into you.

well, at least now you know your feelings are not one-sided anymore. or perhaps they never have been...

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 3 days ago

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The Meet Cute - Law's Story - Epilogue

Source for pic

The Great Pretender Epilogue

Word Count: 4679

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: This is it, everyone! The end! Oh, I'm so emotional right now. Maybe I should've hold off a bit before posting this, but I really wanted to share it with you all. Honestly, I hope you love it. Please tell me all about it in a comment, or in an ask, in a DM, whatever you feel like it, I would like to know if this made you feel happy, sad, angry, all of the above! But ultimately, I want to thank each and every one of you for taking this journey with me!

Law’s hands slither to your waist, his touch far more rattled than his usually composed embrace. He steps impossibly closer, and your back presses flush against the door while an almost soundless whimper escapes your lips. He uses that opening to slide his tongue into your mouth, and you sigh into his kiss.

You’ve missed this.

The easy way you two fit together, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the urgency in each touch and each kiss.

But as your fingers entwine in his hair, they ground you in a harsh reality: Doflamingo. You need to stop this.

Parting the kiss with a groan, you lower your gaze, breathless and dazed, trying hard to compose your thoughts so you can utter intelligible words. “Law… Law!” You urge, removing your hands from the temptation of feeling more of him against your skin and trapping them against your legs in closed fists. “We can’t.”

Yet he doesn’t heed your words. His hands go back to cupping your cheeks, lifting your face to his and claiming your lips once more, like he’s a man dying of starvation and you’re his only source of sustenance. “Hush, love. Later.” Then he feeds some more on your luscious lips, his source of life.

Your legs lose strength, and so does your determination. Surely a few more stolen kisses and touches won’t do much harm? The damage is already done, and you’re only going to do damage control.

Just a few more kisses…

No.

“Law!” You say more firmly, your hands pressing against his chest to keep him a breath away. “Please… we can’t do this.” Your plea is nothing more than a broken whine, and that seems to catch Law’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice deep with want and need, filled with longing and despair.

Deep breaths.

“Please, Law. Pretend I wasn’t here. We can’t do this. I’m not supposed to be near you, I wasn’t even supposed to speak with you, let alone kiss you!” Your watery eyes are already producing more tears, so Law takes a step back.

“So it is my uncle, isn’t it?” You nod, too scared to say anything else. This fleeting moment felt like a dream, a small interlude in the abyss of pain that surrounds you, but you can’t let it linger. “What did he say he’d do to you? I’ll talk to him, I–...”

Shaking your head, you try to think about how much you should share with Law, but he doesn’t let you think, much less speak.

“I can’t bear to be apart from you anymore, not when I know that nothing happened, not when I know you still love me… I can make him retract his threats, he’ll listen to me.”

Oh, how you want to hope. The words Law weaves are beautiful, like a siren song to your ears, but you know Doflamingo won't give up that easily. He decided you are not worth his nephew’s time, so he’ll never relent. You know enough about manipulative, arrogant men to understand they never give up once they set their mind to something.

You wish you didn’t know, though.

“What did he say? What threats did he make? Was it about your father?” A low rumble rolls in waves from his chest before he speaks. “Was he threatening you directly? Your health?”

You keep shaking your head, he’ll never get there alone if you don’t say something. Even if Law doesn’t trust his uncle, those family values Doffy instilled in him are still very strong.

He lets his thumb graze your lips again, a show of the deep devotion he feels, once more making true to his claim of not being able to part with you. “What is it, then? Tell me.”

A heavy sigh signals your resignation. Your fingers climb up his jawline in a sweet caress, but you still try. One last effort to keep him away, even though it will destroy you both. Gently twirling his earring, you soften your gaze.

“We don’t have a future together, Law…” The words are like ash in your mouth, leaving it dry and unsavoury, crumbling into a pile of lies you never meant to build.

To his credit, though, he doesn’t even flinch. “Stop it, sweetheart. That’s not going to work.” Law presses his forehead against yours again, and his sigh breathes life into you. Obviously, it wouldn’t work. You weren’t even trying.

“He… your uncle threatened to destroy your clinic, Law… all your work, just gone!”

Law takes a step back, his eyes widening slightly for a fraction of a second, but his control quickly falls into place as he subtly nods, like he almost couldn’t believe it but ultimately expected something of the sort.

“I could deal with whatever threat he made towards me. Thanks to you, I know just how strong I can be… but… but not a threat to everything you’ve been working for, Law! I could never jeopardise what you’ve built! And now…” You try to hold your grief back by hugging yourself.

“My clinic? He would stoop that low…?” His hand tousles his hair as the familiar crease between his brows returns.

“He did. And that’s why I’ll leave and never come back. We can pretend nothing happened, we just can’t see each other again and–...”

“Sweetheart…”

“He won’t find out! Or even if he somehow realises I came here, once we never speak to each other again, he won’t fulfil his threat!”

“Love!”

“We just… we just…” You exhale half a sob and tighten your grip on yourself. “It’s simple, really… you carry on with your life, and I–...”

The authoritative way in which he speaks your name makes your thoughts stop spiralling and your lips stop rambling. With a firm touch, Law disentangles your arms from around your frame and wraps them around his waist, stepping closer to you, his amber gaze never leaving yours.

“I don’t know where you got the silly notion that I care more about my work than I care for you, but it’s not true.” Law laces his fingers through your hair as he settles his hand on your nape. His other hand gently caresses your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone… a lover’s touch.

Something you can never give up, no matter how hard you try to do what’s right for him.

“But, Law–...”

“No buts, sweetheart. What do I always tell you?” A smirk twists his lips upwards, and warmth fills your chest, already expecting the words that come next. “I got this.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, a real smile pulls at the corners of your lips as he takes them in another searing kiss. He’s got this. He’s Trafalgar Law, there’s nothing that can stop him.

-*-

You and Law lose track of time in each other’s arms. You couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves when you were together for twenty-four hours, let alone now that you’ve been apart for so long.

He continuously assures you that he will speak with his uncle in person, but somehow, your fears have been assuaged. As usual Law’s cool and calm approach to things grounds you and stops you from spiralling too hard.

When he finally goes to his desk to cancel any appointments he has for tomorrow, since he plans to go to the city to talk with Doflamingo, he lets out a muffled curse followed by a chuckle.

“It’s past closing time, love.”

What? You’ve been lost in each other for hours? How can that be? Fishing your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, you confirm the time and see the messages Shanks left for you. Most of them are happy emojis and encouraging words. Then there’s one that says he’s going to take the truck home and that you should get a ride to Law’s apartment, followed by some winky emojis and a speech about safety and protection that you choose to ignore.

But Law is probably thinking about the same thing because he’s shutting down his computer and the lights, his hand stretched out for you to grab as he navigates you both through the dark clinic, locking up behind him.

