#but he would NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT SWEAT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review from @zyafics

guess who has to be studying for another exam but instead she needs to catch up on this fic? (this girl) little annotations below ⬇️

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

manifest it girlypop

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

i eat up any scenes where she wants nothing to do with him and he barges into her life and finds out all the things he's been missing out? the angst of not being able to go backward in time no matter how much you regret it

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

i would burst out in tears

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five.

i was like why r we bringing up topper's bitch ass here and then i realized it to put in a frame of reference that she couldn't possibly know topper's birth bc he moved to kildare later. i just thought reader needed to put in a quick jab about topper 😭

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

i love the spiral of madness. i'm reading (and analyzing) it and i'm so so amazed by how ur structure descends. it flows so smoothly - from one topic to the next - all at a great pace and with a lot of internal turmoil. it builds up to me feeling everything reader feels.

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

ugh, i love the parallels between her being (potentially) pregnant and the idea that she has to wrap her life around this foundation for children.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

i love her i feel like she inches closer to insanity every day and i, too, feel the same

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

like i said

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room.

BABES 😭 YOU'RE CARRYING HIS CHILD oh this is too good, the idea that she wants to erase him from her life and leave no space for him (mind), but her body is accommodating spacefor his child, making her reserve a permanent space for him in her life

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

i fear i would crash out if i am currently stressed with the idea of being pregnant and remembering my ex bf and remembering my lost parents

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.You were going to do this without him.

my boss baby!!!

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

topper, in the words of reader, a bitching BACKSTABBER

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

ugh i love ur dialogues sosososo much

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

so fuck his parents then ig

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala?

apparently me

There it was.

💌 — aaaaaaaaaa, i'm so glad i waited until after my exam to read this and truly experience the gift of ur writing. i love the juxtaposition and parallels in this scene! especially with her deleting rafe from the gala's list, erasing space from him in her life, but having his child grow inside of her. i love love how she has to have a gala for children—and crippling over the current dilemma of whether she has a child herself. and i love that she's very isolated in a sense, because it amplifies how this child can truly make or break her. topper was so enjoyable—especially their conversation. u always write dialogues so smoothly!! honestly, i thought this scene would end with rafe showing up unannounced at the gala, haha but ig we'll see in next chapter

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one

You lied.

You didn’t take the tests the next day.

Once you knew, you knew.

There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.

No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found.

Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.

He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.

You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.

You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to.

But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.

He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you.

And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.

You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had.

Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.

But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.

You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.

One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything.

What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.

You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.

Complications. Risks. Dangers.

You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five.

You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amout of parties. Too many drinks some nights.

For a second there, you thought you might pass out.

You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.

Maybe you should’ve just taken one.

Rip off the bandaid.

The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.

But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.

You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”

You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.

“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”

The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.

You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”

Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.

You earned to be her.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.

Rafe Cameron.

Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

Fuck him.

If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.

You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.

Not over this. Not over you.

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room.

You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.

Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.

This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.

But Rafe, used to be there with you.

You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.

That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.

You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.

This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.

You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.

Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.

You were going to do this without him.

You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.

Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it.

You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.

It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.

How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.

“What?”

“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”

You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”

“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”

“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”

He never really got it.

“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”

“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”

“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”

You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment.

“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."

“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”

You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.

“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”

Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.

Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.

You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips.

“Are you even listening?”

“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”

“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”

Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.

“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”

“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”

You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now.

The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.

It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.

The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white.

Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.

That word made you want to gag.

You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed. You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.

You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.

Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?

When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.

A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.

Normally you did. But this year you were numb.

The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.

You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.

The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.

You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.

Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard.

You hadn’t even realized it was in there.

One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

What the fuck were you doing?

You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.

You were going to do it.

Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.

What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala?

You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.

What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?

You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.

Hated not knowing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?

You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with.

You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.

Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.

And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.

You peeked back at it. Still nothing.

No line. No answer.

It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.

Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.

You opened your eyes.

There it was.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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cherryblossom-heart · 2 days ago

Text

Do I still wish it was you?

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Masterlist (If you're into marvel)

Summary: You were content in the darkness his absence had left you, his memory keeping you focused on one plan. It had to be a white-haired sorcerer with an annoying personality and the bluest eyes you had ever seen—the one who came and saved you from it.

12.7 k words

Content warning: ANGST, mentions of suicide, depression, violence, grief, past Toji x Reader, foul language, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all). fluff, Satoru is the sweet, jumping from a building but not a bad way, fighting, fReader

A/N: Ik this is out of my usual content but I can't get over the JJK men so, I hope you guy's like it. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. 😊

Sweat covered your forehead as you fought to recover your breath, the smell of sex and humanity filled his bedroom along with the sound of heavy breathing. It took a couple of minutes for you to finally stand from the bed, making your way to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. Naked, disheveled hair, flushed skin along with droplets of sweat, and a minor bruise on your collarbone, the result of a certain white haired sorcerer’s lack of restraint. A small smile placed on your lips before you could stop it as you touched it, the skin still a little tender.

Your sight landed on the small tattoo you had on the left side of your chest, a small black lined heliotrope carefully placed on top of your heart. A prickling sensation invaded your eyes along with the painful sensation of guilt, what were you even doing here? How could you smile when he was gone?

The feelings didn’t get a chance of nesting in you though, as firm hands wrapped around waist and lips caressed your neck. Your sight darted to the mirror, meeting the most breath taking blue eyes you had ever seen along with a smile.

“If you don’t get any clothes on, I might have to fuck you again.”

You smiled at him, desire igniting again as he’s hands caressed your skin.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

A cocky smirk showed up on his face, not that it was unusual to see it. Satoru Gojo was nothing but confident, sometimes overstepping to egocentric, but you would be damned if you didn’t admit he had good reasons for it.

His lips brushed your ear, hot breath hitting your skin.

“It’s a promise that I very much intent to fulfill.”

Satoru Gojo was going to be the death of you.

Correction, Satoru Gojo was going to be the reason you would live.

You hadn’t planned for this. You had a set plan: to become a sorceress, completing missions, breaking curses, and fighting battles, one after another. A non stop cycle of violence and war until your body gave out and if death came for you, it wouldn’t bother you. You would receive it as a long awaited friend as nothing mattered to you anymore, never since the day he died.

He was supposed to meet you back at your apartment in Kyoto, he had promised you he would be there. You waited for hours, and hours turned into days and days turned into weeks.

The last thing you heard him was a couple of text messages that read:

Job’s almost done. Maybe we should take

a vacation, go to Las Vegas and stay at

one of those casino/hotels you were talking

about. 11:13 pm

Anyway, I’ll see you in two days. I’ve

missed you. 11:14 pm

He vanished without a trace after that.

You moved to Tokyo as you were tracing his last steps. You had talked to Kong, who could not give you any answers. Years of dead ends and unanswered questions finally led you to give up. That day, you drank yourself to sleep.

Everyone was sure he had left you behind, taken his payment for his last job, and left the country. You couldn’t blame them, it was on brand for him to do something alike, but this wasn’t the case. You knew he wouldn’t do that to you, not when he promised he would see you.

There was also this strange feeling that had settled on your chest the day after his text. It had taken you by surprise as you were just having lunch and suddenly a sharp pain hit you in the chest and the sensation that something had gone wrong hit you. You had thought it was just stress of not seeing him, maybe a little of an overreaction from you, but as time passed, the emptiness in your chest never left.

He was dead.

After over a year of wandering aimlessly in Tokyo, a certain blue-eyed sorcerer found you. You felt his stare while you were getting your coffee, the burning sensation of a powerful presence followed you around the streets of the city. You pretended you were oblivious to it, changing your path every once in a while to double check you were being tailed.

Once the amount of people around you dissipated, you made your way to a bench in the park, sitting in it so calmly it almost seemed everything was normal for your follower. That was until you looked to the buildings on your left, your eyes connecting with a white-haired man with blackened Windsor glasses. For a second he looked surprised, as it was almost impossible that you could’ve sensed him, but a playful smiled replaced it as soon as it came.

It took him less that 60 seconds to come to approach, you crossed your legs once you felt a presence taking the remaining space in the bench you had sat on. Even when you didn’t look at him, you could still feel that cocky smile on him.

“How did you know I was following you?” He questioned, his arms spreading along the back of the bench as he made himself comfortable.

You took a sip of your coffee. “I could feel you.” You said, nonchalantly. Imitating him, you leaned back. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I teleported.” He shrugged.

“Huh, interesting.”

“You don’t seem surprised at all.” He turned around to look at you.

“Why would seeing a Jujutsu Sorcerer surprise me?” you asked, now facing him.

The air in your lungs almost disappeared as you found two blue eyes peaking over his glasses, it was almost as if they could see inside your soul. The shiny speckles that seemed to dance around his iris called you, entrancing you into looking at them longer.

Was that his power? Who was this man and why was he stalking you?

“So you know about Jujutsu Society?”

“What does it matter to you?” You barked, your harsh tone only making him smile more. “Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck are you following me?”

He lifted his hands. “Woah there princess, I don’t mean any harm, I promise.” He extended his right hand to you. “I’m Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer in the world.” He winked as you shook his hand.

You rolled your eyes the pet name and his ego. “Sure you are.”

At the moment you didn’t believe him, thinking he was just an over confident asshole that was just pushing your buttons. Looking back, it made you chuckle at how wrong you were.

He laughed, amused at your response. “You really are something else, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you just tell me what do you want?” You huff, already exasperated by him.

Blue eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell me about that special grade knife you keep in that purse?”

