#and ignoring the more complicated parts of a relationship | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eu-nicola · 2 days ago

Text

via part 2

and final

summary: In the dazzling world of high society, you are a young woman who lives an apparently perfect relationship with the pilot Pierre Gasly. However, when you discover that your boyfriend of years Pierre was unfaithful to you with one of your best friends you decide to walk away and what better idea than a vacation in the break of Formula 1 in Italy with one of your friends, Charles.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 7713

author's note: english is not my first language

tag: @pookiesnukoms

It had been two weeks since you returned from that trip with Charles, a trip that had turned everything in your life upside down. Emotions still felt like turbulent waves beneath the surface, but in the world you shared with Pierre, things seemed to be on hold. When he asked you to try again, to take a step back to remember what united you, you couldn’t say no. It was a decision you made with your head more than your heart; it was the most sensible thing to do, what the world expected of you. Pierre had been your refuge for so long that the idea of completely moving away from him seemed inconceivable.

That night, you were holding his hand as you walked down the red carpet of a charity event, one of those that brought together pilots, models, and high society figures. The flash lights dazzled you, exploding like shooting stars around you, blinding you with their relentless glow. You could feel the warmth of Pierre's palm against yours, a touch that once would have meant security, but now felt different, almost distant.

Pierre turned and smiled at you, that smile the whole world knew: calm, charismatic, perfectly calculated for the cameras. You smiled back, the cameras capturing every moment, freezing images that would later circulate in magazines and social media under headlines of the perfect couple.

You walked beside Pierre, greeting acquaintances and responding politely when someone approached to talk. Pierre kept his arm around your waist, a public demonstration that you were still together, that betrayal and doubts were hidden under the facade of a perfect relationship.

Your mind, however, kept wandering. Every time a laugh mixed in the atmosphere, every time a conversation became ephemeral, you thought of Charles. You remembered the intensity of those days, the glances that lasted a second longer than necessary, the whispered confessions under the starry sky. You had shared a world of your own, one in which attraction and complicity had arisen unexpectedly, like a fire in the middle of the fog. But now, the communication between you had been reduced to cold and short messages, as if everything that happened had never happened, as if the warmth you felt when you were close to him was a distant fantasy.

Pierre squeezed your hand lightly, bringing you back to the present moment. You turned your head and looked at him; in his clear eyes was a silent question, one that didn’t need to be asked: Are you okay? You nodded almost imperceptibly, giving him the answer he wanted.

During dinner, the conversation flowed between jokes and anecdotes from the racetrack. Pierre relaxed, laughing and sharing stories with other drivers and their companions. You listened, nodding at the right moments and laughing when the mood called for it.

Across the table, someone mentioned Charles, and your heart stopped for a moment before resuming its rhythm. They talked about his recent achievements, about his impulsive and passionate character that so distinguished him. Pierre laughed, commenting on Charles’s recklessness on the track, and everyone laughed, except you. You took a sip of wine, trying to ignore the pang of nostalgia and longing that threatened to break your calm. You were surprised at how strong that feeling was, how you could still feel his gaze on you even when he wasn’t present.

When the event was over and you stepped outside, the lights of the night and the murmur of the city enveloped you. Pierre, ever attentive, helped you into the car before coming around the vehicle and sitting beside you. The silence between you was comfortable.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he finally said, his voice low and soft, as he turned his head slightly toward you. You noticed the shadow of fatigue in his eyes, a sign that the weight of the season and his own thoughts was affecting him as much as it was you.

“You know I’ll always be here, Pierre,” you replied, and though your words were sincere, they carried a tinge of sadness that he didn’t seem to notice.

The car glided through the illuminated streets, and as the city lights flickered in the distance, you wondered if you could ever feel whole again, if this new beginning with Pierre would be enough to paper over the cracks in your heart, or if there would always be a part of you that would still look back, searching through the memories of that trip with Charles for what once made you feel alive.

The weeks following the charity event were an endless parade of social engagements and public appearances. The Formula 1 season was in full swing, and almost every weekend meant a new city, a new track, and a new spectacle in front of the press and fans. Cameras followed you everywhere, capturing every smile. The world saw the couple that had overcome a difficult time, the story that fit perfectly into the headlines: the solid couple that had weathered the storm.

Pierre worked hard to regain the trust he had broken. Calls and messages that could once have gone unnoticed now came frequently, always looking to make sure you were okay, that you were still by his side. In public, he was more attentive than ever, placing a protective hand on your back, leaning in to speak in your ear amid laughter and comments that only you could hear. There was a certain sparkle in his eyes, as if he was clinging to the hope that things would go back to the way they were. And you, used to being the image of loyalty and forgiveness, kept up that facade, doubting whether time would be enough to repair what had been broken.

Yet no matter how many times you reminded yourself that you were doing the right thing, the feeling of emptiness persisted. Every event, every gala night or high society gathering was further proof of your ability to maintain your composure, to show yourself as Pierre’s ideal partner, the woman who knew how to forgive and move on. Sometimes, amidst the hustle and bustle and small talk, you felt your mind wandering to another place, another time. You remembered the laughter and moments shared with Charles, those days of freedom when there was no need to pretend or hide feelings.

Charles was there too, at every event and every race, but he kept his distance. He had learned to position himself on the periphery, close enough to be seen, but far enough away that no one could detect the tension between you. When your eyes met his, he would quickly look away, but not before letting a spark of something you couldn’t define shine through them. It was a mix of pain, nostalgia, and perhaps a hint of defiance, as if he wanted to remind you that what had happened between you couldn’t be erased so easily.

One night, during a post-race reception in Monaco, the air felt especially thick. The terrace of the hotel where the event was being held was filled with laughter, clinking glasses and raised voices. Pierre was chatting animatedly with a group of drivers, and you were making polite conversation with the couples of other drivers, all smiles and harmless comments. But you could feel Charles’ presence, even if you weren’t looking at him. He was a few meters away, talking to a journalist, but your heart beat faster every time he moved, as if your body instinctively responded to his proximity.

You decided to take a breather and excused yourself to go to the terrace railing. The sea breeze caressed your skin and you looked out to sea, dark and dotted with the lights of yachts in the distance. This moment of solitude was a necessary respite, a pause amidst the spectacle of appearances. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the night envelop you and, for an instant, you wished you could disappear into the sound of the sea, far from the expectations and doubts that tormented you.

“Pretty sight, don’t you think?” Charles’ voice made your eyes snap open. You hadn’t heard him approach, and now he was standing beside you, hands in his pockets and that expression somewhere between wary and defiant.

“It is,” you replied, feeling the space between you fill with palpable tension. You didn’t look at him right away, afraid that a single glance might betray the feelings you’d tried so hard to hide.

“You look… different tonight,” Charles continued, his tone barely concealing his concern. There was something in his words, a nuance you couldn’t ignore.

“It’s the same as always, Charles,” you tried to joke, but your voice shook slightly and the lie hung in the air, heavier than you expected.

He let out a soft sigh and leaned in a little, just enough for his words to be for your ears only. “No, you’re not. And we both know it.”

The echo of his words reverberated through your mind as an awkward silence took over the moment. You turned to look at him, finally meeting those eyes you knew so well, the same ones that had looked at you with a mix of affection and desire during that trip. And suddenly, all the coldness and distance of the past few weeks felt like a useless barrier, a paper wall that a simple glance had broken through.

Before you could respond, a growing murmur interrupted the moment. Turning your head, you saw Pierre approaching, his smile disappearing as he noticed the proximity between you and Charles. The weight of his gaze said it all, and in that instant, you knew that the night would not end like any other.

And you knew it, Camille's return was like a bolt of lightning on a quiet night: unexpected, blinding, and leaving behind a silence full of uncertainty. No one had anticipated it, and when she showed up again in the circle of friends, she did so with a carefree smile and the same confident attitude that had always characterized her. Her reappearance occurred at an informal meeting in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, where the group used to gather to celebrate after a race.

The first sign of her return was a murmur among some acquaintances and a couple of furtive glances. The soft music and the clinking of glasses seemed to stop for a second when Camille entered the place, tall and slender, with a dress that hugged her figure and the same elegance that used to provoke admiration. At your side, Pierre tensed at the sight of her, his fingers, which were resting on your hand, contracted slightly. You didn't need to look at Charles to know that he had noticed her too; the way the energy changed in the air was enough.

“Wow, it looks like tonight will be more interesting than I thought,” one of Pierre’s friends murmured jokingly, not noticing the awkwardness spreading across the table.

Camille strode confidently toward the group and raised a hand in a carefree wave. “I hope you saved me a spot!” she said with a light laugh, as if the circumstances surrounding her were nothing more than a passing misunderstanding.

The silence that followed was thick. Conversations had stopped, and only the soft sound of music and the murmur of the city beyond the windows could be heard. It was Pierre who broke the silence, trying to regain his composure. “Camille, I didn’t expect to see you… here,” he said with a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Camille tilted her head and smiled in a way that made you feel like everything was calculated. “I thought it was about time I got back. I couldn’t keep running away, could I?” His eyes met yours, and the challenge in his gaze was undeniable. For a moment, you didn't know what to do, caught between anger and surprise.

Charles, who had remained silent until then, stood up from the table with a forced smile. “I need a drink,” he said, and headed to the bar without looking back. The gesture was so abrupt that it elicited a couple of curious glances. You knew it was his way of avoiding a confrontation, of not being part of the spectacle that was about to unfold.

Camille sat down in an empty chair, right in front of you. Her eyes locked with yours for an eternal moment before she turned to Pierre. “How have you been?” she asked, as if the betrayal they shared was a secret only they understood, a bond that, despite everything, kept them together somehow.

Pierre responded with a curt nod, keeping his gaze down and avoiding yours. Awkwardness crept in like a shadow, and you noticed how some of the other members of the group exchanged glances, aware that the night had become much more tense than they expected.

“Camille, it’s been a while,” you finally said, breaking the silence that hung over the table. The words came out firmer than you had anticipated, and the surprise on her face was evident for a fleeting moment. But soon, Camille regained her smile.

“Too long, yes. But, you know, things change. And I’m here to stay,” she said, as if that simple sentence could erase everything.

At the bar, you could see Charles with his back turned, his figure rigid as he spoke to the bartender. You wondered what he was thinking, if like you, he felt like things were about to explode at any moment. You turned your attention to Pierre, who was now staring at Camille with an expression that oscillated between discomfort and guilt.

The evening continued, but the laughter and banter felt forced. Camille joined in the conversations, seemingly oblivious to the wary glances and tension her presence generated. With every comment he made, with every smile he threw, the memory of the betrayal was renewed in your mind, fueling a silent rage that only you could feel. Pierre tried to maintain an apparent calm, but the sweat on his forehead and the nervous gestures with which he swirled his glass gave him away.

For his part, Charles returned to the table after a while, his expression neutral, but his eyes filled with a contained emotion. When he sat down again, his fingers drummed on the table for a moment before interlacing, as if trying to anchor his patience. Camille glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and sketched a crooked smile, a gesture that made him clench his jaw.

After that night, Camille's presence became an uncomfortable constant. Where before there had been laughter and carefree chatter, now there was a tension that crept into every conversation. Camille appeared at events and group meetings with the same confidence as always, as if she were unaware of the emotional whirlwinds that her return had caused. But you knew it wasn't ignorance. Camille was smart, and her apparent nonchalance was just a mask.

Pierre tried to act as if nothing had changed, but his efforts to appear normal only made doubts crowd your mind. The small details, once insignificant, now shone with new relevance: the shifty glances, the pauses in the middle of a conversation, the meaningful silences when Camille was around. You began to notice how Pierre tensed every time she spoke, how his answers were more cautious, more measured. And you, who had previously trusted him blindly, began to question whether the story he had told you was the whole truth.

It was during a quiet afternoon, on the terrace of a café, that your world began to crack. One of Camille's friends, a young woman with a sharp smile and a quick tongue, sat next to you without warning while you waited for Pierre. "It's funny how things repeat themselves, don't you think?" he said, his tone bordering on joking and venom. His eyes, bright with the satisfaction of someone who knew more than he should, studied you carefully.

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying to stay calm, even though your heart began to beat faster.

“Oh, nothing, just that Camille always knew how to make Pierre pay attention, even before that night in Monaco,” she commented with a shrug, as if her comment wasn’t going to set every corner of your mind on fire.

That night in Monaco. You thought you knew everything about her, but Camille’s friend’s words planted a seed of doubt that quickly germinated. What else had happened? What other secrets were Pierre and Camille hiding? Her return, their meaningful glances, Pierre’s discomfort, everything fit together in a way that you had previously ignored for fear of seeing the reality.

The tension reached an unbearable point when, days later, you received an anonymous message. It was a blurry photo, taken in what looked like a dark corner of a party. In it, you recognized Camille and Pierre, too close for it to be a friendly gesture. The caption, simple but devastating, read: “Do you know everything?”

The ground beneath your feet seemed to fade away. That night, you confronted Pierre. The conversation was a whirlwind of accusations, justifications, and tears. “It wasn’t like you think!” Pierre exclaimed, his voice desperate as he looked at you with eyes that sought to find in you some of the lost trust. “What happened with Camille was a mistake, one I immediately regretted, but… there was no more.”

“There was no more?” you repeated, your words barely a whisper. Anger and betrayal mixed in your chest, making you feel like you were short of breath. “Why did you never say so? Why did you let me believe it was all over when it clearly wasn’t?”

Pierre brought his hands to his head, a gesture that revealed his frustration. "Because I knew that if you said it, you would have left me. I wanted to protect what we had, what we were."

What we were. Those words echoed in your mind like a cruel taunt. What had been your relationship now felt like a fragile illusion, a carefully maintained image that had been broken beyond repair.

You had enough of those days with Pierre and you didn't want to have any more inconveniences, but there was always something or someone that made it possible. In the midst of all this chaos, Charles began to appear even more than you were used to: at social events, at meetings with friends, even at the coffee shop you used to frequent. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, but the way his eyes searched for you in the crowd, the way his words hung in the air, made you doubt. No matter how much you both tried to ignore what had happened between you, there was something that persisted, something that could not be erased by the passage of time or Pierre's lies.

One such encounter occurred at a dinner hosted by Pierre's team, where all the drivers were present. You were talking to other couples, pretending that everything was fine, when you felt a gaze fixed on you. You looked up to find Charles across the room, a glass in his hand and an expression that was a mix of curiosity and concern. There were no words, but the weight of that gaze was enough to disarm you. When Pierre came over and touched your arm, a gesture of possession and reassurance, the discomfort became tangible. Charles looked away, but not before a shadow of disappointment crossed his face.

The passage of time did not make the situation any easier, but quite the opposite. The weeks that followed the confrontation with Pierre and Camille's return felt terrible. The glances you exchanged with Charles became open secrets, electrifying and tense, always charged with everything that had not been said and everything that could not be.

One evening, while you were flipping through a magazine in the living room of your apartment, your phone rang with a message. It was from one of your friends, someone who was always up to date with the latest gossip from the paddock and the social life that surrounded it. The notification contained a link and a simple sentence: “Have you seen it yet?”

The link took you to an article on a celebrity gossip site. The headline, in large, bold letters, read: “Charles Leclerc spotted with mystery woman at intimate dinner in Monaco.” The accompanying photo showed Charles, standing next to a tall, elegantly dressed, brown-haired woman. Their laughter seemed genuine and their bodies were leaning towards each other with a familiarity that made your heart ache. You could see the spark in his eyes, the spark you recognized well because you’d seen it when he looked at you.

The text described how the evening had been relaxed and full of complicity, quoting a witness who claimed that Charles and the woman seemed more than friends. You felt a pang of jealousy shoot through you, unexpected and hot. You knew you had no right to feel that way; after all, you had decided to get back together with Pierre, you had tried to put what happened with Charles in the past. But jealousy didn't follow logic, and the image of Charles smiling at someone else stuck in your mind like a thorn.

It didn't take long for the rumors to spread. During events, conversations and barely veiled comments reached your ears. "Did you see Charles and his new friend?", "He seems to be moving on, don't you think?", "After everything that happened, it's good that he found someone." You tried hard not to show a reaction, to keep your composure and pretend you didn't care. But every mention, every whisper, fueled a fire in your chest that you couldn't put out.