You can still feel a little prickle of uncertainty twisting your stomach, a shiver of dread still coursing through your veins, but Law’s presence is steady and solid.

He’s got this.

-*-

Law grits his teeth together as he crosses and uncrosses his legs for the umpteenth time in the span of ten minutes. He shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s not the first time he’s faced his uncle to stand on something he believes in.

Though he’s never really won any of those battles. Not on his own, anyway. Cora was always there to vouch for him, help him, and calm tensions when they inevitably started to climb.

Law and Doffy can never have a serious conversation without it completely escalating.

That’s why it’s so paramount that today he’s able to stay cool and collected. He needs to win this battle. And if he can keep his cool together for everyone else, why should his uncle be any different?

Still, he can’t help the uneasiness from making him slightly nauseous, so he cracks his neck with a slow, rotating motion to try and ease off the edge. Doflamingo is making him wait on purpose, he knows that.

He just needs to remain calm.

“Mr. Trafalgar, your uncle is ready to see you now.”

Law inhales sharply as he gets up and buttons his black blazer. He’s got this.

He’s been to his uncle’s office quite a few times, but the opulence of it never ceases to amaze him. It’s a penthouse office, bigger than some people’s houses. Its windows go from top to bottom and overlook the busy streets below, like a reminder that Doffy is always above everyone else.

Doflamingo doesn’t get up from behind his desk to greet him. He peers at Law from behind his tinted glasses, an eerie smile twisting his lips upwards as he leans back in his chair, fingers entwining in his lap.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my dear nephew. What brings you to the city, Law?” Then he gasps as he moves forward, and Law takes his seat across from him. “No, that’s not the real question. What I mean is: what brings you to your family’s firm? A place you tend to avoid, even when you’re required…?”

Law knows Doflamingo is very aware of why he’s there. Actually, Law is pretty sure Doffy already knows you and Law connected, but he doesn’t plan on showing all of his cards right now.

“You know why I’m here, Doffy.”

“Yes. And alone. How surprising.” Doffy chuckles slowly. “You’re finally becoming a big man? You don’t need the support of my foolish brother to fight your own battles this time?”

He’s taunting Law, trying to distract him, to make him lose control of his emotions, as he so easily and usually does.

“This is my own battle, and one I don’t intend to lose, Uncle.”

“How daring of you, Nephew.” Doffy relaxes back into his chair again, one hand absently caressing his jaw as he regards Law with interest. “Speak your terms, I’m all ears.”

“I know you tried to push her away from me. I know it was you who orchestrated that performance, perfectly played by Vinsmoke. I know, Uncle.”

Doflamingo smiles, and Law almost perceives a hint of pride behind the light lenses.

“What you need to know is that I can make my own choices, even if they hurt me, even if they’re the wrong choices, I have to make them. You can’t protect me from everything, especially when the one who ends up hurting me most is you.”

Doffy’s smile falters and he swallows hard.

Law takes another deep breath. “I love her. I want to be with her. She’s not the wrong choice, she was always the right one. Uncle… let me be happy.”

For a fraction of a moment, Law sees a bit of compassion in Doffy’s eyes, but as soon as it appears, it vanishes, replaced by another wicked grin. Law should’ve known better than to expect this to be easy.

“Love is not the key to happiness, Law. You should know that by now. Love makes you weak, it makes you lose sight of the really important things like–...”

“Power? Wealth? Influence?” Law’s hands turn to fists and he traps them against his lap, trying to control the snarl threatening to break through his clenched teeth. “I know all of that! You’ve been trying to instil those notions on me since I was a ten-year-old lost boy, filled with grief and guilt from losing my family!”

Law’s hands shake, and his chest heaves with effort. He needs to remain calm. He can’t win anything if he loses control, that’s what Doflamingo wants.

“Yes. No matter how hard you take it, Law, those things are what make the world turn. Power, wealth, and influence are what fuel the hearts of people, and that is what’s necessary to keep you in a position of–...”

“I don’t care, Uncle! I never meant to be a figure of authority or influence! I just want to be happy and save people’s lives!” Law gets up, too fidgety to remain still, and starts to pace the big office. “All I want is for little kids not to have to lose their families to accidents or disease. I want to make a difference…” His shoulders slump as he stops behind the chair he was sitting on, his amber gaze fixed on Doflamingo’s, the cool control completely overrun by raw emotion. “I want her.”

“Are you willing to lose all you’ve worked for just for her?” Doffy’s words are calculating, and Law came prepared for this outcome. It’s not one he wanted. If he could choose, he’d walk away from this meeting with both his clinic and you. But if this is what it takes…

“Yes.”

“Very well, then. Let’s talk. I have a proposition for you.”

-*-

You can barely focus on your job the next morning, and by the time your shift ends and you get home, you’re full on spiralling. Has Law spoken with Doflamingo already? How did it go?

You don’t have any missed calls or messages on your phone, and you don’t want to call him and risk interrupting something, so you have to wait. He told you he’d call once the meeting was over.

You just have to wait. You can do this.

“Bug? Did you hear a word I said?” Shanks looks at you with a half-smirk painting his lips while you make a mess by pouring coffee onto an upside-down mug.

“Shit!” You mumble before grabbing a rag to clean up the mess while Shanks chuckles. “No, dad, I didn’t, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Is everything alright? I thought you and Law had patched things up.”

You smile nervously at him while he helps with the mess. “We did, but… it’s complicated.” Then you explain a bit about Doflamingo and how much influence he holds over Law while you share a mug of coffee. The conversation with Shanks actually helps distract you, and time flies. Though, as soon as your phone starts to ring, you excuse yourself and run outside as Shanks yells at you not to run on the porch steps, something he said every day when you were a little girl.

“Law?”

“I told you I had this, love.”

Your easy laugh brings tears to your eyes. Of course, he had it. Law’s finally free of his uncle’s threats, and you can stop worrying.

You have a future. A bright, beautiful future with the man you love.

It almost seems impossible to believe.

-*-

Sweat still clings to your bodies as you lie in the crumpled sheets. You’re in Law’s apartment again, and you’re not sure you’ll ever want to spend another night away from him. You’re an adult, so Shanks doesn’t even pry, but you know he’s happy for both of you, since he has a soft spot for Law.

Lying your head against Law’s chest and hearing his erratic heartbeat after he makes love to you has become something you’re quite addicted to. It’s soothing, grounding, and familiar. He’s your home.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your naked back as he lays soft kisses on your head, letting you have this moment until his heartbeat retreats to a normal pace.

“How did you do it?” You were so happy when he returned from his meeting with Doffy that you barely had time to talk about how it went before he dragged you to his bed, chasing away all the tension you had accumulated over the past weeks, making you lose control over and over again until you could barely think.

“We agreed on some terms.”

“How cryptic.” You tease, moving your head and leaning your chin on his chest so you can gaze into the soft amber of his eyes. “What terms?”

