#anger and disappointment is justified though!

[eu-nicola]

not yours part 4

summary: Rafe Cameron is the perfect boyfriend… but not yours, but Sofia’s. However, fate plays against you when you become the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments. What begins as a dangerous friendship soon becomes an attraction impossible to deny.

warnings: nothing i think

word counter: 8734

author’s note: english is not my first language, final part

tags: @immyowndefender @luannemarureis @xcinnamonmalfoyx @fallout-girl219

The trip was over, and with it, you returned to the reality you had wanted to avoid. During the journey back, a mix of nervousness and anxiety had accompanied you. Rafe had promised you that he would leave Sofia. But now, days later, that promise seemed to have been forgotten. 

Since they returned, everything had returned to normal for him. Or at least, that facade of normality. Sofia was still by his side, as always, smiling and unaware of everything that had happened. And Rafe… Rafe was still the same as always. Attentive to her in public, but seeking you out in private, as if nothing had changed, as if his life could be divided between both worlds without consequences. 

At first, you wanted to give yourself time, to believe that maybe he needed a few days to sort things out. But every time Sofia posted a photo of them together or talked to you enthusiastically about how things were working out again, you felt a pang in your chest, a mix of anger and disappointment. 

That day, after ignoring several of his messages, you ended up going to his house. Not because you wanted to, but because you needed answers. The atmosphere was tense from the moment you walked through the door. Rafe greeted you with a light smile, as if everything was fine, as if he didn’t know what you had come to tell him.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said casually as he led you into the living room. His tone was carefree, as if the last conversation you had hadn’t happened, as if the world wasn’t falling apart between you.

You sat on the couch, crossed your arms, and stared at him. He noticed your serious expression, but tried to ignore it, moving closer to you like so many other times. However, this time you didn’t allow it. You moved away slightly, keeping your distance.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, feigning innocence, but you knew he understood perfectly.

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, feeling frustration begin to boil inside you. Rafe, are you really asking me that?

He shrugged, as if he had no idea what you were referring to. That gesture bothered you more than it should have.

“You promised you would leave Sofia when we got back,” you finally said, your voice firm but restrained. You didn’t want to lose control, even though everything in you screamed for you to do so. “You told me this was going to end.”

Rafe sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and dropped into the chair in front of you. He looked tired, but you weren’t going to let that stop you.

“Things are more complicated than you think,” he finally answered, as if that sentence could justify everything. “I need time.”

“Time?” you asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “You had time. Days, weeks… and in the meantime, she still believes that everything is fine, that you are with her.”

Rafe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his intense gaze locked on yours.

“It’s not that easy. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Those words hit you. He didn’t want to hurt her, but apparently, hurting you was a much easier option.

“You don’t want to hurt her?” you repeated, this time with a colder tone. “And what do you think you’re doing with me?”

Silence settled in the room. For the first time, Rafe seemed speechless, unable to respond.

“You promised me something, Rafe. You told me that I was the person you wanted, that all of this was going to change. And here we are, days later, and everything is still the same. You’re still the same.”

He stood up, as if he couldn’t stand the conversation from the couch. He paced the room, frustrated, but you couldn’t empathize with him. It was his decision, and so far, he hadn’t done anything.

“It's not that simple…” he said again, but this time his voice was softer, almost a whisper.

“Yes it is” you said firmly, standing up too. “If you really loved me, you would do the right thing. But it seems you'd rather stay with her, where you can have both of us.”

Your words hung in the air, raw and painful. Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed together, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words.

Finally, it was he who broke the silence:

“I don't want to lose you.”

It hurt you to hear it. Because he didn't want to lose you, but he didn't seem willing to do what was necessary to keep you either.

“You're already losing me, Rafe.”

You turned your back on him, ready to leave, because you knew that if you stayed, you would end up giving in, like so many other times. And this time, you didn't want to be the one who always forgave.

The air in the room was thick with tension, and your words still echoed in your mind as you began to walk towards the door. But before you could take another step, you felt a firm hand grab your arm, stopping you in your tracks. Without saying a word, Rafe turned you towards him, his face filled with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on: desperation, frustration, desire… maybe all of it. 

Before you could react, his lips met yours in an urgent kiss, as if he needed to feel you close, as if he was trying to take back everything he had just said. It was a kiss full of contradictions, almost as if he wanted to ask for forgiveness and, at the same time, claim something he knew he had no right to ask for.

Your mind fought against your body, which responded with a mix of rage and desire. You were angry, yes, but you couldn’t deny what you felt when he touched you like that. Every part of you screamed to stop him, to pull away and not let things happen again, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. The desire was stronger, and before you could make a conscious decision, you found yourself beside him, back in his arms, kissing him with an intensity that surprised you. 

He guided you towards the couch, and as upset as you were, you couldn’t pull away. The anger was still there, but somehow, that didn’t stop you from moving forward. Maybe it was the exhaustion of constantly fighting what you felt for him, or maybe it was the hope that things could change after this moment, but when the barriers you still held were stripped away, everything else fell away. 

Anger and resentment mixed with the passion of the moment, an emotional chaos you couldn't escape. You knew it was wrong, you knew it was a surrender, but you didn't say no. As emotions and bodies intertwined, reality faded away, leaving you lost in desire, in the contradiction of being furious but unable to reject him.

When it was all over, silence settled in again, heavier than ever. You were exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He looked at you with a mix of guilt and satisfaction, and even though you knew what had just happened wouldn't change anything, you couldn't help but feel something inside you breaking.

And so, in the midst of that confusion, the words you hadn't wanted to say continued to float between you, without an answer that could ease what you felt. You got up and changed and before leaving you told him:

“Next time you look for me, make sure you've made a decision. Because I'm not going to continue being the option you keep in the shadows.”

And you left, leaving behind a Rafe who, for the first time, seemed to understand that things couldn't go on like this.

That same night, anxiety continued to vibrate in your chest. Every word you had said to him still echoed in your head, and although you knew you had done the right thing by facing him, you felt restless, uncomfortable, as if something was about to break.

You arrived home, exhausted both physically and emotionally. You didn't want to think about him anymore. You lay down on your bed and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. The silence was almost oppressive, and your mind kept replaying every detail of the conversation with Rafe.

Just as you were beginning to fall asleep, the sound of your phone lit up the room.

A message.

You reached out, feeling the cold of the device on your skin, and as you unlocked it, Sofia's name appeared on the screen. Your stomach immediately contracted. It was too late for her to text you something casual.

With a mix of nervousness and curiosity, you opened the message.

“Rafe dumped me.”

Three words that froze you completely.

You read the message over and over again, making sure you hadn’t misunderstood. But no, there it was, clear and direct. Sofia, your best friend, had just been dumped by Rafe… and with no explanation.

Your heart was pounding, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was relief. Relief that Rafe had done what you had asked, what you had demanded of him. But there was also guilt. Because you knew you were the reason, even if Sofia didn’t know it.

Another message came seconds later.

“He didn’t say anything. He just… left me. Just like that, suddenly.”

Your mind filled with images of Sofia, alone, confused, wondering what she had done wrong, not knowing that the truth was much darker than she could imagine.

You wanted to respond, but you couldn’t find the right words. What could you say? How could you comfort her when you yourself were so involved in what had happened?

Several minutes passed before your fingers finally moved over the screen.

“Sof… I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

You knew it was an insufficient answer, but you had nothing better to offer. You felt like anything you said would be a lie or a betrayal.

Her response came quickly:

“No. I’m not okay. I don’t understand anything. We were okay… or at least I thought we were.”

You read her message with a heavy heart. You knew exactly what she felt. You had seen how Sofia struggled on the trip, how she tried to save a relationship that, for her, still had a future.

“I want to see you.”

The next message took you by surprise. Sofia wanted to see you, now. Your first instinct was to refuse, to look for an excuse, something that would allow you to avoid the inevitable confrontation. But how do you say no to your best friend at her worst moment?

“Of course. Tell me where you are.”

In less than fifteen minutes, you were at her front door. Sofia greeted you with swollen eyes and a tired face. There was no trace of the girl who just a few days ago was excited to save her relationship.

“Thanks for coming,” she whispered as she let you in.

You entered the living room, where the atmosphere was as heavy as Sofia’s gaze. She sat on the couch and you sat next to her, feeling the weight of guilt in every fiber of your body.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “We were fine… at least I thought we were fine.”

The sincerity in her voice broke you. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you knew that doing so would destroy everything: your friendship, your trust, everything you had built together. So you stayed silent, letting her vent.

“She didn’t even give me a reason,” she continued, nervously playing with her hands. “She just said she couldn’t go on. I don’t understand…

And you didn’t understand how you had gotten to this point either. How had you allowed everything to fall apart so quickly?

“Sof…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. What could you say that didn’t sound hollow? “Sometimes… people are cowards. They don’t know how to handle things and they end up running away.”

She looked at you with eyes full of tears.

“Do you think that’s it? That she just… didn’t know how to handle it?”

You nodded slowly, even though you knew the truth was much more complicated. It wasn’t just that. It was Rafe, it was desire, it was everything they had both done behind each other’s backs.

“Sofia, he doesn’t deserve you if he can’t be honest with you.” It was the most sincere thing you could offer her without giving yourself away.

She sighed, letting her head fall on your shoulder.

“Maybe you’re right. But… it hurts. It hurts so much.”

And as you comforted her, you felt your own heart break in two. Because you knew that Sofia’s pain was, in part, your fault.

The weeks following Sofia's breakup with Rafe became an emotional whirlwind that seemed impossible to escape. Sofia, devastated and confused, sought your comfort constantly. And you... you were there for her, like the loyal friend you had always been. But guilt slowly consumed you.

Every time she cried on your shoulder, every time she asked for advice, a part of you was torn apart. Because while you offered her words of support, while you told her everything would be okay, that she deserved better... you continued to secretly see Rafe.

Rafe, who had promised to leave her, who had said everything would be easier once he did. But nothing was easy. The guilt, the tension, the constant lying... it all weighed more than you had imagined.

One afternoon, Sofia showed up at your house with swollen eyes and a broken voice.

"I don't know what to do, I still love him. I can't stop thinking about him."

You stayed silent, biting your lip, trying to contain the torrent of emotions that was overwhelming you. You loved her so much, but you loved him too. It was a paradox that was tearing you apart from the inside.

“Maybe… maybe it’s best that you try to move on,” you finally said, your voice shaking.

She looked at you with eyes full of despair.

“Move on? I can’t. How do you move on when everything you wanted was with him?”

You didn’t know what to answer. Because you were living that same contradiction. You were trapped in something you didn’t want to let go of, but you knew it was destroying you.

Later that night, your phone vibrated on your nightstand. You knew who it was before you looked at the screen. Rafe.

The message was simple, direct.

“Come see me.”

You hesitated. You wanted to go. You wanted to see him, to feel the fleeting relief that being with him gave you, even if it was only for a few hours. But every time you did, the guilt sank deeper.

Finally, you gave in. You arrived at his house when the sky was already dark, and the warm light that illuminated the entrance seemed to mock you. You entered with a divided heart.

Rafe was waiting for you in the living room, leaning on the edge of the table, with that look that always managed to disarm you. The air tensed as soon as your eyes met.

“How is Sofia?” he asked, although he didn’t seem really interested in the answer.

“Bad,” you said frankly. “I have a hard time being around her… knowing what we’re doing.”

Rafe took a step towards you, his blue eyes fixed on yours, intense and challenging.

“Why do we keep hiding?” he asked, his voice low but firm. “She should know.”

The weight of his words fell on you like a stone. You took a step back, shaking your head.

“No. She can’t know. Not now. She’s broken, Rafe. If she finds out now… I’ll lose her forever.”

He frowned, frustrated.

“So what? Are we going to stay like this forever? I want you, not her.”

Your heart stopped for a second. There was something about the way he said it, with such certainty, such conviction, that for a moment you almost let yourself go. Almost.

“I can’t do that to her, Rafe,” you whispered, almost begging. “I can’t be the reason for her pain.”

“What about you?” he replied, moving closer, his hands finding yours.

You looked at him, caught between desire and guilt. Yes, you wanted to be happy. But at what cost?

“I can’t be happy at her expense,” you said, your voice breaking.

Rafe watched you in silence for a few seconds, his eyes assessing you, as if trying to understand the internal battle you were fighting. Finally, he sighed.

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

Your eyes filled with tears. You knew it. You had known it for a long time. But hearing it out loud, said so clearly, made it more real… and more impossible to ignore.

“It’s not that easy,” you murmured, looking away.

“It doesn’t have to be hard. Just tell me you love me too.”

You couldn't answer. Because your heart that was beating wildly, the way your hands trembled in his, and how, despite everything, you kept coming back to him, had already said it all for you.

"Don't make this any harder," you begged, your voice almost inaudible.

Rafe came even closer, his lips brushing your cheek in a gesture that was both soft and desperate.

"Sooner or later, he's going to find out. I can't keep pretending that I don't want to be with you."

The following days you felt trapped between the happiness of finally being with him and the anguish of what was to come. You knew that nothing good could come of this, but Rafe seemed to be in a different reality.

He wasted no time in integrating you into his world, a world that until then had been foreign to you. The first time he took you to one of those meetings with his friends was completely unexpected. He had insisted that you accompany him, assuring you that it would be something casual, just a relaxing afternoon. You had no choice but to accept, even though a part of you screamed that you shouldn't.

When you arrived, the atmosphere was full of laughter, music, and carefree conversations. Rafe's friends, the same ones Sofia used to hang out with, greeted you with smiles and greetings as if everything was perfectly normal. But the most shocking moment came when, almost casually, Rafe introduced you as if nothing had happened:

“She's my girlfriend.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. You hadn't even talked about what you were. You hadn't defined anything. But he said it so naturally, with such confidence, that his words hung in the air. You felt everyone's gazes on you, evaluating you, judging you. Some seemed surprised, others simply accepted the information without further ado.

You tried to stay calm, smiling slightly as your mind raced. He had crossed a line without consulting you, and it left you baffled. However, you didn't say anything at that moment. You didn't want to make a scene, not there, not in front of everyone.

For the rest of the evening, you stayed out of the way, watching, analyzing every move, every glance. Rafe, on the other hand, seemed comfortable, unconcerned, as if there was nothing left to hide. Every now and then, he'd come up to you, put his arm around you, or give you a kiss on the cheek, marking his territory without caring who was watching.

But you knew this wasn't going to go unnoticed. Sofia and those friends shared circles, rumors spread quickly in that environment. Sooner or later, she was going to find out.

That night, when you returned home, you couldn't help but confront him.

"Why did you tell them I'm your girlfriend?" you asked, your voice tenser than you had planned.

Rafe looked at you calmly, as if he didn't understand your concern.

"Because you are."

“But we hadn't talked about it. You didn't ask me.”

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

“I didn't see the need to talk about it. You and I are together. That's all that matters.”

His words, though simple, didn't ease the anxiety that was eating away at you inside. Because you knew that for him it was easy to say it, easy to act as if there were no consequences. But for you, for Sofia... none of this would be easy.

That night, as you lay in your bed, the weight of the situation kept you awake. You wondered how many more days could pass before everything exploded, before Sofia discovered the truth and your whole world fell apart.

And as you had said, Sofia found out. You didn't know exactly how, if it was because of the rumors that spread like wildfire in that closed circle or if someone, perhaps with malicious intentions, decided to tell her the truth. But the result was the same: your friendship with her, the relationship you valued so much, was about to break.

It all happened one afternoon when Sofia, with a dry and direct message, asked you to go to her house. "We need to talk." Two words that already gave you an idea of ​​what was to come. You felt a knot in your stomach as you headed to her house, as if every step you took brought you closer to the edge of a cliff.

When you arrived, Sofia was waiting for you in the living room. There was no trace of the kind and warm Sofia who always greeted you with a smile. Her eyes, usually full of sweetness, now shone with a mix of pain, anger and betrayal.

“How long?” she asked you without preamble, her voice cold, sharp.

You tried to stay calm, but your hands were shaking slightly.

“Sofia, I...”

“How long have you been with Rafe?” she repeated, this time with more force, her eyes fixed on yours as if they wanted to pierce you.

The silence that followed was deafening. You knew that lying was pointless, so you took a deep breath and confessed:

“For a while now… after the trip.”

Sofia’s expression changed in an instant. The pain turned into anger, an anger you had not seen in her before.

“After the trip?” she blurted out in disbelief, taking a step towards you. “While I was trying to save my relationship with him, you were with him behind my back?.”

You tried to explain yourself, but every word felt empty, useless.

“It wasn’t planned, Sofia. I didn’t want it to happen.”

“But it happened!” she interrupted you, her voice breaking. “You were my best friend, I trusted you. I thought you were on my side, that you supported me… and all this time you were with him.”

You felt her pain stab you like a dagger. It was true. You had betrayed her trust, something you never thought you would do, but now it was impossible to deny.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you said in a whisper, knowing that your words wouldn’t be enough.

Sofia laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh of joy. It was a bitter laugh, full of disappointment.

“You didn’t want to hurt me, but you did. You took away the person I loved, and not only that, you also took away my best friend.”

The truth of her words hit you hard. You had lost something irreplaceable: her friendship.

“Sofia, please… can we talk, can we…”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she interrupted you again. “Everything has already been said. I don’t know who you are. I don’t want to know anything more about you.”

Each word was like a stab. You wanted to hug her, to ask for forgiveness, but the wall that had been raised between the two of you was too high, too thick. Sofia looked at you one last time, her gaze full of resentment and pain, before turning and walking away.

You stayed there, alone in that room that had previously witnessed so much laughter, now empty of everything you had shared with her.

When you left her house, the weight of guilt and sadness became unbearable. You had lost Sofia, and the worst of all was that you knew there was no turning back. The lines you had crossed with Rafe had broken something that could not be repaired.

That night, Rafe texted you, as always, asking how you were. But this time, you didn't reply. Because nothing was right.

The next day, everything felt different. The breakup with Sofia still weighed on your chest, like an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. You'd barely slept, and when you finally opened your eyes, the first thing you felt was that emptiness that your friendship used to fill.

Rafe noticed it right away. You weren't the same. Your answers were short, your eyes avoided his, and your every move seemed laden with a sadness you couldn't hide. Still, he was there. He texted you early that morning, offering to spend the day with you, to which, after a moment's hesitation, you agreed.

When he got to your house, he didn't say much. He simply looked at you, understanding that there was something broken in you, something that he, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't fix. But that didn't stop him from trying.

“Come on, get out of here for a while,” he said softly, taking your hand with a gentleness unusual for him.

You went out together, and even though you didn’t feel like doing anything, he didn’t leave you alone. You walked along the beach, that same beach that had witnessed so many moments between you two, but that now seemed laden with a silent melancholy.

Rafe tried to distract you. He bought you coffee, he took you to a secluded place where you used to escape from the world, he even tried to make you laugh with jokes that normally would have worked. But not today. Today everything seemed out of place.

At one point, as you walked along a deserted path, you stopped.

“I shouldn’t be here with you, Rafe,” you murmured, looking at the ground, as if the words hurt to come out. “Not after what happened.”

He looked at you in silence for a few seconds, his face serious but not losing that touch of tenderness that he rarely showed.

“I know you’re sad,” he said finally. “And I'm not going to pretend that this isn't complicated… but I'm here because I want to be here. Because I want to be with you.”

You didn't know what to say. His presence was comforting, yes, but it was also the reason for your loss. You felt a constant struggle between guilt and desire, between what was right and what made you feel alive.

Later, when you both sat on the sand in front of the sea, the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. Rafe put an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. You let yourself go, resting your head on his chest while you listened to his heartbeat, strong and constant, as if he were trying to transmit some of his own calm to you.

“You're not alone, you know that?,” he murmured.

“I feel alone.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He didn't respond immediately. He just held you tighter, as if that was enough to keep you whole, even if inside you felt like you were broken.