Confirmation came one afternoon during a team meeting at the Monza circuit. As you chatted with other team members, your eyes met Charles. He was across the pit lane, talking to a group of people, but something in his expression changed when he saw you. He paused for a moment, as if he was hesitating whether to approach her or not, but before he could do anything, a female figure approached him and took his arm. The same woman from the article. She laughed and Charles, albeit briefly, smiled and returned to his conversation. The complicity between them was evident, and you felt a wave of emotions ranging from frustration to sadness.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. The laughter and comments of the others seemed to come from a far away place, and Pierre, busy with his own concerns with the team, didn't notice your silence. You glanced at Charles from time to time, looking for some indication that what was between him and that woman wasn't so serious, that there was still something left of what he had shared with you. But every smile he gave you, every kind gesture, made the hope you had kept secret fade little by little.

One night, after an event where Camille had also made an appearance, you decided to leave early. The atmosphere had become stifling, and you needed air. You walked across the hotel terrace, the city lights stretching out before you like a sea of stars. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside you.

“Is everything okay?” Charles’s voice broke the silence, soft but firm. You opened your eyes to see him standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets and worried looking.

“Yeah, I just needed a moment alone,” you replied, your voice colder than you intended. You couldn’t bring yourself to show him how much he affected you.

Charles nodded, but didn’t move. He stood there, as if he was debating whether to move closer or respect the distance you had imposed between the two of you. “I saw you left earlier… I thought maybe you needed company.”

The irony of his words didn’t go unnoticed. “Looks like you have enough company already,” you said, unable to stop a tinge of jealousy from seeping into your tone. You regretted it instantly, but the damage was done. Charles narrowed his eyes and took a step towards you.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice low and laden with emotions you couldn’t quite identify. “That this is all simple for me?”

“I don’t know, Charles,” you replied, feeling the barrier you had built begin to crumble. “All I know is that it hurts to see you move on so easily.”

He sighed, and for a moment, the sadness in his eyes mirrored yours. “Nothing has been easy. But you decided to walk away, you decided to go back to something you knew was broken. And I… I couldn’t wait forever.”

The words hung in the air, full of painful truths and silences loaded with meaning. And in that instant, you knew that the wound left by everything that happened between the two of you was still open, and that the rumors and new presences were only part of the challenge you both would have to face.

After the conversation on the terrace with Charles, you didn’t go back inside. The air felt heavy, and every step you took away from the party was a conscious decision to get away from the chaos. You couldn’t just stand there while your inner world fell apart.

The drive home was silent, broken only by the low hum of the radio you didn’t really listen to. Deserted streets passed by as your thoughts circled around what Charles had said, his words echoing in your mind like a persistent echo. “You chose to walk away.” You couldn’t deny the truth in those words, but you also couldn’t help but feel like circumstances, lies, and Pierre and Camille’s secrets had pushed you to do so.

When you got home, you dropped your jacket on the couch and collapsed into bed, not bothering to turn on the lights. You knew that the next day you would have to face another facade: a party where perfection and fake smiles were the norm. You took a deep breath, trying to erase the shadow of Charles and the jealousy that still gnawed at you from your mind.

The next day came faster than you expected. You meticulously prepared yourself for the party, selecting an elegant dress, adjusting your makeup, and practicing that smile you had learned to hold under any circumstances. When you arrived, the place was already packed with people, music and laughter echoing in the air. Pierre was waiting for you along with some colleagues, and although he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, you felt there was a distance between the two of you that you could no longer ignore.

The hours passed between conversations and toasts, and although you did your best to maintain your composure, your mind wandered. It wasn't until you saw Camille walk in, wearing a red dress that caught everyone's attention, that your heart raced. She smiled at you with that familiar mix of confidence and mystery she had always had, and you tried not to respond. But the tension became palpable when, minutes later, Charles appeared. His eyes met yours for a moment before he looked away. His expression was serious, as if this evening was more than just a social appearance.

Pierre and Charles had barely exchanged words since the start of the evening, but that all changed when the two ended up close together in the same conversation group. A casual comment from one of Pierre’s friends about “how life takes unexpected turns” lit the fuse. Charles set his glass down with a thud and looked at Pierre with an intensity you couldn’t ignore.

“Yes, unexpected turns,” Charles said, his tone hiding deep reproach. “Like the times when truths come out, even when everyone pretends they don’t exist.”

Pierre looked at him, his jaw tensing. “What do you mean by that, Charles?” he asked, his voice defiant but shaky.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Charles replied, taking a step toward him. “To the lies, to the betrayal, to everything you tried to hide while pretending to be the perfect man.”

Silence fell over the group, the murmurs of the others fading away as the guests watched the confrontation. You felt trapped, unable to move, as the atmosphere became charged with an electricity that announced an inevitable outcome.

Camille, who had been standing to the side until then, suddenly raised her voice, breaking the tension. “Enough! There’s no point in continuing this.” Her gaze flicked from Pierre to Charles and then settled on you, reflecting a mix of guilt and resolve. “It’s time for everyone to know the truth. That night, in Monaco, Pierre and I… it wasn’t just a kiss, it was more. It was a mistake, a mistake I immediately regretted, but one he never wanted to admit.”

The air escaped from your lungs as Camille’s words reverberated in your head. Pierre tried to say something, his face pale and drawn, but the words died in his throat. The murmurs became a dull rumble, and everyone’s eyes fell on you.

“Why now?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. Camille looked at you with an expression you’d never seen on her: genuine remorse.

“Because it’s time for it all to end,” she replied. “I can’t continue to be the shadow of what happened. You deserve to know.”

Without another word, Camille walked away, and the emptiness she left seemed to engulf everything in her path. Charles, who had observed the scene with a mixture of fury and sadness, turned on his heel and walked out of the room without looking back. You couldn’t just stand there. Without a second thought, you followed him.

You found Charles in the garden outside, the moonlight bathing his tense figure. He turned when he heard you arrive, and for a moment, the full weight of the night was reflected in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice broken and tired.

“I couldn’t just stand there,” you replied, tears threatening to fall. “Charles, all of this… I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t you know?” he replied, taking a step towards you. “I’ve been waiting for you to admit how you feel, to stop clinging to lies and appearances. But you always come back to what hurts you. Tell me, will you ever be able to admit how you really feel about me? Or will you still choose the easy way out, even if it destroys you?”

Charles’ question hung in the air, a broken heartbeat echoing in the silence of the garden. His eyes, which had so often looked at you with tenderness, were now filled with a mix of pain and despair. The intensity of his gaze made the words get stuck in your throat, unable to answer, unable to admit out loud what you both knew but had avoided acknowledging.

“It’s not that simple, Charles,” you finally said, your voice cracking, barely a whisper. “I’ve tried to hold it all together, to keep from breaking down. But it seems that in the process I’ve only been lying to myself.”

Charles stepped closer, his jaw set and his hands clenched at his sides. "Why do you keep choosing what hurts you? Why do you keep going back to Pierre, when you know he's not what you want, when you know there's something more between us that you can't ignore?"

A tear rolled down your cheek, cold in the night air, and you looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “Because I’m scared,” you confessed, voice shaking under the weight of the truth. “Scared of what it means, scared of what I could lose. And because, somehow, going back to him seemed the easiest, the most familiar.”

Charles let out a sigh, a sound laden with frustration and sadness. “Familiar doesn’t mean happy, and you know it. I’ve seen you pretend, I’ve seen you force yourself to smile when your heart is broken. How much longer are you going to allow yourself to continue to suffer over something that isn’t worth it? When are you going to choose yourself?”

His words echoed in your chest, a truth you had tried to ignore for far too long. Tears spilled over, and before you could stop yourself, you sobbed, covering your face with your hands as your body shook under the weight of pent-up emotions. Charles, without saying anything, stepped forward and wrapped you in a hug, strong and secure, as if he wanted to protect you from all the pain you had been carrying. His hand rested on your hair, and his breathing, slow and deep, mixed with yours as you tried to calm yourself down.

"I'm so sorry, Charles," you managed to say through tears, resting your forehead on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for not being honest with you, or with myself."

"It's not about apologies anymore," he murmured, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes. "It's about you making a decision, a real one. One that sets you free."

You took a deep breath, feeling the cold of the night give you a clarity you hadn't had in a long time. You knew at that moment what you had to do. You had spent too much time living under the shadow of mistakes, lies, and expectations. It was time to break the cycle.

The conversation with Pierre happened the next day, in the living room of your house. The curtains let in a ray of light that illuminated the room with a deceptive softness. Pierre arrived unsuspectingly, with the same smile he had learned to use to mask his own demons. But as soon as he noticed your serious expression, his face changed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes searching for answers in yours.

You took a breath, gathering the necessary courage. "Pierre, I've been thinking about everything that's happened, about us, and about what I want for my life."

He frowned, a shadow of worry passing through his gaze. "What do you mean? I thought we were trying to fix things."

You shook your head, feeling the lump in your throat slowly unravel. "That's what we've been doing: trying, pretending that everything is okay. But the truth is that it isn't, and you know that as well as I do. What we had was beautiful, Pierre, but it broke, and no matter how hard we try, we can't go back to what it was before."

The discomfort in his eyes turned into a mix of hurt and resignation. “Is this because of Camille? Because of what happened?”

“It’s because of everything,” you said, your voice firmer than you expected. “For the lies, for the doubts, for the times I tried to convince myself that this was what I wanted when I was really betraying myself.”

Pierre ran a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. “I always knew there was something broken about us. But I thought we could fix it. I thought you… that we…”

“I don’t want to keep pretending,” you cut him off softly, taking a step toward him. “I want to be honest, and I know you need it too. This is what’s best for both of us.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, and Pierre nodded slowly, his eyes shining with suppressed emotion. “I always wanted the best for you,” he murmured, his voice muffled. “And if this is what you need, then I accept it.”

The moment felt like the end of a painful phase, a necessary closure that, though it hurt, brought with it the promise of something new. When Pierre left your apartment, the feeling of relief was immediate. You felt lighter, as if you had finally let go of the weight you had carried for so long.

You walked over to the window, looking out at the city lights with a small but genuine smile. For the first time in a long time, you felt that the path you had chosen, as painful as it was, was the one that truly belonged to you.

A few days passed in which the house became your refuge and your thoughts, although turbulent, found space to flow freely. You were not looking for immediate answers or solutions, you just wanted to be with yourself, to understand what you wanted and to let the emotions settle. The mornings were spent reading and enjoying the peace of a hot coffee by the window, while the world continued to turn outside. The afternoons, on the other hand, allowed you solitary walks in the park, feeling the sun and the fresh air on your face, as if it were a reminder that you were alive and that, despite everything, you could find moments of serenity.

Charles' call came on a Friday night. It was brief, his voice tense but restrained. "We need to talk. If you agree, we could meet tomorrow." You did not hesitate to answer, although your heart was pounding. "Okay, Charles. See you tomorrow."

The next day, the sunset was turning the sky into shades of orange and pink when Charles arrived at your door. He was dressed simply, a dark jacket and a white t-shirt that accentuated his eyes, which looked at you with a mix of nervousness and determination. You stepped aside to let him in.

He sat down on the couch, and you took a seat across from him, hugging your legs as you watched him. There was a moment of stillness where neither of you seemed to know where to begin, as if words were too big to break the silence.

“How are you?” he asked at last, breaking the barrier that separated you.

You sighed, a small, wry smile appearing on your lips. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse. I’ve spent these days thinking, trying to figure out what I really want.”

Charles nodded, his hands resting on his knees, knuckles white with tension. “I’ve been thinking too. I can’t keep pretending none of this affects me.” I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when you know as well as I do that I’m not.”

“I know,” you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I know what’s happened between us isn’t something that can be ignored, but I also don’t know what it means or where it’s going.”

Charles leaned forward, his gaze meeting yours. There was something in his eyes, a glint of vulnerability you’d rarely seen. “I’m scared of what I feel for you,” he confessed. “It’s always scared me, because you’re more than someone I can love. You’re someone I’m afraid to lose, someone I’ve always wanted to protect, even from myself.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, warm and painful at the same time. You bit your lip, feeling the emotions building up in your throat. “And I’ve been afraid to admit what I feel,” you replied, looking down. “Because to do so means changing everything, losing the security of what I know. But I can’t deny it anymore.”

Charles stepped closer, his hand brushing yours with a softness that made your skin crawl. “I’m not asking you to have all the answers,” he said, his voice so low it was barely a whisper. “I just want to know if there’s something in you that I want to try, no promises, no guarantees, but for real.”

You felt the tears threaten to fall, but this time they weren’t from sadness, but from relief. “I want to try, Charles. But I also need time, I need to learn to be okay with myself before I can be with someone else.”

The understanding on his face was immediate. He moved away just enough to give you space, but he didn’t break contact. His fingers intertwined with yours were a reminder that you weren’t alone, that even though the answers weren’t clear yet, you were both willing to try, step by step.

The conversation continued until the light of day faded completely, and the shadows of night crept into the room, enveloping you in an intimate, quiet bubble. There were no promises, no commitments, just the certainty that you were both willing to face your fears and desires, to explore the possibility of a future that you didn’t fully understand yet, but that belonged to you both.

Meanwhile, you weren’t the only ones making a decision, Camille was making one too, and one that would change the course of everyone. She had spent days facing the stares, the rumors, and most of all, her own guilt. She knew she couldn’t stay, that her presence only perpetuated the damage she had caused. One afternoon, as the golden sun bathed the city streets, she wrote a short, simple letter, saying goodbye to those who were once her friends and promising to find her own path, one that would help her rediscover who she was without the shadows of her mistakes.

She left quietly, leaving an empty space that, although painful, was necessary for everyone to heal and move on.

After all the time passed and the turbulence that had enveloped their lives began to settle like dust after a storm. Weeks turned into months, and little by little, the emotional debris of everything that had happened was cleared away. Pierre, in particular, seemed to have found a new direction. Acceptance had arrived, slowly but surely, and with it, a renewed focus on his career. Training and racing became his sanctuary, an escape where he could feel the adrenaline rush without the weight of emotional complications. He had learned to separate his personal life from his professional life, and although he still watched you with a mix of nostalgia and respect when your paths crossed, there was a clear distance that you both had chosen to maintain.

The last time you saw him was at a meeting of the racing community, a formal event where Formula 1 stars and their loved ones met under a glittering roof of lights and lively conversation. Pierre greeted you with a slight nod and a restrained smile, a gesture that showed that, although the memories were still vivid, he had accepted that what once existed between you belonged to the past.

For your part, the rebuilding process was arduous but rewarding. You immersed yourself in new personal projects, exploring interests you had put aside for too long. You put modeling aside for a few months and began collaborating with a charity that promoted youth education programs, using your experience and knowledge to create campaigns and events that left a positive mark.

Confidence and self-esteem, which had suffered the ravages of betrayal and insecurity, began to flourish again. There were days of doubt, nights when you wondered if you would ever be completely at peace, but each step forward was a reminder of your strength.

It was on one of those calm days, when summer was beginning to tint the afternoons with a warm glow, that Charles reappeared in your life. Communication between the two of you had been sporadic at first, small messages that served more as reminders that you were still in each other's lives than as a true conversation. But over time, those shy words turned into longer, more meaningful chats. At first, it was anecdotes about racing or comments on the photos you posted of your projects. Slowly, the tone became more intimate, more reflective.

One afternoon, you met Charles at a small café you both used to go to in the past, a secluded place where shared memories intertwined with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of distant traffic. He looked fine, relaxed but with that restless spark that had always characterized him. When he looked into your eyes, you noticed something new about him, a serenity that had previously been absent.

“I’m glad to see you like this,” he said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “You look… like yourself again.”

You smiled, grateful for the compliment, but also for what it meant. “I’ve worked hard to get here,” you admitted.

Charles nodded, his gaze reflecting genuine understanding. “That’s something I had to learn too.”

You’d both grown, stumbled and learned, and while there were still unanswered questions, there was something liberating about not feeling the urgency to figure it all out right away.

“Do you think we could ever have something more?” you asked, your voice soft but not shaky. It wasn’t a desperate question, but a sincere curiosity.

Charles looked at you with a small, honest smile, the one that usually appeared when he let his guard down. “I think so,” he replied.

You nodded, feeling a comforting warmth in your chest. You didn’t need anything else at that moment, just the promise that no matter what, you’d both walk the path with the lesson learned, willing to explore whatever might arise between you, but always prioritizing truth and mutual respect.