Your pulse picked up, the feeling of your heart smashing against your ribcage so hard you felt it would burst out. You couldn’t let him take it, he gave it to you. Perhaps you were too obvious with your worries though, as his eyes traveled to the tight grip you had suddenly imposed on your bag.

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking it away.” He reassured you. “I was assigned to take it, but now you’ve captured my attention. I have a hunch you’re much more interesting than that old piece of steel.”

You had found yourself entangled in the world of Jujutsu, at least more than you already were.

He had told you about the sorcerer world, the clans, the sorcerers, the customs, the curses, and everything that came along with that. You had known you had abilities to see things no one else seemed to notice, abilities to get rid of the monsters that crawled all over the world that you had perfected on your own, but you were never sure what to call them or what to call yourself.

Not until a black-haired man with green eyes and a purple worm surrounding him bumped you in the street. A man whose name you couldn’t even mutter without breaking down.

Now you had joined the same world he despised and worked alongside the same people he hated. The sorcerer world had found your abilities useful, at least for the time being, and they had decided, with some pressure from Satoru, that you could be a good addition to their dwelling numbers.

You didn’t like working for them; you didn’t want to do it for a long time, but you had thought it was a good way to just let go and prepare yourself for death. A jujutsu sorcerer's life span was never long; sooner than later they would find their demise. Sure, you could just kill yourself; it would probably be way faster, but if there was an afterlife and you found him there, he would be disappointed in you. Besides, it reminded you of him; he had helped you be as strong as you currently were.

So you fought, day and night; you took whatever they had; there was no small or too big of a curse for you to take. Everything seemed fine for a while; you were content with how things were for a week, until Satoru decided to intervene.

An annoying little prick—that’s what you usually describe him as. His interest in you hadn’t dwindled even after you agreed to join him; it even seemed to have made things worse. He pestered you, following you around with a cocky attitude and bad jokes, forcing you to go with him to places just so he could buy desserts. He got in the way with your missions, babysitting you in as many as he could.

The thing that annoyed you the most was the fact that he was always looking at you, not in a weird, sexual kind of way that you could’ve handled, but he did it in a way that it felt he was trying to look into your soul. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes behind the black pair of glasses, you could still feel the burn of his stare on your skin. It felt as if he wanted to know all your secrets, and for the same reason you tried to stay away from him, but the more you tried to do it, the more he seemed to put an effort into crushing it.

Satoru Gojo was the bane of your existence.

“I told you it was a good idea to get this peach daifuku for the way home.” He said, mouth full of food. “Want one?”

“Sure.” You muttered, snatching it out of his hand.

This was the third time in a week he had decided to come with you for a mission, your patience running thin the more time you spent with the white-haired sorcerer. You had done your job without any hiccups, and the worst part about it was that it seemed he wasn’t even there to intervene if anything did happen, evidently by his relaxed stance along with his arms crossing his chest.

That could only mean that he was tasked with babysitting you or he had actively chosen to follow you everywhere, and you didn’t know which one was worse.

“Hey, Gojo...” you started, unsure on how to make your point. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know that, right? I think I’ve shown you I’m capable enough of doing this.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” He answered, lazily stretching his arms along the subway seats.

“Then why are you here?” You questioned, slapping away the arm that was on your side.

“Cause I like keeping you company.”

Cocky blue eyes met yours, except this time they weren’t all cocky; they were sincere. They looked at you with precaution, gaging your reaction towards his words as if they were almost afraid to scare you away.

You didn’t give an answer to his words, opting instead for eating your snack in silence. Maybe it was worse that he had been babysitting you; if that had been the case, you wouldn’t have had a small smile on your face.

A knock on your door woke you from your impromptu nap; the banging was so loud it reverberated throughout the house. You looked at your watch and noticed that it was only 7 p.m., but that didn't make it any better; whoever it was, you wanted to kill them.

With angry footsteps you made your way to the door, not caring that it looked like you had just woken up.

"What?!" You yelled, flinging the door open.

Your sight was flooded with snacks and movies before revealing Satoru, his glasses slightly tilted down as he looked at your clothes.

"Nice outfit." He winked.

Suddenly you realized that the only thing you were wearing was a gray sweater, barely big enough to cover your thighs. You pulled the sweater down, warmth infiltrating your face.

"Why are you here?"

"Movie night." He said simply, pushing his way into your apartment.

Once he was in the living room, his eyes scanned his surroundings, which in turn made you a little too aware that your apartment was too empty, almost as if no one lived there.

"I don't remember inviting you." You pinched the bridge of your nose, sure a migraine was on its way.

"Hey, it's not like you have anything better to do."

After a few seconds of delivery, you grabbed the bag of instant popcorn to make it in your microwave, rolling your eyes at his smile.

Maybe it was because you were too tired to argue with him; having just woken up, your brain wasn't working so well. Maybe it was because you knew it would take less time to go along with his shenanigans than it would to argue with him.

Or maybe, just maybe, you felt lonely. Sure, Satoru wasn't your first choice, but he seemed to want to be there, even when you tried to keep away from him. There was something about his persistence that made you smile, almost like a puppy you couldn't keep away.

If you were honest, he wasn't that bad. In another life, you might have enjoyed his company, maybe even become friends, but you weren't interested in anyone else coming into your life, not with a hole in your chest with a name on it.

But just for one night, you decided to give in.

You sat down next to him and put the bowl of popcorn between you. "So what are we watching?"

"This." He handed you a DVD case with a foreign title on it, Italian, it seemed. “The movie is great; there's a lot of action; the only bummer is the main guy dies.”

You slapped his arm.

"Thanks, dickhead. Way to spoil the movie."

“Don’t be a cry baby; you could’ve guessed it within the first 10 minutes of the movie.”

You scoffed. "You don't know that."

"Sorry, my bad." He raised his hands. "You're acting like I said the main guy's love interest turns out to be working for the bad guys."

"Dude!"

He laughed, the echo of his voice resounding along the walls.

"I can't believe you fell for that."

"Just play the stupid movie."

You ended up watching two more movies that night before you both fell asleep. And in the warmth and comfort of your lonely apartment, it was the first time in a long time that you didn't think of green eyes and black hair before you closed your eyes.

"Ah, come on. You need to give me more details." Satoru complained, walking alongside you.

"I don't have to give you shit."

It had been a few months since that movie night and you had found yourself not completely rejecting Gojo's presence, and on good days, you would say you enjoyed it. You didn't argue as much when he joined you on missions, and you didn't fight him when he wanted you to go with him to get something to eat or to your apartment to watch a movie. It was... a routine of sorts, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it at least a little.

"You can't just tell me you have a tattoo and not tell me what or where it is."

"And you'll never know."

He hurried his steps, standing in front of you, but walking backwards. He put his hands together and begged you to answer.

"Please, you must tell me, the secret could kill me. What would you do if the strongest sorcerer in the world died and it's all your fault?"

"I'd probably throw a party." You snorted.

Satoru, the drama queen he always was, put his hands over his heart, a playful 'ouch' escaping his lips.

"You hurt me, Princess. I thought you would be devastated if something happened to me." Gojo pouted, the sight making you chuckle slightly.

"Oh yes, absolutely. I would mourn you for at least ten years." You joked.

"Make it fifteen and I might consider forgiving you." He winked.

You made your way through the busy streets of Tokyo until you found yourselves standing in line for coffee, the cozy environment of the place giving you a sense of warmth.

"If I pay for your drink, will you tell me about your tattoo?" He whispered next to your ear.

The smell of his mouthwash hit your nostrils, the cool mint scent lingering in your mind for a few seconds.

"It's going to take a lot more than a bad cup of coffee for me to tell you this."

He rolled his eyes, arms outstretched in defeat as he wrapped one of them around your shoulders. You shook your shoulder, trying to get him off of you, but he didn't budge. You told yourself that just for once you would allow it.

"How about dinner sometime? Would that be enough for you to tell me?" He said casually.

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised in disbelief, thinking he was joking. Although the way he had said it made you think for a second that it was real and there was another intention behind his invitation. That thought only lasted a second as you found it impossible that he was talking about a date, so you played along.

Your eyes turned back forward as you shrugged. “Depends where you take me. Spend enough money on me and I might give you a hint."

"Oh, you're one of those girls?" He chuckled. "You only go out with someone who takes you to expensive places and showers you with gifts?"

"Well, Gojo... if you want to know all my deepest, darkest secrets, you might as well try a little harder."

Silence fell upon you, making you think the conversation was over, but a few minutes later he spoke again, surprising you with his words.

"Alright, I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight."

The dim lights of the restaurant made for a more private, intimate atmosphere. Gojo had actually kept his promise, you could tell the restaurant was way over your budget, the cutlery alone seemed to have cost a fortune. The waiter had been very attentive, leading you both to a table at the back of the restaurant and taking your coat to put it away.

Once the two of you were alone, you had assured Satoru that you had only been joking, that you had not really taken his offer seriously.

"Why did you come?" He asked, taking a bite out of the appetizer he had ordered.

"I mean, who am I to turn down free food?"

He chuckled, "And what do you think so far? Worth your time?"

"Ask me after dessert and I'll give you an answer."

Dinner continued with ease, and after a few glasses of wine, you began to laugh at his jokes and make some of your own. You never thought that spending time with Satoru would make you so... happy? You weren't even sure how to describe it, the only thing you knew was that it wasn't horrible.

It was actually quite nice. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to get to know someone.