Law sighs, and the crease between his eyebrows forms in record time. Will he ever tell you all the details of what transpired in this meeting?

“I’m going to dedicate much more of my time to the family’s business.” A strained smile forms on his lips, and your heart sinks.

“No, Law! You hate it.”

Cupping your cheek against his palm, he strokes your skin gently. “I do. But it’s a very small price to pay. And I can attend meetings on the computer, so they won’t know if I’m listening or playing solitaire.” He jokes, but you find it hard to laugh.

“Don’t joke, Law. How about clinic hours? Your hospital shifts?” You don’t want to voice it, but you fear this will also steal the little time you can find on his busy schedule to just be together and ‘date’!

Maybe that was Doflamingo’s plan all along when he agreed to this.

He kisses the tip of your nose affectionately while you frown. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll still have time for everything.” Once again, he reads you like a book. He knows what you truly meant, even if you were also worried about him not having enough time to dedicate to his patients. “The important thing is that Doffy backed off. He understood I would never give you up and his threats were empty and futile. I won.”

“But so did he, Law… wasn’t that what he wanted all along? For you to dedicate yourself to his business? Hasn’t he been grooming you for that since you were young?”

“Sure. But I’ll say it again: small price to pay.” With a swift movement, he turns you, pinning you under him and slotting himself in the middle of your parted legs, a sly grin curving his lips. “You’re the only thing I can’t afford to lose.”

A wistful sigh escapes your lips as you give up your argument. There’s no point in insisting with him. As long as he’s happy and you’re together, you’re happy too.

“I love you, Law.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Law nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as his tongue swirls sinful patterns on your skin. “Where were we?”

With a giggle you surrender yourself to him. All of yourself, without restrictions, qualms, or fears. Law’s yours, and you’re his.

Not in a possessive, toxic way, but in a way that lets you know both of you would go to the ends of the earth and back if that’s what it took to be close to one another.

-*-

Weeks pass slowly, and as you predicted, you spend most nights at Law’s. He is busier, there’s no denying it. Even though he tried to downplay it at first, his involvement with the family’s business takes more of his time than either of you wished.

But you both manage. Law learns to stamp his feet now and then, demanding more free time, and it seems Doflamingo likes it when he’s assertive because he grants him just that. Though you suspect Cora also plays an important part in keeping Doffy in check.

You both go on a lot of dates. And if at first it seems a little silly, since you skipped a lot of steps, it soon becomes endearing. Law brings you flowers and picks you up at Shanks’ as if you’re still getting to know one another.

That makes Shanks laugh, and he fake-threatens Law to bring you back before curfew and treat you like a lady, ‘or else’, knowing well enough that you’ll be spending the night away. But Law plays into the act and promises he’ll behave.

He doesn’t.

And that’s the first time you have car sex with Law.

He takes you to expensive places to eat and to food trucks. You watch movies at the theatre and at drive-ins. There are walks in the park and sweet weekend escapades to whimsical locations or tourist traps.

It’s blissful.

You love every second of it, and everything just cements what you knew almost from the beginning. Law is the one. He’s the one you want to spend your life with.

-*-

It’s a lazy Sunday. The clinic is closed, and Law has a day off from the hospital. You spent the day baking cookies and bingeing trashy tv shows. Now, you both lie on the rumpled sheets of his bed, the warm glow of the sunset seeping through the curtains of Law’s room, tracing new patterns on his inked chest, which you trace diligently with your fingers.

Law is eerily quiet, so you prop yourself up on one elbow to gaze into his face. A contemplative look mars his features and he looks deep in thought. For a second, your mind wanders to his uncle, and you’re not sure if you should pry, but before you can ask, Law opens his mouth to speak.

“I never told you much about my parents, have I?” His voice is thick with emotion, and you hold in a breath as well as his gaze.

“No, but it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You realise it’s a touchy subject, something far too painful for him to speak freely about.

“I need you to know everything about me. I don’t want anything left unsaid between us.” With a nod you wait for him to continue, giving him all the time and space he needs to share what he needs to share. “They were very caring people, full of joy and love, and though they were both doctors and had busy professional lives, they always had time to play with their children. They raised me as a happy child, my sister and me. We would butt heads, as most siblings do, but I loved her to bits and pieces. There was always laughter in our household.”

Your throat feels tight with emotion as Law’s eyes become glassy with unshed tears, the weight of a lifelong pain he can’t shake off.

“Then it all fell apart. I lost all of them in an instant… and got left behind. For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why I had survived. It was almost as if the universe had made a cruel mistake, because why had they died - when they were wonderful people - and I had been the one to survive? It didn’t make sense.”

You can’t stop the trembling of your lips, but you squeeze Law’s hand, too afraid to say something because you know you’ll just fall apart and he needs to finish sharing. A small smile pulls at his lips as he gazes back into your eyes, a hand lying in a sweet caress on your cheek.

“One of the reasons I became a doctor was exactly that. To try and make amends, to save others from the same fate that befell me. To repent. Though I never let myself believe I was destined for true happiness.” You can’t stop the tears from falling, staining your cheeks. Law brushes a thumb over them, and his smile deepens. “Until you. You made me believe that maybe fate left me alive for a reason other than just surviving.”

A soft sob shakes your shoulders, and Law gently pulls you to him, kissing your lips softly. You pour all your love into that kiss, he needs to know how much he means to you. There are promises of love between kisses and tears, and it all feels so raw and vulnerable. It warms your heart to understand that Law trusts you enough to share his deepest fears and regrets.

After an emotional moment, you break the closeness with a sheepish smile. “You know…” You begin in a singsong voice, trying to lighten the mood. “If this were real, this would be the part where I comfort you and say something really deep, but since we’re just pretending…” You trail off, and Law chuckles, your words relieving him of the burden of the past as he brushes a strand of hair from your eyes.

“If this were real,” he teases, entering your game with a glint in his eyes, “this would be the part where I tell you that the universe placed you in my path because we were always destined to be together.”

A real laugh leaves your lips, and you brush away the last remnant of tears from your eyes. “And if this were real, this would be the part where I’d call you a romantic sap, even though I enjoy it thoroughly.”

Law sits up, his smirk widening as he faces you with affection. “And if this were real, this would be the part where I’d make a grand, romantic gesture just to prove to you how serious I really am.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips, but your breath hitches when Law opens his nightstand drawer, taking out a small velvet box. Your heart races against your chest as you sit up, your smile turning into a surprised awe.

“And if this were real,” Law continues, his voice deeper, moved by raw emotion as he opens the box. “I’d be holding a ring just like this one.”

Your breaths leave you in trembling gasps as your eyes dart from the ring to his face and back to the ring again. “Law…” You whisper, throat thick with emotion.

“And if this were real, love,” he’s also slightly breathless, “this would be where I ask you to marry me.”

Tears spill down your cheeks again, your hand covering your open mouth as you’re overwhelmed with joy and love. All you’ve been through, all the happy times, the uncertainty, the pain… you both came out of it stronger.