And as the afternoon progressed, with the murmur of the city and the back and forth of conversations in the café, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1

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cheyisagirlkisser · 11 hours ago

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Fading with the Leaves: 1/2

‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎Ellie Williams x Fem! Reader‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

݁ ˖ ◜WARNING: Sensitive content. Mentions of grief, PTSD, violence, etc.

݁ ˖ ◜Word count: 4k

݁ ˖ ◜Description: After Ellie loses Joel, everything changes. Her touch fades from your body, replaced with a bitter shell of who once loved you. There is no promise that she will ever return, and you have to learn to give up, though that's easier said than done.

You followed her everywhere she went like blood trailing behind a body, and somehow also like a blessing that's inevitable to humanity, a much needed saving.

You would someday save her.

Ellie constantly felt the flatbacks hit. All of the moments she once took for granted with Joel and now all of those memories felt as if they were for nothing; she was once factually content with her life. The loss and the trauma that she had faced before Joel came into her life became nothing but a scab when she moved to Jackson.

From top to bottom, Ellie was a smart girl. She knew how to kill, how to survive, and how to get herself out of dangerous situations in creative ways. She was raised into violence and grew into a complicated adult. One thing they don't tell you about living in a hellish world like hers is that the flustered, awkward feelings that arise from a sweet face aren't something any knife or round of ammo can prevent.

You were always in her vicinity and at first, she felt as if she were crazy. This beautiful, sweet girl wanted to talk to her? She just couldn't believe it. As time went on, you'd naturally grow on her like the prettiest species of vines that she didn't think to ignore, unlike the verdure that sprouted on the abandoned bricks of the old world.

The blush in your cheeks, those soft smiles passed around town like your own personal calling card, and the scent of cheap strawberry lotion following you like a cloud only haunted her mind. She felt all of this before Joe's death happened. Unfortunately, she knew how much she loved you much before that, and it would be like an everlasting fear that even if she pushed you to the other side of the world, the salty taste of your skin would be engraved into her mind and it made her sick to her stomach in a way that made bile sound appetizing.

Two happy years of having you, or so she thought.

You had been dating for two long years, and it wasn't like some perfect relationship anyone could say was flawless. Ellie only found that to make you more lovely to her poor heart. She couldn't comprehend how someone could have flaws and her own body indulge in those like she was ravaged from thirst and needed you in every way, shape, and form. She needed your sensitivity, your lack of common sense in pressuring situations, and your clinginess. And somehow, your response to the behavior only put her obsession into a magnifying glass.

Ellie's constant flashbacks will never just be of Joel, as bad as those are. No, it's a mix of yearning and grief.

She'll remember the way your lips parted late into the night when she'd place her warm fingertip to your bottom lip, pressing down and sliding the flesh against your tongue in a way that made her belly clench with an undeniable need to take every bit of your soul away and keep it for herself. Even now, mentally separated from you in her current state of life, she would never get tired of you. You were far too vast, like an ocean and she could not bear to be handed a life jacket.

Being so in love can be such a beautiful blessing. Before Joel, she often returned home from her hunting trips to your presence and while days were undeniably tough, you were always a soothing balm that coated her soul twice-over.

Being in love can also make you want to tear apart the world brick by brick, branch by branch.

Ellie couldn't afford to love after Joel died. She swore it off. There was no immediate shut-down in which she broke up with you and isolated herself. It was more like a slow withdrawal from the life she once felt even an ounce of comfort from. She stopped eating your home-made meals and opted to a beer to tide her. Slowly, it became the stronger liquids. Nights that used to be spent well-rested curled up against you turned into late-night hunting trips that she came back from and collapsed onto the cold couch, regardless of you waiting for her in bed.

Ellie knew her behavior was unfair, and you deserved the fucking world, if not a loving partner. But she couldn't be that for you. You were just so beautiful and sweet, she hated imagining you in place of Joel or beside him, a grave complete with fast-fading flowers and that name she loved to say engraved into the stone. Imagining you bitten was even worse. She wanted to keep you all to herself, lock you inside the home just to know you'll always live. But when she was paranoid with thoughts of illness. There was no key to unlocking the doors of death as it hit all mortals. There was only acceptance, and that was a feeling unplaced in her life after such wretched, unfair acts had caused her to lose the one person who willingly raised her into a semi-okay human being.

There was no proper apology she could give you for the snappy words. There was no hug that followed, and no softness in her gaze when her feelings would implode onto you, coating your sensitive feelings with her own pain; Ellie began to hate herself, and yet the cycle was never going to end, it seemed.

You always loved Ellie with every ounce of heart you had, which was a lot. You weren't the angel she made you out to be. You only wanted to feel loved when you took a chance into giving her your heart.

But by God, you fell face-first into the heap of mess named Ellie.

She haunted you just as you did her; her auburn locks that so messily beautiful, even the inevitable loose strands were like pieces of perfection carved into one singular person. Her face was molded by emotions you always struggled to read and yet fantasized about her informing you of, and her skin was tainted with freckles that ate away at the apples of her cheeks. By any means was she flawless, either. Enough said of the endless list that made you fall for her so strongly.

Living with her was once a treasure you thought was too good to be true, like some conditions came with it. It wasn't until after everything happened that the reality of the harsh world hit you and refused to make Ellie see how much you wanted to be there for her.

Most people would believe comforting someone in a time of loss would be the right thing to do. You felt this natural instinct watching the light fade from Ellie's face the day after Joel's soul left the Earth. You'd never wanted to save her so badly from her own obsession with intense loss, yet she didn't even give you the chance to. Stuck was the love that you wanted to feel her release onto you, like a key voluntarily jammed in a lock. You watched her destructive behaviors and your tears were nightly shed. You wanted to feel her love again, and to be reminded that she still had those obsessive needs entailing your presence, but the reassurance never came. The nights got longer and the bed, cold.

The cold winter breeze blew over the Wyoming farm. Grass was mainly dead, frigid flakes of snow beginning to coat the ground. The sheep were all cozy in the barn that you herded them into. These past few months, you had a habit of doing most of the work around the farm and the house. It was a necessary habit, because Ellie wasn't in any condition to do the work; she was either drunk, asleep, silent, or out hunting. However, even the contributions made in the form of game were lacking. Most days, it was small rabbits or squirrels. You could tell she was beating herself up over that too, behind the lack-luster eyes.

Your hands reached over for the pie dough, weaving through threads of the material. Your hands always seemed to twitch slightly these days, but it was usually cold in the house, making for a reasonable explanation. More than anything, you wanted to pretend all was well.

Baking was always something you loved to do when things got tough. Before you even knew Ellie, you'd spend your time frosting cupcakes or shoveling a tray of brownie batter into the oven. Now, you were just reminded of how many times Ellie had come into the kitchen to steal one of your creations and kiss your cheek. You longed for the way it was so easy with her at one point in your lives.

Still, you placed the pie into the oven and waited. You waited with the silence, pacing around restlessly. Ellie was in the bedroom, probably buried under the blankets, but not asleep. You wanted to give her something to come out for.

30 minutes later, the timer went off. No sign of Ellie. You sighed and with mitts, took the apple lie out. It had the scent of cinnamon tainting it, an aroma that used to be Ellie's favorite. Still, you didn't want to give up. You carefully placed the pie onto the counter and slowly headed for the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as possible.

"Ellie?" You called out, making sure to be gentle with your tone. Anything could set her off, and even a frown was something you wanted to avoid.

Ellie muttered out a soft respond, mostly incomprehensible.

You sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "I made your favorite pie. You want a slice?"

"Don't feel like getting up," she mumbled.

You frowned slightly at that, but something in you wanted to still push. Gently push. "You can have a slice in bed, I'll bring you-"

You were cut off.

"Just go, okay? I don't want the damn pie."

Followed by a soft sigh from underneath the blankets, and a bit of shuffling.

"I'm sorry..just go, please. Put the leftovers in the fridge or whatever."

Your heart sank a bit, and you hated getting snapped at. Still, you loved her. Sometimes, you endured some fucked up things for love.

You closed the door behind you.

Winter season was one of your least favorites of the seasonal climates. Summer was much nicer, you thought. Beautiful rays of sunshine that painted the grass with greenery. Hours spent in the creek a mile from the farmhouse turned into your eyes flickering down into the icy surface, thoughts muddled with Ellie. You hoped she would break soon.

Today, you woke up and went on with your usual morning routine. You made breakfast, and you made sure to leave leftovers in the fridge for Ellie, even though she had already left for another hunt, without a word, of course. You spent the first quarter of the day doing chores and enduring the cold to take care of the livestock. Once done, you felt restless. You wanted to do something, but you didn't know what. Life felt so boring these days, and you wanted to break away from the routine you and Ellie found yourselves in. So you decided to do something special in hopes she'd appreciate you.

When Ellie came home from her hunting trip, she opened the door and was floored.

The kitchen table had centralized candles, warm soft glow emitting and adding light to the rather dim room. It was a heat that used to exist between the two of you and lingered like a smoke filling a car, a car Ellie intended to escape from. There was a new cloth laid out, and on top of it were two glasses of red wine and two plates of spaghetti, truly one of Ellie's favorite meals, or was one of her favorites. However, she lastly noticed you standing beside it all with a nervous but hopeful upturn in your lips.

You looked fucking gorgeous.

Ellie always admired your style, even back in Jackson. It was clear that you sometimes wandered off during patrol in search of some pieces to bring back to your closet. She used to find it extremely endearing, teasing you over some claw clip in your hair or a new skirt you found in an abandoned home's master bedroom.

Now, standing in front of her, your hair was up and loose strands fell like a stream from a waterfall, all chaotic and natural but there was much intent behind it. Your lips were an exaggerated rosy pink, and they were slight parted like two delicate, plush petals. They looked like the petals of a pretty tulip picked straight from a meadow, only being the most perfect flower of all. If she had seen you months ago, she would've had the cosmetic substance coating your lips smudged over your pretty face. Now, she could only brush past it as her eyes flickered down to the satin dress hugging your body in ways she'd only seen when you were naked.

"I'm not doing this with you," She stated, trying to sound monotonous but ultimately failing, "I can't do this tonight."

"Ellie, sit down. Just eat with me, please." You gestured to the chairs, vulnerability still written all over your pretty face and signed on your trembling lips.

"I'm not hungry."

"You know that's not true. You skipped breakfast this morning and probably lunch." You knew you were pushing it, but you were at your limit with the way things were going. You knew she was struggling, that no dinner could heal her, but you still wanted to at least make a start.

That's when she doubled down.

"Because I'm not fucking hungry. I'm going to watch tv now." She walked right past the table and when you reached out to grab her, your grip a bit too clingy. She turned around, and the irritation that used to be subtle boiled over.

It used to be subtle, at least. There were always recent moments in which her agitated moods doubled into more, something that bordered the anger that she contained towards Joel's killers. Now, she can't help it; it leaks out through her voice, the tone that you've now grown to hate. You wonder how much you can stand, but she'll be sure to show you.

Her hands gripped at the kitchen table, pushing it away and sending the glasses of wine to be shattered into glass shards spread all over the tiled floor; a quite accurate representation of what seemed to be happening inside of you at the moment. The plates hit the ground as well, and there was a mess that joined the red liquid staining the floor you mopped hours ago.

Everything was a fucking mess.

You stared at her in silence. Ellie stared back, but not meeting your eyes. She wasn't making a move to leave you alone in the kitchen, though, as if she wanted to see your reaction. She wanted to see if you'd given up on her so she wouldn't have to worry about you leaving her like Joel did.

"Why'd you do that?" You spoke, and you sounded so hurt, so done. It sent a pain through Ellie's chest; she had never witnessed such hopelessness from you.

Always so sweet and carefree, as if you were oblivious to the world around you, to all of the death and violence that followed human kind. Ellie used to need that behavior from you because you would provide her with a beacon of light that she wasn't able to be herself. However, now, that beacon felt ever-blinding. She felt the need to drop the lantern that was your hope onto the floor, even if it shattered her in the process.

Silence followed.

You didn't question her again. You simply grabbed a kitchen towel, knees falling to the floor as you began to rub at the spilled wine. It wasn't like how you had cleaned earlier, not like it was something you focused on to forget Ellie's negligence. Now, it was like you were on the midst of reaching your lowest point in life. Fuck, now that made Ellie feel really, really guilty.

Tears were patching up your vision, making it hard to see. Streams of salty moisture was now visible on your cheeks, hands shaking as you frantically tried to gather up pieces of glass without a thought to what it'd feel like to hurt yourself with a shard brushing up against your skin.

Ellie tried to reason that she should scurry off upstairs to leave you alone without a second thought, but her mouth was speaking before she could process what she was saying.

"I know it's not your fault. It's all mine." She sounded, for the first time, like she cared.

You gazed up at her through tear-clouded eyes. You should've probably kicked her out for the night, told her to go back to Jackson and crash on Jesse's couch. Something deep within you, something foolish and perhaps even blind, stopped you.

"Just..head to bed, okay? Go to bed, and I'll get this all cleaned up." You mumbled quietly, and the lack of hope or effort to appease her didn't go unnoticed by Ellie. She could tell you were about to really be done with her.

This would be the first night she would be sleeping in your shared bed. She probably would've protested, but all the fight contained within her to push you away was released. Ellie only nodded and her footsteps faded as she left the kitchen.

Cleaning vigorously only helped distract you from the racing in your chest just a bit.

You used to believe that Ellie was confidently obsessed with you. Her heart used to seem so yearning for you and her hands, those needy hands would always seek you out. Now, you felt as one-sided as this had started. Nothing could completely wipe away the pain of feeling unwanted, no amount of scrubbing away the wine or sweeping up glass. Nothing could ever be the same, you were starting to believe.

The kitchen floor was shiny now, but you felt like a train-wreck inside. You longed for life to feel easier, even with the struggles you were forced to endure. It's much harder to face those alone, and it's especially hard when the person you're losing is slipping away on their own and not by the grim reaper's grasp. Your hands grasped at the table for support as you lifted yourself up off of the ground after scrubbing away the mess completely, and you slowly entered the bedroom.

Ellie wasn't buried underneath the blankets. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and you could tell she was waiting for you to be done cleaning. You felt uneasy in your stomach, and all you wanted was for her to finally speak. But she was silent until the words that made your face pale left her chapped lips.

"I have to leave."

"...what?" You wanted to put up a fight. You wished you had it in you to scream and yell at her, to beg and plead for her to stay, but she'd completely drained your once rose-tinted cheeks of power. She held a grasp over you and intended to squeeze.

She finally looked at you. "I have to kill them, and then maybe I can come back to you and be who you need me to be."

She was truly demented now, you thought to yourself. Your fingers were twitching, fidgeting with the end of your sleeve. She had the audacity to speak again.

"I can get revenge and maybe then, I can-"

"Just go. I'm done pretending like I want this. I feel like I'm living with a damn ghost, Ellie." You couldn't take it anymore: the one-sided fights, the one-sided feelings, the constant distance and sleepless nights. At this point, you weren't sure if you wanted her to return. She looked surprised that you had agreed so easily, though, and it left her feeling even worse because Ellie could tell that you just simply gave up.

"Alright, then. I promise I'll be back. I promise I still love you. I'm so sorry." She stood up slowly and her hands cupped your face. You made no move to lean into her touch or to push her away, only silently appreciate her warmth, even though your mind was telling you she probably wouldn't be coming back.

She leaned in, her warm breath on your cheek, and pressed two plush lips to it. You let out a breath of your own and closed your eyes. Footsteps rang in your head louder than her boots realistically were.

When your eyes opened, she was gone.

Spring followed suit of the bitter winter.

The trees that were once devoid of life sprouted new potential, and the creek stream flowed ever-the-same. Little white flowers with their pure petals sprouted in your yard, and the sheep seemed to be more content with the grassy utopia grown throughout the yard now that the cold was behind it.

Overall, the atmosphere was lighter and swept clean of a hopeless, frigid ache. It had been approximately four months since Ellie left.

The first and second month was the hardest. You wondered how someone could just leave the person they claim to love the hardest in their life. You thought that the pain would be never-ending, but you were always changing, just like the seasons. Just not in chronological order, only through cycles that couldn't end.