You talked about where you grew up, how you got your powers, and about your family. In return, he talked about his clan, how he had mastered his powers and about some of his years at Jujutsu High. You talked about little things, your hobbies, your favorite color and your favorite movies.

Talking with Satoru made you realize that you knew so little about him, even though you had known each other for almost a year. Sure, you knew some little details here and there, but you never went in depth, to you, Satoru was nothing more than a pain in the ass and a pawn of the Jujutsu society. Unfortunately, it seemed that almost everyone else thought the same.

That night, you realized that only a handful of people saw him as Satoru instead of Gojo, the greatest defender in the Jujutsu society. Perhaps that was why, despite his colorful personality, he seemed lonely. He seemed to be missing someone in his life who would see him as something other than the power he was born with. For whatever reason, this thought made your heart ache.

Throughout the night, you found yourself staring at him more than usual, noticing every little detail of his face. You noticed the way his hair sometimes fell over his eyes, the way his smile showed most of his teeth, the wrinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. You also noticed the tenderness of his eyes, how every so often he looked at you in a way that would make your heart hammer against your chest or the way he would look at your lips every so often and you weren’t sure if he knew you noticed or he just didn’t care.

At the end of the night, you were having trouble deciding which dessert to get, not sure whether to get the cheesecake or the assorted mochi, so he told you to get both.

"I don't believe you, there's no way you don't have hobbies."

He laughed. "I really don't. I'm just too good at everything I do."

You rolled your eyes at him. "And you have the biggest ego I've ever seen in my life."

"Some would call it ego, I call it confidence. And well deserved."

You finished your last mochi, enjoying the last bit of strawberry flavor. As soon as you had taken the last bite, Satoru spoke eagerly.

"So, was this dinner good enough for you to tell me about your tattoo?"

You pretended to hesitate for a second, but you had to hand it to him, he went all out.

"I guess I have to tell you now that you spent so much money on it." You said with a sigh.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, pumping one of his fists in the air.

"Don't get too excited, it's nothing too scandalous." You pulled your cleavage to the side, exposing the left side of your chest.

His eyes locked on the drawing on your skin, heat burning inside you the longer he stared.

"It's a flower?"

You nodded. "It's a heliotrope."

"What does that mean?"

Your voice wavered, your chest tightening. You couldn't talk about it. You didn't want to. But you couldn't show him.

"That's a story for another time."

As much of an asshole as you thought Satoru was, you knew he wasn't an idiot, he understood that you didn't want to talk about it, so he seemed to let it go.

"Alright, that's fair. I got a lot of secrets tonight." He stood up and straightened his black suit. "I'm going to go to the bathroom real quick and then we can go, is that okay?"

"Sure, take your time."

You lost sight of him as he turned the corner and your mind wandered over everything that had happened tonight. You hadn't expected that Satoru would actually buy you dinner and in such a place, and even though you knew that this was just a peasant's change for him, it still surprised you.

You were also surprised by how... human he was. He had surprised you once when he told you about the children he was sponsoring and taking care of, since their parents were nowhere to be found. You didn't get the change to ask for their names, but you were sure you would get another one, you were sure Satoru wasn't done surprising you.

A man called your name and made you look up.

Shiu Kong stood in front of you, his desvihebeled appearance intact, except for the way he had done his hair, a small attempt to soothe it.

"Kong." You said as you stood up. You shook his hand in greeting, wanting to get this conversation over with before Gojo returned. "What brings you here? Pleasure or business?"

"You know it's always business." He scoffed. His eyes took a double look at your dress before a small grin appeared on his face. "I would ask the same, but it looks like it's all pleasure for you."

"I guess you could call it that." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Neither of you said anything for a second. It wasn't like you were friends, you were barely a step above strangers and the only connection you had was gone. Fortunately, Shiu broke the silence.

"I never expected to see you here." He cleared his throat. "It's good to see you moved on."

Her heart fell to the ground, replaced by a painful sting.

"I... no, it's not like that." You tried to explain, your words stumbling.

Why did you try to justify yourself? This wasn't a date, was it?

"Hey, I'm not asking for explanations." He said. "I'm not judging you, it's been a while since anyone has heard from Toji."

Toji.

His name came back to haunt you as if it was the first day he didn't go home. The pain was excruciating, almost blinding you to the point of passing out. You hadn't heard his name in over a year, you didn't even dare to say it.

That was a date, right? What the hell were you doing going on a date with Satoru Gojo? How could you do that to Toji's memory? How could you be in a restaurant, laughing and enjoying the company of someone who wasn't his? A sorcerer's sorcerer?

How could you?

A man in a suit called out to Kong, motioning for him to come over to where he was.

"Anyway, I have to go now. Have a good life, kid."

You barely registered his handshake or when he walked away, all you could do was stand there and try not to collapse. The sudden realization hit you, you hadn’t thought of him throughout this whole night, only at the very end of it.

You had forgotten him.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, worried blue eyes looking at you through the usual black glasses.

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked, worry lacing his words.

No.

How could you be okay when you forgot him? How could you even do that?

You didn't know what to do, the hole in your chest threatened to swallow you whole. It was what you deserved.

"I-I have to go." You said simply.

With quick movements, you grabbed your purse and made your way to the exit. You didn't care about getting your coat, not when your lungs couldn't breathe, each inhale bringing you closer to suffocation.

The heels you wore hindered your steps, almost causing you to trip twice. With frantic movements, you kicked them off, your bare feet touching the streets of Tokyo as you tried to run from the white-haired sorcerer who kept calling your name.

Calls and texts flooded your phone, finally forcing you to turn it off.

You avoided Satoru after that.

"The wound will heal in no time, but I would still recommend you to take a few days off." Shoko said as she took off her gloves.

"I'll think about it." You said, no real promise behind your words.

Shoko looked at you, studying your face carefully. You knew what she saw, the dark circles, the carelessness of your appearance. But most of all, the pain behind your eyes. Maybe a while ago you would have been careful, trying to hide it so no one could see it, but at this point you didn't really care anymore.

As you rolled your shirt down to cover your torso and the large cut that had been made there, the door burst open, making both of you jump.

Satoru entered the room, taking strong and determined steps towards you, and within seconds he was standing next to you. He lifted your shirt just enough to get a glimpse of the damage the curse had caused, cold fingers poking at the newly healed skin.

It took you a few seconds to snap out of it, but eventually you were aware of how close he was and how exposed you felt.

"What the hell are you doing?" You barked, taking a step away from him and dropping your shirt.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He repeated, an incredulous tone in his words. "What the hell were you thinking? We were supposed to go on this mission together."

You got his text, along with several others telling you to wait for him before going in. Just like the ones you got before, this one was ignored.

"I don't remember asking for a partner."

He scoffed. “You can’t be serious right now? You almost fucking died and you’re mad at me for wanting to go with you.”

"I don't need your help!"

"You do when you've been trying to get yourself killed ever since I met you!" He shouted, his chest heaving with anger as he came closer to you.

"Satoru-" The doctor tried to intervene but Gojo stopped her.

"Stay out of this, Shoko."

"So what if I am?" You said and came closer to him.

"Do you know how fucking crazy this is?" His hands went to his hair and pulled it back in despair. "You've had a bad life? Tough shit, everyone here has been through tough times, you think that makes you special? That somehow that makes it okay for you to say fuck it and act so fucking stupid?"

His words burned deep inside you, you didn't know what he was talking about. He couldn't even imagine how it felt. He knew the effect of his words, but he kept going.

"You want to know why I still go on missions with you? Because of shit like this. Not only will you get yourself killed, but you might end up hurting someone else. Is that what you want? Don't you care about anything but your own selfishness?"

Your eyes began to sting, his face just inches from yours. Blue eyes were once more focused on you, once again searching in your soul. This time though, you could see something in them, a type of pain you didn’t understand. It almost made you back away.

Almost.

"My life is none of your damn business. Drop the 'savior' complex and stay the fuck out of my life." You pushed him away. "We're not friends, I can barely stand you, and I sure as hell don't need you pestering me with whatever this is. Stay. The. Fuck. Away."

His hands became fists and you thought he was going to grab you, maybe even shake you. Instead, he walked away, the only remnant of his presence being the sandalwood scent of his cologne. You stood there for a while, your chest heaving as you tried to fight back the tears.

"He's not wrong, you know?" Shoko spoke, her voice startling you. For a moment, you forgot that she was in the room. "It's pretty obvious that you're trying to get yourself killed."

You thought about arguing with her the same way you had with Gojo, only you didn't have the energy anymore, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sat back in the chair where you had been examined, your head hanging from your shoulders.

"I don't know what to tell you, Shoko. Life sucks."

She laughed. "Yeah, I'll give you that much." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She grabbed one before holding her arm out to you. "You want one?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

"Not today, sorry. Cigarette is the best I can offer."

You took one out and put it between your lips. Shoko lit yours before hers, the smoke filling your lungs immediately. The raw sensation in your throat almost made you forget your pain, a good side effect you more than welcomed.

“I know that Satoru can be a little too much but he means well.“ She paused, trying to find the right words. "We have seen this before with one of our classmates, not exactly the same, but close enough. He was Satoru's best friend."

You were surprised, not once had he ever mentioned it, although you hadn't exactly asked questions about his life, not until this dinner.

"Is he dead?" was the only thing you could think of to ask.

"Oh, no. He's very much alive, he's just..." She took a drag on the cigarette. "I don't think it's my place to tell you this, so let's just say that things have gone very badly for him. So you can understand why he's a little worried about you."