“If this were real,” you start, your voice coming between hitches and sobs and the occasional nervous laugh, “this would be the part where I would say yes.”

Law’s smile widens, and with slightly trembling fingers, he grasps your hand and slips the ring into place. You laugh along with a sob, barely believing what’s happening. Then he pulls you into his arms, having you sit on his lap, both with the hugest grins on your faces.

But before he leans in to kiss you, you stop him, a quizzical look on your face. “Just so we’re clear, this is real, right?”

Law’s laugh is like a balm to your soul. A deep, rich timbre that fills your heart and swells, expands, taking over your body and making you feel complete.

“This is very real, sweetheart, and you’ve just made me the happiest man alive. I love you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, you manage to whisper a shaky ‘I love you too’ before crashing your lips against his.

If you could’ve saved Shanks the suffering, you would, but you will never not be grateful for the fact that he needed to be operated on by Law, or you wouldn’t have met the man of your dreams.

THE END

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #reader insert #reader x #x reader #fem reader #reader x trafalgar law #the meet-cute #one piece #one piece reader #you x law #law x you #law x reader #reader x law

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messiahzzz · 1 year ago

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i have been thinking a lot about mystra’s relationship with gale, how reducing her to “his ex” really is an understatement. she was and still is so much more than that. moreover, using the term “ex-girlfriend” in relation to her plainly feels wrong and diminishes the influence she has over him, as well as the role she played in his life since his childhood (and it also trivializes the abuse he suffered through her).

there are several instances where gale gets defensive when his companions mention or ask him abt mystra. he claims that their relationship was no less real even though most of their interactions were incorporeal.

we have already established that gale is an unreliable narrator in this particular case, still not having fully come to terms with the fact that he was groomed, manipulated and abused. he ping-pongs between bouts of realization (even in his romance), gaining clarity that he was merely used and eventually discarded and that mystra never truly cared for him, back to making light of his situation, idealizing her once again. realizing the extent of his trauma, that he is indeed a victim in this scenario, unlearning what he has been made to believe from a young age is a slow and painful journey. he is in the process of healing, but it takes time. time he deserves just like anyone else.

which makes me wonder what their relationship really looked like, once the lines between teacher, muse, and lover began to blur. i also feel like one of the reasons why part of the fandom still struggles to identify mystra as his abuser, is because she is a white woman who initially presents herself in a soft-spoken, benevolent manner… and well, the fact that gale himself is ambitious to a fault and a lil insane about the promise of power. he also briefly mentions "crossing mystra’s boundaries” when he confides in tav and tells them about his folly. (“i am, after all, the villain in this story.”) which led to a looooot of misinterpretations.

leaving the overall lore and mystra’s treatment of her other chosen aside — what we can discern from her interactions with gale in-game, is that mystra is civil as long as she remains in control and gale follows her demands, but as soon as there’s even a slight mention of challenging her power or defying her rule, she rather quickly changes her tone.

there is also one particular exchange between them that just won’t leave my head:

“you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a savior."

even if we choose to blatantly ignore the fact that mystra is a deity, his goddess - there is no possible way that their relationship ever could have been equal by any mortal standards. the power imbalance that comes with her being his teacher and a symbol of his admiration, plus the sheer control she holds over him and his powers are simply too great. don’t even let me get started on how it is a common tactic of abusers to isolate their victims from any outside influences so they can exert full control over them. and how up to meeting tav and their merry band of misfits, every single soul he was close to was inevitably tied to mystra in one way or another. he briefly mentions his colleagues and then there’s elminster, also mystra’s chosen and former lover, and tara, who is a fine wizard in her own right. he spend so many years in service of her, dedicating his life to her, that now there is no one left he can truly call a friend. most of his little anecdotes and stories he tells are restricted to his childhood and university days, everything else was mystra.

evidently, ordering gale to detonate the orb is the most efficient course of action in her eyes. he is just as expendable as any other mortal, after all. maybe once significantly more useful given his status and the extent of his powers, but she doesn’t feel sorrow nor remorse for ordering him to end his life. his death is simply the most convenient means to an end.

another thing i would also like to briefly touch upon is the trigger/detonator itself. a dagger to the heart. it could have been literally anything else, a simple incantation. it is well within mystra’s power to stabilize the orb and also to remove it from his body entirely. but no, what she requires of gale is to stab himself. one might argue that it was simply a cinematic choice meant for a more dramatic effect, but it really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. especially considering the fact that she is commonly known and referred to as a jealous goddess. it almost makes it seem like yet another form of punishment or mere pettiness. after his long period of isolation, gale is now surrounded by fellow humans. people he cares about, even perhaps people he might eventually consider good friends — which is enough of a reason for him to not want to die, to keep going and try to find another way, rather than to blindly follow mystra’s bidding. now there’s a group of people who support him and are genuinely invested in him staying alive. hmmm...

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #mystra #yes again ugh #i know we have been through this so many times #also another thing i forgot to mention:#apparently there are several ending variations where gale relinquishes the crown of karsus to her #but mystra only temporarily stabilizes the orb and doesn't remove it #huh #this was a long one sorry #bg3 meta #grooming cw #abuse cw

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deiitsukki · 8 days ago

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Situationship | Suna R.

Synopsis: “In a relationship built on unspoken words and fleeting moments, Y/N falls hard for the enigmatic Suna Rintarō, hoping for something deeper beneath his casual demeanor. Their connection grows complicated during a road trip, culminating in a bittersweet romance that promises everything but permanence. When Suna’s family embraces Y/N as one of their own, their bond is tested, exposing their contrasting hopes and fears. In the end, Suna’s unwillingness to commit leaves Y/N in painful realization—she was just a chapter in his story, one he would inevitably turn the page on.”

A/n:( Angst & Smut fic! Cunnilingus in the car, Fingering, Bathroom sex, Mirror sex, Based on chappell roan's song “Casual” if you wanna read diff and sfw ver of this check it out on my other tumblr account it's @namicakes )

The sun dips low as you and Suna Rintarō drive down the winding road, the car filled with the soft lull of tires against asphalt and the fading hum of the radio.

Outside, the world rushes by in a blur of trees, and the sky blushes into twilight hues—muted colors that match the mood that’s slowly settled between the two of you.

It had started so casually between you and Suna. A fleeting touch, lingering glances, an easy conversation one night that stretched into early morning. Casual, just like that. But the truth was, nothing had been casual about it for you since the beginning. You’d fallen into his quiet allure, the pull of his indifference that somehow always seemed to tilt towards you.

You’d spent weekends together, some late nights, maybe a holiday or two. But now, as his mother had asked you to join them at their beach cottage—another invitation you hadn’t expected—it felt different. Real. Like there were strings attached, and you weren’t sure if either of you wanted to acknowledge it.