Even after four months, sometimes you thought of her. You wondered if she was gone from the Earth, her body left to be feasted upon by infected or if she was on some dirty floor with a bullet in her head. You wouldn't be surprised; the girl had too much bravado, and she'd be sure to get herself killed that way. She couldn't suck it up, even to the one behind the gun. Still, the ache in your chest was lightening.

You felt guilty to think that you were moving on. She could actually come back, and she'd be needing you more than anything. She could walk through that wooden door at any minute and grovel over the months she hurt you.

You were starting to wonder if you could bear to take her back. The chores were easier than ever, though, now that you didn't feel the tense grief looming in the air. The house was empty, and you were completely alone, and somehow not as lonely as you could imagine.

However, late at night, you would dwell on what Ellie would do if she were here, and if the grief she carried would've been passed like it should've been. You could somehow feel the way her breath would tickle your neck and she'd trace her chapped but soft lips over your skin like she was tending to more than just some girl. Like you were her goddess, and that was how things once were. You could still smell her everywhere in your bed, the scent of sweat mixed in with Earth. It always lingered and the memories of her ghost touches seemed to hit you like a flash bang.

Those nights grew less and less frequent, however.

Summer nights were spent in the old house you inhabited in Jackson.

The farmhouse was much too spacious for one person, so after much consideration, you returned to the settlement.

You were welcomed with warm, open arms. You desperately missed your friend, Dina, and how she matched your spirits. You spent the summer going to parties and bonfires, staying over at Dina's house and smoking the occasional weed. Your once quiet lifestyle turned into what it once was, maybe even better. Nights became filled with the sound of your crackled laughter, and Dina sporting up some joke that Jesse would roll his eyes at watching you topple over, clutching at your stomach as if it were the peak of comedy.

Your house felt warm and filled with new emotions; it was like the once pale, neutral undertones were painted over with a layer of bright, fresh paint. Still, the cracks in the walls of your soul would remain at times.

Always did the freckled face, the auburn tufts of hair, and the wide eyes follow you, though. After a while, it all seemed to fade away, like a bath bomb in water. You pulled the drain out and you believed that you closed the chapter on Ellie's presence in your life.

It was then, on a late July day, that she returned.

#ellie tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x you #abby tlou #ellie smut #ellie x y/n #tlou ellie #ellie x fem reader #dividers by kodaswrld

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gregmarriage · 4 months ago

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thought about having a gf again *sighs*

#i’m made the same post about 50 times #you’d think i’d run out of shit to say on the subject #but nah #i think about being in love and i Yearn #but it’s not entirety possible ://#everyone i find attractive lives on the moon #or is far too out of my league even if they’re irl/on DAs #but still i YEARN!!!#idk just been feeling really low lately #and just plain unattractive and unworthy and it’s like…#i miss being flirted with #i miss actually believing ppl found me cute and funny and all the things they say #and it’s like every time it could be something it feels like it gets fucked up #idk like i don’t wanna rush into things anymore but still #and i don’t wanna date just to date #i wanna actually fall for someone again #even tho it’s scary #i wanna feel the butterflies in my tummy and be excited!!!#tho maybe i’m romanticising the idea of romance ya know?#and ignoring the more complicated parts of a relationship #and just focusing on the attention and good stuff #what must it be like to be pretty and have ppl fawn all over you?#must be nice #i don’t know if this is even coherent #does it matter?#i’ll probably get annoyed and delete it anyways lol #gwen rambles #gwenposting

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henrybelly · 1 year ago

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honestly when i tried to figure out why some fans are so mad at ivypool these days i was looking through avos and. the scene where ivypool apologises to twigpaw for not supporting sending a patrol for skyclan is genuinely very sweet??

i actually saw someone characterize this as "ivypool forcing twigpaw to forgive her". is it crack you smoke. is that what you smoke. you smoke crack?

#she apologises THREE SEPARATE TIMES #she acknowledges that dovewing and tigerheart's situation made her ignore twigpaw's feelings #she reassures twigpaw that this is the right thing for the clans. she tells her she's proud of her & tc is lucky to have her #you guys do understand that to apologise you have to Do Something Wrong?? or is that the part that's so unforgivable?#i am fASCINATED by the treatment of dove and ivy by the fans in recent years #i'm still pondering it but i think there are a few root causes #1) I think a lot of people read oots as kids and hated dove & identified with ivy because of the underdog storyline #maybe this fandom worship of dovewing is kinda part of that? wanting to feel like you've grown out of fandom misogyny?#but i also feel like 2) tigerdove has really increased dovewing's popularity #and i think because ivypool is so staunchly opposed to their relationship people then have to villainise ivypool #3) is maybe too spicy of a take but to be honest #i think people are subconsciously way more comfortable with a woman whose story ends in heterosexual marriage and childrearing #dovewing's mom role in TBC to shadowsight probably helped her popularity #so ivypool whose relationship w Fernsong & her kits is much less of a focus. and is mUCH less maternal #and who still exhibits Ugly Female Emotions like anger and hurt #and who God Forbid now holds a position of authority...#is too complicated to fit into :) she's such a good mom :) she's such a good mate #dovewing is easier to like because she tends to be a victim of circumstances (🤫 and often lacks agency in her storylines)#since ivypool regularly uses her agency to Fuck Up #fans revert to idealising dovewing because not only is she too good to do bad things. she also doesn't do Things in general #never mind that ivypool is the one who sacrifices and apologises #anyway <3 i think if i made a full analysis of ivy and dove post OOTS i would get too many spicy anons so i will cower in the tags

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houndfaker · 10 months ago

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i dont think ive flat out drawn kikumitsu before but the beast awoke tonight i guess

#p3 #persona 4 arena ultimax #p4au #mitsuru kirijo #kikuno saikawa #kikumitsu #kikuyukamitsu #<- mostly for organizational purposes on my part even if the stupid gay archer isnt anywhere to be seen.#quinn moment #quinn drawings #goinjg to be a weirdly long tag ramble sorry i have a lot of thoughts rn it is almost definitely because at the time of writing this its 3a #funfact kikunos back was arched at least like 30% more in the original sketch and i adjusted it after being like well thats scary actually #i produce A Lot about the kikuno/yukari aspect of kym because theyre by far the duo touched on the least in the polycule #i find their dynamic really weird and gay and funny so i doodle about it a lot #but it occurred to me i actually havent touched a whole hell of a lot on the kikumitsu side of things because imo they have the most #like...complicated thing going on?#special and particular relationship one that is beyond friendship. not even in the romantic sense its just that their roles and their #feelings towards each other transcend expectation.#in my little scenario its just really interesting to think about them navigating this shift in their bond. the deep feelings each one had #either set aside for ease or ignored in fear of misunderstanding. bits and pieces of themselves they opted to hide for their own or one #anothers protection. slowly bearing to one another that oh it was never just that i thought you were strong. it was never just that i wante #your happiness. i wanted to be by your side too. always. i am selfish underneath try as i might to never appear as such.#getting used to being able to want. getting used to knowing its not a bad thing to want. changing is scary but its good its ok #i get the impression theyre shy about each other. but also very eager. theyve been holding onto these pent up feelings for such a long time #that its only natural theyd want to be able to express them freely. but they have to take it bit by bit. save for moments where #it just becomes too much to bear i think? and they have to express it to each other immediately and desperately. which is what i wanted to #convey here i think.#god rest your soul if you read through all this it is sooo early in the morning and i have no reason to be getting this sick over #an obscure and underrated dynamic i dedicate unnecessary amounts of thought to

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lynxfrost13 · 3 months ago

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Do you guys think Holt and Storch Sieben ever hatefucked

#I think they have a complicated relationship I’ve been pondering it #bc Holt very much does hate her before the events of the Koliblunt force trauma incident #her initial dislike of Sieben comes from a bad first impression when Sieben was fresh meat on sierpinski (Holt is olddd)#she was petty about it but willing to deal with it to a certain point #but as her higher up sieben pushed her buttons one too many times early on #which is bad you WANT the senior medical EULR on your side in case of emergency!!!#i do think they’ve spent a lot of time together for work related reasons #they become not quite friends not quite enemies?? but a secret weird cold thing full of regret maybe #this partially has to do with how I characterize present day sieben bc yeah she’s a Storch and they are prone to temper tantrums especially #if not trained correctly #but Sieben’s basically one of the highest ranking units at sierpinski if I remember correctly #and you don’t get there without some degree of level headedness + when talking to her she’s not necessarily warm and fuzzy #but she also didn’t seem like a young volatile Storch to me #at least not anymore #I think about sieben a lot but anyways #roundabout way of saying that when Holt did fall ill with the infection it wasn’t ignored by sieben #Holt was visited by her once alone when her vision started fading and they had a moment.#a reconciliation? an attempt on sieben’s part to make things right before the inevitable?? or just wanting to check on her? who knows #I certainly don’t #holt #thanks for listening to the ramble I’m attempting to blorbo post more #and this has been rotating in my head for weeks #figured I’d get it out #blorbo tag

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dayurno · 7 months ago

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#i will warn you only once: tsc spoilers #literally just finished it as i am drafting this its 5am where i live #so you may be subjected to some nonsense #that all being said i have thoughts.and feelings #the kevin was lovely and tasted delicious! jean defending him at every turn even when he swears to hell and back he'll kick his ass #the kevjean was surprising i was only half expecting that #the dog metaphors i have to say i need this one cashed in. nora run me my check #im joking of course dont quote me on it #jean taking kevins promise to the end and living on it is seriously so. well.#'be careful with him' 'take kevin's name out of your ignorant mouth' 'you promised me'#also kevin getting called the court's queen had me tender and on my back oml #jean's relationship with the trojans is sweet and he is very interesting and complicated #a character with many moving parts im sure #there were a few things i did not care for #namely jeremy and the trojans felt remarkably flat to me bar lucas (by far the most interesting) and catalina on occasion #i didnt quite enjoy jeremy's pov and felt like he spent perhaps way too much time worrying over jean? if that makes sense #i wish he had some more complexity to him or really anything to catch a hook on #all we know is hes attractive and smiley and gets along terribly with his family #so much of his character is sucked out by jean he didnt feel like much more than a plot device to me #which i wouldnt mind if jeremy wasnt the literal main character alongside jean #i was living for everything jean thought but had to drag myself through jeremy's pov if im honest #uuuuh what else. neil! funny. deranged. i have to love him #andrew couldnt give less of a fuck about jean which is funny as all fuck #two bugs placed in the same habitat ignoring each other #the thing with elodie i thought was complicated. i wish we knew some more about her or that shed been mentioned a little earlier #but im assuming thats a topic to be revisited #uuuuuuuh yeah so thats most of it. i think my first thought and the one that sticked out the most to me is that the book felt remarkably #pedestrian #not necessarily in a bad way #it lacked to me one of the main appeals of aftg which were the numerous interesting side characters

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daydreamerdrew · 1 year ago

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The Incredible Hulk (1968) Annual #10

#while I don’t deny that Bruce and the Hulk’s relationship is more complicated than two completely seperate people who happen to share a body #and I’m not strictly opposed to stories having moments where a certain action of the Hulk’s is attributed to Bruce influencing him #I disliked it back when it was the norm to frame it as the Hulk is a straightforward monster #and anything good he did was because of the man buried deep inside briefly coming out #in part because that’s frankly boring as it makes the Hulk a non-character with very limited interiority #I prefer it when Bruce's influence on the Hulk is limited to knowledge #like that the Hulk did something because he subconsciously remembered something relevant about how radiation works #and I like it better that Bruce and the Hulk have their own different ethos and understanding of right and wrong #I'm thinking of this one scene in The Rampaging Hulk where Bruce sees a child being abused and tries to ignore it #because he doesn't want to get upset and turn into the Hulk #but when he does and the Hulk sees that he immediately intervenes in the situation #but also there's that the Hulk has certain opinions about how fighting is supposed to work #like he judges people for primarily using weapons that fire from a distance rather than physically fighting up close #and I'm sure that Bruce doesn't care about things like that #this story is taking that the approach that the Hulk’s ability to reason is solely limited to Bruce’s influence #so that when they’re seperated the Hulk isn’t capable of reasoning at all #which is not how the Hulk was portrayed when the two of them were separated previously #and which I’m attributing to Bruce’s biased perspective on the Hulk rather than the reality of the situation #I’m not sure how to word this right but I think my understanding of the Hulk’s problems #is more focused on how his intelligence is understood than some other readers’#like I’m not that convinced of the importance of the Hulk’s appearance and that he’s the strongest there is #while they’re not not contributing factors I do think that the Hulk is devalued because he’s not intelligent #that trying to kill him or ‘cure’ Bruce of them are seen as viable solutions to the problem of the Hulk #because he’s essentially not worth saving #and in turn that it’s particularly tragic that this happened to Bruce because he matters so much as an intelligent person #marvel #bruce banner #my posts #comic panels

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vampire-core · 1 year ago

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[id: the first image is a reply by @.demilypyro that reads: That doesnt sound very cis

the second image is a reply by @.homosexualmorelikehomiesexual that reads: respectfully adding to this in agreement with op: i think its true that no, it DOESNT sound very cis, but thats bc according to the very same gender system that sucks so much, anyone who disagrees or complains about it is Other, and i think thats......part of the exact problem op is talking abt..? so yeh idk. speaking as a trans person myself- op youre valid youre right and you should say it i support you go cis boy go

#this is what i call cis+ #youre cis but youve seen the void. the truth. and then you pulled back and went Ok Got It. Keeping My Gender Though #which i think is just as respectable. like amen #consciously opting into your assigned gender when you know you don’t actually have to..... #thats cis plus. cis prime. cis upgraded. you feel? /end]

I’m a cis man sure but i also wanna opt out of the gender binary. None of that shit is my fault or my responsibility and i don’t want any part of it

#text #lgbtag #may actually add something to the post eventually but it's late so just putting some thoughts in the tags #saying this as a trans genderfuck person . it's incredibly reductive to tell anyone who questions the gender binary or desires to break it-#-down that they Have to be trans to do so #you see it a lot with gnc cis people but tbh . applies to even gender conforming cis people and even non-queer cis people !#because in doing so you reinforce that trans people are Magically Different than cis people and that we're the only people who want to-#-question and break down the gender binary #but like . if you want to acknowledge that the gender binary is made up & people have complex relationships with it that fall outside of-#-the socially dictated binary & that ''man'' and ''woman'' are socially created categories not based in biology #and that there's no concrete definition of what a man or a woman or someone who's both or neither and etc beyond personal identity and-#-social category / cis-enforced societal roles #... you also have to realize that some people will break down the concept of the binary and recognize all of that . and still identify with-#-their assigned gender and be cis #expecting anyone who breaks down and rejects the gender binary to automatically also be trans not only cuts us off from cis allies who want-#-to help trans acceptance and break down those social structures #but also ignores intersectional groups who have complicated experiences with gender based on those identities while being cis!#(ex as a white person with privilege i don't feel confident speaking on it on my own but reading about black perspectives on gender and how-#-black women especially have historically been treated by largely white feminist movements how black women are degendered how the sex-#-binary has been leveraged in a racist & eugenics-based way etc imo is really important for breaking down the gender binary even when it's-#-discussing specifically cis people. bc discussions on marginalization are never in a vacuum)#and there are plenty of people Esp queer people who may not solidly fit in a cis or trans box esp when it comes to gnc people!#ex the amount of butch lesbians and fem/me gay men whose connection to womanhood or manhood is through being a lesbian/gay man #but who have more complex relationships with their gender and expression than Just womanhood or manhood #idk long rant and none of this is to say that there's a Cisphobic Trans Agenda to Force Poor Cis People to be trans bc a woman likes suits-#-or a man thinks the gender binary sucks #just . again as a trans person who experiences a lot of joy from my relationship to gender and being trans #i love seeing cis people who can find joy in their gender through breaking down the binary!#gender is complicated and i think accepting it as something Anyone can have a complex relationship . cis or trans . is a big part of-#-accepting that gender is a social construct and not a biological fact

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girlgenius1111 · 3 months ago

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hard launch

mapi x ingrid x reader. after they confirm their relationship, the public's response makes you feel like maybe you don't belong with ingrid and mapi. an international break complicates the matter, until you're barely speaking to them, and they have to figure out what's wrong; until they have to try to pick up the pieces.

-----

“We don’t like to hide you, amor. We want everyone to know you’re ours. Please?”