Neither of you said much after that, preferring to smoke in silence. Shoko's words made sense to you, there was always a hint of sadness when Satoru talked about his school days. Even when he smiled and told you about his pranks as a teenager, at the very end of his stories, his eyes would flash with pain, just for a second.

After a few minutes, you finished your cigarette, stubbing it out on the sole of your shoe. You thanked Shoko for her care and for the cigarette as you made your way to the door until she called your name.

"Satoru told me about your dinner and how you avoided him." Heat flushed your cheeks, slightly embarrassed that someone else was aware of your actions. "I like you and I don't know what's going on between you two and it's none of my business, but he's my friend." Her eyes hardened as she spoke. "So don't hurt him or I'll have to hurt you. Don't make me hurt you."

Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment, the look in Shoko's tired eyes replaced by a certainty that sent shivers down your spine.

"I'll try not to."

Rain in Tokyo always seemed to take you by surprise, especially because you always forgot to check the weather before going out. It was something you weren't used to, but every time you were forced to run in the rain, you told yourself you'd remember next time.

With a plastic take-out bag in your hand and your leather purse covering your hair, you ran like hell through the sea of umbrellas. You looked at your watch once you reached the stop sign, sighing at the time.

10:45 a.m.

"Shit." You muttered.

You could still make it, you tried to tell yourself. As soon as the light changed and you were able to cross the street, you took off. The purse you held over your head hindered your movements, so you had decided to just let it hang by your side as you rushed through the streets, making your way back to the school.

After a few instances of almost slipping and a few assholes passing you with their cars and making it their business to splash you with the water pooled next to the sidewalk, you finally arrived, the food still safe in your hand. You reached the building, wet marks leaving a trail behind you, and you checked the time.

10:59 a.m.

Yes.

Finally reaching the classroom you wanted, you stood outside. Voices could still be heard from the inside of the room, relief washing over you as you decided you wait outside. Only you felt the cold sensation of your wet clothes, making you shiver unconsciously.

The door flung open, a group of teenagers stopping in their tracks as soon as they saw you. They looked at you, confused not only to see you there, but at the state of your clothes.

"Uh-" one of them tried to speak, but you cut him off.

“Out. Now.”

With a quick pace, they left. You took a deep breath before venturing inside the room.

Satoru sat on top of a desk at the back of the room, eyes focused on his phone. He seemed to be typing a message, a mask of worry as he seemed to type and delete over and over again. You stayed by the door, words dying on your throat. What were you supposed to say? Should you just say hi and pretend everything is good even though you haven’t spoken in weeks? Or just go right to the point and apologize?

A ding from your phone brought back your attention, as well as Satoru’s. Your eyes widened, feeling as if you had gotten caught somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You reached for your phone, glad that it was still dry enough to still function.

A small smile formed on your lips.

Greatest Pain in the Ass

Hey, 10:01 a.m.

You looked back at him, a light rose tinge spreading through his cheeks.

“Hi.” You said with a shy smile.

“Why are you soaking wet?” He questioned, eyes scanning your appearance.

“It’s raining outside.”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “You forgot to check the weather again?”

“Perhaps.” You answered, making your way to him. Once you reached the desk he was sitting on, you plopped down, opening the plastic bag you were carrying. You took out two honey lemon cold teas along with a couple of cheesecakes, two crepe rolls, and a package of sour candy.

“What’s this?” He asks as he grabs the tea.

You knew Satoru wasn’t going to be able to resist it, his sweet tooth always coming on top of everything.

“Take it as a peace offering.”

The sorcerer took off his jacket, handing it to you. You considered not taking it, but the shiver down your spine convinced you otherwise.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

In what seemed less than a minute, half the food is gone, the other half barely having a couple of bites. You sit in silence as you keep eating your cheesecake, occasionally sipping your tea.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” You broke the silence, the heaviness in your chest lifting as soon as you said the words.

“Did you just say sorry?” Asked Gojo, too incredulous to your annoyance. You nod, eying him. “You? You said I’m sorry? The rain must be toxic.” You rolled your eyes at him, and in return, he grabbed you by the shoulders, his face filled with fake concern. “It must already be in your brain! No, please don’t die!”

“Alright, asshole. I get it.” You pulled yourself apart, completely annoyed by his antics. You take a sip of your drink; you knew you deserved it. “I really am sorry, though. I’m sorry for leaving you at the restaurant and snapping at you back at Shoko’s.” You looked down to your hands, the feeling of shame creeping up over you. “I guess I’m sorry for being a dickhead in general to you, especially when you’ve been nice to me.”

“Why did you leave that day at the restaurant?”

“I—“ your words were caught on your throat. Should you lie? Tell the truth. Avoid the question? You looked at him, and even without being able to see his eyes, you knew what he was thinking.

Tell the truth.

You took a deep breath. “I used to be with someone, a man older than me, and he was... he was involved in a bad world. He left for one of his jobs, and one day he didn’t come back; he simply disappeared.” You stopped for a second, a knot on your throat almost breaking your voice. “I came here to find him; look for any clues that might tell me what happened to him, but I didn’t find anything, not a single word about him.” A tear took you by surprise when it fell from your left eye. You quickly wiped it, as if that could clear out the pain your heart felt. “The guy that used to be his handler was at the restaurant; we saw each other, and he—“ you scoffed. “He thought we were on a date and that he was glad I moved on. After that, I just couldn’t stay; I felt as if I was betraying his memory, betraying him, and everything was just too much for me. I felt like I was drowning the more I stayed there, so I did the best thing I could; I ran.”

Another tear made its way down your face, but you stopped caring. No matter how hard you tried, the pain of losing him would always be there.

After you finished your explanation, seconds went by without any response, something you attributed to him processing your story, but you weren’t sure. It had always surprised you how volatile Satoru was, sometimes easy to read as a first grade book, and sometimes, like now, where you might as well be reading a forgotten foreign language.

“Is that why you always put yourself at risk?” He finally spoke.

“Yes.” You answered, a tinge of shame crawling up over you. “I had a plan, you know? I was fine dying doing this. I needed it.”

“What changed?”

“You, I guess. It’s very difficult to die when someone keeps getting in the way.” You chuckled to yourself, Satoru, not finding any humor in your words. “I don’t know; one day I woke up and I realized that I didn’t want to die. I also realized I like being here.”

He looked at you, and this time his eyes carried a sadness too big to bear. “Are you still looking for him?” He asked, almost hesitantly.

“No, I know he’s dead.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I just feel it.” You shrugged. “I think I felt it the day he died; there was this painful and heavy sensation that got in my chest, and I couldn’t shake it off.”

“What would you do if you found the people that killed him?”

His question took you by surprise, as you didn’t expect it from him. You had thought about it a couple of times though, on long nights where you missed his presence and the scent was almost gone from his clothes. On nights you wished you had gone to Tokyo with him instead of staying back in Kyoto in your normal life. On nights you wished you could have his touch at least one more time.

“I’d kill them. And I’d make sure they would suffer.”

You both stayed in silence after that. A heaviness in the air had surrounded you, almost as if you had made things worse by telling him the truth. You knew that he wasn’t mad or disgusted by you, but there was a storm of thoughts going through his mind that made you wish you could read minds.

The silence was agonizing, and the longer it kept going, the more your chest would tighten. You wanted to break it any way you could, so you decided to ask a question that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looked back at you, coming back to reality. “Shoot.”

“Was that supposed to be date?”

He smiled, almost sadly, as he fixed his hair. For some reason you got the feeling he had something more to say to you, but after careful deliberation he gave you a simple answer.

“Only if you want it to be.”

It was up to you.

God, why did he do that?

Was that what you wanted? Your mind was nowhere close to thinking about a relationship with someone else, let alone having a date. There were so many things wrong with you: dead boyfriend, inability to move on, active desire to die, walls so high up they could probably compete with the Great Wall of China. You had an attitude problem, a dangerous job, and you hated people getting too close to you. You were not looking to date.

But.

If you were going to have a date with anyone, the idea of it being Satoru didn’t bother you in the least.

Maybe you even liked it.

“I think I do.” You whispered.

You smiled at him.

He smiled too.

Satoru opened his mouth to say something, but a ding of his phone interrupted him. With annoyance, he unlocked his phone, his fingers typing up a quick response before putting the device back in his pocket.

“C’mon, lets go.” He said as he put together the trash from your snack and threw it in the can.

You downed the rest of your sweet tea, throwing the bottle to the same can and getting it in the first try. Satoru turned around and gave you a thumbs up. You caught up to him with a little stride.

"Where are we going?”

“To your place so you can get changed.”

Right. You were still soaking wet from the rain. Suddenly you were hyperaware of the squeaking sound your boots made and the smaller but still present trail of water you left on your way.

“After that, we have to go to Shinjuku.”

“Alright.”

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and for the first time since you met him, you didn’t slap his arm away.

“Wait, I have another question.” You said.

“What is it?”

“What did you text me for?”

“…”

“You were going to apologize, weren’t you?”

“I was not.”

"Yes, you were! Man, I should’ve taken longer buying all this shit.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. You apologized first, so I win.”

“Oh, so it was competition now?”

Your voices filled the empty halls of the building, the bickering between you not stopping even when you were on good terms. This time there was something different though, and as laughter began erupting from both of you, you were sure there was no going back to how things were before today.

You liked that thought.

—————

Pink petals fell from the sky, swept away by the chill winds of April. Groups of people were scattered around Ueno Park, admiring the beatty of hundreds of cherry blossom trees along with hanging lanterns that decorated the main path to follow. Conversations, laughter, and music filled the air, and once you walked further into the park, the smell of food reached your nose.