You spent the rest of the day together. There were no big words or extravagant gestures, just the silent company of someone who wanted to be there, even if he knew everything was strange, complicated, almost impossible.

When you finally returned home, Rafe walked you to the door. Before saying goodbye, he looked at you with an intensity that made you tremble.

“If I could, I would fix everything for you,” he said, almost in a whisper. “But for now, just let me be here.”

And even though you knew that relationship was built on a fragile foundation, that night you decided that, at least for one more moment, you would accept his company.

As the days went by, things calmed down. Rafe was more present than ever, and even though you felt like your world had fallen apart, he was still there, constant, firm, and increasingly involved in your life. But the void that Sofia had left was still there, reminding you of everything you had lost.

One afternoon, while you were at his house, lost in your thoughts on the patio, Rafe appeared with that confidence he always had, as if everything in his world was under control. He sat in front of you, looking at you with a seriousness he rarely showed.

“We need to talk.” His voice was low, but firm.

You looked at him, somewhat nervous. There was something in his expression that made you tense.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, crossing your arms, trying to prepare yourself for whatever was coming.

Rafe leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

The air seemed to have suddenly become thicker. You looked at him, surprised, not knowing how to react.

“Your… girlfriend?.” you repeated, as if you hadn’t quite understood.

He nodded, not looking away.

“Yes. I don’t want to keep hiding, I don’t want this to be something half-baked. I want you to be mine, and I want everyone to know it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had waited for this moment, somehow, but now that it was happening, a mix of emotions flooded over you. There was a part of you that wanted it, that wanted to accept and leave all the guilt and fear behind. But there was also that other part, the one that knew things weren’t that simple.

“Rafe… this isn’t easy.” You tried to find the right words, but he interrupted you.

“It doesn’t have to be easy,” he said, with that characteristic confidence. “It just has to be real. I love you, and you love me. What else matters?.”

You stayed silent. You knew he was partly right, but you also knew that accepting meant definitely giving up any chance of regaining your friendship with Sofia.

After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, you took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay.” The words came out softly, almost shakily. “I accept.”

Rafe smiled, that smile that always made you feel like everything would be okay. He leaned in and kissed you, a soft kiss, full of a silent promise. You were his now, and he was yours.

The next day, you decided it was time to try something you had been avoiding: talking to Sofia. Now that you were with Rafe, you thought it was the right thing to do, to make things clear. Enough time had passed since everything fell apart, and although you knew it would be difficult, you wanted to, at least, try to fix things.

You called her first, but she didn’t answer. So, gathering your courage, you went straight to her house. When she opened the door for you, her face reflected surprise, but also a coldness that you had never seen in her before.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, without inviting you in.

“Sofia… I wanted to talk to you.”

She looked at you in silence for a few seconds, before crossing her arms.

“I don’t know what else there is to say.”

You felt the weight of her words, but you didn’t give up.

“I know I screwed up, and I know you probably don’t want to talk to me again, but… I miss you. You were my best friend, and I don’t want this to end like this.”

Sofia looked at you with a mix of hurt and anger.

“Do you miss me?” she repeated, her voice full of sarcasm. “Because I confided everything to you. I confided my relationship to you, I confided my problems to you, and you…” Her voice cracked a little, but she quickly recovered. “You were with him behind my back.”

You tried to explain, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“I don’t want to hear excuses.” She said it with a cold calm that hurt more than if she had shouted. “What you did… can’t be fixed with words.”

You stood there, feeling how every attempt to get closer was rejected. You knew you were right about many things, but you also knew there was no turning back.

“I just wanted you to know…” you said finally, your voice breaking. “That I’m sorry.”

Sofia didn’t answer right away. She simply looked at you, as if she was evaluating how sincere you were.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.” Her voice was firm, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “But for now… I’d rather you didn’t come back.”

The words were a final blow. You turned around and walked out, feeling the door close behind you, marking the definitive end of something that was once important.

When you returned home, Rafe was there, waiting for you. He welcomed you with a hug, as if he understood without you saying anything.

“How was it?” he asked softly.

You didn’t answer. You just held onto him tightly, feeling the tears you had been holding back finally come out.

You had lost Sofia. But at least, for now, you had Rafe. And that, at that moment, had to be enough.

Despite everything you had lost and the pain that the breakup with Sofia had left you with, there was something that was beginning to heal inside you: your relationship with Rafe. Against all odds, he had become someone who made you feel safe, wanted, and, above all, loved.

The days with him were different. It didn’t matter how much chaos surrounded your lives, because when you were with him, everything seemed to make sense. Rafe, the boy who had previously seemed unattainable, focused on himself and his own world, was now yours completely. And he didn't just show it to you with words, but with constant actions that spoke louder than any promise.

There were the small, everyday gestures: he would show up at your house unannounced, with your favorite coffee in his hand, or some flower he had plucked from who knows where, just because he knew it would make you smile. The text messages at any time of the day, reminding you how much he loved you, how he thought of you even in the middle of his routine. He was always there, making sure you knew you were the most important thing in his life.

But there was something you never imagined he would do. Rafe Cameron, the boy who had always been reserved, even in his way of expressing himself, had gone above and beyond.

One afternoon, while you were at his house, both of you lying on the couch, he began to play with your hand, tracing soft circles on your skin. There was a calmness in the air, a peace that you both shared. Suddenly, he sat up and looked at you with a mischievous smile on his lips.

“I have something to show you,” he said, with that spark in his eyes that always intrigued you.

You looked at him, curious, as he stood up and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt a little, revealing the inside of his arm. And there it was: a small, delicate tattoo, just below the crook of his elbow. Your name. It wasn’t big or flashy, but it was perfect. The typography was simple, clean, elegant, almost like he was whispering rather than shouting.

You were speechless. You knew tattoos weren’t his thing. Rafe had always been more of a minimalist, averse to anything that could permanently alter his appearance. But there he was, with your name etched into his skin.

“You did it for me?” you asked, still taking in what you saw.

He smiled, that soft, genuine smile he rarely showed.

“For you,” he answered without hesitation. “Because I want you to know this is forever.”

You felt a warmth in your chest, a mix of happiness and excitement that you couldn’t contain. You gently stroked the skin around the tattoo, admiring the way it looked. It was something subtle, but meaningful, like he had found the perfect way to show you how much he loved you without losing his essence.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, still in disbelief. “You… weren’t into tattoos.”

Rafe shrugged, downplaying it.

“It wasn’t,” he admitted. “But some things are worth it. And you… you’re worth it.”

The words hit you hard, but in a sweet way. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him, feeling his heart beat against your chest. At that moment, you knew that, despite everything, you had made the right decision.

From then on, every time you saw him, your eyes inevitably returned to that tattoo. It was a constant, a reminder of what you had built together, of how he had decided to bet on you. Even in his busiest moments, at meetings with his friends or in the busiest places, that little detail made you feel special, as if you were always present in his life, even when you weren't physically by his side.

You were fine with Rafe. It had been weeks since everything changed, since you crossed that line that you had so feared, but that now seemed to have been the best decision you had made. The relationship was moving at its own pace, neither too fast nor too slow, just the way you liked it. You didn't want to force anything, and Rafe seemed to understand that perfectly.

The days with him were a mix of tranquility and passion. They had found a balance. They went out together, shared moments in the privacy of their home or walked around the city, but always with that complicity that made them feel unique. There was no rush, nor expectations beyond what both of them could handle. You were fine, really fine.

You had tried to talk to Sofia again on more than one occasion. You tried because, despite everything, she had been your best friend. You knew you couldn't erase the shared history or the memories you still treasured.

The first time you looked for her, it was complicated. She didn't want to see you. She didn't answer your messages or your calls. It didn't surprise you, but it still hurt. The second time, you managed to meet her at an event that you were both invited to. You approached her, with every intention of explaining, of asking for forgiveness, of trying to save what little was left between you.

"Sofia," you called her cautiously, trying to get her attention. "Can we talk?"

She looked at you, her eyes cold, distant, nothing like the warmth they used to have when you were her confidant.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said bluntly, making it clear that there was no room for second chances.

You accepted her decision. You understood that some things simply couldn't be fixed, that there were wounds that wouldn't heal, and that the price you had paid for being with Rafe had been high. But, for the first time, you didn't feel guilty. You had done what you could, and now you just had to move on.

A few days after that last conversation with Sofia, you spoke to your mother. You needed to talk to someone, to get advice, or simply to feel the comfort that only she could offer.

You told her everything: how you had tried to repair the relationship with Sofia, how Rafe had become a fundamental part of your life, and how, despite everything, you were happy with him.

Your mother listened to you attentively, with that wise look she had always had. When you finished speaking, she put her cup aside and looked at you seriously.

“Did you do all this for a man?” she asked you, her tone firm but without judgment.

“Not just for him, Mom,” you answered. “I did it for me too. Because I love him.”

She nodded slowly, processing your words. Then, with that frankness that had always characterized her, she challenged you:

“So, if you love him so much and you have come this far, you better marry him.”

The phrase took you by surprise, but it didn’t bother you. It was typical of your mother to be direct, and deep down, you knew she was right. You stayed silent for a few seconds, thinking.

“You know what? I think I will,” you said with a soft smile. “I’m sure I’m going to marry him.”

And you were. Because, despite everything you had been through, the losses and the difficult decisions, Rafe was the man you wanted to build your future with.

Since that conversation with your mother, the idea of ​​marrying Rafe stopped being just a fleeting thought. It became something tangible, something you saw in every gesture of his, in every look, in every moment you shared.

Rafe showed you that day after day. He was there for you on good days and bad, taking care of you, protecting you, making sure you knew how much he loved you. And you reciprocated that love with the same intensity. You had found in him a stability you never imagined having, a peace that made you feel complete.

You didn't know when or how it would happen, but you were sure that when the time came, you would be ready to say "yes."

And after so much, a year had passed. A year since everything changed, since you crossed that line you never thought you would cross, and since, with Rafe, everything took a new shape. You had learned so much in that time. Not only about him, but about yourself, about what love and complicity in a relationship meant. It had been a year full of intense moments, of ups and downs, of doubts and certainties. But now, looking back, you could only smile at everything you had experienced with him. 

After a while, you had gone to live with him. Your parents had helped you move in and, strangely, they had gotten along very well with Rafe, being that your parents were somewhat peculiar and he was too. Now they were on the beach, a quiet afternoon, just before the sun set. The sound of the waves gently breaking on the shore and the fresh air caressing your face created the perfect atmosphere. They were sitting together on the sand, enjoying the peace, each other's company, without the need for words. Everything seemed to be in place.

Rafe, who had been looking at the horizon, looked at you with a different, more intense expression. He gently took your hands, as if he wanted to make sure you would feel it. His deep gaze left you speechless, and your heart beat faster at the seriousness on his face.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked you, as if he needed to confirm it, even though you knew you did.

You nodded, smiling tenderly. There was no doubt that you wanted him, that you loved him.

But what happened next took your breath away. Rafe stood up, gently put you down, and walked over to a small backpack he had left nearby. From there he pulled out a small box, and your heart skipped a beat. It had been a year full of hints, of little moments in which the two of you talked about the future, about the possibility of taking the next step. But you never thought it would be so soon, not so soon after everything that had happened.

Calmly, he walked back to your side, opening the box with a shaking hand, and inside, a ring gleamed in the evening light. It was delicate, perfect for you. It had a soft glow, but what made it truly special was its story: his mother’s ring, a jewel that had been passed down through generations of his family.

Rafe looked into your eyes, waiting for you to process what was happening. The sound of the waves was the only thing breaking the silence, but at that moment, everything else disappeared.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said, his voice firm but charged with emotion. “I’ve asked you to be my girlfriend, and now I want you to be my wife.”

Your heart raced. Everything you had imagined, everything you had felt during that year, everything you had experienced with him, was condensed in that very moment. Rafe wanted to be with you, not just now, but always.

“Yes,” you answered, almost without thinking. Yes, because you loved him, yes, because you couldn't imagine your life without him, yes, because he had spent a whole year showing you what love really meant.

The sun was beginning to set behind him, tinting the sky in warm tones. At that moment, there was nothing more important than being there, next to him, knowing that the future they both dreamed of was within reach.

And even though it wasn’t the first time he had proposed to you, this was the most special. Rafe had done it before, a couple of times, but always in spontaneous moments, almost as if he said it without thinking. Each time, you had responded with a smile and a nervous laugh, because deep down, you knew you weren’t ready yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, it wasn’t that you didn’t feel completely happy with him. It was just that, sometimes, the idea of ​​getting married so quickly scared you. You wanted to be sure that it was the right thing to do, that you were both ready to take that step. 

But as time went by, everything started to fall into place. You had shared moments so deep, so intense, that the commitment to get married didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. You accepted Rafe’s proposal not out of obligation, not because he was asking you to, but because you knew it was what you really wanted. You had been patient, and in those moments when you had questioned yourself, you had found the answer. 

It was several minutes before you said anything. You just stared at him, the ring on your finger, feeling the weight of what it represented. Finally, you hugged him. You didn't need words, because everything was clear between the two of you. You knew that the rest of your life would be with Rafe, and that made you happier than you ever thought you would be. 

You had lost a friendship, and although at first the idea of ​​losing Sofia had torn you apart, as time went by you realized that you no longer regretted it. Everything that had happened between you, Rafe, and her was behind you, like a page in a book that now had nothing but scars and memories. It wasn't easy to say it, but in the end you knew that it had been necessary. The decisions you had made, although painful, had brought you to a place where you felt complete, to a place where you knew who you were and what you wanted. 

You looked back only to realize that you had grown. The weight of loss no longer crushed you, not the way it once did. You had gotten over the pain of losing a friend you once considered almost a sister, but now you knew that in life, people change, and sometimes, those same people have to let you go so you can move on. Love, decisions, the paths you take... all of that comes with a price.

With Rafe at your side, you had found something new, something that completed you in a way you never thought possible. And what you had lost with Sofia, as much as it hurt, allowed you to open the door to what was yours, what you deserved.

You were there, sitting on the sand in silence, watching the waves gently crash against the shore. The sun was already beginning to disappear on the horizon, dyeing everything in orange and pink tones. Rafe broke the silence, his voice soft but full of intention.

“Do you know what I want most in life?” you asked him.

He looked at you, smiling softly.

“What is it?” he asked, curious.

“I want children. I want a family.” You took his hands, looking at the horizon as if you were visualizing that future. “I want our children to grow up and look like you, like us. And I want to be the best mother I can be.”

“And I want that,” he answered sincerely, squeezing your hands gently. “I want a family. I want our children to be more like you than me. I want to be the father they need, always.”

You looked at him tenderly, caressing his face with your fingertips.

“And I'm going to help you with that. We're going to do it together.” You smiled, feeling your heart beating hard, sure of what you were saying. “I already have everything planned in my mind. And I know it's going to be amazing. No matter what happens, we're going to do it together.”

Rafe smiled, a sparkle in his eyes, grateful and hopeful.

“I never thought I'd find someone like you” he said, his voice low, but full of emotion.

“Just you and me.” you said before giving him a kiss.

He hugged you, and for a moment, the world disappeared. There was only you and him, the sound of the waves, and that future that now felt so close, so real.

Now, standing there, with the ring on your finger and the promise of a future full of love and adventure, you knew that what was coming would be the best for you. The past was behind you, with all that it entailed. You no longer felt resentment or remorse. You had done what you thought was right at the time, and you had done it for yourself, for the love you had found.

Now you were going to do something new. It wasn't just a new beginning with Rafe, but a new chapter for yourself. You were no longer just the girl who had been caught in an emotional triangle, or the one who had had to choose between two people. You were now someone who knew what she wanted, who had learned to make difficult decisions, accept the consequences, and move forward with her head held high.

With Rafe, and with the commitment that your ring now represented, you were going to create something completely new. Something that didn't depend on what had happened, but on what was to come. No looking back, no regrets. Because in the end, only you knew what made you happy, and now you had the chance to live it.

THE END

[track-five]

Thoughts on the tour cancellation? I’m so torn because as an American fan, I know I don’t have the right to speak for Asian Louies and it’s okay for them to be angry and upset. They’ve been waiting 8 years and once again they get the short end of the stick. At the same time I don’t think it’s Louis’ fault at all. He was so excited to tour Asia. I think his team has handled this in the worst way possible (what’s new🙄) but I don’t think he deserves to be slammed like he has been. Asian fans didn’t deserve to hear it from live nation or Twitter update accounts. His team 1000% should have and still should put out a statement. There’s no way they didn’t know a couple days in advance. I do find it incredibly strange that the only news we’ve heard from Louis or his team is a measly paragraph tweet apologizing. The difference from him breaking his arm and posting x rays and a notes app apology because he had to cancel a few signings and one show, to canceling an entire leg of tour and only writing a couple sentences is super weird and leads me to believe he can’t say anything else. The whole situation is messed up and I hope he’s okay.

oh boy ok i haven’t been tracking this closely today, so if anything new happened that i missed i could be completely off here…

i really feel for all of the fans in asia because they get the short end of the stick too often :( this is giving “harry cancelling his chicago show day-of via ticketmaster” and i’m really not sure what to think. shit happens sometimes, and we have to accept the disappointment knowing the decision is probably what was best for the person we care about. i believe harry didn’t owe us any explanation even though we wanted one, but hshq absolutely did owe us an announcement (and honestly an apology…both of which we didn’t get, but LA did!). i feel the same about louis.

we are never owed a look into harry or louis’ personal lives, but louis is so adamant that there’s a symbiotic relationship between himself and the fans…so the way this is being handled is very odd and makes me think something very personal is going on. i don’t blame louis for the response, but i’m inclined to blame his team.

as we’ve seen time and time again louis is in charge of a lot, but he has people working for him behind the scenes. he’s not the kind of guy to get every tweet pre-approved by a pr team, but i have a feeling he’s not in charge of the response here. even if he is, lthq still should have been the ones to announce it.

performing is his passion, but it’s also his job. regardless of how fun his shows are and how close we feel to him there, it’s essentially a transactional experience. his team knows this. it’s disappointing if your friend backs out of a coffee date with no explanation, but there are no stakes. if an artist backs out of shows, there was time and money invested on many fronts. when his team spends so much time pushing genuineness and transparency on us through aotv, it’s strange that all we have is a remix of every other apology tweet over the years. they absolutely dropped the ball on this one, and i feel so bad for him for the backlash he’s getting.

we are never owed an explanation, but we are owed the courtesy of hearing it directly from the artist (aka their team). that’s the bare minimum in my opinion. my guess is there’s something going on with louis. if there’s something serious he’s dealing with, the burden of making this difficult announcement (and blame for its inadequacy) should absolutely not fall on him, but on lthq and lthq only. there’s obviously a lot of nuance to decisions like this, so it’s hard to assign blame when we truly have no idea. i hope he’s alright, and my heart goes out to the fans whose shows were cancelled.

[cum-allergy]

.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Rewound Infinitely

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Part one: Infinite Rewind

Synopsis: A decade later, Gojo has finally caught up with you. Weddings take a lot of planning.

Word Count: 8.6k

(Warnings: flashbacks to gore, not healthy trauma coping, thats all tho! pretty wholesome compared to last time)

Some things about him had changed within a decade, while others stayed the same. 

Even taller than you last saw him. His hair has been styled, no longer ivory chaos. You can't see a single blemish or mark despite the decade of fighting curses. He's as flawless as the first day you met him. No glasses; the entirety of his blue keeps you still.

You've seen this Satoru before: Suguru's memories, with glassy eyes, ruffled ivory hair, and an empty expression. Seeing such beauty yourself when you're standing right in front of him, it's breathtaking. 

Even the lights of Tokyo couldn't compare to him. 

You say nothing. You can't. Your mouth is dry and pointless. You're not even sure where to even begin. In front of a God, your insecurities pile up all over again. Is he disappointed by you? How could you explain everything that you put him through? Your mouth opens, you think you're about to speak: an apology, a plea, anything-

"—You're late!" 