The hope in Mapi’s eyes was too hard to resist, quickly transforming into joy when you nodded your head. Next to you, Ingrid whispered a promise into your ear, that everything would be okay, everything would go perfectly. You weren’t so sure. They didn’t seem to understand your hesitation. Of course they didn’t. They were them. Ingrid and Mapi. They were widely adored, together and separately.

Your girlfriends could do no wrong.

Except choose you, apparently.

It was easy to believe them, that no one would care, when you were safely tucked away in bed with them. Feeling Ingrid’s arms wrapped around your waist and Mapi’s lips press into your forehead. They made you believe them; when they told you that while some may have a negative reaction, the majority of the public would just be happy if they were happy.

You shouldn’t have believed them. Shouldn’t have trusted them, shouldn’t have given in when they asked you. A small, very hurt part of you wondered if it had been on purpose; a way for them to show you they were too good for you without actually having to say the words. Logical you knew that was ridiculous, but it was hard to use logic when you were scrolling through comment after comment about how awful you were.

Upon reflection, both of your girlfriend’s would realize the mistake of letting your relationship go public just a few days before you and Ingrid were set to go on national duty. It was a few simple posts, photos that would have previously just included Ingrid and Mapi now including you. You, asleep on Mapi’s shoulder on the plane. You and Ingrid, hand in hand as you walked through the darkened streets of the city. The posts confirmed rumors that had been simmering for months. You remembered so clearly hitting the post button at the same time your girlfriends did.

They’d smiled at you, dropping their phones onto the table without another thought. Yours was heavy in your hand, though, and it felt like every comment that slid through made it weigh more and more. The comments were worse under your post, of course they were. It was more confusion on your girlfriend’s pages than anything, but mostly vile insults on yours.

You shouldn’t have read them in the first place, but you were only human. You couldn’t help but scroll through the comments section late at night when you were supposed to be sleeping, search your name on twitter just to see what your new insecurity of the day would be. It was self destructive, yet you couldn’t stop. It ate at you for three days before you left.

The worst was that they didn’t even notice. Long used to ignoring comments on social media, neither of them saw what was happening, and what it was doing to you. In fact, it may have even been bearable if they’d noticed. If they’d been there to dispel your worries. Instead, they’d remained oblivious, and then you’d all split up for a week. You to England, Ingrid to Norway, Mapi staying at home in Spain.

You always got a bit anxious before it was time for camp, and any odd behavior on your part was attributed to that, both by your girlfriends, and by you. Because while your brain was screaming for you to show them everything that was being said and beg for them to tell you none of it was true, you refused to be that pathetic. They wanted this so badly, a relationship that wasn’t a secret, and you couldn’t ruin that.

Maybe, though, you’d already ruined everything anyway. Each of them felt the odd and unusual tension when they kissed you goodbye earlier that afternoon, but neither of them were there to see the tears that fell once you were on the plane, leaving Barcelona.

If the past 3 days had been almost unbearable, and you’d been with them, you couldn’t imagine what a week of not seeing them would do to you. You weren’t sure you could survive it.

—

It took Ingrid an embarrassingly long time to realize you were avoiding speaking to her. Mapi, less so. It was the 3rd day of a 7 day break, and the three of you had only facetimed once. Which, in and of itself, wasn’t odd. What was odd, though, was the fact that you’d barely been texting them. You hadn’t spoken to either of your girlfriends unless they’d called you, hadn’t reached out at all. It was unlike you, but even then, both of them just assumed it had been a busy break.

At least, until Ingrid got a text from Keira. The midfielder was wondering what was going on with you, if the three of you had been in some kind of fight or something, because you were acting completely weird. Barely socializing, looking exhausted no matter how much time you spent alone in your room. It was concerning enough that multiple of your teammates had noticed, and tried to talk to you about it, only to be shut down.

You were fine, you told them. Nothing was wrong, you were just a bit more stressed than usual.

None of them believed you, but your answer as to what was wrong remained the same. Finally, Leah instructed Keira to just text one of your girlfriends, and see if they knew anything. If they did, perhaps they could give Keira some answers on how to help you. And if they didn’t… well, there was clearly something very, very wrong.

The phone call that followed Keira’s text wasn’t very fun for you, or for either of your girlfriends. Mapi had to ring you three times before you picked up, and even then, your face was only half in view of the screen. After you’d exchanged hello’s, you fell silent. It was a heavy silence, one that told both your girlfriend’s very clearly that you weren’t okay. They didn’t know why, but they were going to figure it out if it was the last thing they did.

After a few more seconds of total silence where they waited for you to say something, Mapi gave in.

“Amor? How are you?” Mapi wondered.

“Fine.” You told her. Short answers, make up an excuse for why you have to go in a minute. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. They don’t need to deal with your emotions, just like how they probably don’t want to deal with you.

“Really? Because Keira told us you’ve been acting kind of weird.” Ingrid said gently. You forced yourself to look away from her wide, concerned eyes.

Fuck, this was hard. But you couldn’t break down. They didn’t need that. They didn’t need you.

“Yep. I’m fine.” You replied shortly, shifting again so the camera only showed half your face.

“Can you let me see you, then?” Ingrid asked. “If nothing is wrong, look at us.”

With a very forced roll of your eyes, you tilted the screen so that your face was visible. You looked exhausted, which they’d known you would, but they weren’t expecting the completely empty look in your eyes.

“Amor, are you sure you’re-”

“María, I said I’m fine,” you snapped, digging your nails into the skin of your thigh at the hurt look on your girlfriend’s face. Guilt was all you could feel, suffocating, maddening guilt.

“Don’t be like that.” Ingrid said sharply. “We’re worried, and we want to help,”

“I don’t need help. Everything is fine. God, can’t you both just leave me alone? You’re hovering and you’re suffocating me and I’m over it. I’ll talk to you later, I have to go.”

You hung up before either of them could get a word out, throwing your phone across the room once you’d done so.

Everyone was right. You weren’t good for them. You weren't good.

The text you received afterwards only reinforced that. Your phone screen was cracked from the force of your throw, but you could still see what Ingrid had written.

I don’t know what the issue is, but if you’re upset about something, you need to stop being immature and tell us what’s wrong. We can’t read your mind. You owe me and María an apology.

Mapi hadn’t even bothered to text.

It was easier than you expected to push them away, which really just reinforced what you’d been convinced of over the past several days. They were better off without you. You tried to convey that in your reply.

I’m sorry to both of you. You deserve better. Don’t worry about me, please. I’m fine.

You were pretty sure you’d never been less fine in your life.

—

Neither of your girlfriends liked the sound of your last text. It was self deprecating, and it just didn’t sound like the you they knew. Their frustration began to fall back into worry, and that worry only grew with every day that passed.

You wouldn’t answer their calls or their texts. None of your teammates could get a single word out of you.

Mapi almost flew out to you when Keira told her that Sarina was benching you for the friendly you had. The only reason she didn’t was because you were coming home the following day.

Keira said you weren’t sleeping and barely eating. The coaches and physios and captains had tried to talk to you, but you just kept saying you were fine.

Neither Mapi nor Ingrid were very sure what they were going to get when you came home to them the next day. No matter how much either of them thought about it, they couldn’t put the pieces together. You’d been fine before you left. Maybe a little weird, but nothing compared to how you were now.

Ingrid had barely played in her own match, too stressed over you to really focus on training. It was a friendly for her, too, and she’d never cared less about a match in her life. Never wanted something to be over more in her life.

Mapi was laying on the couch when she figured it out. Snuggling with Bagheera, maybe wearing one of your shirts, and definitely not stalking your instagram.

She clicked on the comments by accident, but the absolute vitriol caught her eye immediately. She read one comment. Then another.

She read them until she was crying, herself. Until she finally had to close the app before she broke her phone by throwing it or something, and called Ingrid.

—

Mapi was always more active on social media over the international break. She must have been really bored to be looking through your instagram, but that was the only explanation for the text you received with only a day to go until you headed back to Barcelona.

Amor, I think I understand why you’ve been so distant recently. I don’t know how to fix this so far away from you, especially when you won’t answer the phone, but I love you so much. None of those people know you or us. We want you, and that is all that matters. Please don’t be too unkind to yourself. Call me if you can.

Ingrid’s text followed shortly after.

I talked to María, and I went through the comments. I’m so sorry we didn't notice before now, and I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this by yourself. I understand why you’ve been distant, but I wish you’d answer the phone. I love you, so so much. More than you know.

They still cared, and you didn’t understand why.

You were nothing, and they were everything, but that’s not how they were acting.

It was incomprehensible, so you didn’t try to comprehend it. You ignored their texts, and knew that once you arrived home tomorrow, there wouldn’t be any more avoidance, for better or for worse.

—

Your hand shook as you tried to unlock the door, eventually just dropping the keys all together onto the door mat. Swearing under your breath, you set your bag down to grab them, but the door swung open of its own accord. There Mapi stood, her phone in hand like she’d been tracking your location. Just the sight of her had emotion splitting your chest open, tears instantly filling your eyes.

“Corazón,” she murmured, tugging you in through the door as her free hand grabbed your bag.

“Hi,” you said meekly, shutting your eyes as Mapi’s hands came up to cup your cheeks, her eyes studying your face closely. The whole time you’d been gone, you hadn’t let yourself cry. Not one tear, no matter how much you’d wanted to. You’d done everything you could to push every emotion away, focus on numbness rather than everything swirling around inside your head. As soon as you saw Mapi, though, that was over.

You sunk in on yourself, your head dropping until your chin hit your chest, and all you could see was your shoes on the hardwood floor. Tears clouded your vision, and you couldn’t help the quiet sob that slipped past your lips.

It was a testament to how poor your state of mind had gotten in the last week that as soon as Mapi kissed your cheek, you broke completely, a part of you genuinely shocked that she still cared for you. Still wanted you. She drew you in closer, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking the door shut as she did so. You pressed your face into her shoulder, hands fisting themselves in the fabric of her sweatshirt.

“I’ve got you, amor. I’m right here.”

And she was. She was right there. Even though everything seemed to tell you that it should be otherwise, she was still there. She still loved you. The comments she’d evidently discovered hadn’t lifted some veil from her eyes, making her realize how much she despised you, how much better she could do. She touched you in the same gentle way, held you so carefully. She still loved you. She loved you.

Somehow you found yourself being half carried over to the couch, still cradled close to Mapi’s chest. Once she had you comfortably resting with your head in her lap, you tried to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, looking up with wide eyes at your girlfriend, desperate that she understand that you knew this was your fault, and your fault alone.

Mapi just shook her head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was going on sooner, and I’m sorry there has ever been any doubt in your head that I love you.”

And though it still didn’t make any sense, you turned and buried your face in the fabric of Mapi’s, of your, shirt, and let every feeling that had been trying to strangle you for the last week out.

Mapi was there through it all, her hands stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Wiping away your tears as she murmured soft, sweet reassurances to you.

It was still incomprehensible, but you were tired of trying to understand why they loved you still. Why they loved you at all. You were too tired of everything, honestly, and all you seemed to be capable of was sniffling into your girlfriend’s lap, and drifting off into the best sleep you’d had in 7 days.

—

When Ingrid walked in through the front door, it was completely silent, save for an occasional sniffle. It had been radio silence from Mapi since the time you were due to arrive home, around two hours before her own plane landed. She had no idea what to expect upon her arrival, and the unknown made her stomach twist with anxiety.

She leaned down to pet Bagheera quickly, before making her way into the living room. If she thought she was going to find you to be the source of the quiet crying, she was wrong.

Instead, you were curled up in Mapi’s lap, your head resting on her thigh, as you dozed peacefully. The Spaniard was playing with your hair in one hand, the other reaching up to wipe away her tears. If there was anything Ingrid hated, it was seeing either of you upset; she would get this itching feeling to fix it, no matter what it took. Within a second, Ingrid was crossing the room and sliding onto the sofa next to Mapi, her hand cupping the older woman’s cheek. Mapi inhaled shakily, trying to muster a smile for the Norwegian, but it was a weak attempt.

“Hi my love.” Ingrid whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Mapi’s slightly damp cheek.

“Hi.” Mapi whispered back, her voice thick with emotion.

“Tell me why you’re crying.” Ingrid was pretty sure she had a good idea, but she wanted to hear it from Mapi.

“She’s… she’s in so much pain, Ingrid. She believes everything everyone is saying about her. I can’t imagine what the last week has been like and I didn’t do anything about it-”

The Norwegian cut her girlfriend off. “Neither of us did. She didn’t tell us. We should have checked in and we should have realized something was off before we left, but she didn’t tell us, María. She didn’t want us to know.”

Mapi nodded slowly, and Ingrid knew that the Spaniard still blamed herself. Honestly, Ingrid blamed herself, too, and no rational words could fix that. Not when you were laid in front of her, the effects of the past week clear on your face.

Knowing that there wasn’t anything else she could say, Ingrid wrapped an arm around Mapi’s shoulder, pulling the defender into her. With María’s head on her shoulder, and you sleeping in her lap, Ingrid could almost pretend that everything was fine.

In the silence, she could pretend that you hadn’t been subjected to astoundingly hateful comments that had made you doubt the entirety of your relationship with them. If she tried really hard, she could pretend everything was fine.

When the first tear slid down her cheek, though, she knew she wasn’t really convincing herself. Not with Mapi crying on her shoulder, not with you, exhausted, heart battered and bruised next to her. Nothing could erase what had happened, but Ingrid hoped, with everything in her, that it could be repaired.

—

When you woke, you thought you found yourself just as you’d been when you’d fallen asleep, with the environment around you slightly different. It was lighter, in the apartment, with the smell of something cooking wafting in from the kitchen. You shifted, realizing you weren’t lying on Mapi, anymore. Your head was resting on a pillow, two throw blankets tucked around you meticulously.

Low voices were audible from the kitchen, and you rose shakily, feeling weak and exhausted from your breakdown, even as you’d just woken. A part of you wanted to just head for the door. Running away would be the easiest option, because you were quite sure that going into that kitchen would bring about conversations you didn’t want to have. If you could have done anything, you would have gone back in time to two weeks ago, when no one knew about the three of you, and no one had anything to say. Back when Mapi and Ingrid had no reason to question your mental health and your very negative view of yourself. It had felt like they were fixing that, slowly but surely. The response to your relationship had destroyed what self confidence you had built back up, and it was so fragile now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to successfully convince them that you were okay.

But there was love waiting for you in the kitchen, love you didn’t understand but love you craved all the same. And if you walked out the door, you weren’t sure you’d ever find anything like it ever again.

When you walked into the kitchen, it was to find both of your girlfriends sitting at the counter, both looking at something on Ingrid’s computer.

Ingrid turned to look at the sound of your footsteps padding into the room, and any fear you had that she was still upset with you melted away at the look on her face. She got up, practically crashing into you with the force of her hug. One arm around your back, the other pressing your face into her shoulder, she held you so tightly, she hoped it would convey to you that she was never letting you go.

“My love.” She sighed, feeling you sink into her. It was such a relief to have you back in her arms, to know that you were okay and safe, relatively speaking. Ingrid had thought the worry and concern would fade a little at the sight of you, but it didn’t. If anything, it grew. Because you so clearly weren't okay, and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d missed all of this.

Ingrid and Mapi had discussed it while you were asleep; that for your response to the hatred being spewed your way to be this severe, there had to be some foundation to it already in place. For you to so readily believe that you weren’t worthy of them, that you were destroying their relationship, that you were an awful person, you must have had those thoughts before. They hadn’t known that, hadn’t ever known you to be anything but energetic and smiley and happy and loving.

You felt arms snake their way around your abdomen, Mapi’s face come to settle against the back of your head. It was a relief to you, too, to keep being reminded that they wanted you, regardless of what the little voice in your head was trying to convince you of.

They held you like that for a while. Until Ingrid’s arms started to go numb and Mapi’s began to ache from holding you so tightly. Only when you shifted uncomfortably in between them did they finally let go, allowing you to step away from them and rub harshly at your eyes.

It was just hitting you now, the full force of what you’d put them through. And now that you were with them, again, you felt a little silly for how you’d acted. You were younger than both of them, not by much, but that immaturity was clear in your actions over the past week, and you hated that. You hated that you’d made things worse for them when you’d only been trying to make everything better.