Satorus hand pulled you towards one of the food stands, making both of you wait in line for some croquettes. You looked down at your joined hands, entwined fingers and all, and your heart skipped a beat.

Coming to the Cherry Blossom Festival had been an impromptu plan. Satoru had just texted you to dress up for the night in something you found comfortable enough to walk, and 20 minutes later he had knocked on your door, a blanket on his shoulder and a small basket on hand.

You liked that about him. Most of your dates had been improvised, to a certain extent. It was either him wanting to do something right in the moment or with him barely giving you time, just like when he asked you to pick you up the next day.

He brought spontaneity to your life in a way that made you happy. Satoru brought a lightness with him that you didn’t think a lot of people saw and how you wished everyone could. Maybe then they could see past the confident facade he always seemed to carry, and instead they would find the human, annoying as ever but with a heart the size of the world.

After getting your food, you went to find a place to sit that would allow you to have some privacy. Gojo guided you over a no trespassing sign, and when you expressed your concern, he simply smiled.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.”

So you followed him until you found a good spot; there he extended the blanket while you put down the basket, making sure to take everything out. Petals fell all around you, and the darkness of the night enveloped you, except for the dim light of the moon and a couple of lanterns.

Everything was perfect.

Then his hand grabbed the side of your face, making you turn to him. He had taken out his glasses so the totality of his blue eyes were exposed. God, they were beautiful. His eyes went from your eyes to your lips, a quick but intense glance. His hand traveled to the back of your head, almost as if they were asking for permission to go forward. You grabbed his arm, your finger giving him a slight caress.

That was all he needed.

He kissed you. He kissed you in a way that made you forget to stop breathing. He kissed you in a way that you felt every single sensation around you, yet the only thing you could focus on was his lips on yours. He kissed you, and you wanted more. You wanted everything.

He kissed you with desperation, like he had wanted this for a long time.

He kissed you, and you tasted his mint toothpaste along with something else you couldn’t place.

You pulled apart to face worried blue eyes, looking for a sign that perhaps you didn’t want that. He thought he might’ve overstepped his boundaries, and you were going to run away again.

You kissed him again to erase his doubts, and you knew it.

He tasted like the future.

Moans filled his bedroom. The squeaking of the bed pushing against the wall made you glad you were at his apartment instead of yours; if anyone had to deal with angry neighbors, let it be him. Satoru hadn’t even let you take off your clothes completely; instead, he had pushed down your underwear and lifted up your skirt, your underwear still hanging from one of your ankles.

Your face was facing a pillow, but you had heard him pull his pants desperately. He was big; he had warned you, but once the tip of his cock had tried to breach your entrance, your confidence in taking him had severely dwindled. He knew what he was doing though, his hands traveling in front of you, finding your clit.

A gasp left your lips, the coldness of his hand surprising you. He drew small, precise circles on it; every time he would hit a certain angle, you could feel yourself getting wetter. He knew what he was doing.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that.” He whispered in your ear.

Electricity traveled all over your body, the anticipation of him finally being inside you driving you crazy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You panted, grinding all over his fingers.

You felt his hand smacking your ass. Hard.

He pulled your hair back, your head lifting from the pillow. “Don’t act dumb with me, princess.”

His lips found the right place on your neck, and the sensation of him sucking on it made your knees weak.

“You know this is my favorite skirt.”

Smack.

His fingers never gave you a rest; the longer they kept going, the more the pressure built inside you. Your skin felt on fire; every kiss, every caress, and every smack made you feel like you could almost cum. Satoru had a way of overwhelming your senses; you sometimes wondered if it was a side effect from his six eyes.

He went faster, fingers using your own moisture to slide all over your bundle of nerves. You were so close, your moans getting louder and louder. You wanted it. No, you needed it. You need it like a thirsty man needs water.

“Please.” You begged.

“Please what, princess.”

“D-don’t stop, I’m so close.” You breathed.

So, so close, the coil inside you tightening, ready to snap.

He stopped.

“What the f—“ Your whine was cut short by his cock sliding inside of you.

He did it all at once, not giving you time to adjust. God, he was huge. With one sharp thrust, he was completely inside. You felt a little pain, but the overwhelming amount of pleasure you felt washed it away to the back of your mind when he started thrusting.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, his voice gruff as he digged his fingers on your hips.

Smack.

“Answer me, you little slut. You wanted my cock so bad?”

“Y-yes!” You were barely able to say.

Smack.

“You thought you could tease me all night.”

Smack.

“Grind your ass against me.”

Smack.

“Your fucking hand was under my pants while we were in that meeting. You thought that was fucking funny?”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Fuck! No!”

His pace was relentless and punishing. He seemed like a wild animal who had just caught his prey. His thrust was too much; you found yourself pulling away from him, but strong hands pushed you back to him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He growled. “You wanted it so bad, now you have to take it.” A hand pressed your head against the bed, and you felt his left leg hoping on the bed.

You didn’t think he could reach deeper inside you. Once again, you were proven wrong. You couldn’t last longer, not when you felt the tip of his cock almost hitting against your cervix. Your walls tightened around him, causing him to hiss in pleasure.

“God, this pussy is perfect.”

He buried himself again and again and again until tears rolled down your eyes. He knew you were close.

“You’re going to come all over this cock, princess?”

A pathetic mumble resembling a ‘yes’ escaped your lips. That gave him the signal he needed.

This time his rhythm never stopped; consistent hard, deep, and quick thrusts punished your pussy over and over again. His grip on your ass tightened too; you were sure you would have marks on your skin tomorrow morning. He kept going, faster and faster; you heard moans that left his lips, and you were sure he was also close.

“Come on, baby, come all over this cock.”

That was all you needed to come undone.

He kept going for a couple of thrusts, rhythm gone as the desperation for chasing his high became bigger and bigger. His hands grabbed the sides of your hips, using them to bounce all over his cock. It was almost as if you were his own toy.

He came no long after that.

Both lay in bed, sweat covering your forehead and back as you gasped for air. Satoru was the first to stand up, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to clean himself. You were too tired to move, so the sorcerer took it upon himself to clean you himself. The cloth felt weird against the raw skin of your pussy but the carefulness of his touch made it better.

The towel flew across the room, landing in an unknown location. After picking up the now crumpled-up sheet, he covered both of you with it, his arms bringing you to his chest. The bluest eyes in the world looked at you, admiring every inch of your face as his hand caressed it.

You took the lead this time, reaching to him for a kiss. Your lips touched his, and his lips parted slightly, allowing you to deepen the kiss, his hands burying themselves in your scalp, pushing you in as if the closeness that you had wasn’t enough.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy at night; your heart didn’t ache as you fell asleep in the warmth of his arms.

“God, why the fuck did I listen to you?” You mumbled, dangerously close to the edge of the building.

Tokyo's city lights shone below your feet, the never-ending life of its streets still buzzing no matter how dark the sky was. The altitude you were in made the wind strong enough that you felt you were going to be swept away by it. The jacket you had brought was no match for the wind, your hands clenched on the material as if that would warm you more.

“Because it’s going to be fun.” Satoru said before kissing your cheek.

“Not if I freeze to death.”

Satoru stood next to you, tall, powerful, and beautiful, with his eyes free from the typical dark glasses. Even as you were at the edge of the top of a twenty-nine-story building, he seemed so nonchalant it couldn’t help but annoy you.

How could a man so annoying be so perfect?

How were you so lucky to have found two perfect men in your lifetime?

“You were the one that wanted to try this.” He laughed, a big smile on his face.

“Whatever, let’s just do it.”

His hand extended towards you, waiting for you to grab him back. Your hand went halfway before the corner of your eye caught how tall the building actually was. You had refused to look down for this very reason, but you couldn’t do anything now; your eyes were locked in.

What the fuck were you doing?

Fear settled in the pit of your stomach along with regret, as Satoru was right; you were the one that said you wanted to see how his teleporting worked. When you had asked him what his favorite part of it was, he answered free falling from a building and teleporting back to where he had started. And now, the longer you looked, the dizzier you felt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I can’t do it. This is fucking insane.” The volume of your voice was an octave higher, but you couldn’t control it.

You began backing away until hands on your face stopped you.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He said calmly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just go back and do something else.” He waited a moment, trying to see if you would back away, but you didn’t. “If you want to do it, though, you have to trust me; trust that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

He backed away, moving close to the edge. His hand reached out to you once more.

“Do you trust me?”

Your hand finally took his, trembling legs making their way to him.

You took a deep breath. You trusted him, even when your senses told you it was a bad idea. You trusted him even when your survival instinct fought hard to push you away from the edge.

You trusted him.

Wholeheartedly.

Fully.

Unconditionally.

You both jumped.

The rational part of your mind told you it had happened in a matter of seconds; it couldn’t have been more than four, considering the height of the building and the fact that you didn’t splatter all over the floor. For the other part of your mind, though, it was endless. You fell, and you fell, and you couldn’t stop falling; the floor was close but never close enough.

The scream that left your lungs made your throat ache, your chest rumbling as the scream kept coming and coming. Your heart wasn’t in your chest anymore; you were sure it had already exploded the moment your feet left the building. You were even surprised you were still breathing; your lungs didn’t seem to get enough air in them. You had heard how people that fall from skyscrapers die from heart attacks rather than the fall itself. Now you could see that happening; the longer you thought about it, the more you felt close to death. That was until you felt pressure on your hand. Satoru’s hand never left yours, even when you tried to pull your arms to your face, trying to cover your eyes from the ever-closing floor.