His hands reach up to squish your cheeks together. It was so unexpected, you squeak. 

And Gojo Satoru is pouting. 

It's a wave. The ocean of anxiety, guilt, and fear crashes into the shore. You feel nothing but indignant rage at the brat who clearly hadn't matured one damn bit. 

"I'm not late!" You hiss back. "If anything, you're the one who's late. I was—"

You're cut off by his laugh, light and happy. 

He isn't offended by your outburst; he's overjoyed about it. His cheeks are dabbed with pink, and his lips are so wide that he's showing his teeth. Your anger wanes when he pulls you into his chest, arms circling around you. You can smell his cologne when he buries his face into your hair. 

"There you are. Finally." He melts into you like butter. "I missed you, Greeny." 

His voice is soft, quiet, and sincere. You can't do anything but hug him back, allowing him to sink.

"I missed you, too." You whisper.

He hums. Apart from the wind, it's quiet. He's clinging onto you as though he's afraid once he lets go, you'll disappear forever. His behavior is justified. You were constantly meddling with his life before whisking away. Just this once, you allow him to keep you within his reach, letting the cat catch the canary. 

"This is sweet 'n all. But we're actually getting late." He mutters. "Also, we gotta do something about your clothes." 

"Hm?" 

One moment, you're atop the Tokyo Skybridge; the next, you're standing in an upscale boutique. 

Satoru skips away from you. Meanwhile, you're frozen, brain scrambling to catch up with what happened. Teleport. He can teleport now.

"Mr. Gojo, sir." A voice calls. An older woman smiles at him. 

He gives her a casual wave before gesturing over to you. "Mind giving this one a dress? It's a black-tie event. We don't have a budget." 

The woman turns to you with a smile. "Of course, sir." 

What?

Dazed, you pliantly follow the woman into the back of the boutique. Her hold on you is gentle as she ushers you through the hall with one hand on either side of your shoulders. When you look back, Satoru is waving with a wide grin. The door shuts behind you. 

"Do you have any preferences?" 

You turn back to the woman. She's still smiling. You can't tell if it's genuine or customer service. Perhaps both. 

Did Satoru not like what you're wearing? When you look down, it makes sense. Your time on the tower wasn't kind to your hair, not to mention your clothes. This morning, you'd just thrown on the first thing you saw. 

This morning. That felt like centuries ago. 

She's still waiting. You give a trepid smile. 

"Anything," you say, "anything as long as it's cheap. I'm not exactly swimming in cash." 

She gives a confused look. "Oh, but Mr. Gojo is paying, isn't he?" 

Was he? You had no idea what was happening, much less what he had just said. She returns to her usual smile. 

"If you have nothing in mind, let's see here..." 

Some time later, your usual clothing was removed and replaced by something satin and long. It was a pretty dress that fell right to your feet. A set of women also flitted in and worked on your hair and face, putting everything back in your face so that you looked more human and less cryptid. 

"What do you think?" She asks, looking at you through that mirror. 

Pretty, you looked pretty. But when you looked closer, no amount of make-up could remove that look in your eyes. 

When you step back out, Satoru is waiting with a tapping foot. 

"Finally!" He exclaims, standing up. He doesn't acknowledge the dress, probably because he's seen himself in better. "Thanks, Hana. Okay, let's go." 

"Go?" You prod. "Go where? You—you still haven't told me what you're even doing—" 

It's no use. He grabs your hand, instantly warping you away from the boutique. 

You're outside. There's people everywhere. In the distance, you can see a crystal glass dome. The sun was still in the sky, which was strange because you remembered watching a sunset not too long ago, unless you weren't in Japan anymore. To prove it to yourself, you check your phone location. Yakima, Washington. What the fuck.

Was this some type of torture, him flitting you from continent to continent, all in a ploy to punish you for something? You give him a pleading look. 

"Just tell me what's going on—" 

"Nuh-uh." He grins. "It's a surprise! Besides, you'll figure it out soon enough. Now, I gotta' go. Stay here, be good, and find the panda!" 

And then he's gone.

You always knew he was insane, but this is ridiculous, even for him. To leave you in the middle of nowhere, that asshole.  

There is no one you recognize in the crowd, but they are all walking towards the dome, so you meekly follow. What did he say? Find the panda? It had to be a metaphor of some kind, or perhaps there was a panda statue you needed to wait under. 

And then you see a panda on two legs walking and talking with a group of teenagers.

Seriously, what else did you expect? 

Feeling like you've just aged five years, you approach the group. Including the animal, there's five. They all look like 14-16 years old. You feel like you're in high school all over again when they glance over at you. The girl looks particularly unimpressed. 

"Hi." You look at the panda. Maybe it's a really good costume because no one else looks shocked. "Satoru said I should find you...?" 

One of them seems to get the code. The one with black hair and puppy eyes perks up. 

"Ah! Are you 'Greeny'?" Did he tell everyone about that nickname? Didn't you tell him it was supposed to be a secret? Though, it doesn't really matter anymore. 

"It's not my actual name." You say before introducing yourself. 

He gives a nod. "Okkutso Yuta." He bows. What a polite kid. "This is my friend, Inumaki Toge." 

The kid with half his face under his scarf gives a wave. You smile. 

"Just Maki." The girl steps in before she gives you a once-over. "I like your dress." 

"Oh, thank you!" You say happily, "I love yours as well!" 

She looks away, but you have a feeling she has a hard time taking compliments. 

"I'm Panda." The panda fucking says, and no, it isn't a costume, but you're too tired to ask at this point. "Nice to finally meet you." 

When the final kid says nothing, Panda reaches over and wraps a furry hand around his shoulder. 

"And this is Fushiguro Megumi! He's shy." Panda says cheerily. The boy flusters under his weight. 

"Get off." Fushiguro gripes. 

"Don't mind him." Maki rolls her eyes. "He's just throwing a tantrum because his sister couldn't make it, and he's gonna have to socialize with people instead of hiding behind her." 

Fushiguro glares, but he doesn't respond to that. He just gives you a nod, and you decide these are good kids. At the very least, they're all way better than that brat Satoru. 

"So, why are we waiting out here?" You ask, peering around. 

"The doors haven't opened, yet," Okkutso kindly relays, "we're just waiting out here until everything is set up." 

"If they're taking this long, then they should at least ask for help." Maki crosses her arms. "We've been waiting out here for at least thirty minutes." 

"At least there's food." Panda tries to assuage. 

"Salmon," says Inumaki. 

"They're serving salmon out here?" You give him an incredulous look and he waves his arms around. 

"Bonito flakes." Inumaki says. Okkutso tries to come to his rescue. 

"Inumaki can't speak anything but food items because of his curse-" Maki quickly yanks him down by his collar frantically. Fushiguro is whispering something in his ear. You watch them go back and forth before it clicks. 

"Does it have something to do with his technique?" You ask, curiously. 

They stop squabbling. 

"Oh, our bad. Sorry 'bout that." Panda gives a sheepish grin. "We didn't think you'd know about jujutsu sorcery 'cause...well. Your cursed energy is really low." 

"Super low." Maki agrees. 

"Salmon." 

"Even lower than Maki's." That earns Panda a punch from her. 

"Thank you," you dryly say, before you turn back to the building. 

"What's going on in that place anyway?" 

They all give you an odd look before they look at each other. Did you say something wrong?

"Did Gojo-sensei not tell you anything?" Okkotsu asks. 

You allow yourself to leak some bitterness. "Satoru just dropped me on the sidewalk before teleporting away. He never tells me anything.

"That sounds like him." Panda nods. 

"Idiot," Maki says.

"Such an idiot," Fushiguro says, and now you feel bad for Satoru.

"Our sensei's getting married today." Okkutso supplies. He points at the dome. 

You don't get why you didn't realize it sooner. You knew these kids, at least Okkutso, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. They all showed up on the very last day Geto Suguru died. Okkutso, in particular, had fought and defeated Suguru. 

These were Gojo Satoru's students. 

You think back to the last time you saw Satoru. He didn't look like a groom, but he's an eccentric guy. You wondered what kind of person would put up with him for the rest of their lives. You pitied them. 

"Oh." You frown. "His wedding? I—I would have at least brought a gift." 

"I don't think he'd mind," Panda said, "besides, you didn't even know!" 

You still felt a bit guilty. 

"We didn't bring anything either," Fushiguro states, and it helps just a tiny bit. 

"When the ceremony begins, you can sit with us," Okkutso tells you, "we're supposed to keep an eye on you, anyway." 

"You're not talking to a dog." Maki grunts. 

"Oh no I—I didn't mean to be offensive!" Okkutso backtracks. "It's just—well, Gojo-sensei's been talking about you for a while, and we want to make sure everything goes smoothly and we were all really excited to meet you so—" 

He keeps rambling like that until Inumaki pats his shoulder. You laugh, amused. 

"I wasn't offended or anything." You tell him before his words sink in. "Wait, Satoru talks about me?" 

"All the time." Maki responds, an edge to her voice. "'Greeny this', 'Greeny that'." 

"We usually tune him out when he gets like that," Panda says, "honestly, we didn't even think you were real until just now." 

"I always thought 'Greeny' was an inside joke Gojo-sensei and Haibara-sensei had," Okkotsu admits. 

Something warm bubbles in your stomach. 

"So," Fushiguro speaks, "how do you know Gojo, anyway?" 

You didn't know the story Gojo told them so you simply keep it vague. 

"I knew him as a kid." 

It's Panda who gets the most excited about this. 

"Really? What was he like as a teenager?" 

"A brat." You instantly respond, and then you think a little more. "But I don't think that ever changed." 

They ask you a couple more questions about Gojo's high school days. You oblige, thinking this as payback for how Satoru dropped you here without saying anything. You don't know how long you spend out there, airing out Gojo's younger days while his students get increasingly giggly. 

Okkotsu is the one who notices the crowd is moving. 

"I think they opened the doors." He smiles. "Let's go, everyone." 

You follow behind Maki, admiring the architecture. It's a grand building. Sparkling crystal glass lets the sunlight bleed in. The decoration was something else entirely. Small white flowers adorn the chandelier, and they cascade down the edges. Ice sculptures of angels greeted the guests. Live music was already playing. Satoru knows how to plan a wedding. 

Maki finds you all seats. You sit next to her. Fushiguro follows you. Okkutso, Inumaki, and Panda take the seats behind you. While you wait for the guests to settle down, you pass your time, waiting for the students to bicker with one another. From your assumption, it looked as though Maki, Panda, and occasionally Inumaki butted heads with each other. Okkutso often served as the timid referee, trying to get everyone to calm down, which almost always made things worse. Fushiguro just elected to ignore everything. 

"Are they always like this?" You lean over to whisper to him. Fushiguro gives a tired nod. 

"Every. Single. Day." He's saying this from experience, but at least you get a show. 

Everyone settles down eventually. The kids grow quiet when the music starts to swell. The indoor lights dim. It's starting. 

You've never been to a wedding this grand before. There was a live orchestra. Women and men were dressed in baby blue, gently strumming away their cellos, violins, and violas. 

It's how you miss Satoru's entrance. He's already standing on the altar by the time you look back. He's changed into something more formal. The suit and green tie fit him. A perfectly put-together beauty. As though he can sense your stare, he catches your eye and winks. 

But why was he already up there? Shouldn't he be—

"Sensei's coming!" Okkotsu whisper-yells. Inumaki hushes him.

Everyone turns to face the door. You do, too. 

Your heart stops when you see him. 

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. 

You don't think you're breathing when you watch him walk down the aisle. The music is low, barely loud enough to hide the click of his heels. He takes his rightful place beside Satoru, his best man. Satoru gives him a nudge, and Suguru shakes his head fondly. 

Everyone turns to see Shoko's entrance. You should too, but you keep staring at him. How much he's changed since high school. How much he's changed since he waltzed onstage wearing a priest's outfit, filled with nothing but empty hatred for those he viewed as weak. 

But he's not wearing that twisted monk costume. His eyes aren't dull and dead and bitter. There's no sickly faux smile on his lips.

Today, Suguru looks like the happiest man on Earth. 

His eyes are wide and eager and sparkling purple beauties. He's 27, but he looks younger. The lines of exhaustion and heartbreak aren't so prominent. And you—and you—

You just sit there, watching as Shoko walks up to the altar, watching as they stand as bride and groom. His daughters, adorned in pretty blue dresses, stand right behind him, smiling so hard you're sure it hurts. The priest speaks. They say their vows. You can't hear a single word. It's like you're behind a glass wall, and you can see him, but you can't feel him. 

 When they kiss, everything comes back. The crowd celebrates. Satoru ruffles Himeno's hair. Nanako smiles wider. Behind you, Inumaki and Panda sniffles. Okkotsu hands them a tissue. 

"It’s pretty." Maki comments. Fushiguro gives a hum of agreement. 

ⴵ

Satoru finds you and the kids when you're waiting for the reception to start. 

He appears behind you with a cheery, "And how are my lovely students holding up?" You almost spill your drink in shock.

"Sensei!" Okkotsu chirps. "Where's Geto-sensei and Ieiri-sensei?" 

"Shoko's around; Suguru's taking a break," Gojo answers with a grin. "If you don't mind me, I'll be stealing this one for a sec." 

He doesn't wait for an answer, steering you away by your shoulders. You look behind you. Panda waves. Fushiguro just looks even more upset. You wave back at them regardless. 

"I can't believe you put your students out on babysitting duty." You tell him. "And what's with this wedding? There's no alcohol anywhere." To make your point, you take another sip of your apple juice. 

"We have kids here. Kinda' have to make it alcohol-free," Satoru says. 

"The bartender could ID them." You suggest. 

"You think teens who fight curses daily wouldn't figure out how to get around that?" He grins. You frown at his frustratingly good response. 

“What’d you think of them?”

“Hm?”

“The kids.” He urges. “What’d you think?”

Your brows scrunch. You have no idea what he means by that. Eventually, you take a breath.

“I like how...close they are.” You eventually say. “The bond they share. They care. I think each one of them will be good sorcerers.”

He’s silent, and you think you might have misunderstood his question.

“I learned that from you,” Satoru says, “keeping them together, making sure they can grow, get stronger, together. You were always so insistent on that, back then. I’m glad you were. It was one of the best things about you.”

You stare at him. Really stare. You’ve never heard him sound so genuine, so sincere before. You look into his crystal-blue eyes, wide and earnest. Part of you wants to take a picture, so you could keep it forever.

Eventually, Gojo successfully drags you to a less crowded area of the party. He looks around. 

"Hm, he should be around here somewhere...?" Satoru hums to himself. 

"Who?" You ask. That question answers itself. 

Haibara Yu is waiting a little ways ahead. By now, the sun was starting to set. His brown hair turned gold. Gojo eagerly hurries you forward as he calls out to him. You stumble, still lost at what you're seeing. 

"Guess who I brought?" Gojo sweetly sings, Yu-Haibara, he hasn't let you call him Yu yet-tilts his head.

He smiles, confused. "Oh? Hello!" He says cheerily. "Who's this?" He asks to Gojo. 

"Guess," Gojo says. 

Haibara stares at you, and you decide to give him a hint. 

"Brocolli head?" 

He gapes. It's almost the same reaction he had last time. Last time, when you had to convince him to kill you so you could go back in time to save Satoru.  

"No way." He gasps. "Greeny?"

 He doesn't remember. He wouldn't, why would he? Still, it's nice to see the innocence on his face, rather than the pain you saw last time. Right before he snapped your neck. 

You think he was crying the last time you two saw each other. 

In this timeline, Haibara is hugging you so tightly you think your head's about to explode. 

"It's really you?" Haibara says, but his bear hug muffles his words. "“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again even though Satoru said we'd see you again one day, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

"Haibara." You plead. "You're suffocating me." 

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry." He lets you go, and your lungs inflate again. "I—I'm just so happy! And—and you're a girl!" He says it like it's the most surprising thing about this whole revelation. Maybe it is. 

Satoru is always needy for attention and whines as always. 

"Wait, you two came up with a code word?" He complains. "That's not fair. We never did that." 

"I mean, it was Haibara's idea." You point out. "You should be smarter next time." 

That makes him frown even more. You laugh. 

"Yu." Haibara suddenly says. 

You turn to him. 

"My friends call me Yu." 

It's nice to know that no matter what timeline you're in, Yu will always remain stagnant. 

"Okay, lover boy," Gojo says with a not-so playful bite, "keep your eye on this one for me, okay? Gotta' go do more best man shit." 

Satoru's gone once again. You look at Yu. 

"He's been running around since I got here." You tell him. "Does that man ever rest?" 

"Nope." Haibara grins, before taking your arm. "Follow me; you should meet a couple of people." 

He leads you through the crowd. You spot the teens moping about out of the corner of your eye. Panda and Inumaki seem to be in a push-up competition. Maki is egging them on. You wisely decide not to disturb them.

Yu drops your hand to wave to someone. There's no need for any kind of introduction for these people. 

Riko and Misato Kuroi smile at you first. Miss Kuroi's aged beautifully since you last saw her. Wispy silver hair knitted seamlessly into brown strands. She never got that chance to grow gray hairs last time. You're staring so much it might be rude. 

"Yu?" Riko asks and you think you're about to break because they know each other. "Who's this?" 

"Uh, this-" Haibara chokes before looking at your awkwardly. Right, he doesn't know your actual name. 

Come to think of it, Satoru doesn't know either. He never bothered to ask too. Probably on purpose. Ass. 

You smile and politely introduce yourself. It takes everything within you not to scream and hug them both because in this timeline, they don't know you. They never did. 

But you can change that now. 

"Hello!" Riko beams. "I'm Kuroi Riko, but just Riko is fine! And this is my mom: Kuroi Misato." 

She says that so plainly, like that had always been her name, like Miss Kuroi had always been her mother. You wonder how long it took for those two realities to become her norm. Or maybe it hardly took time at all. 

"It's wonderful to meet you." Miss Kuroi states before she tilts her head. "May I ask how you know the couple?" 

Haibara jumps in for you. "Um—actually, this is Satoru's date!" He fumbles. 

You do a double-take. No, you technically weren't Satoru's date. But you technically entered the wedding with him. And he was the one who 'invited' you. Fuck, you were the brat's date. Damn it. 

"Ah." Nanami cuts in for the first time. "So, you're the one Gojo won't shut up about." 

His accusation sounds like Maki's, but less harsh. You wonder if he has a favorite student. 

Nanami looks the most different from his high school counterpart. A new haircut, less slouchy, more tall and refined. He blinks at you, slow and calculating. 

Sheepishly, you laugh. "Yeah...that's me....sorry." 

"Don't be rude, Kento." 

Ieiri arrives with a soft smile and painted features. She's changed out of her glowing gown, sticking to something small yet perfectly elegant: a short white dress that curls ever so slightly at the ends. Riko's the first to hug her, ecstatic. Ieiri hugs her back, too, because they've become friends in this timeline. The circles under her eyes are less prominent. Her smile looks more real. This isn't the timeline where she's had to bury her friend; it's the timeline she's allowed to marry him. 

"Congratulations," you say politely once everyone is done cooing over her. She smiles at you, the way a stranger would. 

Then, her head tilts. 

"Sorry," she hesitates, "do we know each other? You...feel familiar somehow." 

Ieiri was the first person you met when you activated your technique and returned to the past for the first time. She was the one who calmed you down, kept you grounded. In a way, you owed a lot to her. 

Looking at her, you can see why Suguru kept her cigarettes in his pocket. 

You shrug. "I must have one of those faces." 

The attention turns back to her, her beautiful dress, pure and white and beautiful. You feel Haibara stare at you. You shake your head at him. It wasn't the time. Maybe it never will be. 

"This really is a beautiful wedding," Mistato says when the conversation reaches a pleasant lull, "I can't imagine how much it cost." 

She shrugged. 

"Probably a fortune, but I let Satoru deal with the numbers." 

Misato looks confused, and Ieiri laughs. 