“Hey,” you murmur, glancing over at him. He doesn’t look away from the road, fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel. But he hums in response, a low acknowledgment that he’s listening.

“So… us. What is this?” You try to keep it light, but your voice wavers, betraying the tension inside you.

He sighs, glancing at you for a brief second before his eyes return to the road. “Why does it have to be anything?”

Your heart sinks a little at his words, a leaden weight settling in your chest. It’s always been like this with him—a series of contradictions. The way he looks at you, sometimes like you’re the only person in the room. And yet, his words, they always pull you back, hold you at arm’s length.

“I just… I don’t know,” you say, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes it feels like… more, you know? Like we’re not just… casual.”

“Does it matter?” he asks quietly, but there’s something in his voice—a crack in his usual guarded tone that catches you off-guard.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. “It does, to me.” You look away, the passing landscape blurring into streaks of color through the window. “I just wish I knew what I was to you, Rintarō.”

There’s a beat of silence before he responds, his tone softer than usual, almost contemplative. “You’re… something to me.” He clears his throat, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “But I don’t know if I can be what you need.”

The words sting more than you expected. There’s something about the way he says it—like a wound that never quite healed, a place in him he’s never let anyone touch. And suddenly, you’re angry. Angry at his distance, angry at his hesitation.

“Then why am I here, Rintarō? Why do you keep pulling me in if you’re just going to keep pushing me away?”

The car slows as he pulls over, cutting the engine. He turns to you, his gaze intense, something dark and raw lingering in his eyes. “Because I don’t know how to let you go.”

And then his lips are on yours, desperate, almost feverish, like he’s searching for something he can’t name. Your anger dissolves in the heat of the moment, replaced by a yearning that you can’t ignore, a need to be closer, even if it hurts.

He broke the kiss and without anymore words he fixed your seat so you were slightly laying, He then unbuckled his seat belt, and before you could ask him what is he going to do, he was already on his knees infront of your seat.

You yelped as he suddenly put his cold hands inside your dress skirt, in a swift moment he already removed your panties, He smirked as he saw you were wearing the laced pink panty he really loved.

“R-rin” you muttered shyly as you look down on him “We're in the middle of the road we can't-” you said warning him but he shushes you as he lifts your dress skirt “Shh be quiet then.” he said sternly before ravishing your pussy

You squirm at the sudden contact, you put your right hand to your mouth to muffle your moans and your left hand on his hair, you gripped his hair tightly as he eats you out like a hungry animal.

“Rin~” you whisper-moaned trying not to make a loud noise but the way he eats you makes you wanna moan his name. You threw your head back as you felt yourself closer into orgasm, he felt it too so he put his long thick fingers inside of your pussy, and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure you were feeling grew more intense.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, fingering you while licking your clit, he continued doing this until you couldn't hold back anymore

“F-fuck Rin Fuck I'm gonna cum” you cried out in pleasure, hearing your cries he deepens his fingers, he hums looking up on you his face burried in your pussy.

You felt the vibration of his hum and that was the last straw, you felt yourself reach your climax and came in his fingers.

The days pass in a blur after that, the memories of his touch and his words haunting you, lingering in every quiet moment. You find yourself at his family’s beach cottage soon after, where his mother welcomes you with open arms, her warmth something unfamiliar and almost painful. It’s as if she’s seeing you as something permanent in his life—an idea that fills you with both hope and dread.

And then, weeks later, there’s the dinner at his family’s house, the night where everything unravels.

Suna’s mother watches the two of you as you sit side by side, her gaze soft and knowing. She smiles, her words gentle, but they cut deeper than she could ever know. “You two look lovely together,” she says, her tone warm and inviting.

The weight of her words sinks into you, heavy and suffocating. Lovely together. Lovely, as if you were a real couple, as if this wasn’t just some half-spoken promise that neither of you fully acknowledged. You feel the walls closing in, the words catching in your throat, and suddenly you need to escape.

You mumble an excuse, pushing away from the table and stumbling into the bathroom. Locking the door behind you, you let out a shaky breath, your chest tight as you sink down against the wall. The tears come before you can stop them, hot and silent, slipping down your cheeks as the ache of wanting something you can’t have crashes over you.

It’s only when you hear the soft click of the door that you realize you’re not alone. Suna stands there, his expression unreadable as he watches you. He doesn’t say anything, just steps closer, his gaze dark and searching.

You expect him to comfort you, to say something, anything, to break the silence. But instead, he kneels in front of you, his hand reaching out to brush a tear from your cheek. And then he’s kissing you, a slow, deliberate kiss that drowns out the pain, the questions, everything. His touch is gentle, as if he’s afraid you might break, but there’s a desperation there too—a silent plea, a need that neither of you can put into words

The world blurs around you, the line between what’s real and what’s fleeting slipping away. It’s intoxicating and heartbreaking, and you lose yourself in him, knowing that this moment is all you’ll ever have.

He took your hands and guide you in the mirror infront of the bathroom sink,He then make you face the mirror, he was behind you, he then swept your hair to the side kissing your shoulder, you whimpered as him left a wet kiss in the side of your neck.

His hands slowly tracing your body, from you shoulders to your hands and finally his hands finding it's way to your waist, he holds your waist in a gently way as if he's afraid you're gonna break, Then all of a sudden he made you bend down.

His other hand lifted your dress and his other was on the back of your neck, He then unzip his pants, letting out his painfully hard cock. He lined himself in your entrance and without any warning he slammed his thick cock in your wet pussy.

You Moaned and your hands instinctively went to your mouth to prevent yourself from being heard, you remembered that his family was downstairs having a happy dinner and you can not help but feel ashamed because this was their house and you were just a guest but here you were letting their son ruined your insides.

Suna Fucks you into oblivion, his thrust were slow and sloppy but you feel good because he was hitting the spots that made you see stars, His hands grabhed a fist of your hair, he yanked your head up to make you look at yourself in the mirror.

And oh god, you were so ashamed of how your face shows that you were having good, you were in deep pleasure, and he knew it, suna knew it too, you take a look on his face in the mirrpr infront of you, he smirks at you, His pace picking up as he felt himself close.

he bend down too, his chest on your back and both of his hands pinned your hands down onto bathroom sink, his face in the crook of your neck, his cock going deep inside you, he felt your walls squeeze him and he groaned in your neck muttering “Fuck don't squeeze me like that”

You bit your lip so hard to stop yourself from screaming from how good he fucks you, you can feel him burries his thick cock inside your pussy.

“Suna gonna cum” you muttered quietly “Cum on my dick then” he chuckles in your neck, his hot breath tickling you

Just as he said, you groaned as you came in his cock, your back arching against his broad chest as you heaved on heavy breaths trying not to make any loud sound to disturb the family dinner downstairs.

Suna's pace became sloppier as he felt himself cumming inside of you, with a quiet moan he shoot his loads inside of your kissing your back as he emptied his cum in your pussy.