One moment you were in the air, and next you were back at the edge of the building.

Your legs failed, almost making you drop to the ground, but his arms were there to keep you steady. Miraculously, you still had a living heart, as you felt it’s beating on your ears every time. Gojo’s worried face gained your attention, his eyes scanning you as his lips moved, but his words never reached your ears. Only then did you finally process what had happened.

You had jumped from a building, and you had teleported back.

You were still alive.

The fear was quickly replaced by blinding excitement. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like hot liquid fire, this time the trembling of your body caused by it. The sudden feeling that you could conquer the world overcame you; you wanted to do it again and again and again so you could feel like this forever.

A laughter came out of you, which initially had scared Satoru, but the more you laughed, the more he was sure you were ok.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You said as Satoru’s hands helped you stand up.

“I told you it was awesome.” He laughed along with you.

You jumped to his arms, pulling him in for a kiss. Your hands traveled all over his hair, pulling it as you deepened the kiss. His hands brought you up, settling on your ass once your legs wrapped around his waist. Something in him was desperate for your touch, his hands holding you in place as both of you kept exploring each other.

You pulled away from him, excited to tell him you wanted to try it again, but he interrupted you.

“Let’s do it aga—“

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped this time.

You knew he had loved you for a long time. Every moment you spent together you could see it. His love was in everything he did. It was in the way he made you laugh, in the way he would make sure you’d have enough to eat, in the way he would buy your favorite snacks on the way to your apartment, on the way he would offer to do the dishes so you could go take a shower, on the way he would caress your face, his eyes screaming the words he didn’t dare to say. His love was everywhere.

A long time ago you had never thought you would love someone the way you had loved Toji, and in a way you were right. Loving Toji had been intense, warm, and comfortable; for a man so closed up to love, he had surprisingly shown you so much of it, even if it had taken some time for it. You had loved Toji first, and you had given him your unconditional love even before he knew your feelings. Loving Satoru was different; it was quick and unexpected, but most importantly, it made you feel alive. You had gotten used to the shell of yourself you presented to the world, something you had gotten comfortable with, but Satoru had managed to break it with his bubbly, eccentric persona. He had teared the walls you had built, little by little chirping them apart, until your heart could beat for someone again. There was no comparison between Toji and Satoru; they both had your heart forever, just in different ways.

He loved you even when you felt like you didn’t deserve it.

So how could you not love him back?

“I love you too.”

The smell of pancakes filled Satoru’s apartment, along with the sound of his tinkering around the kitchen. You stretched yourself along his bed, your skin welling the coolness of the expensive sheets he had. Your body was sore; the toll of yesterday’s curse, along with your nighttime activities with Satoru, had left you drained.

You stood up, using one of his shirts to cover up. The sight that welcomed you once you reached the kitchen made you laugh. Pans and food were scattered everywhere as the sorcerer went back and forth from the pans to the freshly made orange juice he was trying to make.

“Who would’ve thought pancakes and orange juice would be your one true enemy?” You chuckled.

He turned around to face you, his hands carrying a bowl with what you assumed was pancake batter. A shy smile adorned his face, which managed to swell your heart with love.

“It’s not my fault the instructions on the recipe weren’t clear; how was I supposed to know you had to grease the pan with butter?”

“I’m pretty sure every recipe says so; even then, it’s basic knowledge.”

You walked closer to him, reaching out to him for a morning kiss, but he backed away.

"Don't; I have a raw egg all over me.”

“Now, how did you manage to do that?”

Satoru shrugged his shoulders, going back to his duty. You propped yourself on top of one of the kitchen stools, looking at the white hair sorcerer finish cooking the last of the pancakes.

“You need any help?”

“Nah, I’m almost done. I was trying to bring you breakfast to bed, but I was sabotaged.”

“Sure you were.”

After a few minutes of cooking, the last of the pancakes rested well on top of the mountain he had created. The orange juice was now in a clear crystal jar right in front of you. It would’ve been a nice scenery if it wasn’t for the mess that tainted the background. Satoru began throwing everything in the sink in a rushed manner, his hand reaching out to grab the kitchen towel.

You stood up from your seat, snatching the towel out of his hand.

“Why don’t you go take a shower while I clean this?” You offered as you thought it would be uncomfortable to eat covered in eggs, flour, and orange juice.

He shook his head. “No, I had this whole thing planned and—“

You interjected “And I’m very grateful that you did this, but I also want you to enjoy breakfast. Besides, it’s just going to be a little cleaning. I promise, as soon as you get out, I’ll stop cleaning.”

Satoru, as stubborn as he always was, was about to refuse your help, but to his dismay and your amusement, his hand landed unspilled batter that covered a part of the counter. You tried to control your laughter, which only made it more obvious, earning an eye roll from the sorcerer.

“Fine, but no more cleaning as soon as I get out of the shower.”

You lifted your right hand. “I solemnly swear.”

He left the room with quick steps, the sound of his discarding his clothes echoing from his bedroom. You put yourself in action, focusing on just cleaning the counters as it felt like a more important task than tackling the mountain of dishes; Satoru could take care of that.

You were almost done throwing all the trash that you had gathered in the can when a ringtone surprised you. Satoru’s phone had somehow ended behind the toaster, and surprisingly, it had survived being stainless with all the food flying around it. You wiped your hands quickly before grabbing it, Ijichi’s name flashing on the screen.

“Ijichi is calling you.” You yelled at him, sure that he would be able to hear you even in the shower.

“I’ll call him back later.” He yelled back.

You put it in the counter, letting the call go to voicemail. You were about to keep going with your duties when the phone rang again—another call from Ijichi. This ringing kept going for a little while until it went to voicemail once more, then the texts came, one after the other.

A sudden heaviness installed in your stomach; maybe it was something important; it had to be for him to be so insistent. You grabbed the phone in your hands, typing the four-digit password to unlock it. Another message popped up on his screen, and you clicked on it.

Ijichi

I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Gojo, but we have a situation. 9:37 am

I wouldn’t be so insistent if it wasn’t serious. 9:37 am

Please get back to me as soon as possible. 9:38 am

It’s about the Fushiguro kids. 9:38 am

Fushiguro kids.

Fushiguro.

You dropped the phone; it’s screen is cracking as it touches the ground. It couldn’t be them, could it? There was no way Satoru had anything to do with those kids. Why would he? You had never even told him Toji’s last name, none the less told him about his kid and stepkid. It couldn’t be, could it?

“What’s wrong?” His voice startled you, a concerned look on his face as you walked towards you.

You gather all the strength you have, unsure whether the words will actually come out of your mouth without getting stuck in your throat. You looked at the floor, thinking it would be the only way you would be able to talk.

“Who are the Fushiguro kids?” Your voice was barely audible, the straining in it impossible to miss. You looked back at him, hoping to find his usual smile or perhaps just a confused look on why you were acting like that.

You hoped for anything that would tell you it wasn’t the same Fushiguro family you were thinking about.

Instead, wide, panicked, blue eyes looked back at you.

“I—“

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out Satoru was thinking of an excuse—anything he could bullshit you to take away the anger that began simmering in you.

“Who the fuck are the Fushiguro kids?”

A heartbeat went by, then he answered.

“Megumi and Tsumiki.”

A scoff left your lips. Everything in the room was spinning, the beating of your heart pounding incessantly on your head. Millions of questions ran through your head, but you were unable to focus on one, each second passing you by and flooding you with emotions you weren’t sure how to process. Was this how it felt to be in his unlimited void?

“How do you know them?”

“Toji Fushiguro told me about Megumi.”

“Did you know who I was?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, not wanting to reveal himself, but there was no point in it, not anymore.

“Yes.”

“What—? How did you—?”

There it was, the same sadness you would sometimes catch behind his eyes. You had never dared to ask about it, sure that he would come to tell you with time. You had guessed it had to be with Suguru; the things you had asked about him earning almost the same sad look of losing his best friend.

But this wasn’t a sadness about losing someone. It was a sadness knowing everything would end as soon as you knew the truth.

No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him.

He couldn’t be the one.

Not Satoru.

“No.” You backed away from him, his presence digging a hole in your chest. “No, no, no, no.”

“Please, let me explain.” His hand tried to reach you but you slapped it away.

“What the fuck are you going to explain?” You screamed, the last syllables of your sentence breaking as tears pooled in your eyes. “That you fucking killed—“ you couldn’t even say the words; they tasted like vile rising from your esophagus.

“I’m sorry.”

Rage.

Pure, blinding rage.

Your senses, your body, your thoughts—everything was swarmed by rage. Your hand, almost like in automatic motion, punched the sorcerer square in the face, landing him across the room. His body left a dent in the wall; the few frames he had hanging were now broken apart, all scattered over the floor.

Before you could think about it, your hand had already reached out to your bag, taking out the knife Toji had given you. The shock from your hit had passed, and now Satoru stood up, a small cut on his cheek. You sensed him before he had even teleported, the sudden cursed energy surge behind you alerting you of his moves. You grabbed him by his throat, slamming him back down to the floor.

After spending time, you had learned to read every part of Satoru that involved his fighting techniques along with the signature of his cursed energy. You had learned everything that was to learn about the greatest sorcerer in the world, and now you were going to use it to finish him, even if you died.

You grabbed your knife, your cursed energy amplifying the one the object already owned, and you aimed it at his heart. You wanted him to feel the same pain he had caused you when he killed him, the pain he caused when he had lied to you. You were going to carve his heart out, and maybe then he could understand a fraction of what you were feeling.