"He paid for everything." She gestures to the venue. "Suguru and I didn't have to fork over a single cent. It's the least he could do for being a pain in the ass for 12 years." 

Damn, you knew he was rich, but you didn't know he was rich rich. Maybe you should consider being nicer to him. If you ask politely, perhaps you could get him to pay off your car loans. 

"I'll get him to pay for my wedding too." Riko proudly says. 

"He'd probably do it, too." Ieiri nodded along. "He offered, just like that. The only thing he was hellbent on was the date." 

"The date?" You echo. Ieiri shrugs, messing with her laced sleeves. 

"Said it absolutely needed to be on December 24th. Something about spirituality. I never listened to that guy's rants." 

It comes to you immediately, but you're pushing it away. No way. Satoru wouldn't. There isn't a chance in Hell he would have convinced his friends to have the biggest day of their lives on the same day you were supposed to meet him. 

No, of course, he would do that. Ass. 

"So, how do you know Satoru?" Riko asks you. When she realized how rude it sounded, she backtracked. "I—I didn't mean anything by it! It's just...the guy only knows five people. When he spoke about bringing someone along, I thought he was joking." 

"Same here," Nanami says. Haibara stifles a laugh, and you realize all of Satoru's friends think he's a loser. 

Friends. Back then, he only had one of those. 

"Um." You toss Haibara look. He shrugs. "We met a few years ago! But we just recently reconnected." That's close enough to the truth. Good enough. 

You remember your blunder. You sympathetically look at Shoko. 

"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to bring a gift," you say, "I was blindsided. Satoru barely gave me enough time to get ready." 

You laugh, and you're hoping they laugh it off too. They don't, instead Shoko, Nanami, Riko, and Misato look at you. Then, they look at each other. 

Nanami speaks first. He clears his throat.

"Did Satoru....abduct you?" 

"What?" 

"That sounds like him." Misato sighs, more exasperated than anything else.

Riko nods along with her. "We tried to teach him. Where did we go wrong?" she laments. 

Haibara and Shoko laugh as you desperately try to defend your not-date date because he didn't actually kidnap you, but he did bring you here against your will and started dragging you along like some toy, but it's the context about that that matters. You wished they could've had a bit more faith in him. Poor Satoru. 

It ends eventually. Ieiri excuses herself. Riko and Misato go too. You stay with Yu and Nanami, watching as they get into increasingly petty arguments. It’s hilarious how quickly Yu is able to bring the usually staunch and serious Nanami down to his level.

Sometime later, you find yourself roaming the balcony. The party roars on indoors, laughing, talking, cheering. It was chilly outside, you should go back in within a few minutes. You just needed a break from the action.

The sun had already gone down, by then. You were somewhere out in the country. The buildings sparsely dotted the horizon. There were no artificial lights. It meant the stars could shine as brightly as they wanted to, with no one to stop them.

You hadn’t seen Satoru in a while. You had no idea where he’d run off to. It didn’t matter; you knew he’d eventually pop out of a box to harass you again.

But now that you had space for yourself, you needed to think.

You rest your hands over the rail, looking up at the stars. There were so many out tonight.

You fixed the future. You changed everything. Does that mean you still needed to tell Satoru about the past timeline?

You promised him answers the next time you two met. You promised him an explanation. He waited ten years for that. You pinch at the fabric of the dress.

This future that you carefully built, crafted with your own hands. It’s delicate, a glass castle.

It’s justice, but did that make it right?

“Want one?”

The voice makes you jump.

He stares at you, leaning against the rail. Purple eyes, mirroring the starry sky.

You knew these eyes, for a while, they used to be yours.

You stare at him. Then, you stare at the cigarette in his inviting fingers.

Your fingers twitch.

“No—no, I’m fine.” You smile. “Actually, I’m trying to quit.”

“Ah.” Suguru says, lighting it up before bringing it to his lips. “Shouldn’t tempt you, then. Pardon, what’s your name?”

You can hear your heartbeat. It’s loud, right in your ear. You wonder if he can hear it too. Are his curses around? Can they smell it? Your blood? Are they still as ravenous as the last time, eager to tear and fester and eat—

“It’s Greeny,” you say, “you can call me Greeny. ”

He hums in approval.

“Geto Suguru,” he says, “though I’m pretty sure you already know that.” You both share a huff of laughter.

“My fiancé quit a few years ago.” Suguru starts, mentioning the cherry-red cigarette. “Thought I’d follow in her footsteps, but here I am.” He shrugs before he winces.

“Wife, sorry.” He corrects. “I still can’t believe it.”

The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.

You smile at his tone. He sounded like that 12 years ago, when he was still just a kid. Full of soft wonder.

“I’m guessing you’ve been planning this for a long time?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Shoko did most of the work. This is all thanks to her, really. Unfortunately, I was too busy managing the school.”

“I heard you were a principal?” You prod.

Suguru nods, “Our current one recently retired. I’m trying to follow in his footsteps.”

You think of Principal Yaga, the one with sunglasses and a stern expression. He looks a lot like Nanami in some areas. But he acts more like Suguru than anyone you ever knew.

And you knew Suguru; you knew him as well as yourself.

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

“I can tell you’re already making him proud,” you say, “I met your students. They’re good kids.”

He smiles, soft, gentle. Those used to be your smiles.

“They are, aren’t they?” He repeats back, “some of them had a rough beginning, but it all worked out somehow.” He hums. “I’m glad.”

His daughters, the ones standing beside him as he kissed his wife, wide eyes and even wider grins. They didn’t have the darkness in their faces. The bitterness. Like they did in the last timeline.

You were glad, too.

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die. 

You forgive Suguru.

“It sounds like you’ve had personal experience with that sort of thing.” When he looks at you, you quickly say. “Your eyes. I—I can see it. I’ve always been good at that sort of thing.” You knew Suguru. His eyes matched yours.

He doesn’t look offended. Suguru takes a minute, reaching up to his black locks. He removes the elastic, pretty black hair falls down his shoulders He’s grown it out since high school. It reaches his waist.

He eases himself back onto the rail, looking up at the stars. You follow.

“Yeah, I do,” he’s saying, “I think I know what it’s like being them at that age. Alone, isolated, slipping down a rock. Drowning, but no one can see it.” Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised.

“When I was younger...it was really hard. Some days, I was so full of hate and anger. The pain was a lot. Sometimes, I had this despicable idea that it was someone else’s fault I was like this. Someone innocent.” He laughs, bitter.

“And, on those days, I would often feel something.”

You look at him. Suguru doesn’t stare back, eyes lost in the stars.

“Sometimes, it’d be a voice. Other times a small nudge on my shoulders, pushing me in the right direction. Once, it was a hug, keeping me from doing something that would’ve changed my life forever. And it would be just a bit more bearable, like I wasn’t so alone.”

You can feel your heart in your throat. Your fingers grip the railing.

“What did you think it was?” You expect hate, disgust. You want to give yourself a reason.

You forgive Suguru.

He takes a moment, coming back from heaven. His eyes find yours.

“I’m not sure.” He admits. “I’m not religious, but I always liked to think of it as—”

An angel. A hand of God. A higher power. It doesn’t matter what Suguru said, you knew what he meant.

A part of you always wondered why Suguru would return to Jujutsu society, when he wanted nothing more than to run from it. You expected him to retire. Instead, he took the reins of the beast, wrangling it down. Now, you get why.

“That’s why you’re a teacher now,” you say, “so you could be the same thing for your students.”

He nods, and you think of Maki. You think of Okkutso. You think of Panda. You think of Fushiguro. You think of Inumaki. Suguru must have been there for Maki, even when her own family wasn’t. Suguru must have helped Okkutso control his technique, being the only one who could. Suguru, must have made these kids better than they ever possibly could’ve been. Fighting for them instead of against them.

“Sorry.” He blinks. “I—I didn’t mean to get so sentimental. It’s been years since I thought about my own highschool years.” He laughs, voice full.

“You’re just...really nice to talk to.” He hums. “I don’t think I can explain it but it’s...familiar somehow.”

You look at him. He’s older, but in some ways, he hasn’t really changed. Even now, when you look at him, you see a reflection of yourself.

“I can see why he likes you.”

“Who?” You ask when he brings you back from your thoughts.

“The idiot.” But he says it so affectionately, so lovingly, you can’t help but smile. “I saw him dragging you around earlier. Sorry about that. I would’ve stepped in but...” He trails off, thinking.

“It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

You hadn’t noticed anything about Satoru. He smiled just as brightly as he did in highschool. Now, you wonder if this was the first time in a while Suguru had seen that side of him: carefree, no longer The Strongest.

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru. 

“Are you and him…” he trails off.

“No.” You laugh. “No, I’m his….childhood friend. We just haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “How long has it been?”

You decide to be honest. “Ten or so years, give or take?”

He whistles.

“No wonder he’s bouncing around like a yipping puppy,” He says, and you can’t help but agree with the analogy.

“In any case.” He leans over the railing. His cigarette is down to its last embers. “I hope you stick around. A friend…I think he needs more of those more than anything.”

You stare at him. Those purple eyes. You can see what Shoko sees. You can see what Satoru saw all those timelines ago. They only ever saw the light, the gentleness, of Geto Suguru.

You are the only person in the world who knows him.

He’s killed people. He’s killed you. No matter how much logic or justification or pain was involved, the blood of the innocent is still sticky. It still drips across the pavement, scarring the sidewalk in red. It still hurts.

When Suguru would kill you, you’d force yourself to forgive him. You needed to die without regrets, because the pain of hatred builds up, you’ve seen it happen firsthand.

But now that you’re free, what Suguru did to you wasn't fair. Just because his innocence was taken away doesn’t give him the right to take the lives of others. It never gives anyone the right to murder. You keep telling yourself that this Suguru and that Suguru were different…but they weren’t. Not really. The look in their eyes matched perfectly.

He’d do it again, in the right conditions.

And yet.

You forgive Suguru.

You can’t judge him. If there is a God, maybe Suguru will have to pay for the crimes he committed all those timelines ago. You can’t save Suguru from that. But to you, the debt is paid.

Besides, you’re too tired to hate him. And you won’t allow yourself to fall into the same cycle he struggled to break free from.

You look into his eyes. Then, at his ring. You smile. 

And that's enough.

“I will,” you say, “I will.”

Then, as two parts of a whole, the two of you stare at the stars for a little while longer.

ⴵ

The reception was nice. A fancy dinner, you can’t remember the last time you ate something. The speeches were beautiful, especially Shoko’s. You swore you saw Nanami shed a tear, but you never said anything about it.

You saw a glimpse of white hair in the crowd before the first dance began. Stunning music. The couple must have practiced for months. Bride and Groom, husband and wife, held hands and looked at each other like they were the only ones in the room.

Megumi stood beside you, watching Ieiri and Geto sway to the music. As though the kid could sense him, Megumi’s serene face sours. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when there’s a tap on your shoulder.

“Cute, huh?” Satoru starts, mentioning at the dance. “It didn’t look this put-together in the beginning. Shoko gave him a ton of bruises,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

You frown. “Shouldn’t you be doing something else than gossiping about your friends?”

“I am! I’m checking up on my son!” And then he turns to Fushiguru. “Megumi!”

“No.” Fushiguro instantly rebukes.

“Don’t mind him.” Satoru chides. “He’s going through an angst phase.” Fushiguro rolls his eyes, but he shifts just a tiny bit.

“Y’know, he was actually supposed to be the flower boy, but he refused. Such a shame, the pictures would’ve been something else.” Gojo sighed and now you’re convinced they aren’t father and son.

“That was never going to happen.” Fushiguro says, and as if he thinks you’re naive enough to believe Satoru, he glances at you. “Never.”

“Of course not.” You crack a smile.

You watch as Ieiri descends into a graceful spin, Geto taking the lead. When he tips her over, your eyes soften.

Gojo leans over; you can feel his breath in your ear.

“Next year.” He whispers. “For us, it’ll definetly be next year.”

You jerk away but he’s already skipping off, having the audacity to call out a cheerful ‘toodles’.

��What did he say?” Fushiguro questions.

That’s what you wanted to know, too, but you were so tired, and the night was so long, and you couldn’t bother to get out your Gojo translator and figure it out.

“The same stuff he always says. Nonsense.” You decide on. Fushiguro takes the answer.

“I don’t understand how he has all that energy.” You mutter, watching Satoru disappear through the crowd.

“I thought he’d get better with age, turns out I was wrong,” Fushiguro says.

“I wanted to ask,” you start, your eyes still on Ieiri and Geto, “how do you know Gojo? Aren’t you still in middle school?”

“Everyone knows Gojo. He’s pretty famous in the jujutsu world.” Fushiguro shrugs. “But personally...he’s my benefactor. Took me and my sister in when my parents left.”

You look at him. And you feel like an idiot.

He’s the spitting image of his father. Sharp cobalt eyes. Black hair. Fushiguro Toji is all over the young man.

Gojo Satoru, the one who killed the sorcerer killer, took care of his enemy’s children.

“What?” Fushiguro asks when you’re smiling

You shake your head. “No, no it’s nothing.”

Satoru told you that you’re the one who taught him about the importance of bonds. But you think he should take some of the credit too.

ⴵ

Eventually, everyone gets on the dancefloor.

It’s a mess. Absolute chaos. Panda and Inumaki are trying and failing to do the waltz. Maki and Okkuttso are lightly swaying to the music. They’ve managed to get Fushiguro up there too. Though, he doesn’t look extremely happy.

The adults are even worse. Apparently, the retired principal Yaga is a pretty good dancer. You think one of them found alcohol, because Haibara looks absolutely wasted. He’s swinging his arms around, almost hitting the other guests. Nanami is trying to get his attention, but the guy wants none of it. When Haibara catches your eye, he wildly waves in clear invitation.

You smile back, but you shake your head. You think he’s about to come up to you, but something else catches his eye, and he’s grinning at a very irrated-looking Iori.

You were sitting on a chair, just people-watching. It was a nice break from everything. To listen to the music, lightly tap your feet, play with the frill of your dress. You weren’t really in the mood to dance.

Besides, you weren’t technically invited here anyway. It’d be rude to just burst on the scene.

“There you are! Been looking all over for you!”

You don’t have to look over to see who it is. Satoru slumps down in a chair next to you.

“Greeny, you gotta’ do something about your cursed energy. It’s so weak. Like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly.

“Always happy to help.” Satoru beams, and then he glances over at the floor.

“We’re dancing after this song, by the way.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s so cute you think you have a choice, Greeny.”

You frown. “There’s no point in calling me Greeny anymore. Unless you still don’t know my name.”

“I do, but it doesn’t matter,” Satoru says arrogantly. “You’ll always be my Greeny to me.”

You roll your eyes. Even now, he’s a brat. You thought all these years would mellow him down just a tiny bit.

“So,” you start, “are you done with your ‘best man shit’?”

“Yup.” He announces. “Now, I can sit back and enjoy the show.”

You smile, but you can still feel the butterflies in your stomach. He’s been running around so far and it’s given you time. Now, that he’s free, it means you two have to talk.

And you aren’t sure if you truly want to.

You flex your fingers.

“Um, how have you—”

“Stop.” Satoru interrupts. “Let’s not make this awful, Greeny.”

You nod immediately, relaxing. His voice gets softer, after that.

“I’m glad you chose that color,” he says, “I was sorta’ hoping you would.”

You look down at the dress. A deep green. You hadn’t even thought about the color, the boutique lady had basically thrown it at you.

The shade of Satoru’s green tie matches your dress. You can feel your smile again. Typical.

“I’m glad I did too,” you honestly say. And then, you continue to fiddle with your fingers. Ultimately, you decide to just bite the bullet.

“I thought you’d be mad.” You finally say, words jittery and unfocused. “Angry at me for...for what I did.”

He’s silent, and you feared that it was all true. The laughs and the jabs were all a facade.

"I don’t think I was ever mad." He responds, staring into the crowd. "Hurt, yeah. Then, it faded into something that stung everytime I thought about it, and then...something else. And now, I know it's a waste to get mad because you're finally here now. With me." 

His tone pitches upwards as he reaches over to painfully pinch your cheek. 

"'Sides, I know you can't escape me anymore, Greeny," Satoru cheerfully says, "Now, I know your face, your name, and with little effort, I could probably find your address, your social security-" 

"Okay! Okay!" You pull away, rubbing your cheek. Damn, he's scary. "Threat acknowledged." 

"Good!" He straightens himself back up, and you find yourself slumping again.

“I am sorry, though,” you say, “for leaving like that. I...I always wished I could do that a bit differently. You deserved better.”

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t blame yourself for only doing what you could. It eats at you, Greeny. It really does.” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair.

“You deserved better too,” he says back, voice barely above the music, “I always had some regrets about those years. I thought I could’ve done more to help you, back then.”

There it was again: selfishness, the urge to do good to others while retaining that greed. You supposed you taught him that.

You put your face in your hands.

“Even though, you dragged me here against my will, I feel so guilty being here.” You complain, hoping it’ll lighten the mood. “You should apologize to everyone because I crashed the party.”

Satoru scoffs. “What are you talking about? Everyone loves you!” He exclaims. “Look, Yu’s ecstatic. Riko won’t stop gushing about you; you even have Nanami’s approval! I don’t even have that!” You roll your eyes, sinking back in your seat.

“Besides, you needed to come. You needed to see it.”

“See what?” You ask.

“This.” He points to the venue, the ballroom full of glittery whites and sparkles.

“Look around, Greeny. Look at all the people you saved.”

Haibara and Riko are dancing together. Two dead children finally had the chance to grow up. Misato speaks to Nanami. Beautiful gray hair, eyes that aren’t so tired. Shoko sparkling in her dress, and Geto—

The same day he was supposed to die, Suguru was getting married.

“Thank you.” When you look at him, Satoru is staring right at you. His sea eyes give everything and more.

“Thank you for saving all of us.”

Your heart skips, then just stops completely. You can’t cry, you won’t not here, not on such a happy day. But your eyes are stinging. And Satoru is turning blurry.

And then, like Satoru always does, he ruins the moment.

"Did you just fall for me a little?"

His head tilts. That same mischievous, irritating smile lights up on his face.

You relax, laughing out of disbelief. When you speak, your voice is barely scratchy. "You're so full of yourself; it's actually a little cute." 

"You think I'm cute?" 

"Did you hear anything else that I just said?" 

"I heard you think I'm cute,” Satoru responds proudly, and you doubt he’d ever let you hear the end of it.

“And besides! Today is supposed to be a celebration for you too!” He exclaims.

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Satoru says proudly, “you did it! You became a fully-fledged sorcerer. Considering your low CE, you might pass as grade four, but when I talk to our new principal, I’m sure he’ll make things right. Get ready to join be and him in the big leagues.”

You could read between the lines. Satoru wanted to tell everyone. You think a while ago, you might have agreed, but...

“Can...Can I quit being a sorcerer?” You ask. “I’m tired.”

He takes a second. Some of you wonders if he’ll try to talk you out of this. It’s more beneficial for him if you stay as an asset to the jujutsu world. How many people’s lives will be saved by a technique like yours? To be able to go back in time again and again and again. To die again and again and again.

“Someone once told me that it’s okay to be selfish every once in a while.” Satoru looks at you, eyes like lilies once again. “I won’t fault you for it. I don’t think anyone will.”

When you try to smile, it feels wobbly.

“That person sounds smart.”

“Nah.” He grins. “An idiot, actually. Way too oblivious.”

You laugh, despite the insult.

“Quit,” Satoru says when it’s quiet again, “do whatever you want. But...you can’t run away, okay? I won’t let you.”

It’s barely a touch. His hand reaches for your fingers. You’re the one who grabs it.

“I won’t.” You promise. “I won’t.”

He’s satisfied with that. You can tell when he squeezes your hand back.

You look at him, and you decide you won't tell Satoru what happened in the last timeline.

There's no point. It wouldn't do anything but shatter everything he worked so hard to make. Why would you break the glass when you could just add concrete, make it stronger? You saved everyone. A few white lies here and there just keep this future safe.