While catching his breat, suna slowly pulled his dick outside of you. As he cleaned himself he notice you weren't moving, he saw you staring at yourself in the mirror with a blank expression then he sighs.

“Come here” he spoke ushering you “Let's shower together” he said still in his usual deadpan expression and cold tone, you were shocked to say the least.

“W-what about your mother? she mght think-” you asked nervously “don't worry about her, I told her you were in my bedroom resting” he cuts her off

He didn't know if you heard him but you were in a daze as if you were drowning in a deep ocean of unsaid thoughts, he sighed again, you've been spacing out a lot since the small fight you had in the car.

He didn't know what made you like this, but what he said in the car, he means it. he didn't want to lose but he doesn't know if he wanted more of you, he keeps you closebut never too close.

To pull you out of your thoughts, he snaked one of his hands in your waist and pulled you towards him, kissing you in a deep and passionate, his other hand cupping your face.

‘Was it casual when you kissed me passionately trying to pull me out from drowning over my miserable thoughts?’

When you finally pull away, the silence between you is thick with unspoken words. He looks at you, his gaze soft, almost tender. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You manage a weak smile, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. “Don’t be. I knew what this was from the start.”

He nods, a shadow of sadness flickering in his eyes. “I wish… I wish I could be more for you.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. And in that moment, you realize that he won’t ever be the person you need. He’s too afraid of letting you in, too afraid of what he might lose if he does.

And so, you let go.

The silence stretches between you and Suna long after that night. You drift apart like waves receding from shore, a slow and inevitable separation. The calls become less frequent, the messages shorter, until they stop altogether, leaving only an empty inbox and a quiet ache you carry like a scar.

It’s been weeks since you last saw him, the memories still sharp and vivid, refusing to fade. You keep replaying that night at his family’s house, his mother’s warm smile, his silence in the car, the way he pulled you close only to push you away again.

And now, as you sit alone in your room, you realize you were right all along: he was always just passing through, slipping out of your life as easily as he slipped in. You find yourself scrolling through old photos, looking for remnants of moments that feel like they were never real. It’s as if he left nothing behind, no trace except for the hollow ache inside you.

One evening, you’re drawn to the beach, the same stretch of sand where you’d spent that warm afternoon with his family. The waves lap at the shore in the fading twilight, mirroring the last of the light in your heart. You pull your jacket tighter around you, trying to block out the cold, but it seeps in anyway, a biting reminder of everything you’d tried to hold onto but lost.

There’s no message, no goodbye, only an absence that weighs heavier with each passing day. You realize he’s already gone, moved on like you were just another moment he’d let slip through his fingers. And yet, part of you still waits, still hopes that he might come back. But he doesn’t.

One night, months later, you hear from a friend that he’s been seen with someone else. She’s smiling in the photos, leaning into him, her gaze full of a warmth that’s achingly familiar. You can’t help but wonder if he looks at her the way he once looked at you, or if she’s just another fleeting thing he’ll one day forget.

As you close the album on your phone, the realization hits you fully: you were always just a passing chapter, a story he never meant to keep. And even though you knew this was how it would end, the pain of it feels like a wound that will never truly heal.

You look out at the ocean, letting the waves carry away the last of your hopes. And in that quiet, lonely space, you finally let him go.

#Spotify #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq suna #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro fluff #suna angst #suna fluff #suna smut

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abiatackerman · 3 months ago

Text

Insecurities

Event: @levievent "Levi Month 24"

❤️‍🩹Day 14: Jealousy❤️‍🩹

Canon universe! Captain Levi Ackerman x Medic Reader! Fluffy romance! Healing words! 1.3K words

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

"I never should've expected anything. I'm fucking stupid."

Levi Ackerman, humanity's strongest soldier, says to himself, standing on the rooftop of the survey corps hq.

He's so frustrated......

"I'm friendly to everyone, that's why I try to act friendly with you too."

Your words echo in Levi's mind as he looks up at the stars with a gloomy expression.

Right, you were just being friendly with him just like you are with everyone else. But still he hoped you liked him. How you would always smile when you noticed him, how your soft hands would stitch him up with care if he got hurt, how your face used to soften when you listened to his story without judging....

He thought maybe... Maybe you did like him. More than a friend.....

But his hopes totally got shattered today when he saw you hugging another man as intimately as you could.

It definitely wasn't his intention to sneak up and find you and your "male best friend" at the secluded corridor of the infirmary. He just accidentally spotted the scene when he went there searching for you.....

But now it's making him feel frustrated, angry and jealous.... He can't help it.... He just likes you so much.... Is it wrong for him to like someone romantically? After all he's just a human! Can't he hope for the girl he likes to like him back? Just because he's the strongest doesn't mean he's not a HUMAN!

But he knows he shouldn't feel like this. He should have known that this would eventually happen. He is a guy whose mother was a prostitute, who has no future, who's short as a midget and who can die anytime....

Why would you choose him over someone who's rich, handsome and belongs to a noble family? He was stupid to even think about the possibility.

He sighs and sits in his usual place, leaning on the wall. He takes a deep breath to calm his raging jealousy. It always helps him to calm down and to put up a stoic expression on his face. No one actually understands his actual emotions. Though he thought you knew but....

He's definitely wrong.

"Levi?"

He freezes as he hears the soft voice which never fails to make his heart beat faster. Your voice... Why are you here? The timing can't be worse.... He takes a deep breath before answering.

"What?"

He asks in a stern voice, sterner than usual. He just can't help it. He's pissed with you.

"Mood off?"

You ask, chuckling and sit beside him. You're sitting so near that he can smell your scent. As always, it's natural and sweet.

And his favourite.

"None of your business."

Levi says again, trying to ignore your presence and your scent. He should leave.... Because he will do something he'll regret later if he stays here. He was about to stand up but stops as you speak up again.

"Josh's mom died. Suicide.... His father cheated on her with a maid."

Levi freezes as he realises that you are talking about the guy he saw you earlier with. He looks at you blankly as you start to talk again.

"You know, I was so dumbfounded.... Well since we're best friends I hugged him. I don't know what else to do to comfort him. And he cried like a baby. He loved his mother."

You say as you lean on the wall and look up at the sky. Levi clicks his tongue with irritation.

Are you trying to internationally irk him up? Do you want to see how he's gonna act when he's jealous? Otherwise why are you telling him that you hugged another man when he tried to give you hints so that you'll understand he likes you?

"Why are you telling me this?"

He asks with pure annoyance and you tilt your head to look at him.

"Because I thought you deserve to know."

"And why do you think that?"

Levi's immediate question makes you sigh. You start to play with your hair and you mumble in a low tone.

"Didn't want you to think that I'm cheating with you."

Levi pauses as you say that. He doesn't understand what you meant. Does it mean that you like him too? Are you trying to imply that you two are already in a relationship? Though he doesn't mind the idea even a bit but he's feeling stupid as a brat right now. He doesn't know how to reply to your question.