“I’m so sorry.” You croaked, desperate for them to know that your intention hadn’t been to hurt them, that you were just reacting in the way you best knew how. They both began speaking at the same time, trying to tell you that you didn’t need to be sorry, but you didn’t let them get very far. “No, I am. I put you guys through hell and that wasn’t fair of me. I should have just talked to you, I know that. I just- I don’t… I’m not-”

Ingrid interrupted you, reaching forward to grab your hand in hers, an almost painfully sympathetic look on her face. “It’s okay. We both understand that you were struggling, and that your first instinct was to shut down. I don’t really understand why, if we’ve made you feel like you can’t come to us with things that are upsetting you-”

At this, you shook your head rapidly back and forth. This wasn’t their fault, they had to know that.

“-we want to talk more, but we want to show you something first.” Ingrid finished, tugging on your hand until you followed her over to her computer. There was a document pulled up, one they had clearly been pouring over when you’d walked in. Both of them stood behind you anxiously as you read, not sure if their idea was going to make this worse or better.

When you turned to them with tears once again pooling in your eyes, they feared they’d made it worse.

When you flung your arms around both of them, a soft thank you falling from your lips, they knew they’d made it better.

It had been Mapi’s idea to craft a statement, one that she’d checked with her agent and the club’s PR people about. Everyone had been on board, so she’d got to writing, as soon as she’d gotten the okay from Ingrid as well. She’d never post it without your consent, but she hoped that it would alleviate some of your worries.

It was quick and to the point, and you could see where Ingrid had vetoed some of Mapi’s run-on sentences. The two of them expressed their disgust with the way people had been treating you in the past week. They had really only ever been on the receiving end of love from the fans, and this was not what they had been anticipating. You were an important part of their relationship, of their lives. You deserved respect, and they wouldn’t tolerate anything else. Their priority was each other, and you. It should have all been things you already knew, but you were crying like you hadn’t known how important you were to them.

They let everything sink in, let you calm down for almost 20 minutes before they started the conversation you’d been dreading. They watched carefully as you settled yourself in the armchair in the living room, leaving the couch for both of them. The distance you were creating made them nervous, and Ingrid couldn’t help but lean forward and rest her hand on your knee. You seemed to relax a little, even giving the Norwegian a tiny smile in response.

Mapi was, again, the one to break the silence. “Amor, I don’t really understand. Why didn’t you come to us with this? We would have stopped it as soon as we knew.”

It felt oddly like a therapy session, with both of them staring at you from the couch, the spotlight very clearly fixated on you as you began to speak.

“At first, I didn’t want to be dramatic. And then the comments started to get to me and I was afraid that if I brought it up…”

“What?” Ingrid asked softly, bracing herself for whatever you were about to say.

You looked away from them, chewing on your lip. “I was afraid you’d agree with the comments and break up with me. I was afraid you were just with me because you didn’t know how to end it. I was just really scared you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the rug underneath you, even when Ingrid grabbed your hand and pulled on it, eventually pulling so hard you gave in and got up, settling in between the two of them on the sofa. Gentle fingers grabbed your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at Mapi.

“How could we not love you?” She asked incredulously. Her disbelief settled something in you, and you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in her shirt and let yourself relax, but you knew you had to help them understand.

“I’m not good enough for either of you. I’ve never understood why you want me, and-”

“Stop.” Ingrid cut in, shifting so that she could look you in the eye. “How long have you been feeling like this? Longer than just since the comments?”

You nodded slowly, feeling your cheeks heat up. You knew they didn’t like you keeping things from them, and this was something rather important. “Since the beginning. I love you both, but I’ve never understood why you love me.”

Both of them were completely silent for a moment, long enough for you to get nervous. “It’s okay, really. I’ve always been like this.”

“Unkind to yourself?” Mapi asked quietly.

You turned your attention back to her. “Realistic.”

She scoffed, taking a few calming deep breaths. “That is not realistic. Not at all. We tell you we love you and you don’t believe us?”

“No, María, I believed you, I just didn’t get why. It never made sense to me because you are both so perfect.”

Ingrid squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to her. You wished they’d sit in front of you or something, so you didn’t have to turn back and forth like you were watching a tennis match.

“The way you think about yourself is ridiculous. If we are perfect, so are you.” Ingrid said, her hand cupping your face, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. “You aren’t tricking us into loving you. We just love you. We aren’t going to change our minds about that.”

She kissed your lips gently, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed her kisses, her touch, until that moment. Mapi’s voice in your ear stopped you from leaning forward and capturing Ingrid in another kiss.

“I know this isn’t something you can change overnight, how you think about yourself. But I want you to try, okay? I want you to really try for me.”

You nodded, shutting your eyes tightly. You could try. For them, even if you weren’t sure you deserved it.

“I will.” You promised. “If you both promise that you won’t stay with me if you stop loving me. That if I’m not what you want anymore, you’ll-”

“We won’t ever stop loving you. There is no we without you, love. There is just us.” Ingrid told you, her green eyes boring into yours, making it hard to come up with a response.

“We choose what’s best for us. And we choose you. You are good enough, mi amor.” Mapi promised. Her whisper in your ear sent a shiver down your spine, the words filling you with the sensation of being loved. So much love, you weren’t sure what to do with it all.

“You are good.” Ingrid emphasized, her lips pressing repeated kisses onto your temple. “You are good, and we love you so much.”

It didn’t feel as incomprehensible anymore.

“We want you to love you too. Whatever it takes to convince you that you are good and loved, amor, we’ll do it. Okay?”

You nodded, turning to press a kiss to Mapi’s lips. Ingrid buried her face in your neck, and you wondered how you’d ever considered walking out the door. You belonged here, with them. They chose you, and that was all that mattered.

—

i have no confidence that this is good BUT🤞 i hope you all like this one. it was a labor of love... i think i like it?? who knows.

normally bailey builds up my confidence before i post a fic but she's on a very well deserved fun super cool trip and i don't want to interrupt her so please tell me this doesn't suck! lie if you must!

love to you all 🥰🫶🏻

[also as always, tell me if you find any typos 😇]

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader

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2hightocare · 6 months ago

Text

DOWN BAD! 03

Synopsis: Despite undeniable chemistry, your guys’ relationship remains undefined, caught between playful teasing to deeper, unspoken longing.

Pairings: bad boy! jungkook x fem! reader

Genres: college au. slowburn!

Warnings: drugs. mention of abuse, abusive household, fighting, screaming, crying, reader is down bad.. unprotected sex, reader is a virgin, making out, throwing up, fluff if you kinda squint, love confession, angst, banter between them both, cussing, Jungkook sucks at showing his feelings, complicated relationship, flashbacks.

a/n: hi.. sorry this took longer to put out but finals week is here— but here🥳 i recommend reading the first parts before this for it to make more sense k bye bye🤍

01 02 playlist board

The aching feeling in your chest didn’t disappear; it only increased the more you cried. Your palm clawed your chest, soothing over your clothes as if it would help lessen the pain. Your heart felt like it was getting repeatedly run over by a train. Each time you would gasp for air, another heartbreaking sob came flowing out of your mouth. It was crazy how down bad you are over this boy.

Seeing the person you love the most lose themselves to drugs was the most heart-wrenching pain you have ever experienced. The worst thing was you were losing yourself over him.

“I want a big house, with all that white picket fence shit,” you say, your hands playing with his hair as he melts into your touch.

“Not happening, baby,” he chuckles, his hand on your waist squeezing. “And I want a ring the size of my fist,” you ignore him, extending a hand out, imagining how a ring would look on your ring finger. “We’re not getting married or getting a house,” he rasps out, a hint of amusement displayed on his face matching yours.

“I think we should get a dog as well, don’t you think?” You continue, making him throw his head back with a laugh. “There would be no dog, and house, baby. Because I will be in jail after trying to rob a bank to pay for your big-ass ring,” Jungkook states, tilting his head to the side to drop a kiss on your cheek, the gesture sending your heartbeat skyrocketing in your chest.

“So you do want to get married!?” You jest happily, tugging on his hair playfully, making him let out a low groan before shaking his head, laughing. His laugh was one of your favorite sounds in the world.

The memory was like a punch into your gut, over and over again without stopping. Him leaving you on the floor of your room crying keeps replaying in your mind. The thought of him actually leaving never crossed your mind until now. He always comes back, you thought to yourself as you pick yourself up from the ground. Your knees weaken as another cry rakes through your body as you drop onto your bed face down.

As much as you wanted to run after him, you knew better not to. Your self-respect was hanging by a thread, and you were scared of what you would do if you see him at this very moment. The thought of you on your knees begging him to change burned in your mind.

You knew love shouldn’t be this hard, but that didn’t stop your mind from trying to convince you otherwise. Memories of him started circulating around your head, sending a strong shot of pain to spread through your body. You try your best to control your sobs, but it is almost useless as sixteen-year-old Jungkook appears in your mind.

“Hi,” you quip, skipping towards him.

“Hi,” he says, the edge of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Finally, I see you again. You aren't in my homeroom.” You pout, noticing how his eyes go from your eyes to your lips to your body. “That's good, no? I wouldn't want to be a distraction.” He flirts almost nonchalantly, which sends a swarm of butterflies to flap around your stomach. You bite your lip before crossing your legs.

“Do you always flirt with every woman that comes up to you?” You tilt your head to the side, letting your hair fall beautifully over your shoulders, making Jungkook admire.

“Nah, only with cute girls I met on the first day of school in the front office after she got in a fight with someone for ripping holes in her tights,” Jungkook shrugs. You smile as you look him up and down. His hair is messy but not so messy that it looked like he got in a fight. His uniform fitted his body perfectly, making you jealous that girls got to look at him. His tie was tied neatly around his neck—but your mind was playing tricks with you as you imagined him using his tie in other ways that weren't exactly appropriate, but that's what reading Wattpad did to a girl.

“Is that so?” you chuckle as you watch him nod.

“What's your type?” he asks, catching you off guard. Your hands play with the hem of your skirt. “Dimples, brown eyes...” You tap your chin as you playfully look up as if you were thinking. “I like them tall as well. How tall are you?” you ask him, pointing at him, waiting for his reply. “Five ten,” he replies casually, amusement clear in his eyes.

“Yeah, I like them five ten.”

You felt as if you had a ball stuck in your throat. The more you tried to calm down, another batch of fresh tears pooled down your eyes. Your eyes were bloodshot, tears mixed with your mascara leaving streaks of black all over your cheeks. Before you knew it, you fell asleep with a broken heart.

Jungkook's hand shakes as he lights up the cigarette between his lips, his body craving the drugs. Instead of running to his dealer's house, he imagines your distraught face. He takes a large puff from the stick, letting it fill his lungs, but it's not enough. His tattooed hand tugs on his hair-body shaking, which he would like to think is from the cold, trying to ignore the fact he's going through withdrawals.

He didn't dare go home; he couldn't face his mom. He knew he would lose his mind if he saw another bruise decorating her skin. Another chill ran down his spine as he exhaled. His muscles ached, and sweat started to form on his forehead. The feeling of wanting to throw up was almost unbearable. Before he knew it, he was puking over a bush. He couldn't catch his breath before another roar of vomit came rushing out of him.

"It's fine," Jungkook repeated under his breath. Before he knew it, his feet moved towards the only person who could help him.

"You look like shit, buddy," Yoongi chuckles. "The regular?" He raised an eyebrow, and Jungkook nodded eagerly, his hands shaking as he watched Yoongi pull out a small bag of white circular pills-oxycodone.

"Here." Yoongi shoved the bag into Jungkook's hand, harshly taking the dollar bills from him and counting them.

"Thanks," Jungkook nodded, his feet moving to the door before stopping abruptly.

"That pretty girl that's always running behind you, that's your girl?" Yoongi says, licking a piece of paper with his tongue before rolling it up into a perfect small joint. Jungkook's body stiffened; he didn't like the fact that Yoongi knew who you were and that he mentioned you as pretty sent a chill down his body.

"Nah, she's just someone I know from school," Jungkook says, his voice stoical, showing zero emotion as he lies through his teeth. "Why?" Jungkook added a couple of seconds later. A small smirk appeared on Yoongi's face.

"She came looking for me," Yoongi starts, placing the rolled-up paper between his lips while his other hand uses a lighter to light it up. He blows a couple of times before he takes a hit, letting it fill his airways.

"She told me she'd give me a shit ton of money if I stop selling to you." Yoongi chuckles the words out, making Jungkook's throat close up and his lungs stop working.

"She also told me to go 'fuck myself," Yoongi mocks you in a high-pitched voice before bursting into laughter. "She's fucking bad, though. She had this tiny ass skirt-and her tits, man-" Yoongi whistles lowly.

Before Jungkook knew it, he was striding towards Yoongi, yanking the joint out of his mouth and throwing it somewhere around the room. Jungkook's hands gripped both sides of Yoongi's shirt, pulling him upwards from the couch.

"Don't. Fucking. Talk. About. Her," Jungkook seethes, his jaw clenched as Yoongi lets out a surprised gasp.

"Don't even fucking look at her." Jungkook shakes Yoongi. "The fuck is wrong with you?" Yoongi pushes Jungkook off. The smirk he always had plastered on his face is long gone, replaced by a shocked expression.

"Listen here, whatever the fuck I got to do with you has nothing to do with her. I don't give a single fuck if she came up to you. Next time you ever see her, don't even glance her way, don't even breathe near her. Because I promise you l will fucking kill you. I'm not scared of jail." Jungkook growls before pushing Yoongi back onto the couch.

Before he could reply, Jungkook strode for the door and slammed it shut.

Jungkook's heart rapidly beats in his chest. The adrenaline and anger fueling his body has him cursing under his breath. As much as Jungkook wanted to punch Yoongi straight in the jaw, he knew things wouldn't end well. So instead, he walked straight to the house where he knew was the last place he should go.

It was almost five in the morning when a small sound woke you from your sleep. Your head pounded, and your body and heart felt numb. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, blinking fast as you caught a shadow outside your window. Immediately, you shot up from your bed.

Your heart started again as you rushed to open the window. With a small gasp, you pulled the boy inside your room.

“You’re here! Are you okay?” You took hold of his face, checking him frantically. “Look at me.” You grabbed his face and made him look at you. His eyes bored into yours—the small glittering light in his eyes sparkled for a second before being replaced with empty eyes, almost angry.

“I’m not high,” he groaned, removing your hand from his face. You let them fall beside you with a small, weathery breath.

“That’s good.” You sniffed, but he stepped back when you reached for him, as if your touch was poison. He felt distant and gone, like he wasn’t really in front of you. “You met Yoongi,” he said, his tone cold, lacking the warmth he always used when talking to you.

“I did,” you nodded, your eyes welling up with tears threatening to spill at any moment. “He told me what you did.” His voice was almost nonchalant, which sent a shiver down your body. He was slipping through your fingers like water, no matter how hard you tried to hold on.

“You went to him?” you said, your hands forming into fists beside you as you pressed your nails into your palms, possibly leaving red marks.

“None of your business,” he replied. “I don’t know what sort of shit you tried to pull, but never fucking do it again,” Jungkook bluntly stated.

“You always say it’s not my fucking business, but it fucking is.” You gritted your teeth, anger bubbling in your stomach.

“How the fuck would that be any of your business? From what I recall, we are nothing.” He scoffed, his heart cracking in his chest as the words left his mouth, watching your face fall before recovering.

“Why the fuck are you here, then? It is my fucking business,” You said, tone deadly.

“It is my fucking business because I fucking care about you, Jungkook! You might not notice it, but I love you. I’m so tired of acting like I don’t when all I want is you. I just want you. You.” You cried almost erratically, Jungkook's mouth opening before closing.

“I love you,” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face just like the raindrops on your closed window. “I know you do too; if not, you wouldn’t be here.” A shaky breath left you as you wiped your eyes with a sniffle.

Jungkook’s heart suddenly felt lighter, but the pain in his body didn’t go away. When your words left your mouth, his heart stopped, and the thoughts he came to tell you about were long forgotten. He looked at your puffy, smudged mascara eyes and your pouty lips that begged to be kissed, making the thoughts in his head vanish into thin air.

“You don’t mean that,” Jungkook finally said, and you could almost hear the faint sound of your heart cracking at his words.