And you know this Satoru. If you told him, he'd carry that burden with you like the soldier he was. You don't want him to do that. You don't want him to have the same look you see in your own face. One last sacrifice.

When you come back, Satoru is shifting in his seat, uncrossing his legs.

“So...about that dance?”

“Ugh, fine.” You stand up. “One dance. And if you do anything embarrassing, I’m leaving.”

“Clearly, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He grins, standing up himself.

He doesn’t release your hand for the rest of the night.

You don’t mind.

(When you disappear again, Maki’s the one who finds you.

By then, it’d been long into the night. Shoko and Suguru were already gone, off to their honeymoon in the Maldives. Riko, Misato, and most of the students were sleeping off the night. Maki, his most diligent student, was helping the remaining adults pack up the venue.

She’s dragging chairs away when she grunts in Satoru’ direction.

“By the way, your date’s sleeping outside.”

Ah, you were on the balcony. No wonder he couldn’t find you. Satoru needed to do something about your cursed energy. What’s the point of having six eyes when he can’t even find the one person who’s evaded him for a decade?

You’ve completely passed out. Slumped over on a chair, head bent at an angle that could not be comfortable. Satoru knows he should feel bad. He dragged you around the entire night like a ragdoll. This was partially his fault.

He can’t really blame himself, not when you were finally here.

It still feels like a dream. Being able to hear your voice, not Suguru’s, not Yu’s. Your touch. Your eyes. Your face. Your laugh. For years, he’s wondered what it sounded like.

Reality beat even his perfect daydreams.

Seeing you up there on the Tokyo Skytree. The wind pushing your hair back and forth. It was breathtaking.

Even the lights of Tokyo, couldn’t compare to you.

He leans down, lips at your ear, voice low because he’s too prideful to let anyone else hear, not even you.

“I know it’s too late, but you looked really pretty tonight.”

You say nothing, but you shift, murmur something in your sleep. It’s all he needs.

He ditches the clean up party, taking you within his arms. He thinks he says something to Yu, but Satoru doesn’t really care if he heard. Right now, he only has one priority.

Tonight, he’ll sleep on the hotel’s pull-out sofa while you snooze in the luxurious queen-sized bed. You’ll probably be mad in the morning, something about how you should’ve taken the couch, but he doesn’t mind your mindless acts of selflessness.

He’s waited a decade. He deserves to keep you.

And he knows you won’t fault him for being selfish one more time.)

[bigbuffjoonie]

I am floored. Wow. What a finale!! Now that’s what I call stranger danger lmao! I have never seen the show it was inspired from so I really had no idea what to expect! This was an amazing suspenseful journey. Thank you so much for your work! I loved reading it! 💖

Strangers (Chapter Ten)

Strangers from Hell AU

Series Masterlist

pairing: ot7 x reader

genre: yandere, horror/thriller

word count: 6.7k

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!): unreliable narrator, murder, mature themes, minor character death, obsessive/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, stalking, bullying, violence against women, blood and injuries, mc has some self-deprecating thoughts, mc is lowkey in denial.

The day stretched on for what felt like hours but in reality was only about two before the sun had finally begun to set. The weather had been so weird, bright and sunny despite the dark clouds looming in the background. Something told you that the storm you sensed coming previously was finally about to arrive - just in time, too.

You had stared out the window of the hotel as Nayeon paced on the floor in front of the bed. She had been mumbling things here and there, reaching for her phone a few times before ultimately changing her mind. She didn’t like to be out of control of the situation, that much you could tell. You had never seen your best friend so stressed - not even during exam week - and you have to admit you didn’t like it. She had always been so sure of herself for as long as you had known her. If anything, this just emphasized the seriousness of the situation.

You’re sure you probably looked too blasé about the situation, a blank expression on your face as you rested your head on your knees. The truth was you just felt numb, having gone through so many emotions these past days already. This past month had taken a tremendous toll on you, the lack of sleep and stress finally catching up to you. You had no idea what the outcome would be after tonight but you found it hard to care. Jail almost sounded better than whatever awaited you both at the residence, but you weren’t exactly ready to go running to the police station right now anyway. Besides, you didn’t want to find out what Namjoon would do if you went against his wishes.

“Fuck it, I’m calling them.” Nayeon finally broke, picking her phone up off the bed and swiping at it.

Keep reading

[rawbin-hsr]

OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.

You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)

Read part 1 here !

CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )

Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 

In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?

He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.

But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 

And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 

Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 

“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 

He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 

“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 

“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 

“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)

“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 

“Maybe we should.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 

Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 

You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.

Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 

“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”

The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.

You kiss his neck. He shudders. 

“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 

Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.

“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)

“Your hand is shaking.”

It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.

(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)

“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.

“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”

Squash. Slice. Tear.

Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 

(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)

“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.

“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”

“I’ll deal with it, then.”

Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 

He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 

(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)

“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”

Cut, slice, slash.

Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.

He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 

He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 

“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”

“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

---------------------------------------------------------

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 6/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2515

A/N: This is part 6 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You could both hear Frenchie, but neither you nor Ben wanted to be the one to look away first. Be the one to give in. For once, Frenchie realized he was out of place a little quicker than usual and ran away before things got too messy.

“I definitely don’t have to fucking justify myself to you. I'm fucking Soldier Boy. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone”, he stood in front of you with broad shoulders and looked down at you.

“That’s not the point”, you raised your voice, but you were put in your place faster than you would have liked. With his forearm on your chest, he pushed you against the wall next to the door.

Once again he was portrayed as the bad guy, even though all he wanted to do was help. Wanted to do the right thing. Ben thought you were different, that you saw something good in him, but obviously he was wrong.

“I think i went too soft on you. Know your fucking place or I’ll make you”, he growled threateningly, fixing his gaze on you for a moment longer. He shook his head pathetically, the corners of his mouth hanging as he heard your heart start to race. “Fucking pathetic. Like all fucking women”, he hissed, releasing you with a firm jerk.

Ben had to protect you both. Despite all the hate and anger within him, or perhaps because of it, he still behaved like a soldier.

He had to protect you from losing your life because of him or his actions, and he had to protect himself from being abandoned and disappointed by a woman again. He wouldn't let something like the the thing with the Russians happen again. Whatever made him want more from you, than your mouth around his cock, wouldn't be allowed from now on.

It was Annie who broke the silence between the two of you by entering the room. “Hey (y/n). How are you doing? How you feeling?”, she gently stroked your forearm. Your eyes stayed on Ben for a moment, but he fled, leaving the two of you alone.

"Good. I guess”, you mumbled, watching Ben leave.

Annie pressed her lips together as she saw your longing look. “Nuh-uh… (y/n)… Seriously. You don’t want this, trust me”, she sighed, looking at you with pity. “He’s not one of the good guys”.

“I don’t know what you mean” you murmur, wrapping your amre around your torso. Lost in thought, you chewed on your bottom lip as you continued to look at the door to the room.

“Mhmm, sure. Now try again”, Annie murmured.

Your eyes met Annie's and unfortunately revealed too much of what was going on. Feelings, that you neither could nor wanted to place, were boiling inside you.

Shaking your head slightly, you sighed, thanked Annie for looking out for your well-being, but then left the room.

After a long shower, you slipped into fresh clothes and walked past the living room, where Ben and the others were sitting, to leave the apartment. “Oi, where are you going?”, Butcher called to you, craning his head. A football game was playing in the background. “Just out. I need some fresh air”, you crossed your arms and looked into the living room from the door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea”, Butcher replied, putting his beer on the table. "Should I come with you?", Annie looked at you.

Ben was listening to your discussion about whether or not you should go out alone, but he acted as if his attention was just on the television.

“I’m a Supe now. What’s going to happen?”, you shrugged, earning a snide mockery from Ben. “You have something to say, huh?”. You narrow your eyes at Ben, who is sipping his bottle of whiskey. “Oh, absolutely not, Dollfface. Go out and have fun”, he gave you a fake smile. Butcher looked at the two of you and knew something was off. Why would Ben react like that to what you just said? But he couldn't put his finger on it. “All fucking amateurs”, Ben chuckled, standing up with his whiskey. Before he walked past you into his room, he stopped right in front of you and leaned so close that his lips touched your ear. “You'll notice soon”, he whispered, winking at you and leaving you confused.

“See you later”, you mumbled after a while to Butcher and left the apartment.

Ben should have told you, but he didn't. He didn't even know why. It would have been much safer for you to know.

You walked through the dark and empty streets, lost in thought, for over two hours. Aside from desperately trying to discover your abilities, you were busy trying to understand Ben's behavior. One moment he was kissing you, the next he was treating you like a worthless piece of shit. He had saved your life, but he was also the one who had put it in danger. You felt like you were hanging on a rope that he tightened or loosened at will.

But what did you actually want? In any case, you didn't want to be a Supe. Never. And now you have the crap. And then the whole thing with Ben. It felt like you hadn't had any other topic on your mind for weeks than him. It wasn't that you were in love with him, but rather that you tried to find justification in all of his actions, despite your actual dislike for Supes. Not seeing him as the bad guy. Like Annie. Or the others. You knew there was something good in him somewhere, even if he really didn't make it easy for you to stick to your beliefs. Despite your best efforts, you just couldn't put your finger on what made you so attached to Ben. Of course you had a similar sense of humor, often similar opinions and views and of course Ben was really good looking. But that wasn´t enough for… You couldn't even finish your thought, and probably wouldn't have wanted to, when suddenly someone landed on the floor behind you. With a force that almost knocked you to the ground.

“Well, look at that. Who do we have here?”. The Supe puts his hands on his hips behind you. “What is a beautiful young woman like you doing here all alone?”. Your breath hitched as you turned around to make sure it was who you thought it was. After you had been looking for him for months and there was no greater mission than to finally catch him alone and take him prisoner, the son of a bitch just stood in front of you.

"Are you speechless?", Homelander cocked his head to the side before taking a few steps towards you. You needed to somehow regain your nerve. “Homelander. Wow. What an honor”, you accomplished your acting masterpiece and bowed slightly. "Mhmm, all nice and polite. Well-bred. I’m almost thrilled”, he gave you a bright smile. “Of course you know who I am, but would you like to tell me your name?”, he was now standing directly in front of you. You knew that even as Supe you wouldn't stand a chance against Homelander. “(y/n)”, you said, quieter than you planned as his scent invaded your nose. Normally you wouldn't be so awkward and intimidated around Supes, but Homelander was different. Not only was he stronger than all the other Supes, he was also crazier.

“Pretty name, pretty girl. But seriously. Don't you know how dangerous it is out here this late? With the psychopath Soldier Boy on the loose”, he shook his head and clicked his tongue. You almost raised an eyebrow at his statement, but you stopped yourself at the last moment. He of all people said Ben was a psychopath.

“Oh, I'm a Supe too, it's okay. But thanks”, you waved and were about to leave, but Homelander’s laughter stopped you. "You? A supe? Hardly, darling. I can smell your human blood from miles away. Not to mention your off heartbeat”, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

Your eyes met and as a cold shiver of the bad kind ran down your spine, Homelander's pupils moved quickly and repeatedly left and right as his eyes narrowed. It seemed like he was trying to concentrate. His mouth opened and he raised a finger before putting it thoughtfully to his lips.

With much effort, Homelander could hear the Compound V in your blood and feel it pulsating under his hand on your shoulder. But it wasn't pure V. It was mixed. He frowned in confusion and surprise. And from one second to the next his expression was ice cold. How could you be alive with compound V in your blood and still be human? What were you?

"Who did this? Why are you still alive?", he pulled on your arm so hard that it almost broke. As shocked as you were, there was absolutely nothing you could do. Especially not when Homelander grabbed your jaw and squeezed it tight. "Answer me!", he roared before being thrown backwards with great force.

When you turned around, you saw Ben. Well, the pissed off version of Ben. With quick and heavy steps, he walked determinedly towards Homelander, who stood up again within seconds. "You did that!". He knew as soon as he recognized Soldier Boy. “If you want to fight, then fucking fight! But do like a man and stop scaring little girls, like a little pussy”, Ben hissed and swung his shield, but only hit the street, which immediately opened up as Homelander quickly turned to the side. "What was your plan?", Homelander looked at Ben with his crazy eyes and wide grin. Ben swung again, but missed his target again. “Did you want to equate her with us and it didn’t work? Maybe I should try it".

That was all Ben needed to escalate. With anger flaring within him, he lunged at Homelander and started a actual fight. Meanwhile, trying to ignore your dizziness and racing heart, you fished your phone out of your pocket and called Butcher.

"We'll be right there, darling", Butcher grinned on the other end of the line before gathering the others and heading out.

The minutes before Butcher and the others arrived seemed like hours. And all you could do was watch helplessly as Ben and Homelander beat each other to death.

However, when Ben was on the floor with Homelander on top of him and you saw Homelander's eyes start to glow red, you knew you had to do something. Ben’s chest began to glow too, but you knew he wouldn’t recharge in time. As if guided by an invisible force, you grabbed the nearest stick from the ground, run towards the two of them and ram the stick into Homelander's ear. He roared, fell to the ground and while you were still on top of Ben and his burning chest, Ben pushed you away with all his strength before finally exploding.

It was a blessing that Butcher showed up at that exact moment and with great difficulty catched you before you hit the ground. While Annie sprinted off with Hughie to find Homelander, Butcher handed you off to MM before he and Kimiko ran into the cloud of dust surrounding Soldier Boy.

“It’s okay, I can stand”, you murmured. MM carefully lowered you to the ground, keeping an eye on you as you frantically asked about Ben. You started to run, but Frenchie stopped you with a hug from behind. “Wait”, he murmured and like MM, looked expectantly at the dust that was slowly but surely dissipating.

It seemed like you couldn't catch your breath until you saw Ben walking towards you. As always, unharmed. When he arrived with Butcher and Kimiko, he brushed the dust off his suit and looked around. “Fucking pussy. Hiding somewhere”, he cursed under his breath as he continued to look out for Homelander, not noticing how his arm had found its way around your waist. He held you protectively, just inches away from his body as he scanned the entire area. Butcher looked at the two of you thoughtfully, but was brought out of his thoughts by Kimiko, who nudged him with her elbow as Hughie and Annie returned. “There’s no sign of Homelander", Hughie announced between heavy breaths. "Fucking amazing!”, Butcher cursed loudly and hit the nearest lantern so hard that it fell over and shattered with a loud crack.

As Butcher and Hughie discussed what to do, you only now became aware of Ben's tight grip on your body. You looked up at him, breathless. Only when your eyes met did he lower his arm and take a step away from you.

A few minutes later you were in the backseat of Hughie's car with Ben. Annie at the wheel and Hughie in the passenger seat.

“How did you even know where I was?”, You looked sideways at Ben as he swallowed a few pills so he wouldn’t have to endure all this shit sober anymore. “Don’t bother”, he murmured, crossing his arms and closing his eyes, hoping you would let the subject go. “The fuck, Ben. Why can’t you just talk to me?”, you raised both hands angrily. "Why can't you just shut the fuck up?", he replied monotonously, his eyes still closed.

You just groaned in annoyance because you knew he wouldn't tell you anything in front of Annie and Hughie anyway. His moods would probably give you whiplash at some point.

When you got home, you wanted nothing more than to fall into your soft and warm bed and forget the last 3 days. Unfortunately, Butcher had other plans. First he wanted to discuss what had just happened.

The meeting went slowly. And while Ben could at least get drunk and snort one line after another, you had to endure it all sober and tired. You felt like you were at marriage counseling as Butcher paced in front of you and the couch, you answered questions, and Ben either sniffed oder drank.

When Butcher finally left you alone after almost an hour, you followed Ben into his room.

“(y/n). Seriously. What the fuck do you want?”, He groaned in annoyance as he sank onto his bed and you closed the door behind him.

“I wanted to thank you. For saving my life. Again”, you sighed, dropping your hands. “And", you walked over to him and sat down onto the bed next to Ben. “I want to know what all the Supe Blood stuff means. Homelander said I wasn't a Supe. What am I? What have you done to me, Ben?”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 7

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Shattered Trust

Summary: Stephen finds out you tampered with Dark magicks, he's not pleased.

WC: 500ish

Warnings: Stephen is mad

A/N: I know next to nobody reads for Strange anymore, but I'm making it my dity to write for the lesser popular characters from MCU anyway, fight me.

Read on Ao3!

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The Sanctum was eerily quiet, save for the soft crackling of a fire in the hearth. You stood in front of Stephen, the air between you thick with tension, as though the magic in the room itself was holding its breath. His eyes—sharp, calculating—rested on you, but his usual aura of calm was nowhere to be found.

“I had to,” you whispered, but the words felt hollow, echoing in the vast space around you. You had been over this in your head a hundred times, justifying it to yourself, but standing here, face to face with the Sorcerer Supreme, it seemed different. Smaller.

Stephen crossed his arms, his cloak shifting slightly as he did. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was unreadable. “What did you expect me to say?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut through the thick silence.

You swallowed, meeting his gaze, though it felt like staring into the eye of a storm. You weren’t sure what you had expected. Forgiveness? Understanding? Something more than the cold judgment you see now?

“I thought you’d—” you started, but the words trailed off, lost under the weight of his stare. You knew Stephen wasn’t one for forgiveness, not easily at least. His world was black and white, ruled by logic, by precision. You had broken the rules. You had defied him, acted recklessly, and now... the consequences were more than either of you could bear.

He let out a slow breath, his eyes narrowing. “You thought I’d just… what? Look the other way? Accept it?”

You flinched, feeling the weight of his disappointment hit harder than any spell. “I was trying to help,” you said, your voice quiet. “I thought if I acted quickly, I could fix it before it got worse.”

Stephen stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “And now it is worse,” he said, his tone icy. “You don’t understand the dangers of the magic you’ve tampered with. You don’t understand what could’ve happened.”

His words stung, cutting deep, but there was something more in his eyes—something underneath the frustration. Fear. Fear for what you’d done. Fear for what you might still do.

“I trusted you,” he continued, softer now, the anger fading into something more vulnerable. “And you broke that trust.”

The guilt settled heavily in your chest. “I didn’t mean to…” you murmured, but the words sounded small, insignificant.

Stephen sighed, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know,” he said quietly, the fire in his voice finally extinguished. “But what did you expect me to say when the world we’re protecting could unravel because of one mistake?”

You didn’t have an answer. Not one he would want to hear.

“I’ll fix it,” you said instead, your voice more certain this time. “I’ll make it right.”

For a long moment, Stephen was silent, his gaze holding yours. Then, slowly, he nodded, though the weight of what was left unsaid hung between you. “You’d better,” he said softly. “Because next time, I might not be able to.”

[hellspawnmotel]

i LOVE ur analyses (ur noelle + ralsei ones completely changed the way i view those characters) and if u ever started a yt channel for video essays i would BE THERE. ur art has a comforting quality that can be twisted into something disturbing/raw that i rlly like and admire. i wanna know more of ur thoughts on chara. i think they killed themselves bc of their dread of humanity + they thought what they were feeling (anger/vengence) was inherent to being a human and not a monster. thoughts?

thank you, that's very kind of you!! I don't think what I have to say would be very well suited for video essays though haha, it's just my personal readings of the text and I really don't want people to look at it and assume that I'm completely right, or even that I think I'm completely right. there are tropes and themes that I get particularly caught up in and I have my very obvious biases, plus when it comes to deltarune the story isn't even done yet..... I would hate for somebody to get totally invested in my interpretation and then get mad or disappointed if something that happens further in negates it. (that and my video making/editing skills begin and end with cutting together amvs)

as for chara..... (warning this is about to get heavy, maybe don't read if you're dealing with suicidal thoughts of your own)

.....always a complex question, especially when it comes to their death. I never really want to say anything definitive about them, because well, we don't actually know, do we? but this in particular...... with suicidal thoughts and ideation, you're always looking for a way to justify it. I don't think there was one specific reason chara went down that path, because there never really is. it starts with one thought, and then all the reasons you could possibly come up with start to clump together and form an unbearable weight. I think it's significant that chara came up with "the plan" after (accidentally or not) poisoning asgore. maybe it started with the guilt of hurting somebody they loved, which grew into the guilt of 'I'm such a burden to these wonderful people, they would be better off without me' which grew into the guilt of being human at all. but they still wanted to be useful to their family, leave them with a gift.... if their death can both free monsterkind AND destroy humanity, then really it would be worse of them to NOT die. that idea would stick in their brain and become a comfort to them- it's okay, because before too long, everyone I love with be safe and happy and I'll be dead, and I won't have to feel so awful every day. this is the only way to make up for all the time they wasted on caring for me. but then, of course, everything goes so extremely wrong..... I can't imagine the anguish chara would've felt in death, for not only failing but dooming asriel alongside them. they weren't thinking about the pain it would inflict on their family even if the plan had worked, or ever stop to consider that one day they might be able to feel better, and now they'll never get a chance to see it.