His teleportation worked again, this time placing himself further away from you in the room. The tip of your knife crashed against the wood panels, leaving a dent in them.

“Please, stop.” He pleaded, the sorrow in his voice making your heartache ten times worse.

You didn’t stop; you couldn’t allow yourself to stop.

Your body smashed against his, knocking him down against the bed. Slash after slash he dodged, your knife unable to pierce his skin. In between movements, he kept pleading with you, the desperation in his voice increasing with each attempt.

Somewhere along the fight you saw an opportunity at his feet. You weren’t sure if it had been on purpose or maybe it was just a coincidence his guard wasn’t as high as you had expected, but you seized the moment, your arm managing to pin him against a wall.

The knife you held shoots up straight to his neck, the blade making contact with his skin. You were ready to slash a straight line along it, but the back of your mind told you something was wrong.

You could touch him. All along the fight, you had been able to touch him. The cut he had from your punch still bled slightly, another piece of evidence of your proximity to him. Every kick, every punch, and every tackle had made direct impact with his body.

Not once during the fight had he activated his infinity.

The blade dug on his skin, and a faint drop of blood trailed down his neck.

“Why the fuck aren’t you using your infinity? I could fucking kill you.” You screamed in his face, digging your knife deeper into his skin. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

A despairing smile showed on his face.

“Because I love you.”

Hot, salty tears cascaded along your face, the bridge of anger finally snapping as the sorrow took over everything you could feel. You couldn’t stop them; the more you tried to contain them, the bigger the hole in your chest grew.

He loved you, and you believed him.

You loved him back, and that love made you want to die. You couldn’t kill him no matter how much you pretended you wanted to; you knew you couldn’t survive losing someone that you loved again.

No matter how much you hated him at the same time.

You stood up, ready to grab your pants and bolt through the door. His hand stopped you, steading you in place.

“Please, don’t leave.” His begged, tears matching yours. “Please don’t leave me.”

Two bleeding hearts pleaded for each other that morning; one begged for forgiveness while the other begged to be put out of its misery. Both of them were entwined by the love they had for each other, along with the hurt they caused.

Yours was the only one that got what it wanted.

“Never contact me again. I’ll kill you if you do.”

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

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mx-pastelwriting · 19 hours ago

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hi how are you hope you are well

I wondered how the slashers would react if you hugged them from behind (^-^)/

Oooooo I like this one its so cute to imagine!

I would definitely want to make a full post later down the line with this prompt! As I'm not taking request for full posts at the moment. But heres a bit of what I think!

Slashers x GN! Reader

Summary: Prompt up top^ Small Headcanon!

I'm not open for requests, but little asks on thoughts on something is okay~

Thomas Hewitt: If it were the first time, he would jump a bit, but when realizing it was you, he would melt in your arms. He is such a gentle giant when it comes to love. Learning from it, he would do the same when he caught you with a turned-back.

Michael Myers (78 Michael): Would not understand what you were doing or trying to do. When asking what he was doing by the tone of your voice, he would understand it was another show of affection. Still working on getting used to the feeling of love and how it works, he slowly looks forward to you coming up behind to hug his waist. Little by little, considering trying it himself.

Jason Voorhees: Ticklish, for sure. Hearing him laugh a little as he squirms at your arms wrapped around his waist. Leaving you to tease him a little about it. When doing it again, you learn to do it quickly, making it less ticklish. Jason would only attempt it when having come home and cleaned up, not wanting to get mug and sweat onto you.

Brahms Heelshire: Would love it. Really love it if you get what I'm saying. Putting aside his touch-starved state, he would beg for you to do it again after that. Rarely does it to you, wanting to be the one receiving the hug. Tall man is needy.

Bo Sinclair: Spooked by it. Makes him blush hard, worse when you kiss his neck or back, making his face burn a hot red. Though rarely lets you see him in that state, Bo loves it from the first time you do it. Does it to you as well, attacking your neck and shoulder while chuckling.

Vincent Sinclair: If it wasn't for Lester's romance moves or Bo's special movies, he would have no idea what you were doing. Understanding mostly from Lester's movies to be a loving act, he smiles under his mask, though continues to do what he working on. Moving less to not spook you into letting go.

Lester Sinclair: Getting all blushy and mushy about it. Stopping what he was doing just to melt in your arms. Asking if you could just stay like that for a little longer. It would become a daily thing for the both of you taking any chance to embrace each other.

Hannibal Lector: Wouldn't physically react, greeting you as it happens and smiling, loving every one of your affectionate acts. Continuing to work on whatever he was doing, allowing you to hang onto him, whether in silence or talking about each other's day.

Will Graham: Would chuckle at you hugging him from behind, feeling as his muscles relaxed against your touch. Preferred to let the air stay quiet, with your arms warped around his waist, feeling the fabric of his flannel shirt smelling of aftershave and dog.

I didn't proofread this one too much, but I did put it through a grammar checker, so if there are any mistakes, blame Grammarly.

Hope you liked this little headcanon!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take illegal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

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weneepie · 2 days ago

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neighbours w/ eddie brock & venom rules | m.list

note. yes i saw the last Venom movie and no i'm not okay, but let's act like everything's fine okay? <3 feel free to request!

You had been living in the apartment for a while now, and as you weren’t really the type to sympathise with people, you had no idea who your own neighbours were. Until one of them became way too loud for you to ignore.

It wasn’t like you were doing a really difficult job, even if it was still debatable. Being a writer was making you stay up all night long to keep writing your book with the hope of finally being able to finish it and, one day, find an editor. But the guy living next to you? He was making things impossible for you.

You had decided to let it pass, hoping that it would simply stop by itself ; but it didn’t. Actually, you could swear it had become worse by the time. So one night, you decided that it was already more than enough, and you left your place to come knock at his door.

You heard sounds of stuff breaking, a guy talking by himself, until he finally opened the door. He was all alone, and he seemed to be anything but okay. The guy was sweating in his grey hoodie, and he looked completely exhausted. You frowned slightly when he offered you an awkward smile.

“Hi, I’m sorry about the noise.” He started, and you could only sighed at his words. How could you be angry at a poor guy who seemed to be just as in a bad state as you right now? You slowly shook your hand. “It’s fine, just try to be careful. I’m not sleeping much, but it��s hard to focus with all the noise you’re making.”

You met his gaze when you heard him murmuring something. What was his problem? You were trying to be nice, there was no way he was really speaking under his breath. “Excuse me?” You asked with an eyebrow raised, and the guy quickly looked back at you. “No, nothing! Sorry again.” And with that, the conversation was over.

After the ‘incident’, it was always like fate wanted you to meet your neighbour more often than it was the case before. In the elevator, when you were going out of your apartment to put the trash out ; anything. By the time, you learnt that your neighbour’s name was Eddie, and that he was a journalist. Both of you weren’t doing the same job, but you had the same troubles so it felt easy to talk with him, even though Eddie was a bit… strange.

It was almost like he was never fully comfortable, something being awkward with him all the time. You might have sounded crazy, but you could swear it was like he was never alone in his own mind. Eddie was the type to talk to himself, in a whisper or louder than expected sometimes. You learnt to deal with it, but you couldn’t get out of your head this silly idea that Eddie was hiding something from you.

One night, after some friends almost forced you to go out with them at the bar, you were walking alone in the street to go back to your apartment. You weren’t even tipsy, as drinking wasn’t much your thing, so you were sure that the noises you heard behind you were more than real. You tried to walk faster, but it was obviously not enough. Soon, your wrist was held by a complete stranger trying to get you to come with him.

You didn’t have much time to fight him back, because he flew away suddenly. You opened your eyes wide, following his figure crashing in the wall, not understanding what had just happened before your eyes. It didn’t make much more sense when you looked back at where he was before and saw a large dark figure standing in front of you.

Large white eyes, and even larger teeth going out of a stupidly wide mouth ; you were sure you were about to die here and now. The monster tilted his head to the side, examining your figure before it kind of smiled, making it even creepier than before. “The little human shouldn’t walk alone so late.” His voice was deep, deeper than anything you ever heard in your life before.

“We’ll walk you back,” it said, and you weren’t sure if you really had the choice to refuse the offer. At least, he didn’t want to eat you alive, it was a good start. “Eddie says you’re nice, and we agree with him.”

Wait… Eddie? You looked back at the creature with a frown, and you could swear you heard someone yell at the monster under all of those muscles. “Eddie says we can’t tell you he’s here, but he’s hidden,” said the black monster. The more he spoke, and the less you understood what was going on. Until it revealed you the truth hidden for so long.

The dark figure disappeared, only to leave you in front of your neighbour, Eddie Brock, a black head with sort of tentacles going out of his shoulder. You blinked a few times, completely at loss of words. Eddie had this awkward smile on his lips, trying to find the right words. The silence felt like an eternity, so many thoughts flooding in your mind.

“That’s Venom. You weren’t supposed to meet him, or to know he was… well, me? Kinda.” You frowned, your eyes now locked on Eddie’s face who wasn’t helping you at all to understand everything. “Venom? You have an alien inside of you?” You almost snapped at him, the confusion too strong to think straight. “

“A symbiote, but yeah, technically an alien,” he said, and a sigh escaped your lips. You had so many questions ; and now that you knew, you weren’t going to give Eddie the choice to explain everything or not. You needed to know what was really happening, and how it was even possible.