"I saw you leaving when I was hugging Josh. You looked so hurt and shocked and I wanted to explain. You have to except Josh's presence in my life. He's one of my best friends and yes he may have some feelings for me but he never acted on it. Also he supports our relationship so...."

Levi stops you before you can speak any further.

"Are you trying to imply that you care more about me? Than Josh? You shouldn't. I don't deserve it. Also we're not in a relationship"

The words escapes Levi's mouth before he can realise. He immediately regrets it as soon as he notices you expression saddens. You nod.

"I know we're not but I just thought you like me. I mean I thought you gave me hints I guess I was wrong."

Levi's face softens at your answer. He looks at your face which is slightly pink now and the moonlight is highlighting your beauty more, making you look like an angel.

"Why me?"

He asks softly.

"I don't care about a prince charming Levi, I want a scarred knight for me. Who I can heal, who I can support. Who I can truly love after knowing all of his insecurities... It is my dream also...."

You say and look into Levi's eyes. Your voice turned firmer as you speak.

"You're the most incredible person I've seen. You're loyal, honest, caring and kind but you refuse to show it all. You're so beautiful and handsome and you know it too! You're strong as hell but inside you're suffering. Yet you keep fighting, for people, for humanity. Tell me, how can I stop myself from falling for you?"

Levi looks at you with a dumbfounded expression. You can't blame him because you know he may have never heard those things before. You smile and hold one of his hands, falling in love with his blue eyes which are glowing under the moonlight.

"Also about your past? I don't care. You had to do it to live. I bet your mother is so proud of you."

You smile sweetly.

"I'm jealous of her. He has an amazing son."

Levi feels tears covering his eyes so he blinks, refusing to cry.

"Shut up."

He says in a weak tone and looks away from you.

"Also look at you, what a gentleman you are! Though you were always jealous of Josh you never once behaved harshly with him. Most men would have punched him or punished me by now."

You chuckle and Levi shakes his head with amusement. You really never fail to make him smile. Or cry...

"What do you think I am? A teenager?"

You chuckle at Levi's words and shake your head.

"So you're admitting that you were jealous?"

You ask smugly and Levi looks at you and utters his words calmly.

"I don't think so there's no point in denying it since you've confessed too."

You smile widely.

"Can I take that as a yes?"

You give him your puppy eyes and he smiles a little.

"Tch yes... But never do that again. If that's not necessary."

Your face softens and you smile brightly at his words.

"You're really a gentleman, you know that? You're practically giving me the permission to hug another men. But I promise Levi, I'll never misuse the chance."

Levi makes a pissed expression and flicks your forehead.

"I trust you. I know you won't."

You rub your forehead and smile.

"I trust you too, Levi."

#levimonth24 #levi ackerman #levi #levi x you #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x reader #levi x reader fluff #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x fem! reader #levi aot #captain levi #levi heichou #snk levi #levi snk

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laneywrld · 5 months ago

Text

warm, buttery, and soft | Lewis Hamilton

request: I have a LH44 request! So, I’m a BCBA, I work with children who have autism and my dream is have my own clinic one day. I have a request where maybe Lewis is with a BCBA, who has her own practice, maybe with a back story of how they met at a charity event for her grand opening? Maybe he decided to venture out his charitable contributions and became interested in what she does? Romance, all the feels :)

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none

Lewis had more money than he knew what to do with.

He'd still accept it graciously, but he couldn't help but feel that he could be doing more with the funds he'd earned. He always felt as if he could offer his many resources to many different causes.

He had started mission 44, and still, he felt like he wasn't doing enough.

Lewis had always been driven by a deep desire to make a meaningful impact in the world. After years of dedication to his passion projects, he felt it was time to expand the reach of Mission 44, his organization dedicated to empowering underserved communities. He wanted to invest in something truly transformative, and it was a conversation with an old friend that set him on the right path.

One evening, over a cup of coffee, his friend Michael shared a heartfelt story about his autistic son, Josiah. "There's this incredible clinic," Michael said, his eyes lighting up. "It's run by Y/N, a BCBA. Her work with autistic children has been nothing short of miraculous for us. Jojo has made so much progress thanks to her."

Intrigued, Lewis asked for more details. Michael explained how Y/N's clinic provided personalized therapy and support, creating a nurturing environment where children like Josiah could thrive. It was a place of hope and transformation, and it resonated deeply with Lewis's vision for Mission 44.

Determined to learn more, Lewis arranged a visit to the clinic. When he arrived, he was immediately struck by the warm and welcoming atmosphere. The walls were adorned with colorful artwork created by the children, and the air was filled with laughter and a sense of purpose.

Sadly, you weren't there when he arrived. Lewis really wanted to connect with you. But you were certain to make sure he was taken care of in your absence.

As Lewis toured the facility, he saw firsthand the incredible progress the children were making. Therapists and staff members were deeply engaged, using innovative techniques to support the children's development. It was clear that this was more than just a clinic—it was a community of care and compassion.

Inspired by what he had seen, Lewis knew he had found the perfect partner for Mission 44. He decided to invest in your clinic, providing the resources needed to expand your reach and impact. Together, you two envisioned opening new branches in underserved areas, ensuring that more children and families could benefit from the transformative care you and your team provided.

With this partnership, Mission 44 took a significant step forward, amplifying its mission to empower and uplift. Lewis was filled with a sense of purpose and fulfillment, knowing that your combined efforts would create a brighter future for countless children and families.

And so, with a shared vision and unwavering dedication, Lewis and you embarked on a journey to bring hope, healing, and empowerment to the world, one child at a time.

And this was all without ever meeting each other.

You were a busy woman, and when you did have free time, it was spent with your kids. Your kids being the children you work with of course. So tonight was meant to be special. An ordeal that certainly meant a lot to you.

You would be meeting Sir Lewis Hamilton for the very first time in person. The two of you had communicated over the phone and through emails, but you had not had the chance to sit with him face-to-face, until tonight.

It'd been a year since this endeavor started, and already, the funding Lewis provided had shown its hand and made your mission all the more achievable.

Tonight, you were having a gala.

You were against the idea initially, telling your assistant to reconvene with Lewis' team. You wanted funds to help autistic children, you wanted an event that reflected that.

But Lewis came up with a good point, you wanted to ask a bunch of rich people to invest in you and your goals, to do that, you had to speak to them in a language that they understood, money.

So here you were, a beautiful gown adorning your frame, that was much too elegant and flashy than what you were used to.

You were standing off to the side, watching as the team organized the smaller details. Your hands are placed in front of you, fingers fidgeting with the others as you will your nerves away.

This was not your scene. You weren't used to the flashy life nor did you care for it, so the fact that you would be surrounded by millionaires and a select few billionaires and people with status simply because of your business ties with such a prominent figure in the world of money and fame, well it made you nervous.