I think that also nicely leads in the main routes in undertale's storyline. in one, chara is a passenger on frisk and the player's journey, and they watch frisk inconvenience everyone they meet over and over but ultimately make their lives better just by being a friend and believing in love, which mirrors chara's own life and what they failed to see in it. in the other, chara is guided into dealing with their pain in a different way, by destroying it. the world is cruel, and unfair, and it hurts the good people while the bad flourish- better to do away with it entirely. if there's no life, then there's no suffering. if chara is all that exists, they become the nexus of pain. if they have to become a demon anyway, they can learn to love it. it's all humans are good for anyway. maybe this is easier than trying to fight it ever was.

but like, it's not, obviously. being a good person is hard sometimes, and it's even harder to be good to yourself. in the end though, if you give into hate and destruction, you'll be left with nothing but emptiness. whether through harming others or harming yourself..... either way you've closed yourself off from the world and your ability to experience the beauty of life, in all its faults.

okay I think I should stop there before I get too preachy or existential LMAO I hope that answered your question though! talking about chara is a dang rabbit hole. like, you're a creepypasta-ass character from a video game, why you making me think this deep. maybe if you werent so tragic and interesting I'd get less distracted, jerk.

🌻

[eu-nicola]

the finish line part 3

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 6122

author's note: english is not my first language, penultimate part

tags: @ferakillia @bunnies-p1tst0p @maluzets55

Determined to work things out, you called Lando and asked to speak in person. Even though deep down you already knew it would be a difficult and probably painful conversation, you also knew you couldn’t keep running away from your problems. Lando agreed to meet you at the hotel cafeteria, though his tone on the phone sounded tense and distant.

As you got ready, your stomach was turning. You thought back to the pictures and messages you’d received, the missed calls Lando had made to you after being discovered, and everything that had happened between you and Max. You took a breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, wanting to feel safe, and walked out to Lando’s hotel.

When you got to the cafeteria, you found him already waiting for you at a table in the back. He had a stiff posture, his hands folded in front of him on the table and his gaze fixed on the coffee in front of him. His eyes lifted slightly when he saw you arrive, and you noticed the mix of discomfort and guilt he was trying to hide under a calm facade.

You sat in silence, watching him carefully. After a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“Look, I don’t want… this conversation to get out of hand,” Lando began, his voice wavering. “I know you’re upset, and I’m clear on why. I just want you to know that… it wasn’t what it seemed.”

You looked at him, eyes narrowing. His words sounded forced, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. It hurt you to see him like this, so changed, so full of insecurity.

“It wasn’t what it seemed, Lando?” you asked, keeping your tone firm. “I saw the photos. Everyone has seen them.”

He frowned, clearly upset.

“You don’t have to make this any harder,” he replied in a defensive tone. “It was a mistake. I was just… I needed to distract myself.” But that doesn't change how I feel about you.

A mixture of anger and disappointment ran through you. You had expected a sincere apology, something more than excuses and empty promises. You tried to remain calm, but your words came out with the coldness of truth.

"How I feel has changed too, Lando," you said quietly. "All of this... I don't know if it makes sense."

Lando lowered his gaze, but you noticed that he still maintained that defensive air. It was clear that he wasn't fully assuming his responsibility; he didn't seem willing to face the consequences of his decisions.

"So this is it?" he asked in a bitter tone. "For a mistake? You weren't even there to support me like you always do. And what was I supposed to do?" His words sounded reproachful, as if he were trying to transfer part of the blame to you.

You bit your lip, holding back your fury. You knew it had been difficult for him not to have you around, but that didn't justify his attitude. Finally, you gathered your courage and faced the issue once and for all.

“This isn’t just about what happened, Lando. There’s something bigger going on here,” you told him firmly. “I need some time to think, to get clear on what I really want. I can’t stay in a relationship where I constantly have to worry about whether or not you’ll do the right thing when I’m gone.”

He gulped, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain in his eyes. But instead of acknowledging the problem, he chose to back away once again.

“Do what you want then,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh and looking away. “If you need time, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you.”

Those words were confirmation of everything you had felt during this last stage of your relationship. Without further ado, you stood up, leaving one last glance at the one you had considered your partner for so long. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and then you turned around and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

As you walked away, you felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. You had hoped that this conversation would bring you some sort of peace, a reconciliation, or at least a heartfelt explanation. But instead, it only confirmed what you already feared: perhaps it was time to put an end to it.

Back in your hotel room, you took a seat on the bed and looked around, trying to process everything that had happened. The room was silent, and the weight of your decision began to settle in, bringing with it a wave of conflicting emotions. You pulled out your phone and, almost without thinking, opened the message Max had sent you hours ago, wondering how your conversation with Lando had gone.

Without much hesitation, you wrote him a short reply.

You: “We just talked… and I think I need some time to sort out my feelings.”

After a few minutes, the phone vibrated. Max had replied:

Max: “Do whatever you need. Just remember that if you decide to move on, I’m here for you. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Reading his words, you felt a small spark of calm, as if the weight of everything that had happened had lightened a little. You knew that this time away would be necessary to understand what it was that you really wanted, but there was one thing clear in all of this: you needed to feel authentic again, without the shadows of a relationship that had begun to consume more than it offered.

Even though you wanted to take some time off, the last race of the year was being held in Abu Dhabi, and you had to attend. For you, the trip had a professional purpose: the promotion of Rolex. Despite having distanced yourself from Lando and having spent a few days trying to find clarity about your feelings, you knew that this race would also be the closing of an intense and emotional season.

Dressed elegantly, you wore a shiny Rolex watch that caught the light with every movement. As you walked through the paddock, you felt the gazes of some acquaintances and other members of the industry; everyone knew that you had been a constant figure in Lando's team, and now it seemed strange to see you in an independent context.

While you were fulfilling your promotional tasks, you crossed paths with Max. He wore his usual determined expression, but this time there was something different in his gaze. When he saw you, his eyes lit up slightly, as if something in him had made up his mind. You noticed that, despite the crowd, his steps were heading straight towards you, with a confidence that made your pulse race.

"Hey," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't think I'd find you here so early. How have you been?" His tone was warm, close, something different from the previous times.

“I'm… fine, I guess” you answered, trying to sound casual, although the closeness made you feel a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “I had to be here for Rolex. You know what this sponsorship thing is like.”

He nodded, and for a moment they remained silent, watching the hustle and bustle of preparations around them.

“I know things have been complicated for you lately” Max said, with a more serious tone than usual. “And I don't want to seem nosy, but… I haven't stopped thinking about what we talked about last time.”

The sincerity in his words threw you off a little. You had tried to stay distant, focus on yourself, and not think about everything you had experienced. But there was Max, with his penetrating gaze and his usual confidence, willing to open up in a way that you hadn't seen in him until now.

“I'm not here to pressure you” he continued, looking into your eyes. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m willing to fight for you, if you just give me a chance.”

His confession resonated with you, breaking the barrier you had built up over the past few weeks. You felt like it wasn’t just a passing statement; there was a depth to his words that made you doubt everything you had tried to rationalize. Deep down, something in you had been waiting to hear this, though you refused to admit it.

“Max…” you began, not knowing exactly how to express what you felt. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. After everything that’s happened, I’m not sure that getting more involved is the best thing for either of us.”

He nodded, listening to each word patiently.

“I know,” he replied. “But there’s something I’ve learned this season, and that is that important opportunities aren’t always the easiest ones. I’ve been avoiding speaking clearly to you because I didn’t want to make things more complicated for you. But if I’m honest, I can’t pretend that I don’t care about you.”

The seriousness in his eyes left you speechless. He wasn’t the usual Max, arrogant and competitive; he was someone vulnerable, showing a part of him that was rarely seen. And although a part of you wanted to keep putting up barriers, another, deeper part of you was starting to give in to his words and his sincerity.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“What happened with Lando was difficult… and I don’t want you to be just a distraction, Max.” It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

He took a step closer, not invading your personal space, but enough for you to feel his presence more intensely.

"I'm not someone who'll settle for being a distraction," he said with a slight smile, but his tone was firm. "What I feel for you is real. And if you give me the chance, I'm willing to show you that I'm someone you can trust."

His words enveloped you, making you feel a warmth and security that you hadn't experienced in a long time. The hardness of the breakup with Lando was still present, but Max's presence offered you an alternative, a chance to rediscover what you really wanted and, perhaps, to be happy in a fuller sense.

After a few seconds of silence, you took a breath, letting your own emotions take control.

"I don't know what will happen after all this..." you murmured, looking at the floor for a moment before looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I think I'm willing to see where this takes us."

The smile on his face was almost imperceptible, but his eyes shone with a mix of determination and tenderness.

“Then I’ll start showing it from now on,” he said, taking your hand gently. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter how long it takes.”

After that brief exchange with Max, he said goodbye with a wink and walked away, leaving behind a feeling of anticipation that you couldn’t shake. You watched as he walked towards the Red Bull paddock, surrounded by his team, while you stood still for a moment, trying to clear your thoughts.

You decided it was time to move as well. You walked through the paddock area, the hustle and bustle around you. Drivers, engineers and journalists came and went, all focused on their own roles.

Suddenly, you saw him. Lando was up ahead, briefly chatting with one of the McLaren mechanics. He turned slightly, and for a moment, his eyes met yours. It was an instant, there was no smile, no nod of recognition, just eye contact that spoke of everything beneath the surface. He seemed distant, almost cold, and before you could say anything, he looked away and kept walking.

You stood still, feeling a knot form in your stomach. That small gesture, or lack thereof, hit you harder than you expected. You knew Lando was in his zone of concentration, but you couldn’t ignore the growing emotional distance that seemed to exist between you since you arrived in Qatar.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to keep walking, telling yourself that you couldn’t read too much into a simple glance. But the awkwardness remained.

As you left the paddock area you went straight to the VIP area to watch the race. The race was certainly a spectacle from the start. Max started from pole, while Lando started from second position.

From the first lap, Max took the lead, controlling the pace with ruthless precision. Behind him, Lando followed closely, pushing at every opportunity. But as the laps progressed, it became clear that Red Bull had fine-tuned their car to perfection. Max seemed untouchable.

Lando, however, was not giving up. He kept fighting, looking for every millimetre of advantage, every opportunity to close the gap. Until lap 38 came around. It all happened in the blink of an eye. In the fast corner before the main straight, Lando's car lost grip. Perhaps a miscalculation or just bad luck, but the McLaren hit the wall with a sharp impact. The yellow flag waved immediately, and your heart skipped a beat.

From your spot, your eyes were fixed on the giant screen, watching anxiously. Lando got out of the car quickly, waving his hands to indicate that he was okay, but you could see the frustration in his every move. He was furious.

As the McLaren team scrambled to pick up the remains of the car, the race continued. Max continued to dominate, and with each lap, his victory became more inevitable. Finally, he crossed the finish line in first place, securing the race win. Fireworks lit up the sky, and the Red Bull team erupted in celebrations.

When it was all over, you headed towards the McLaren paddock, where you saw him surrounded by his team, his face grim and his brow furrowed. There was no trace of the carefree smile he normally wore.

As he spoke to his engineers, you locked eyes with him for a brief second. He looked exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. Without exchanging words, you turned around and began walking towards the exit.

The day had been intense, and you needed time to process it all. You took a cab back to your hotel, watching the city lights flicker through the window as you sank into your thoughts. Lando was fine physically, and that was the most important thing.

Once in your room, you kicked off your shoes and dropped into bed. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions: worry about Lando, what you had talked about with Max, and a growing confusion within yourself. You picked up your phone and left it on the nightstand. You didn't know whether to expect a text from Lando or Max. Or maybe neither.

You sighed and closed your eyes.

You had barely laid down when the glow of your phone illuminated the darkness of the room. For a moment, you thought it might be Lando, perhaps to talk about what happened at the race, but when you saw Max’s name on the screen, your heart skipped a little.

Max: “I hope you’re okay after all the drama today. Listen, I was thinking… I’m going home to Monaco to rest before the next season. How about you come with me? It’d be great to have you here.”

The message was direct and blunt, typical of Max. You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly on the keyboard. The proposal took you by surprise, but at the same time, there was a part of you that had anticipated it.

You knew that accepting that invitation would involve much more than a simple vacation. It wasn't just the getaway to Monaco, it was everything that it meant: getting away from Lando once and for all from your own doubts, and facing the growing attraction you felt for Max.

You bit your lip, thinking of all the possible consequences. But then, your fingers began to move almost of their own volition.

You: "I don't know if it's a good idea, Max. This is all complicated."

It wasn't long before he responded.

Max: “Complicated? Maybe. But sometimes the complicated is the most exciting. You don't have to decide now. Think about it. I promise it will be an unforgettable trip."

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat. The silence of the room surrounded you, but your thoughts were chaos. You could imagine Max in his suite, confident and relaxed, waiting for your answer as if he already knew what it would be.

Several hours passed, with the conversation on hold. Finally, you found yourself typing something you didn't think would come out of you.

You: "Okay. I'll go. But only because I need a break, and Monaco sounds like a good place to clear my mind."

His reply came almost instantly.

Max: "Yeah, sure, just for that, but perfect. You won't regret it. Let me know when you get there and I'll take care of everything.”

You stared at your phone after reading those words, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had made a decision that could change everything, and while a part of you was scared, another couldn't wait to see what that vacation would bring.

The day of your flight to Monaco came faster than you expected. You had been tossing and turning in bed all night, thinking about what this new stage meant. Max had been clear in his invitation, and although you were hesitant at first, you couldn't help but feel excited about the trip. What started as a simple getaway to relax had turned into an opportunity to get to know a different side of Max. A side that until now you had only seen from afar.

You took an early morning flight, without looking back. As the plane flew through the sky, you immersed yourself in thoughts about everything you had left behind.

You arrived in Monaco around afternoon, and the airport was full of tourists, celebrities, and important figures. The warm, salty Mediterranean air mixed with the hustle and bustle of the people, and you could feel the vibrant energy emanating from the city streets.

You picked up your suitcase and quickly headed to the car Max had arranged for you. You knew you couldn't miss a second of this glamorous city, and you felt a little nervous. What did Max expect from you? How would all this change after a few days in his company?

The car drove through the narrow, elegant streets of Monaco, passing by the famous casinos, luxury yachts, and hills overlooking the sea. The scenery was stunning, as always, but even more impressive was what you felt when you thought of Max waiting for you.

When you arrived at Max's residence, a luxurious apartment overlooking the port, a butler greeted you with a smile and led you to the door. The suite was everything you had imagined: modern, spacious, and with a stunning view of the sea and yachts. The decor was elegant but warm, with touches of wood and soft colors. It wasn't just any place; it was a place designed for someone like him, someone accustomed to perfection.

You left your suitcase on the bed and looked at the clock. You knew Max had to be nearby. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the door open. You turned around and there he was, Max, with his characteristic air of confidence, but with something different in his gaze. It was as if, for a moment, everything was just for the two of them.

"Do you like the place?" he asked, approaching with a smile on his face.

“It’s… amazing,” I replied, looking around, trying to hide how nervous I felt.

Max took a step towards you, his gaze locked on yours, and although he seemed relaxed, there was something about his posture that gave away his interest. There was a spark in his eyes, something that made your heart beat a little faster. He moved even closer, and before you could react, his hands rested on your waist.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come, but I’m glad you agreed,” he said quietly, almost as if he was reading your thoughts.

You were in the heart of Monaco, and although the surroundings were luxurious and surrounded by powerful people, all that really mattered at that moment was the silent connection you shared with Max.

“What do we do now?” you asked, the nervousness starting to dissipate a little.

“Whatever you want,” Max replied, with a mischievous smile. “But, if you ask me, I think we could start with dinner.”

Before you could say anything else, he took you by the hand and led you through the apartment, into the open kitchen.

Max’s kitchen was just as modern as the rest of the place, with white marble surfaces that reflected the warm light from the lamps. Max began pulling fresh ingredients out of the fridge, inviting you to join him without thinking twice. At first, you were hesitant, but something in his eyes invited you to stay.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked as you watched him pull out tomatoes, basil, and olive oil.

Max smiled mischievously, a glint in his blue eyes. “I know a little. But only if you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty.”

You laughed at the idea. “I’m not a chef, but I can try.”

And so, between laughs and small jokes, they began to prepare dinner together. Max had decided to make fresh pasta with homemade pesto, one of his favorite dishes. While he was busy with the pasta, you took care of the salad, chopping vegetables and arranging the ingredients carefully. It was a simple, but shared moment, and the dynamic between the two of you felt natural, as if you had been doing this for years.

As the preparation progressed, the distance between you disappeared. Max gently guided you, giving you instructions on how to handle the ingredients, his hands sometimes brushing yours as you passed utensils or adjusted something in the pot. The conversation flowed easily, and you realized that, without thinking about it, you felt more comfortable with him than you had ever imagined.

When the pasta was ready, Max served it elegantly on two large plates, and together you sat at the table, enjoying the view offered by the balcony as the sun began to set behind the hills. The golden light illuminated the room and reflected off the glass, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The table was well set, but the conversation and proximity made everything seem much more intimate than it actually was.

“This is amazing,” you said, taking a bite of the pasta and nodding. “You surprise me.”

Max smiled, with a hint of pride. “I told you, I knew you’d appreciate it.”

The evening continued with laughter and anecdotes, talking about other things, about travel and what you liked to do in your free time. Max seemed genuinely interested in you, in your opinions, in what you thought about the small details of life. There was something so real and accessible about him at that moment, that you completely forgot the fact that, hours before, you had arrived in Monaco with a host of mixed emotions. Now, all that mattered was the present moment.

At the end of dinner, as the plates were empty and the wine glasses were slowly emptying, Max leaned slightly towards you, his gaze locked on yours. The room was quiet, the sound of the distant city, and for a second, it seemed like there were only the two of you left, sharing that space.

“You know?” he said, his voice soft, “I think this has been much better than any dinner I could have planned. I’m happy you came.”

You, without thinking too much about it, smiled and nodded. “I’m happy too. I didn’t imagine it would end like this.”

Max smiled again, and this time, the expression on his face was different. Softer, more approachable. It wasn’t just the confident, competitive Max from racing, but a version of him that seemed more vulnerable, more willing to share something more personal.

The chemistry between you was clear, and for the first time, you realized it wasn't just a superficial attraction. There was something much deeper, something you didn't know if it could be defined with words. But at that moment, there was no need. Being there, with Max, cooking, laughing, and sharing such a simple moment, was all you needed to know.

As the days passed in Monaco, the connection between you and Max became more and more evident.

Mornings were quiet, usually spent touring the city or relaxing on the terrace of his apartment while the sun slowly slipped over the horizon, tinting the sky in golden colors. Max was always around, whether it was to share a coffee in silence or to talk about what he was thinking for the next race. Often, their conversations were light, but there were times when, without warning, Max would drop a phrase or a confession that showed you a side of him you had never seen before.