Before you could reply, Jungkook dropped onto his knees, shaking. It was pathetic how fast you dropped beside him, getting a hold of his body. “I’m going to die, fuck.” Jungkook shook in your arms, closing his eyes with a loud curse. “Fuck, fuck,” Jungkook growled. You frantically touched him; his body was burning up as he shook in your arms.

“What’s going on?” you cried, coaxing him. Small reassuring ‘you're going to be okay’ left your mouth repeatedly as you held him tight to your chest while he shook and whimpered in pain. “Fuck, need this to go away,” Jungkook shook as he reached for his pocket and pulled out a small bag of pills. His hands shook as he tried to open the bag, fumbling.

“Baby, help me. I need this to go away.” Jungkook cried, tears rushing down his face as he struggled to open the bag.

A heart-wrenching sob escaped past your mouth as you noticed the position you were in. It was like a scene in a film. Jungkook shook his head repeatedly as you took the bag out of his hands and placed it behind you, somewhere he couldn’t reach. “Help me,” Jungkook pleaded, his calloused hands tight on your waist as he shut his eyes in agonizing pain.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your fingers wiping his tears.

“Make it go away,” Jungkook cried, the most vulnerable you had ever seen him as he begged you to give him the drugs. It was like you were stuck in a love triangle with him and his last drug of choice.

Jungkook looked at you, his face desperate. “Make it go away,” he pleaded. And that’s exactly what you did, just not in the way Jungkook was thinking. Your lips smashed into his, making his eyes widen before fluttering closed, melting into you.

His tense shoulders immediately relaxed, dropping as the furrowed crease between his forehead softened.

As your lips molded with his perfectly, Jungkook felt his walls start to drop, brick by brick. Your hands held his face tightly, each kiss feeling like a battleground where you both fought with your mouths instead of words. The taste of bitterness mingled with the intoxicating sweetness of longing-a drug that left Jungkook craving more as you tore apart to catch your breath.

Heat surged through your veins, a fiery storm of conflicting emotions raging within. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a hunger you couldn't deny, even as anger simmered beneath the surface. Before you could say anything, Jungkook grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Your body melted against his, a wave of warmth flooding your senses as his lips met yours again.

It was a moment you had dreamed of, yearned for with every fiber of your being, and now it was here, surpassing all of your wildest expectations. Time seemed to stand still, allowing you to savor every precious second of it.

"Use me," you moaned between the kisses as you gasped for air.

"Forget about everything and just focus on me." You gasped as his lips shut you up once again.

His hands caged your face as his lips molded against yours. Tongues danced together, exploring each other with an unspoken hunger, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of the kiss.

"Fuck, I should've kissed you sooner," Jungkook groaned, his hand sliding gently into your hair. He tugged it back, exposing your neck to his hungry gaze.

A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine as his lips found a new place to explore.

His head dipped to your neck, peppering kisses all over. A soft moan left your lips as he sucked on your sweet spot, leaving a red-purple mark on your collarbone. "So pretty," he said before capturing your lips with his again.

As your lips molded together, a surge of clarity washed over him, drowning out the incessant whispers of addiction that had haunted his mind for so long. With each kiss, the cravings faded into oblivion, replaced by a singular focus- you.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Jungkook groaned as your lips made contact with his neck. The sucking sensation of your lips had him throwing his head back with a heavy sigh. His hands tightened on your waist before pulling you up from the floor onto his lap. "I don't care," you breathed out, pulling him in closer to you. A loud groan ripped out of Jungkook as you sucked on the nape of his neck.

"Baby, I don't wanna take advantage of you," Jungkook said between kisses as you held his face to kiss him roughly. A sudden wave of heat rushed down to your center as Jungkook tried to pull back, only for his bulge to rub against you.

"Use me," you moaned, your arms pulling him into you.

His head rested over your chest, listening to your heartbeat. A shiver ran down his spine at your words.

"Baby, please," he pleaded, his eyes shut from the pleasure of your hips rubbing against him at a slow, almost agonizing pace. All he could think of was you.

"Look at me," you said, your hands holding his face to make him look at you. The once dull, empty eyes he came in with were now long gone, replaced with a sad, almost yearning look. His pupils were dilated as he looked at your face.

"I want you. I want all of you," you started. He nodded, his face the most vulnerable you had ever seen on him, which created a warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

"And I want you to use me," you confessed, your voice trembling with honesty.

As your lips lingered against his, you breathed out the words, your voice a gentle plea, "Let me be the one you turn to when the cravings hit, the one who reminds you of all the reasons to stay, because every time you choose me over drugs, you're choosing yourself. You're choosing us."

Jungkook fumbled with his bottom lip, biting it as he felt his heart slowly start to mend itself. He was sure when he left your room earlier that day that you would never want to talk to him again. But here you were, not giving up on him, instead believing in him. Jungkook's lip trembled before a tear fell down his cheek.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice cracking. The words hang in the air, the complete opposite of how your heart is feeling. Before you can reply, he's pulling on your shirt and smashing his lips onto yours.

The kiss was desperate, filled with unspoken words and emotions. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn't bear to have any distance between you. His hands clutch at you as if you're his lifeline, grounding him in this moment.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Jungkook's tears mix with your own as the intensity of the moment overwhelms you both.

Your lips part for a breath, and in the brief pause, you see the raw emotion in his eyes. It's a look of longing, of need, of a love that's been buried beneath layers of pain and addiction. Without another word, you capture his lips again, pouring all your love and hope into the kiss.

Jungkook's walls crumbled completely as he let himself be vulnerable, feeling your warmth and acceptance enveloping him. The kiss deepened, both of you losing yourselves in the moment, letting the world outside fade away.

Finally, you broke apart, both gasping for breath, foreheads resting against each other. Jungkook's eyes were no longer empty but filled with a mixture of love, determination, and a glimmer of hope. You cupped his face, your thumbs gently wiping away his tears.

"We'll get through this together," you whispered, your voice filled with unwavering conviction. "One step at a time."

Jungkook nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I promise I'll try," he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity.

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "That's all I ask." Before capturing his lips with yours once again.

You moan into the kiss, and your hands move to his hair, pulling, messing, and tugging. His hands drop to your bare thighs beside him, caging him in. A small whimper makes past the kiss when he dips his finger onto the waistband of your black small shorts you wear underneath your school skirt.

The feeling was foreign, but it felt right. When his fingers dipped into your panties a loud moan was coming out of you. "Shh, baby, your parents will hear you.” Jungkook whispers. “Not here; gone for the weekend.” You pant as you feel his middle finger dip between your delicate folds, spreading your wetness over your clit.

You never had anyone touch you this way; the only thing that has ever come close to your center were your fingers, but as he enters one of his digits, it makes you realize your fingers were nothing compared to this. “Ah-fuck,” you moan, your head falling onto his shoulders.

“So fucking tight, holy shit.” Jungkook exclaims as he adds another finger to your soaking cunt. Your back arches as he pumps his two fingers in and out of your hole, and your hips roll on his lap, trying to relieve your clit. You let out a whine when he pulled them out, but it was quickly replaced with a loud, heavy sigh of relief when three fingers pressed hard on your clit, rubbing circles.

“That feels so good; don't stop.” You cry into his ear; your pussy pulsates on his fingers. The pleasure from his fingers on your pussy has you digging your nails into his arms. “Do you like being fingered?” Jungkook asks as he inserts three fingers, stretching you out. “Yes, fuck yes.” you moan heavily. Your walls clench around Jungkook's fingers anytime he curls them into your g-spot, sending waves of shock to unravel in your abdomen. The squelching sound of your pussy mixes with your loud moans, making Jungkook's dick harden underneath you.

“My bed,” you pant, your eyes shut close as he continues to rummage his fingers into you. Jungkook gives a hum and nod of acknowledgement before pulling his fingers out of you, picking you both up in a quick, swift motion before dropping you on the bed with a squeal.

Jungkook lets out a small, breathy laugh, and his fingers fumble on the button and zipper of his jeans. Your breath gets caught up in your throat when he drops his pants on the ground, revealing the outline of his cock in his boxers. Your eye of vision suddenly went up to his chest when he took his shirt off in a split second, giving you a sight of small scars and bruises on his ribs, sending a punch to your stomach.

Your heart squeezed in your chest when he suddenly realized what you were staring at. You quickly made your way to the end of your bed, pulling him closer. Your lips dropped to the side of his rib cage, leaving a little chaste kiss on one of his bruises. A shaky breath leaves Jungkook as he watches you kiss every single purple, reddish mark and scar on his body.

Jungkook puts a finger under your chin before tilting it up, and your teary eyes make contact with his.

“Hi.” He whispers softly.

“Hi.” You whisper back, a small smile plastered on Jungkook's face, before his lips make contact with yours. His hands this time worked on pulling down your shorts, which ended up taking your light pink-drenched panties down as well. Heat flowed through your body even though it was freezing in your house. You both broke apart from the kiss when Jungkook pulled on your shirt, pulling it over your head.

The white shirt gets added to your guy's discarded clothes on the floor, and your hands wrap around his neck before pulling him down with you onto the bed. “M’gon squish you to death.” Jungkook groans as he lifts his weight on you, “What a heavenly way to die.” You joke, cracking a small smile at Jungkook.

You couldn’t even think of anything else because, before you knew it, Jungkook was in between your legs, sucking on your folds. The feeling was unfamiliar, but it felt so good. Your legs squeezed both sides of his face, caging him. His tongue worked magic on you, flicking his tongue all over your pussy. Your hands tangled with his messy raven hair, pulling harshly whenever he would suck on your clit for a little too long.

Your chest heaves as you try so hard to catch your breath. Jungkook moves his head from side to side erratically, earning a pornographic sound from you. Your walls clenched on Jungkook's fingers as he pumped them rapidly. “I’m g-gonna cum,” you cry out, your back arching as he hums onto your center, sending vibrations all over your body.

Your mind is fogged up with invisible smoke, and your lungs burn as you hold onto your breath. Your teeth bite roughly on your bottom lip to contain the moans that are threatening to spill out of you. Before you could say another word, white dots blurred your vision. "Your body squirms into Jungkook's face, coming in a loud moan.

“Hurts, ah” You cry, and a low chuckle rumbles against you as he begins leaving between your legs, but not before dropping a kiss on your inner thigh. Your thighs are pressed together, and your legs are sore as your center aches for more. “Felt good?” Jungkook kisses your cheek, and you nod with a whiney hum as his hand wanders behind you, unclasping your white cotton bra and untangling it from your arms before throwing it somewhere on the floor. Jungkook didn't waste any time putting his mouth on one of your nipples. His warm tongue plays with your bud, sucking, toying, and licking. Your head rolls back as your hands behind his head push him into you more.

“You're so good at this; should I be worried?” You moan as he grinds his hard-clothed length into you. “Don't think about that, baby.” He replies that a sad tone in his voice makes your heart feel as if it were being stabbed. “Oh.” You let out a sigh, and Jungkook planted a kiss on your collarbone.

“I'm a virgin,” you say, tilting your head to the side to catch a look at Jungkook's face. His brows furrowed slightly before he dropped another kiss on your neck. “I’m not.” Jungkook says, planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. “What a slut.” You joke, playfully rolling your eyes, earning a laugh out of him. “You're annoying.” Jungkook laughs, his head dropping down beside the crook of your neck.

“But you love me.” You pip, moving your body underneath him, making him chuckle.

“But I love you.” Jungkook looks up, a small smile displayed on his lips. “If I were having sex with someone I care about and love,” He whispers, “This would be my first time as well.” Jungkook finishes, making your heartbeat skyrocket. You feel as if you were on the moon, flying around with the stars.

“Pinky promise.” You smile, you raise your pinky finger up in front of his face, and you watch how he tangles his pinky with yours before smashing his lips with yours. “Pinky promise.” He whispers back into your lips.

Kissing Jungkook was everything and more than you had ever wished for; his soft, cracked lips molded against yours, fitting like perfect puzzle pieces. “Fuck me, please.” You whine, and your hips rise up, trying to rub yourself against him, which has him pushing your hips down into the mattress with his tattooed hand. “Be patient, baby,” he whispers into your ear.

“Please,” you cry. Your hand slides between you both, palming him over his boxers and making him groan. “Please, fuck me.” you beg this time. Your palm squeezes his cock, making him thrust into you.

Jungkook didn't reply; instead, he pulled down the last remaining clothing item that was covering him. He opened your legs, a shaky breath left your lip, and your eyes took him. His hair disheveled in a brown mess, his lips puffy and red, and the most mischievous grin on his face had your stomach fluttering with fireworks and roller coasters.

“Nervous?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow as he settles between your legs; his length rubs against your cunt. “It's big,” you bite your lip, as you look between you both. Jungkook bites his lip as he moves closer, placing his cock on you, his tip reaching your belly button. “It’ll fit, if that's what you're wondering.” Jungkook lets out a small snicker, and his thumb runs against your bottom lip.

“It's going to hurt, right?” You ask, your voice low and filled with lust, has heat rushing to Jungkook's cock. "Yes, baby, you’ll probably bleed a bit. But I promise it'll feel so good.” He comforts you; kisses are peppered all over your face, easing your nervousness. “Does this mean we are basically doing blood oaths?” You joke, your heart fluttering when he lets out a deep, throaty laugh.

Jungkook opens your legs, his eyes drop to your glistening pussy, and your juices spill onto your pink sheets. His hand wraps around his cock, tugging roughly before slapping it on your pussy, making you let out a choked moan. "Ah,” you moan.

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses, "Baby, I don't have a condom,” he remembers.

“I'm on the pill.” You rush out and say, “I got on them for my periods.” You explain which Jungkook nods. “You sure? We don't have to right now, baby,” Jungkook says, only to be received with a disapproving head nod from you. “No, I want you right now.” You say, your hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a small pump.

You moan when you place his cock in front of your entrance, and with a small, reassuring smile, Jungkook is pushing his cock into you. “Ah, oh, my god.” You moan, and pain shoots up through your body as he pushes his length into you inch by inch, giving you time to get accustomed. “I know I'm sorry, baby.” Jungkook coos, dropping kisses all over your face as you feel his cock go in deeper.

“So full.” You moan when his cock is fully in. Your fingertips dig into his back, leaving crescent moons. “Hurts?” He asks, his thumb rubbing your clit trying to help ease the pain. “A little.” You reply before giving him the green light to move.

Jungkook's movements started slow, pulling his cock out of you and leaving his tip in before pushing in again at the slowest pace. Jungkook's eyes squeezed shut at the intense pleasure his body was feeling. Making him forget everything outside of this moment. You clench around him whenever he hits your g-spot.

The pain turns into pleasure as jungkook plunges into you at a faster pace. Your headboard hits your wall over and over, matching his thrusts. “Taking me so fucking good, fuck.” Jungkook groans, your moans mixing with the sound of the squelching of your juices.

Your mind is hazy, your bodies are hot. As beads of sweat start to form on Jungkook's forehead, a moan flushes out of you when he pushes one of your legs backwards, picking up his pace.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he hits the spot in you repeatedly. Drool starts dripping down the sides of your mouth, and your hands find your sheets tugging hard, turning your knuckles white.

“So good.” You cry out; his thrusts are harder, knocking the air out of your lungs, making you gasp for air each time he slams into you. Jungkook's cock twitches in you as he presses slightly on your belly, making a bulge of his cock appear inside of you.

“I’m going to cum,” you moan. “Not yet, baby, not yet.” Jungkook groans, pulling out. He flips you onto your stomach, presses your legs together before slipping into your pussy again with a loud groan.

"Shit, so fucking tight.” Jungkook moans, His hands squeeze your ass as he fucks you from behind. Your moans and screams get muffled by how you bite into your pillow. The position had him being able to go deeper, and tears started streaming down your cheeks.

“I’m going to cum.” You scream into your pillow, as he grunts with each thrust he fucks into you. “Come baby.” He groans, giving your waist a squeeze of reassurance. He didn’t have to tell you twice, your orgasm all over his cock. Your body shakes, and you clench hard around him. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he spills into you.

Your bodies heave heavily, as he fucks you both through your orgasm. Soft moans and whines leave your lips as he pulls out of you, and the white fluid drips out of your hole, making Jungkook groan in satisfaction.

“Are you okay, baby?” Jungkook asks, his tone sweet and gentle as he flips you over to your back, catching a glimpse of your red cheeks and teary eye expression. “I think I just had an out-of-body experience.” You chuckle. Jungkook's eyes look over your body, looking for any bruises, but are met with none, which makes him sigh in relief.