Lewis arrived at the clinic a few minutes early, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He had seen pictures of you online and read about your remarkable work, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he saw you in person.

From across the hallway, he saw you before you noticed him. The pictures did you no justice. You were more beautiful than any photograph could capture. Your presence was radiant, your smile warm and genuine. Lewis couldn't help but be captivated by your grace and the effortless way you carried herself. He was about to approach you when the door to your left swung open.

In poured a group of children, dressed in colorful gowns and suits, their faces beaming with excitement. Lewis watched as your eyes widened with delight and your lips spread into a grin wider than the universe. The children, your clients, rushed to surround you, their joy palpable. Some stayed a little further back, shy but eager to be close to you.

Lewis stood back, observing the scene. He saw the way you interacted with each child, your demeanor filled with kindness and understanding. You bent down to their level, speaking softly to those who needed it, and laughed with those who were more exuberant. You were careful and considerate, aware of each child's unique needs and sensitivities due to their autism.

One little girl tugged at your sleeve, and you responded with a gentle touch and a few whispered words that brought a smile to the girl's face. A boy who had been standing off to the side finally mustered the courage to step forward, and you greeted him with the same warmth and attention, making him feel just as special as the rest.

Lewis was moved by the sight. It wasn't just your beauty that struck him now, but the depth of your compassion and the genuine love you had for these children. He realized that your work was more than a profession; it was a calling, a true testament to your character.

As the children slowly dispersed, you stood up and finally noticed Lewis. Your eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You approached him with that same radiant smile, extending your hand in greeting.

"Hi, you must be Lewis," you said, your voice as warm as your smile.

Lewis took your hand, feeling a spark of connection. "Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. Your work here is incredible."

Your eyes twinkled with gratitude. "Thank you, Lewis. I'm glad you're here. This wouldn't have been possible without your support. Can I show you what we have so far?"

Lewis accepts, walking with you as you point out the many attractions for your guest. As you walk, you speak more to Lewis about your work, your passion for your work evident in your every word. You explained how you had started the clinic with the goal of providing comprehensive, individualized care for autistic children. "Each child is unique," you said, "and we tailor our approach to meet their specific needs. It's about helping them reach their full potential. Most of all, showing them unconditional love and acceptance."

"I think you're doing an amazing job." Lewis compliments, "Can I ask, why autistic children? What made this your dream?"

You let out a chuckle, "You ever read those books about the pig, Mercy Watson? She goes crazy over buttered toast?"

Lewis laughs and shakes his head, "Can't say I have."

"Well, in these books, there's a talking pig who does a lot of crazy stuff really for buttery toast. I used to read these books to my brother. He was obsessed with them. I used to just read them to him over and over every night, thinking, you know, of course, a story about a pig causing absolute destruction for food would entertain a boy." As you talk, you're waving your hands around, describing the elaborate storyline of the children's book.

"Anyways, my brother was autistic, high functioning, but you know there were still things that made him different than others, ways that he couldn't fit in no matter what, and I grew to realize okay, this book has to be his hyper fixation, like he doodled Mercy Watson everywhere. Or like cute little toast, and for a while, all he ate was toast for weeks." You chuckle, and Lewis laughs with you.

"Then one day, I'm a freshman in high school, and my brother has started his first day of middle school, and he just, it was bad for him, so bad. And I wanted to help, so I tried to read the books for him and he just got angry and said it wasn't true, and I was left trying to figure out what he meant. It bothered me for so long, I spent weeks rereading those books, you hear me, weeks."

You look distressed as you recant the memory and Lewis can only imagine how frantic you were when it actually happened.

"And then it just clicked for me. The buttery toast isn't fucking toast. The damn toast is a feeling. Warm, soft, and buttery. Mercy Watson is a pig. She feels buttery with her family and warm, cozy, and accepted. It's a feeling she's chasing. And maybe I'm wrong, but to him, the book highlighted his need to be accepted, to feel community. My brother deserved to be loved for who he was, unconditionally."

"Is that why you have so many piglet paintings in your clinic?"

You let out a laugh that starts from a snort. "Yeah. My little piggies."

"You've got a beautiful heart, you know that?"

"Thank you." You drop your head as if to hide your shyness from the man.

As they walked through the clinic, Lewis couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something extraordinary.

"You should let me take you out to dinner, discuss more on how to get the toast to all of the little piglets in the world, and maybe discuss another dinner, too?"

"I'd love that."

Three years had passed since that charity gala for your clinic, the night you first met Lewis. You remember how he approached you with a warm smile, expressing his admiration for your work. He had insisted on taking you out for dinner, and that evening turned into many more, each one deepening the connection between you.

Now, you stand in the nursery, a gentle smile on your lips as you admire the freshly painted walls. Small, cute little piglets dance across the pale yellow background, a whimsical design that Lewis insisted on because he remembered how you loved piggies, a love sparked by your brother's fondness for the book that changed your outlook on life.

The room is filled with the promise of new life, a testament to the love that has blossomed between you.

You gently place a hand on your growing belly, feeling the fluttering movements of your baby. The thought of becoming parents fills you with a mixture of excitement and wonder. Lewis walks into the room, his eyes lighting up as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and places a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand joining yours on your belly.

"You’re going to be the best mom," he says, his voice filled with admiration. "I can’t wait to meet our little one."

Lewis has always seen you as the sweetest soul in the world. Your compassion, kindness, and unwavering dedication to your work and family have captured his heart completely. He often tells you that being with you feels like coming home—warm, soft, and buttery, just like toast. It's the only feeling you've ever had when it comes to Lewis: a deep, comforting love that fills every corner of your life.

Your relationship with Lewis is a harmonious blend of mutual admiration and profound affection. He has not only embraced you but also formed a close bond with your brother. Lewis took the time to understand your brother’s world, it was a connection that brought you immense joy and deepened your love for Lewis.

As you and Lewis stand in the nursery, imagining the future with your child, you feel a profound sense of contentment. Engaged and set to be married in a year, your journey together has been nothing short of extraordinary.

"I love you," you whisper to Lewis, feeling the baby move beneath your hands.

"I love you too," he replies, his eyes shining with emotion. "And I love our little family, more than words can say."

At that moment, surrounded by the playful piglets on the walls and the warmth of Lewis's embrace, you feel a sense of completeness. Your love story is like toast—warm, soft, and buttery—filling your life with sweetness and comfort. It's a love that grows even stronger with each passing day and a warmth that spreads just the same.

oh my god, i loved this request, and a huge thank you for you and the work you do, this hit very close to home, and I loved writing every word of it!! also, I'm not really good at writing anything that's not angsty I don't think. so I apologize in advance for the cringe omg. I tried to make it romantic I really did. 😭

#lewis hamilton #black reader #formula 1 #lewis hamilton imagine #black reader friendly #f1 #lewis hamilton x black reader #poc reader #sir lewis hamilton #laneywrld

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