One day, after lunch together, Max drove you through the mountains surrounding Monaco. As they drove along the winding roads, he began to talk, unprompted, about his life, about what it had taken to become who he was.

“My career isn’t just the podium, you know,” he said, looking out the window as the car moved down the road. “It’s everything I’ve had to leave behind: the parties, the relationships, the sacrifices… There are so many things people don’t see, so many difficult decisions.”

You looked at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. Max had never been a person who opened up easily, always so focused on his goal, so focused on winning and perfection. But now, he was speaking to you with brutal honesty, as if somehow, he had decided to share the deepest part of himself with you.

“I know,” you answered calmly, not knowing what else to say, but you looked at him with genuine understanding. “You’ve been at the center of all this since you were so young.” It’s not easy, and people often don’t understand what it entails.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the landscape as the car continued on its way.

“That’s why it’s hard to trust people sometimes, you know?” he said, his voice laced with subtle melancholy. “Everyone expects something from you, and sometimes you don’t even know if people like you for who you are, or for what you represent.”

A wave of empathy washed over you. Max had lived a life full of expectations, external pressures, pain, and it wasn’t hard to see how all of that had made him close some emotional doors. But in that moment, it seemed like you had somehow entered his inner circle. You had gotten him to open up, to share something so personal.

What surprised you the most was the way he understood you. It wasn’t just that Max listened to you; he understood you. In every conversation, in every gesture, there was something about him that seemed to sense what you felt, what you needed without you having to explain it with words. He wasn’t like Lando, who, although he had always been affectionate, had never shown that level of deep understanding. Lando had his own way of seeing things, but in his words there was never a place for your dreams or your insecurities. With Max, everything was different.

Max also began to talk about his long-term ambitions, about what he wanted outside of the race track, things that weren’t just achievements, medals or trophies. He told you about his love for family, his desire to form one.

Sometimes, you found yourself watching him as he spoke, unable to help but feel drawn not only to his appearance, but to the vulnerability he had begun to show. This was a different Max, a Max who asked for your opinion and valued what you said, and although he could be competitive and stubborn at times, there was something in his gaze that made you feel important.

And you, of course, couldn't help but share your own thoughts with him. At first, you thought it would be hard for you to open up so much to someone, but with him, everything flowed. You felt free to talk about your goals, about fashion, about your own fears, about your insecurities. Max supported you at all times, without judging or pressuring you, just giving you his unconditional support. The way he looked at you while you talked made you feel like, for the first time, someone really understood you.

That connection was getting stronger, getting more and more impossible to ignore. And you knew, even though you tried to stay rational, that something was changing between the two of you. It wasn't just the chemistry, it wasn't just the shared smiles or the jokes, it was something deeper. Max was becoming someone more than just the Formula 1 driver you admired from afar. And you... you were starting to have feelings for him.

As the days went by and you shared more moments together, from impromptu dinners to walks around the harbor, you realized that Max was showing you a side of him that few knew about, and that side was winning you over in a way you couldn't control. It was such a stark contrast to the relationship you had with Lando, because with him, everything had always been more superficial, more loaded with expectations of what a relationship should be.

With Max, things seemed more real, more natural. And even though you didn't know how he felt exactly, you couldn't help but feel that this moment you shared was something unique.

The air in Monaco felt heavier that day, as if the sun was shining brighter as you walked through the city with Max by your side, enjoying the scenery, but at the same time with a feeling of unease in your chest. Max, noticing your change in mood, looked at you with slight concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, but with the clarity of someone who knew something wasn’t right.

You nodded, trying not to give too much importance to the whirlwind of thoughts forming in your head. You had been dealing with this silently for days, but now, while you were with Max, the doubts and feelings couldn’t be left behind. You decided it was time to face it, even though you didn’t know how he would react.

Just a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket, interrupting the peaceful walk. Looking at the screen, you saw Lando’s name and felt a pang in your stomach. With your pulse racing, you decided to open the message.

Lando: “I miss you. “I want to go back, I want things to be okay between us.”

A lump formed in your throat as you read the words. You knew he had been trying to reach you, that he still held out hope that things could be like they were before, but something inside you told you it was time to let him go. You knew you couldn’t keep fooling yourself, or Lando, or Max. Everyone’s paths had changed, and even though you had loved Lando at one time, everything seemed different now. The connection with Max was something you couldn’t ignore, a truth that had been growing between you and you could no longer deny it.

With shaking hands, you began typing out your reply. You didn’t want to do it over text, but at the same time, you knew it was the most direct and honest thing to do.

You: “Lando, I appreciate you so much, but we both know our lives are taking different paths. I don’t feel the same way I used to anymore. I’m spending time with Max now… things have changed, and I can’t move on with us. You know what you did and I did it to him.”

The phone stayed in your hands for a second, your heart pounding, and before you could regret it, you hit “send.” The relief was immediate, but it was also accompanied by a soft pain, like a wound that had been slowly closing, but was still bleeding.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before Lando replied to you. The tone of his text was clear: he was hurt, frustrated, and angry.

Lando: “So you’re with Max now, huh? I can’t believe it. I knew something was going on between you two, but this… This doesn’t just hurt me, it’s going to affect our image too. You’re breaking everything we built, everything we had.”

You read those words, and even though they hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew you couldn’t continue in something that no longer had a foundation, something that had worn away inside. But Lando’s words pierced you like an arrow, and in that moment, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Breaking up with him didn’t just mean letting go of a relationship, but also dealing with the consequences of the decisions you had made.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and with a firm voice, you answered, knowing that there could be no turning back.

You: “Don't blame me, you were the one who slept with another woman and let the paparazzi catch you. This is the best for both of us, we no longer love each other like we once did.”

As soon as you sent the message, the tension in the air increased. Max, who had been by your side all this time, watched your face with an expression that seemed to understand what had just happened, although without saying a word.

Lando quickly responded, this time with more anger and resentment.

Lando: “You're going to see what's going to happen now. You know that this relationship has given us both so much, but it seems that it means nothing to you. You've left me in the lurch, and now I'm forced to deal with the public image of all this, with everything we've built, just because of one bad decision. Don't call me ever again.”

His final message hit you harder than you expected. It was final closure, and even though deep down you knew you had done the right thing, a part of you felt the weight of the words he had just written. You couldn’t deny that things between you and Lando had changed, but the fury in his message made it clear to you that, at that moment, he couldn’t understand your decision.

Max, seeing that you were tense from the answer, put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you had no other choice. You deserve to be happy, and if that means moving on, then that’s what you have to do.”

You turned to him, grateful for his words. His understanding, his calm, was in complete contrast to the intensity of what you had just been through. Deep down in your heart you prayed that Lando wouldn’t do anything but you knew him, you knew how he got when he was angry and you were prepared to read your name and Max’s on the internet the next morning.

[burningdreambanana]

An analysis on how the show turned Alicent into an accidental villain (part 1)

I think we are all disappointed with the way Alicent was portrayed this season but I think the issues with her character started in season 1, with the writers inability to give her good motivations, or even settle on what her motivations should be, which doomed her character from the start.

In interviews about season 1, Alicent is described as the medieval equivalent of a "Trump Wife" (which is very dumb in itself, since contrary to a modern conservative woman, Alicent doesn't exactly have much choice but to the accept the patriarchy) but essentially they meant Alicent, contrary to Rhaenyra, supports the patriarchy, the existing system : this is her worldview, she is a traditionalist.

But is this true? The answer is no. Alicent does not support the patriarchy in the show. In fact, she supported Rhaenyra's claim over her own's son right up until she had a personal grievance against Rhaenyra. And once she doesn't have that personal grievance anymore because she forgives Rhaenyra in S1E8, she's back to accepting her as queen.

If the writers wanted Alicent to be a supporter of the patriarchy, then they should have made her support Aegon's claim from his very birth. Which makes perfect sense, Alicent has grown in a world where all she's ever known is male primogeniture and it is still the law everywhere in the realm. Her nonchalance at her son being passed over when being the heir should be his birthright is really weird and was the first sign that the writers are unable to let go of their modern sensibilities and really immerse themselves (and us) in Westeros. They also decided to make the threat posed by Rhaenyra on Alicent's sons lives as a mere lie invented by Otto, when in fact Rhaenyra's claim is so shaky (and becomes shakier when she has bastards) that there's a huge likelihood that she would indeed need to get rid of them in order to ascend the throne in peace and secure the Strong boys's ascenscion to the throne as well.

If they had followed with that, than Alicent would have had solid motivations : the unfairness and humiliation of having her son being depraved of what should have been his birthright, and her legitimate fear for her children's safety.

Instead, since they made Alicent turn on Rhaenyra because of a personal grievance, she ends up looking like this petty, bitter, crazy woman who made everyone's life much more miserable, damaged her sons and put all her family in danger because of a grudge.

And it doesn't help that her grudge is poorly explained and pretty confusing. What exactly is Alicent so angry about ? Is it because, like Emily Carey said, she was in love with Cole? We didn't see that all in the show and Rhaenyra had no way of knowing so it would be insane to be this pissed for that. Is it because she in love with Rhaenyra and basically acting like a crazy ex even though they never were together and she herself is married? Is it because during their confrontation Rhaenyra didn't reveal her affair with Cole and implied she was virgin (though she never actually said)? It would be pretty rich of Alicent to be pissed about that considering she concealed her meetings with Viserys to Rhaenyra for months. Did she assume that because Rhaenyra slept with Cole than it must have been true she had sex with Daemon in a brothel? Is she just that pissed that Rhaenyra had sex out of wedlock ? (it would make sense for her to be disappointed but angry?).

All of these possible reasons make Alicent look frankly irrational and insane.

Then when her anger is finally justified after what happened to Aemond, this is where she decides to forgive Rhaenyra, making her apparent fear of her children's lives she transmitted to them look like a lie she made up to justify her anger and turn her children against Rhaenyra and her kids.

Her final motivation of S1, which is to follow Viserys "last command" doesn't make her look innocent, it makes her look worse. Not just because it's so dumb she actually believed Viserys changed his mind, but because we know for a fact Alicent has had not trouble disregarding Viserys wishes before, even to his face. But now that he is dead she acts like she has no choice? And forces Aegon on a throne he doesn't want, somehow acting as if this is not a declaration of war towards Rhaenyra and Daemon, and still taking a holier than thou, I can have this and peace too attitude.

[cheesycatz]

The Wormton AU is officially two years old now! (I really gotta start writing faster...) For the occasion, I redrew the original two sketches of Wormton. I had a few ideas before I came up with the winner, but this was the first time he was a "computer worm" rather than just some worm on a string adjacent thing(s). Honestly, he hasn't changed that much; just became more fleshed out as a character and fictional species (and the fact that he used to be 3 feet tall).

The fic is officially at 150k words! That's about three Great Gatsbys, or one A Tale of Two Cities if you prefer. I'll yap about it below.

Ahh, is any "take him home" style Spamton fic complete without him running away from the person trying to help him at some point? This might be the second time, actually. Does it still count as running away if you stalk someone daily afterwards? Unrelated question.

I've got an entire pile of angst to get through before these guys' relationship can be salvaged. Spamton really doesn't want to address his feelings, so he plays into the addisons' assumptions that his motivations were entirely transactional and that he is physically incapable of caring about them. And, when the addisons have so little to work with in the first place, it's an easy lie for him to spread, to the point where even Blue thinks he hates them at this point. This story would be so much shorter if this mf was mentally stable enough to be honest about his positive feelings instead of trying to repress them. Bro is so deep in the platonic closet

I got to write a (mostly verbal) fight scene? It was fun writing Pink chew Spamton out, because, while they're definitely still grossed out by him, they never hold his malworm status against him. They see him as a parasite because of the way he acts, not because he physically is one. I want Pink and the others to seem justified in their anger/disappointment, even if the readers would know that's he's not really as heartless as he claims to be. Trying to remove the pissed off 16 ft long writhing mass of muscle, teeth, and claws freeloading in your friend's closet by hand was never a good idea, though.

Man, I wanna talk about the plot in detail so badly 😭 I must limit myself to scraps so that I spend more time writing the fic than rambling about it. Last thing I'll say for now is that I've finally got a good plan for the resolution! The final length depends on how much fluff I want to add to the end. I need at least a little bit to make up for all this angst

[genderkoolaid]

1. The Revolution Is a Relationship

[…] Something that worries me about social justice communities is that we tend to conceptualize “revolution” as a product, as a place and time that we expend all of our energy and anger to create – often without regard to the toll this takes on individuals and our relationships. [...] In our – often justified – anger and disappointment at the failure of ourselves and our communities to uphold the dream of revolution, we lash out. [...] What if revolution isn’t a product, some distant promised land, but the relationships that we have right now? What if revolution is, in addition to – not instead of – direct action and community organizing, the process of rupture and repair that happens when we fuck up and hold each other accountable and forgive?

2. The Oppressor Lives Within

[…] I’ve started to believe that I can’t engage in authentic activism, I can’t create positive change without recognizing and naming my own participation in the oppressive systems that I’m trying to undo. Coming from this position, I’m forced to have compassion for the people around me who I see also participating in oppression, even as I’m also angry at them. With compassion comes understanding, and with understanding comes belief in the possibility of change. When we become capable of holding that contradiction in our hearts – when we can be angry and compassionate at the same time, at ourselves as well as others – entirely new possibilities for healing and transformation emerge.

3. Accountability Starts in the Heart

[…] I often wonder how different things would look if it were more of a cultural norm to understand accountability as a practice that comes from within the individual, instead of a consequence that must be forced onto someone externally. What if we taught each other to honor the responsibility that comes with holding ourselves accountable, rather than seeing self-accountability as a shameful admission of guilt? What if we could have real conversations with each other about harm, in good faith? In a culture of indispensability, I cannot ignore someone when they tell me I have harmed them – they are precious to me, and I have to try to understand and respond accordingly. […]

4. Perpetrator/Survivor is a False Dichotomy

There is an intense moral dynamic in social justice culture that tends to separate people into binaries of “right” and “wrong.” […] “Perpetrators” are considered evil and unforgivable, while “survivors” are good and pure, yet denied agency to define themselves. Among the many problems of this dynamic is the fact that it obscures the complex reality that many people are both survivors and perpetrators of violence (though violence, of course, exists within a wide spectrum of behaviors). Within a culture of disposability – whether it be the criminal justice system of the state or community practices of exiling people – the perpetrator/survivor dichotomy is useful because it appears to make things easier. It helps us make decisions about who to punish and who to pity.

5. Punishment Isn’t Justice

[…] It isn’t inherently wrong to want someone who hurt you to feel the same pain – to want retribution, or even revenge. But as Schulman also writes, punishment is rarely, if ever, actually an instrument of justice – it is most often an expression of power over those with less. How often do we see the vastly wealthy or politically powerful punished for the enormous harms they do to marginalized communities? How often are marginalized individuals put in prison or killed for minor (or non-existent) offenses? As long as our conception of justice is based on the violent use of power, the powerful will remain unaccountable, while the powerless are scapegoated.

6. Nuance Isn’t an Excuse for Harm

[…] [I]ndispensability means that everyone – especially those have experienced harm – are precious and require justice. In other words, we cannot allow the fact that something is complicated or scary prevent us from trying to stop it. Trapped in the perpetrator/survivor dichotomy of understanding harm, it might seem like we have only two options: to ignore harm or to punish perpetrators. But in fact, there are often other strategies available. They involve taking anyone’s – everyone’s – expressions of pain seriously enough to ask hard questions and have tough conversations. They involve dedicating time and resources to ensuring that anyone who has been harmed has the support they need to heal.

7. Healing Is Both Rage and Forgiveness

If the revolution is a relationship, then the revolution must include room for both rage and forgiveness: We have to be able to tolerate the inevitability that we will be angry at one another, will commit harm against one another. When we are harmed, we must be allowed the space to rage. We need to be able to express the depth of our hurt, our hatred of those who hurt us and those who allowed it to happen – especially when those people are the ones we love. It is up to the community to hold and contain this rage – to hear and validate and give it space, while also preventing it from creating further harm. […]

8. Community Is the Answer

[…] Perhaps the reason we tend to recreate disposability culture and trauma responses over and over is because we are all, secretly, that frightened runaway kid, constantly searching for a home, but not really believing we can find one. Maybe we don’t create communities of true interdependence – of indispensability, of forever-family – because we are terrified of what will happen if we try. But I believe, have to believe, that true community is possible for me and for all of us. The truth is, we can’t keep going on the way we have been. We need each other, need to find each other, in order to survive. And I have faith that we can.

[lovelyflora21]

Strangers

Summary: She was still herself, he was still him. In the same place. Yet, isn't it strange how people can change?

Pairing: Leon S Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Tags: Angst, hurt, no happy endings (?) 

A/n: A rather lengthy continuation to my previous fic, inspired by Celeste - Strange. Would recommend listening to the song whilst reading this to really get the feel of it ;)

Wc: 1,8k

P.s. Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the tag list! <3

Tag list: @lysa1201 @lysol1201

I tried for you. 

What Leon said that night, the way he looked at her with complete utter disdain; mixed with a cacophony of heavy breathing and slurred speech of spiteful, venomous words spewed her way–safe to say, it was enough to turn that tiny little voice inside her head louder. Ten times louder than the conscience, the soft spot she’s always held for him. 

That maybe everything she did for him was, in fact, all in vain. That it was a complete waste. She was wasting her precious, precious time and energy; her life, on a drunkard. An asshole of an alcoholic, once applauded for his bravery and prowess as an agent–akin to that of America’s very own zombie-killing, man-made Superman. 

God, mama was right! I should’ve dumped him. What was I thinking?!

Were what had crossed her mind as she skipped down the stairs of his apartment’s fifth floor’s stairwell. She clung onto her bag and pride, more on her pride (what was left of it anyways) than her bag really, as she rummaged through the tote bag for her car keys. She had tears welling up in her eyes, her throat burning and constricting in a measly effort of holding herself together. From sobbing her poor heart out. From breaking down on the stairs and pitying herself.

Tried to see through all the smoke and dirt. It wouldn't move.

Everything else was a blur then. The drive back home. The whole thought process on deciding to finally and completely vanishing from his life. All that in a span of minutes. Most would criticize her for being too overboard with her impulsivity, for making a big deal out of nothing! 

Oh spare me the theatrics! She could still hear Leon’s voice; nagging in the back of her mind, it would have been his reaction, if he had known of what she was about to do to him or saw an ounce more of her true reaction in response to his cruelty. 

But as she drove through the traffic and streets of DC’s avenues, her heavy-with-tears eyes dropped to see his name popping up on her phone; his number texting and calling her numerous times–his picture flashing, showing off his stupid fucking cocky grin–it silenced the other voices that were doubting her decision. And suddenly what she was about to do was justified and she saw nothing wrong with it. 

So when it turned red, she reached for her phone; looked at his number and picture one last time before she blocked it–blocked him, and shoved the phone back inside the bag. 

The first night, she couldn’t cry at all. She tossed and turned in bed then eventually fell asleep. But the next few days? Oh they were torture. Hardly sleeping, hardly eating; the blunt of the impact finally hitting her head on. Her feelings, emotions and sound mind were colliding against one another. Everything was everywhere all at once. Anger, disappointment, hurt, sadness, grief and shame. Surging all at once then fading away just as quick into numbness and denial. Then she’d crash out again, and again, and again. Rinse and repeat. 

So she did what Leon S Kennedy would’ve done. Drown herself in work, overtime after overtime. Back to back meetings, projects, RnDs. Anything to get her mind off of him and that night. One thing for sure though, she was done. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Before she knew it, she earned herself a promotion, alongside an offer to relocate somewhere else; she was given the liberty to pick the spot. To pick which branch of her office she would be relocating to. 

Without doubt and further, deeper questioning; she said yes. Again, some would have considered her impulsivity a major flaw but to be fair, this was the opportunity she had been looking for. Especially after that night and after Leon. 