“Yeah?” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows, dropping a kiss on your lips before getting up from your bed and making his way to your vanity. He opens a couple of your drawers before picking up the package of wet wipes and making his way back to you.

“We need to change your sheets, baby.” Jungkook comments as he takes notice of the blood stain on them. He pulls one of the wipes out of the package, wiping you clean in a delicate manner. When he finished cleaning you up, he followed along with cleaning himself before disposing the wipes in your trash can beside your bed.

He also quickly changes your sheets before jumping into bed with you. His head lies on your chest. Hearing your steady heartbeat, your fingers work on his back muscles as he relaxes further into you. The sound of rain outside pebbles against your window.

As you both lay intertwined, your breaths slowly returning to normal, Jungkook felt an overwhelming sense of peace wash over him. The familiar gnawing urge for drugs was conspicuously absent, replaced entirely by thoughts of you. Your touch, your warmth, and your love.

And for the second time in his life, the voices finally stopped as he fell asleep to the sound of your breathing.

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saeist · 6 months ago

Text

it’s complicated ── bakugo k. (3.4k) ⊹ ࣪ ˖ part one

“kats..” you murmur

“yeah?”

“what are we exactly?”

your voice cuts through the air. you can feel bakugo’s grip tighten around your body. like he froze in his spot right next to you in his bed.

“well, what do you want us to be?” his voice is gentle, yet there's an underlying tension. bakugo uses his free hand to tuck some hair that was getting in the way of your face. his thumb slowly caressing the apples of your cheeks as he stares into your eyes, bracing (and dreading) for your answer

this time you stay quiet. unsure how to answer or better yet, unsure how to get your point across to your... friend? semi lover? your situationship

you know yourself that you do like bakugo. again, he might be rough around the edges but you've learned to look past that and see him for who he is

bakugo is a lot more than what he shows on the surface

and you've been given the privilege to experience the side of bakugo katsuki that he hides

"well, i don't know either.." you say truthfully after giving it much thought in such notice (lies. you've been thinking about it since the slumber party happened)

unbeknownst to you, bakugo's heart drops. what do you mean you don't know what you want to be with him? did you not like him back? bakugo's almost certain you do. if you don't like him then why are you in bed with him? if you don't like him then why do you bother sticking around?

bakugo's thoughts are getting to him. you can tell with the way he's slowly unwrapping his arms around you and sits up.

for the first time, the air is suffocating. neither of you speak up on the situation that's brewing just from an innocent question about where your little relationship is heading

"i should leave.." you mutter, slowly pulling yourself off his bed and heading towards the door

"... yeah" bakugo rasps, almost like a whisper, looking away

there's a little ache in your heart when he didn't even bother stopping you. pursing your lips, you quietly leave his room to head back to yours

did you ruin whatever chances you had with your question?

the door closed behind you with a soft click, but it echoed loudly in your mind, marking the beginning of an uneasy distance.

—

the following day, the tension between you two becomes palpable during training.

the air is thick with unresolved tension. you were coincidentally paired with bakugo this time around and bakugo’s usual focus is a little disrupted. his movements remain sharp as they are but his usual techniques feel a little all over the place, almost as if he couldn't focus at all. obviously you notice but you’re hesitant to approach and you don't act on it. you ignored the way he was being a little rougher that you swore you were gonna get bruises at the end of the session.

midway through the intense spar, you have successfully pinned bakugo down after hitting him with your quirk and in that moment, you both lock eyes. there’s a flicker of something – hurt, longing, confusion – but neither of you speaks

bakugo uses your distraction to his advantage and changes the scene. this time it was you who was pinned on the ground.

ectoplasm, who was the teacher in charge for this training session has called it a tie between the two of you

you push bakugo off yourself as you walk away before bakugo could even offer his arm out for you to take. the whole class watches of course and they finally take notice of the on going tension between the two of you

something shifted in the air after that training session that it was slowly getting unbearable for everyone as the days pass by

—

for the next few days after that training session, you and bakugo were avoiding each other like the plague. turning to different directions whenever you two would bump into each other whether it be around the school halls or back at the dormitory

the lack of communication for the past few days gave you an ample amount of time to sort out your thoughts and feelings. after giving it some thoughts, you think you were now ready to face bakugo again to ask him the same question but this time you think you had an answer

although that goes all out the window when you spot him talking to someone who seemed to be from another department just outside campus on your way back to the dormitory

you quickly hid behind a nearby bush to watch everything unfold before your very eyes

bakugo has always been popular in campus. especially when he won first place during the school's sports festival but his popularity and reputation skyrocketed even further during the school festival where he showed the rest of the students that he's talented in all aspects even when it comes to musicality

so it was pretty safe to assume he had admirers around campus and you think you were about to witness a live confession

you note that the girl in front of him was holding some kind of paper bag. it looked like it was a gift. your stomach churns at the sight that you almost felt ill. swallowing whatever pride you had left, you continue to watch the two of them conversing

you watch bakugo look at her with wide eyes. like he was surprised or something, you couldn’t really tell. the girl fidgets with the gift bag before bursting into giggles

that was your last straw. with a sharp breath, you leave your hiding spot and stormed away. with each step you take, the heavier it feels than the last. almost as if you were carrying the weight of uncertainty and jealousy

—

once you arrived, the people who were lounging around in the living room could tell you were upset. you did slam the front doors shut and you may or may not have unintentionally set your quirk off by locking the doors in the process. the rest of the class who weren't home yet, had to get kirishima to break the locks off.

by the time bakugo arrived, he finds the front doors broken much to his surprise. shrugging, he heads inside to see his friends and your friends all huddled up

"do you guys think they broke up?"

"hold up.. they were dating?!"

"omg keep up kaminari! well we think they did but they didn't really confirm it"

"wait! no wonder they're not seen together anymore! bakugo does look a little-"

"looks a little what?!" bakugo cuts off kirishima mid sentence by making his presence known to the group. all the girls and kaminari scream in surprise before scrambling to get away, not wanting to feel bakugo's wrath now that he himself knows that they were talking about him behind his back

kirishima throws his arm over bakugo's shoulder, completely unfazed by his usual antics at this point.

"as i was saying, you look a little out of it for the past few days. something happened to ya?" kirishima asks, "just a little while ago, y/n came home all upset and seemed to lock the locks that i had to break it so the rest of you could come in" he continues

bakugo's eyes widened. fuck, he thinks to himself. bakugo's almost 99% sure why you were upset. he isn't dense as you think he is. he actually noticed you hiding behind the bushes when he was caught up with a student from a different course– who only came up to him to tell him that his zipper was all the way down before skipping back to her own friends

which was totally uncalled for as bakugo thinks

"earth to bakugo? anyone in there? or are the lights left open but nobody is home?" kirishima jokes, waves his hand around bakugo's face, breaking his trance

"shut up and mind your own damn business! all of you!" bakugo booms, loud enough that the girls who were hiding around could hear him

kirishima sighs, "now i don't know what's going on between you and y/n, but you guys need to talk. we don't like the tension going on and it's disrupting the class. talk to her, bro"

with that, kirishima walks away. bakugo could only stare at his back. he hates to admit it but kirishima is right. you guys do need to talk.

huffing, bakugo stomps his way towards his own room to change from his uniform and to formulate what he wants to say

—

meanwhile, amidst everything going on downstairs in the common area, you locked yourself in your room in attempt to calm yourself down.

"suppress it, y/n. it doesn't matter if someone else likes him! why would it matter to you anyway? you two aren't even a thing! friends don't get jealous over petty shit like this.." you sat in front of your dresser, repeatedly reminding yourself with your status with the blonde

suddenly you hear knocks on your door. you jolt up in surprise, totally not expecting anyone to check up on you after your little outburst. you looked in front of the mirror in case you had any makeup smeared or what not

the knocking gets louder by the minute and you scramble to open the door. when the door opens, you were met with all of the girls, who promptly invited themselves inside your room

"what's up..?" you say, unsure on what's going on

"what's up? what's up with you and bakugo is what's up! what's going on with the two of you?!" mina gets straight to the point, not even wasting a single second

at the mention of bakugo's name. your face sours

"nothing's going on" you sigh, not wanting to think about what happened just moments ago

"if nothing's going on then why do you look like that?" tsuyu questions

"like what?"

"like you're about to cry yourself to sleep!" mina exaggerates, pointing a finger at your face

did you really look that miserable?

with a deep sigh, you flop down on your bed, staring at the ceiling

"i think i like him" you start, feeling embarrassed to even say it out loud

"you think?!" mina reacts, lying down next to you

"mina! let her talk first" uraraka interjects, waiting for you to continue

"since you guys are all here let me just sum up what happened. so basically, i asked him what were we a few nights ago-"

hagakure squeals before immediately clamping her hand around her mouth

"sorry! continue.."

"anyway as i was saying, and then he turned the question back to me and i said i don't know because at the time i didn't know either! i didn't want to make the first move and yeah so now we're here" you finish your little story time quickly to save yourself from further embarrassment

the girls take their time to digest your little dilemma. the stunned silence is what made you realized what you just said. the post yap clarity getting to you

yaoyorozu was the first one to break the silence

"this is all my fault, y/n-san! i should've kept my question to myself instead of asking you. i'm so sorry" yaoyorozu cries out, hands flying to her face

with a sad smile, you reach over to remove her hands off her face

"it's not your fault, yaomomo. in fact you made me realize where we were standing. if anything, you helped me" you try to laugh it off.

well, it was true for the most part. yaoyorozu's question was the trigger you needed to help you realize what was going on between you and bakugo

"well, we don't really know what to say.. but you guys should talk" jirou says, patting your leg in a way to comfort you at least

"yeah i thought so too. we'll talk eventually.." you murmured. now all you want to do is to just lay in bed

"okay guys, visiting hours is over, let's all let y/n rest for the mean time" tsuyu prompts. all the girls agree and slowly they all get up from your bed and start to head out

you sit up, watching them huddle to your door.

"thanks guys" you smile at your friends, "thank you for checking up on me"

mina waves her hand off, "duh! we're your friends and we don't like seeing our friends upset. right guys?" mina ignites cheers.

"now we'll leave you alone with your thoughts. you know where to find us!" uraraka waves you goodbye before they all head out, leaving you alone.

once they were gone, you lay back down. now what? do you ask him first? no, that won't do. you already asked the question that brought you guys this dilemma in the first place. maybe you'll fuck things up even more

you're overthinking at this point. you close your eyes and attempt to sleep it off. yeah, that's what you need right now. maybe when you wake up, you'll be more level headed but for now, you just need to rest and that's what you do

on the way out of your room, the girls all run into kirishima in the hallway.

"girl intervention?" kirishima jokes, bumping fists with everyone

"hah! i wish. we were just checking up on y/n after her little outburst earlier. how's the door by the way?" mina asks, waving goodbye to the rest of the girls who went on their own separate ways

"nice. i just talked to bakugo too. told him he needs to get his shit together and talk to y/n since it's clearly noticeable to everyone that they're both going through something" kirishima shares

mina nods along to what he was saying. hopeful that their words get through your heads.

—

it was dinner time when bakugo takes notice of your absence in the table. he scanned the room, noting that everyone else was present. so where were you?

"where's y/n?" bakugo speaks before he could think. kirishima and mina both share a knowing look. "is she not gonna eat?"

"she's sleeping" tsuyu answers

"at this hour? it's literally 7:30PM!" kaminari cries out, "man, your self care practices really rubbing off of her huh?" he jokes, elbowing sero who was laughing at his implication

"what did you say, dunce face?!" bakugo stands up, explosions going off on his palms.

"bakugo! manners!" iida scolds him. bakugo huffs and sits back down, chomping down on his food

bakugo takes a mental note to bring you food later when he finishes his meal

—

"it's me. i brought you food" bakugo knocks on your door, waiting for you to answer. when he's met with silence, he knocks again. this time a little louder

"y/n. you need to eat" he yells, banging his fists against the material of the door. he lets out an irritated growl when he hears some locks clicking into place. an indication that you used your quirk.

"listen, i'm not afraid to blow this whole door away if it means i have to get you to eat!" bakugo yells again. he realizes his tone and clicks his tongue in annoyance that it wasn't the time to act up. "and we need to talk" he says, voice softer

bakugo waits for your response. when you weren't budging at all, he takes this as his sign to leave you alone. maybe you two can talk another time when you aren't preoccupied with other stuff

but to his surprise, you open the door. bakugo pushes it open and sees you making your way back on your bed, looking as if you just cried your eyes out

“i got you your share of food” he says, setting the plate down on your desk. you only weakly nod your head before turning to the side, not wanting to face him.

bakugo stands awkwardly in your room. this isn't the first time he's been here. usually he'd be in bed with you, studying or just hanging out. this was new to bakugo as it is new to you. you two aren't used to this.

swallowing his pride, he slowly sits down on the edge of your bed.

"listen, i want us to talk" bakugo says, unsure what to say next. he carefully watches your next move instead you just lay still.

bakugo runs a hand through his hair. he hates being put on the spot like this. he thinks back to what kirishima told him. to talk to you and here he is now but he isn't sure on what to tell you

"someone came up to me today" bakugo starts, trying to elevate the gloomy atmosphere in your room. "she was-"

"bakugo, it's fine" you cut him off

oof. bakugo. not kats?

bakugo frowns at the way his name slipped off your tongue like that. he opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it

"it's okay if you want to see someone else. i'm not gonna stop you. who am i to stop you?" you finally sit up, looking at him straight in the eye. you just wanted this to get this over with

bakugo's eyes widened. "you didn't even let me fucking finish. she just said that my zipper was open and i wanted to blast her away" he concludes

oh.

stunned by his words, you stay quiet. maybe you shouldn't have jumped into conclusions

"what? got nothing else to say?" bakugo taunts, sensing that the coast was clear, he scoots closer to you. he takes slowly takes your hands and intertwines them together

"i actually saw your dumbass hiding behind that stupid bush. i was gonna catch up with you til that extra stopped me" bakugo grumbles, staring at your hands

you felt your cheeks heat up that you were caught hiding all along.

"so no. i don't want to see anyone else when what i want is right in front of me all along" bakugo says sincerely.

your heart swells. you can feel the tears well up on your eyes again. how much crying have you even done today?

bakugo wipes your stray tears with his thumb. he then caresses your cheeks as he looks deep into your eyes

"i like you, dumbass and nobody else" bakugo grunts, feeling himself heat up

"do you mean that?"

"do i mean that? of course i fucking do! i wouldn't be up all on your ass if i wasn't" bakugo huffs, turning away, not wanting you to see the blush on his cheeks

"well, i like you too" you confess. "and i made up my mind that i want to be with you"

"i've been yours, stupid" bakugo finally turns to you and flicks your forehead. "do you really think i let anyone have the same privileges as you do?"

you laugh. well that was anticlimactic, wasn't it?

"shut up kats!"

"that's what i wanted to hear. not bakugo" bakugo grins

"well that's your name, isn't it?"

"obviously it is but it's different when you call me kats" bakugo pulls you into his embrace. "so do me a favor and get it through your pretty little head that i like you and only you. got it?"

you pulled away slightly to look up at him, seeing the softest gaze you've ever seen. who knew he was capable of looking at you that way?

"so what does this make us?" you ask

"boyfriend girlfriend?" he questions. it almost sounds too good to be true if you were being honest

suddenly an idea pops into your head. you nuzzle your face to his chest before giggling

"what are you giggling on about? us finally being official?" he asks again. your giggles sounds like music to his ears

"you have to take me out on a date first" you tease

bakugo instantly pulls away. his whole face was turning red. did those late night cuddles and conversations not count as dates?

"y/n, we've been going on dates for quite some time now-" he protests but you cut him off

"yeah but you never asked me officially. you just assumed that they were dates. i mean yeah they were dates but like, ask me out sometimes" you insist, looking up at him

bakugo feels a vein pop on his forehead. why does it feel like you were messing with him

"is this your payback from earlier from what you've seen with that bitch? i swear if i find her i'm gonna hit her with howitzer impact" bakugo grumbles.

rolling his eyes, he cups your cheeks, "fine. will you, y/n, go out on a date with me?"

with a big smile, you nod your head yes

"it's a date!"

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