Albeit the suffering and grief it brought upon her; that night brought her an epiphany. A revelation, that her whole life had revolved around him and him alone. She was never the center of her own universe, no–it had been Leon. 

It was a mistake. 

So now, with Leon gone and out of the picture; she had nothing to revolve around. There was nothing left for her here anyways…

She was never one for spirituality but it got her thinking– that the opportunity presented itself just in time. It was perfectly aligned with her, as if the universe had given her its blessings to move forward. Even without him.

As if it was a way for the universe to tell her.

He’s very dreamy, but he is not the sun. You are.

So when it was all said and done, when everything’s packed into the back of a moving truck and she’d bid farewell to friends and colleagues; she moved. Out of DC and to Francisco. 

And things were okay again. Late nights weren’t so heavy and she wasn’t so burdened with all-consuming thoughts of him. Mornings came by easier for her. She began liking the way coffee smelt, the way the flowers bloomed and the plants flourish, she began liking the taste of sourdough bread with runny eggs on top.

Casual dates were a thing for her now. Enjoying herself and her time as an individual rather than a thing attached to him. 

And before she knew it, a year had passed. 

Life was great. She was flourishing, bright and blooming. 

The sun was high above, her locks cascaded like waters down her neck. She wore a white dress, the patterns were small flowers in the color of muted salem. She had the day off, needed to pick up on groceries and flowers for her vase in the living room and kitchen island. She’d grown to fall for flowers ever since she’d moved to Francisco. 

As she was looking at the arrangement of fruits set before her, smiling at the older lady; she couldn’t help but to notice a man staring at her then approaching her. 

Hey there.

So when her eyes found him, clad in blue instead of black; they widened for a second. Taking in the phantom of what once was the man she’d loved and devoted herself to. 

They stood there, just…staring…

Then there was silence. 

Say, isn't it strange? I am still me You are still you.

—

So they sat there, across one another. This was their second meeting. In a cafe, her favorite. She’d suggested the place. They opted for the outdoor seating instead, feeling as though the walls around them were too overwhelming for her. Too suffocating, especially when she would be near him. 

Her white shirt was slightly crumpled, tucked inside her blue denim jeans that clung to her perfectly. Her bag was set by her ankle, under the table.

She crossed one leg over the other, her eyes never leaving Leon’s. Who had his own ocean blue eyes on her.

Leon had begged her for this chance. Said he wanted to talk to her, needed to talk to her. And she gave him the same grace she would’ve wanted people to give him. Less of a second chance and more towards the urge for a proper closure, really. 

Leon Scott Kennedy was never one to be curious. He’d learnt from his line of work that curiosity can and will kill the cat. And yet when it came to her, he was as curious as ever. So many things he wanted to say, to ask, to question, to find out, to know and last but never should be the least; to understand. Why did she disappear on him like that? Where has she been?Why San Francisco? How did she end up here? Is she with someone else? Is that why she was here now? Was she now a happily-married woman living the white picket fence dream?

But only one thing came out of his now slightly chapped-lips and dry mouth.

I am so sorry. 

Back to our roots What did we lose? What did we lose?

He began, stammering as he leant forward across the table that barred him from feeling her warmth. From feeling her kindness, her love, her tenderness and the familiarity of her.

It’s in the past.

Her voice was…soft. But it lacked the love and gentleness she once held for him. Her eyes were distant…as if staring at a far away dream instead of him.

I shouldn’t have said what I said, I was an alcoholic and an asshole and I didn’t deserve you.

You really didn’t. 

Then there was silence again. Leon’s breath caught as he heard her utter those simple words with such indifference it sent shivers down his spine. 

There was no malice, no anger, no bitterness lacing her words yet all the same it wounded him so. In ways he never thought nor imagined possible. 

Isn’t it strange? How people can change. 

Give me one more chance, let me make things right. 

His pleading was met with silence. Then there was a soft tapping noise against the table, Leon’s blue orbs flitted to her manicured nails for a second before coming back to her face. They were painted beige.

If I could, I’d pull your strings for one more dance.

I…I’ve changed. I’m not drinking anymore and I’ve been going to therapy and I’m not missing out on them anymore. I swear.

It was pitiful how he dragged on and on about how he was a changed man. But seeing she was not budging at all, made Leon’s stomach twist and turn. 

I can’t.

Tell me what I need to do to make this work, to make things right.

She simply shook her head, a defeated and reserved smile graced her lips. God, those same lips Leon had missed so much. How he wished he hadn’t taken her for granted. 

It’s for the best.

And with that, she gathered her bag and herself. She mustered up enough courage and willpower to heave herself up to her feet. Even outside with the wind breezing past them and the world still revolving around them, she felt just as suffocated and as still as ever. She refused to look him in the eyes, refused to study the way his face fell and his eyes glazed with tears. 

I look at you, with nothing to say.

Leaning down for one last kiss, she placed a chaste and small peck on his cheek. Feeling the stubble caress her skin and mouth. She dared not bid him farewell, nor did he. Neither lovers dared to lift their faces to meet one another’s gaze, afraid it might shatter whatever defense they had left.

Isn’t it strange? How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers

So she walked away, never looking back. 

And strangers again.

[venerawrites]

Can you do headconon of naruto boys how they would react if their s/o is an unintentional flirt. So if someone comes up and starts flirting but they just think they are being nice and accidentally starts flirting back. I'm talking rock lee level ignorance.

If you don't want to don't worry about it.

author's note: oh, I love this idea! The request didn't specify which Naruto boys should I so, so I decided to do it for Naruto, Kiba and Shikamaru (since they are the first ones I got the inspiration for). Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

➤ Naruto

I love Naruto, he is one of my fav boys, but the truth is he can be quite ignorant at times too (especially when it comes to flirting).

It would take him quite a long time to realise someone is flirting with his s/o, he would probably think they are just being nice too.

Same goes for his partner - if they flirt back, he would not pay too much attention to it at first, assuming that they are just being nice and keeping up the conversation going.

It would take the other person touching his s/o or getting too close to them for his liking, for him to realise that maybe their intentions are not as innocent as he initially thought.

He is totally the type of guy to butt in the conversation while embracing his s/o from behind and glaring at the person who is trying to get their attention.

I don't think he would say anything at first but given his puffed chest and the slight growl coming out of his chest, it would be so obvious he is jealous.

Naruto would NEVER blame his s/o - he is the type of partner who no matter what his loved one does, he would always justify it and excuse it.

If the other person doesn't get the hint they need to back off, he would just end the conversation with an abrupt "goodbye", before picking his s/o and leaving.

Would totally seek validation and comfort from his s/o through the remainder of the day, as well as clinging to their side and pampering them with kisses and attention.

➤ Kiba

I feel like Kiba is already quite a jealous man, so seeing someone flirt with his s/o is enough to trigger him.

Before his partner can even reply or flirt back, he would be already next to them, giving the person who dared to so openly compliment them a piece of his mind.

He doesn't hold back - he would be quite aggressive, poking his finger in their chest and baring his fangs.

Now, if his s/o actually flirt back, he would be quite upset (even tho it was unintentional).

I feel like he would definitely know his partner can be quite playful with others (this is how they managed to win his heart, after all), but he is so influenced by his emotions, that he would totally start a fight afterward.

Like how can his s/o not know this guy was flirting with them?

And they replied back? They should've just walked away!

I love Kiba, but I imagine he can be quite childish about relationship stuff, so he is totally the one to pout for a few days and maybe even give his s/o the silent treatment.

Luckily, his jealousy and anger pass pretty quickly, so he will be at his s/o doorstep muttering awkward apologies pretty soon after.

➤ Shikamaru

He is not the type to openly show his feelings, so I really doubt he would say anything if he saw such a situation unfolding before him.

Shikamaru is both annoyed and disappointed - more by his s/o than the other person.

I would imagine he knows his s/o can be an unintentional flirt and he already had a few talks with them before about it, so why do they keep doing it?

I feel like even though his partner genuinely thought they were just being nice, Shikamaru would more or less see this as some form of betrayal.

He wouldn't care about the other person as much as Naruto and Kiba, nor he would cause a scene - at the end of the day, he was in a relationship with his s/o, so they were the ones owing him loyalty, and the respect of not flirting with others.

Would TOTALLY glare holes at them tho!

He wouldn't confront his lover straight away, instead he would probably distance himself for a while, so he could cool off and think the situation over.

His s/o better let him be - I feel like he is the type of person that he would come when he is ready. If he feels pressured before that, there is a high chance he will lash out and say stuff that he doesn't really mean.

It would probably take a week or two for him to feel comfortable talking about it and when he does he would make sure to carefully explain to his s/o how to recognize signs of when someone is just being nice and when someone is trying to actually get with them.

cc artwork: Jocelin Carmes

[iamqueenpotato]

I Hate That I Love You - Part Seven

A/N-  Hi guys! Surprisingly I wrote this one way quicker than I thought. I hope you guys enjoy! It is also very late where I'm at so if there are some errors, I tried my best to proof read it but there may be some things I missed. I appreciate all the support you guys have given me! Love you!

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: Angst(But like what's new lol) 

Part One Part Eight

It had been three days.

Three days since Azriel spoke to you, three days since he finally told you how he felt, but even though your reaction was justified, it still hurt him. The disappointment on your face was burned into his mind, his shadows kept whispering your name, your moans a constant echo in his thoughts. 

He knew he made a mistake when he chose Elain, but a friend is all he thought you saw him as. He tried to move on with her. You never once showed any interest, but that day you admitted those feelings he saw how wrong he was. And by the time the truth came forward he was stuck in a place that he could not easily break free from. 

You were-are his best friend, even if you didn't think so, he still saw you as that. But who knew the two of you shared the same fears of ruining the relationship you had. He hated that he was so blind to your affections. 

Azriel should have noticed sooner, he should have taken that risk and told you long ago how he felt about you. But he was a fool and let his fears stand in the way of what could have been. And he made you feel unimportant, neglected. Something he could never forgive himself for, he should have paid more attention to you. 

The situation he currently was in was all his fault. When you had left the first time he was devastated, not only for the fact that he had lost his best friend, but that you had reciprocated those feelings Azriel thought to never had existed. He should have confessed then and there, he should of begged more to keep you from leaving, he should have never chose Elain over you, it wasn’t fair to either of you with the mistakes he had made. He should have tried harder to fight for what he wanted. 

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized Elain and him did not fit together. She was sweet and caring, and she meant well but he never felt as though he could tell her everything, as though he could never be transparent about the things he goes through. At the end of the day it only seemed she was a body to keep his bed warm, and he felt terrible to even think of her in such a way.

But with you it was different. Elain would always cower away and be visibly disturbed when he would explain the things he had done for his missions, Always claiming how maybe he shouldn’t do such things anymore, then perhaps it wouldn't be an issue. And maybe she was right, but it never made him feel better. He knew the things he had done were graphic, he knew the horrid things he’d put others through for information, and at the end of the day all he wanted was someone to talk to about it, Elain could never be that person. 

But you always have been.

He vividly remembers the first time coming to your room after a mission that had put more blood on his hands. It wasn’t the torture or killing that bothered him, it was the feeling afterwards that broke him, the hollowness he felt, the disappointment that he experienced that never went away. One night it swallowed him, he was in his room, washing away the blood of a few males he was instructed to interrogate when the feelings crept on him like a dark fog, he couldn’t breathe, only able to stare at his blood stained hands, he felt like a monster. He knew those men deserved it and he found their deaths to be satisfying. But maybe that made him more of a horror than he could ever imagine. 

He made it to your room in the midst of his panic attack, pounding on the door still in his leathers, blood all over him. And when you opened the door, you did not look at him with anger or disgust. He must’ve woken you that night, based on the tiredness in your eyes and the mess your hair was in, but you didn’t yell at him nor push him out. Instead you brought him in, he didn’t even have to say a word for you to understand what he needed. You brought him into your bathroom, wiping the blood off his hands, his face, out of his hair. You were so gentle when it came to him, it was something he never experienced before. You ran a bath for him, telling him to finish up and you would be waiting outside. And when he came out he found you sitting in front of the fire, two cups of tea in front of you, he sat on the opposite side of the couch tentatively grabbing the tea from your hands. And then he talked about everything. Every last gory detail of his kills, the pain he felt inside. You did not flinch, nor did you tell him to stop because you were disturbed, you sat and listened, holding his hand the entire time. The hands that brought so much death, but you held on to them so tightly that he wanted you to never let go. He could live in that moment, his fingers interlaced with yours if that meant you would never leave his side. You never once criticized his choices. He didn’t feel alone for the first time in his life. And he never felt alone knowing he had you. 

It was a memory that he had cherished. He had many fond memories of you, but that one always stood out to him. And now looking back, that was the start of his love for you.

Azriel didn’t realize he was crying as he watched the memory playback in his mind until he was brought back to reality as the clock in his room struck at the new hour. He didn’t bother wiping his tears away, he let them fall, he let his pain show.

He and Elain are to be wed in a little over an hour. But deep down he knew he couldn’t go through with it. He tried to end it, but between being sent on last minute missions and Elain celebrating with her friends and sisters, he never found the chance to speak to her about it. He needed more time, he needed a chance to sit alone with his thoughts, he did not want this wedding he knew that as much, but it wasn’t an easy thing to just end. 

You were a sensitive topic to bring up around Elain, he never knew why, since he had never once mentioned his feelings to anyone but each time he spoke his emotions about missing you, she would become aggravated and want to change the subject, or climb on top of him to distract him. How was he supposed to claim the reason he can’t be with her was because of you? He didn't want to hurt her either but to fix what he had broken it was a choice he would have to make. Because he has never loved someone as much as he loves you. 

He was sitting alone in front of the windows as his body shook with sobs. He felt so stupid, so naïve to have made such mistakes. He had something amazing in front of him the entire time, and he fucked it all up. 

There was a knock at the door, his shadows alerting him of his brother standing on the other side. “What do you want, Rhys?” Azriel called out, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. But Rhys let himself into his room, not saying a word until he sat down next to him. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your wedding?” Rhys asked, wiping away lint from his jacket. 

“I am not going through with it.” Azriel spoke silently. 

“Good.” Rhys stated, and Azriel looked at him confused, Rhys continued. “You know I will support you through it all Azriel, but your choices have been quite questionable lately. I know you mean well with Elain, but she is not the one for you brother. She never was.” 

“I know that now. I think I’ve always known. It just took some time to see the truth.” Azriel leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm. 

“So what are you going to do about it then?” 

“I have to find Elain, tell her the truth. Then hopefully Y/N will have the heart to forgive me one day.” Azriel stared up at the ceiling, attempting to keep his tears at bay. His only goal was to gain your forgiveness. He couldn’t even begin to fathom the thought of you rejecting the bond. 

“Well it is quite the day to do so, quite dramatic if I may point out.” Rhys gave a lighthearted chuckle, before leaning forward on his legs. 

“I wanted to do it earlier but I hadn’t found the time.” 

Rhys nodded, a silence falling between them before he spoke again. "I won’t lie, I enjoyed seeing you feel only part of what Y/N has felt for the last couple years.” 

“Years? Fuck.” Azriel pondered the reality of it, years you had felt something for him when he had never noticed, he had made you feel such pain for so long, he didn’t deserve another chance with you, he didn’t deserve you at all. You were this light to him, and the darkness of his mistakes suffocated it. “Rhys, how do I take back what I have done? How do I make Y/N believe she is the one I want.” Even if it took years or even decades he would spend his entire life trying to make it up to you. 

“Well first I believe you need to end an engagement to my sister-in-law. After that, I believe that is a conversation you need to have with your mate. And pray she gives you another chance.”

Azriel knew those things, but there was still one question sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Where did you send her, Rhys?” Azriel fidgeted with the loose string of fabric on the arm rest. 

“Do you promise not to interfere?” Rhys questioned and Azriel nodded. “I sent her back to Windhaven.” 

Azriel shot out of his chair. “Windhaven!” He paced back and forth in his room, “With no escort? No protection?” 

“You of all people should know Y/N can handle herself brother.” Rhys did not look bothered, and Azriel knew the skills you possessed but if something went wrong and you got hurt, he would never forgive himself. He began walking to the door but Rhys’s voice stopped him. “Where are you headed?” 

Azriel didn’t bother to look back at his brother. “I will not interfere, I just need to make sure she is safe.” He opened the door but was immediately greeted by Elain and her sisters. “Elain. Hi.” Azriel forced out, his voice quiet and hoarse. 

“We are supposed to be getting married soon, what are you doing sulking around?” Elain bit out, her sister's eyes going wide at the sudden volume of her tone. Azriel sighed. “Is this because of that whore?” 

“What?” Azriel looked down at her, anger flashing in his eyes. “What did you just say?” 

“Y/N, is this because of her? You heard me correctly.” Elain crossed her arms in front of her chest, with no remorse for her words. 

“Elain.” Nesta snapped, but her sister ignored her. 

“Were you going to never share the fact that you kissed her or that you wanted to fuck her? Was that information supposed to be a secret?” Elain continued on, and the anger only grew within Azriel, how dare she speak of you in such a way. She had no right to call you such slurs. “We were better off when she wasn’t around. She put a damper on our relationship, we were much happier when she ran off the first time, she should have stayed away.” 

“Enough!” Azriel snapped, and Elain stumbled backwards, shocked to see him react in such a way. “You do not speak of her that way, Elain. Y/N did not do anything to impede on our relationship, I was the one that kissed her. Me. She was the one who thought it wasn’t right. Do not spread such lies about her. Now if you don’t mind I need to be on my way.” He pushed past Elain. Nesta and Feyre moved out of his way as he stepped into the hallway, moving further away from his room. 

“Do not take another step, Azriel, or the wedding is off.” Elain yelled down the hall. As if were a threat, as if he would continue his life with her after the things she had said. 

“Call it off Elain.” He knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t something that involved her anymore. And the one thing he thought would be hard to confront, fell off his tongue with such ease.

“How dare you? After all that we have been through? You would end that for her?” Elain stormed toward him down the hall, he did not move, he would stand his ground, for you and for himself. 

“Yes.” He eyed down Elain, shock and hurt across her features. “I have loved her for years Elain, and I thought I lost her when she left, that I would never have a chance to ask for forgiveness and I am sorry I led you on, I am sorry I let it get this far. But she is my purpose, she is the one that holds my heart. So throw your worst at me Elain, scream, curse, hit me for all I care but know nothing is stronger than the love I have for her, my soul yearns for her. Nothing will ever change that. I should have never hidden my feelings for her. I made a mistake and I am truly sorry that it has affected you so, but Y/N is my best friend, my other half and I should have never put her second.” It felt like such a relief to say those words out loud, to finally let the truth free. 

“I saw this coming. I knew you would choose her.” She spoke loudly, as if she had always doubted him from the start.

“Then why are you shocked?” He spoke coldly, not afraid of the consequences anymore.

“You bastard.” Elain cursed, raising her hand to slap Azriel across the face, and he stood there, ready to accept it, she could hit him all she would like, but he would not change his mind. 

Suddenly a sharp pain flowed throughout his body, like he was just thrown across the room, as if his body was being dragged along sharp rocks. Azriel collapsed onto his knees, bracing himself with his arms as the agony came and went like a gust of wind. 

He felt like someone was screaming in his mind, calling out for help, reaching for him, and that thread tugged within his chest, fear and pain rushing down the bond. “Y/N.” He choked out, panic lacing his voice. He was gasping for air, clutching his chest with one hand while the other kept him from collapsing. 

“Azriel what is going on, what just happened?” He felt Feyre’s hand on his shoulder. Noticing the small crowd that formed around him.

He looked up toward his high lady, his breathing still rapid. His shadows circled around him, whispering horrid things in his ear. Mate. Hurt. Panic. Injured. Trapped. “Something’s wrong, terribly wrong.” He pulled at the bond, but there was no response, just emptiness. “Y/N is in trouble.” His heart began racing, fear filling his thoughts. 

He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into his shadows, heading directly for Windhaven.

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