This is how you ended up staying almost the whole night at Eddie’s place, with him and the symbiote explaining to you the situation. You quickly understood that it wasn’t a simple possession ; Eddie was a host and they both had this kind of situationship a bit weird that was going on. Venom was way less terrifying now that you saw him bickering with your neighbour. You could almost think he was fun, but it was too early for this.

But after this, you started to spend even more time with your neighbour. Him and his symbiote, of course. Sometimes, when they were fighting too much, Venom would leave his host to come hide with you for some time. Not too long, because hurting you was the last thing he wanted, but enough to run away from Eddie. The man was never too worried, because he knew exactly where his stupid symbiote was.

It was a weird dynamic between the three of you, but it was something which was working pretty well. You were spending hours and hours at Eddie’s place to write while he was working on his articles, and Venom would alway complain about how boring it was to have you both working at the same time while he had nothing to do. The symbiote was an attention seeker, you learnt that quickly.

And when things began to evolve between you and Eddie, you knew Venom would always be implicated too. You didn’t expect to be in a relationship so soon, but even less in a polyamorous thing with a man and an alien. But nothing could go wrong, right? There was absolutely no reason to be worried, or at least it was what you were trying to say to yourself.

But you were right. It was, actually, even better than what you had imagined. Eddie was the sweetest man you ever met, always taking care of everything for you and making sure you were doing good. It was probably the most safe and sane relationship you ever had, and it was strange to say that. Because Venom was the same, in his way.

He was a bit clumsy, most of the time, but he was always trying his best. You never felt uncomfortable, even if he could be pretty bold or franc sometimes. It was part of his charm, you had to say. When he started to share his chocolate with you, you knew he was doing the biggest step to someone in his whole life.

After all, it wasn’t so bad to be living in this shitty apartment.

thank you for reading!

#eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #venom #venom symbiote #venom x reader #venom movie #venom headcanons #venom x eddie

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hayw1res · 2 days ago

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stubborn princess and the silent knight.. !

a/n: ive been writing this for a month like guys life has been… life okay. ill do the kinktober list….. maybe soon . this isnt proofread and its kinda fast paced? idk guyys

warnings: drinking , kissing , “secret identity” , nothing 18+ yet folks

pairing: knight! megumi x princess! reader

you hated it, oh how you hated your father - the king, your mother - the queen, you even hated the maids and various servants who called upon you to serve your every beck and call. you hated it all, but you loved looking from your terrance down to the knights in training, the boy with jet black hair and a scowl on his perfect face.. oh how you loved to think of him while you swooned over the side of the balcony, clutching your chest in hopes he didnt see you staring so intently. the way he sparred with almost little effort put into the fight, the way his sword always glistened from his upkeep, the way hed wipe the sweat from his brow, but constantly ask to continue fighting.

oh everything about him was just so dreamy.. you'd write in your diary about him. about your fantasies.. about how you wished to be together one day - for him to teach you the way of the sword and for you to tend to his wounds when he ever gotten hurt.. you ached for just a sentence to fall from his pretty lips, just for one day call you his own.. to call you his princess.

your fantasy cut short when your father called you down for supper, he wasn't a bad man, he was no tyrant.. but you fell victim to his expectations. you were nearing 20 , unmarried and still unwilling to court- your parents started to grow impatient..almost everyday a new prince from a "far away kingdom" would trot his was to your throne to ask your hand in marriage, each answer stayed the same... a big fat no.

"my dear.. the prince of homsworth would make a fine husband would he not?

your father spoke, it broke you from your daydream.

"father, i dont need to wed yet.. besides wouldn't you rather i fall in love? have a man swoop me off my feet rather than settle for the next prince up.." you muttered the last part to yourself, your mother clearing her throat after you

"me and your father courted young- we didnt know it then but we were in love.. how shall you know love if you never experience it-" she went on and on, during about responsibility and what a good princess should act like... this talk again, always on and on about how a princess shall act - how a princess shall talk - how she shall dress.. all of it went through one ear and out the other.

supper always went this way, they argue and dispute about your unwillingness to marry, you tell them no and finish dinner, then you run away to your room and rest the night away.. you were used to this song and dance already- you lived the same day over and over again without fail.. it was tiresome. just as you were about to place your napkin on the table and push your chair away to excuse yourself, your father stopped you.

"ive arranged something, darling.. an escort. we are worried about you" he says kindly as he motions for one if the knights to step forward, dawned in nothing but chainmail and metallic clothing, the knight bows to you.

"he. is your personal knight. for your safety and for my own concern of you... sneaking out at night." the king adds on, your mother nodding in agreement. sneaking out? how dare they assume you of such low standard.. you may hate the constant reminder but - you still were a princess.. the future ruler of this kingdom.

"id never. you say with a scoff, standing up to excuse yourself, forgetting you now be followed by silent footsteps. they followed you from the grand hall, to the corridor, to the entrance of your bedroom. you huff and turn around, the idea of the knight following you everywhere both annoyed and excited you.. yes you hated the idea of not being able to sneak out anymore— but a knight? Your knight, that did anything you’d ask him to..

You sat and pondered at the door, awkwardly asking him if he were to follow you to your bedroom or stay out here- and much to your surprise the silent man turned to stand guard at your large double doors. You couldn’t help but think..when did he rest? when did he eat? when did he have time to do.. anything? so many questions remained unanswered as your infatuation grew- mixed with the curiosity of who was under that mask.. you hoped it was the boy with the jet black hair.

“well.. goodnight” you spoke quietly , receiving only a nod in return.

that started you nightly routine for months.

each and everyday he would follow you around, do small tasks you asked of him, and everynight he would stand guard outside your doors. you wondered if he enjoyed this or secretly hated you.. you wondered if you were even kind enough to him for him to enjoy his job.

“oh well..” you whisper to yourself at night as you covered your body with the thick blankets given to you from the maidens.. winter was coming fast.

the next morning you received notice that your knight would be gone for the day, apparently he was leading some other younger recruits in training, so you had a replacement ! he was much more.. talkative than what youre used to. you thought it was fun, speaking to him almost all day.

his name was yuji , he apparently been training here for years and is on the same rank as your knight which you learn is named megumi.

“megumi has always been like that, quiet i mean.. its not because he hates you he just takes a while opening up!” yuji heard all about it, he wanted you guys to be buddies. especially because he wanted to secretly also be buddies with the princess, but that was besides the point.

“im sure if you keep being kind to him, eventually he will start talking —maybe talk about his interests ! i think its just fighting though.. occasionally ill see him writing in a little journal too!” yuji exclaimed excitedly , you nod.. maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do.

the next few days went by quickly, you and yuji became a bit closer and your father started to slowly stop asking you about marriage since every single time you just ignore him or say “no” . today was the day megumi came back from training , unfortunately that meant yuji went back to his usual schedule but that didnt mean you couldn’t visit him!

megumi was stoic as always, standing beside you as you walked down the halls of your castle.. you sigh as you turn to look at him.. he still had that damn helmet on.

“I heard from Yuji that your name is Megumi.. is that true?” You ask , a basket in your arm as you prepared to go to the garden

megumi could only hum, at least you got that out of him..

“right.. you know my name of course. i didnt take yuji to be such a talker, i thought all you knights were strong silent types”

before you could reach for the door he already opened it for you, leading out to the large greenhouse you kept.. you smile and walk ahead of him.

the sun was bright today, though it was approaching winter it seemed the winds were lower .. a moderate temperature. you walked into the greenhouse and started to tend to your plants, picking off a few you wanted to add to the pots around the castle

“so.. do you do anything other than this?” you ask, trying to get the silent man to open up. he stays silent for a while.

“.. i enjoy sparring” he says finally, the deep rumble in his voice almost makes you crumble. you giggle at the answer.. of course he would enjoy something like that.

“right.. i see you guys usually from my balcony. it seems a bit harsh.. but i get it for practice” you continue picking flowers until the basket is full, turning back to the knight

“its a wonderful day outside.. shame we have to stay indoors and miss the festival.” you catch him off guard, a princess such as yourself being interested in the commoners dance? he and yuji participated often, mainly because yuji enjoyed them most of all.. megumi only went to make sure yuji didnt do anything stupid. the knight let out a hum, a noise that almost startled you.

“sounds like you don’t believe me.. didnt father tell you why you are hired in the first place..?” You chuckle, picking up the basket of flowers .. he knew of the mischief you got up to at night.. he knew you would sneak out your bedroom window in a gown to fit in while you danced and drank with the common folk. he knew this all because you intrigued him.. from the moment he seen you watching his training on the balcony.

“.. yes” he said simply, following behind you back to your room as the sun began to set. you were surprised he said anything.. his deep but smooth voice almost made you melt

“i know you leave the castle often.. you come back smelling of booze but you look- happy almost..” he continued until you both reached the doors to your room.

“then..?” you turn to him, expecting him to just shut you down and make you go to bed.. but something about his demeanor today.

“then.. i hope you dont get hurt” he says under his breath, almost a silent way of telling you to enjoy yourself, of course he would be watching you all night anyways. he always did when you went out.. always.

the night progressed as usual, you went to your room and he guarded your door..except tonight was the night of the festival. at a shivering 2 am you dressed in a black gown and climbed out your bedroom window to join in on the festival! there was dancing and singing, chanting of prayers, drinks being passed about every which way, this is what you were missing being stuck in that godawful castle all your life, and now that you were older you were able to enjoy them to the fullest in secret.

you danced, you sang and you drank until you felt your body lighten and you never felt better. you couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes lingering on you that night.. more than usual at least. you stumble and make your way to the path that lead to a hidden entrance to the castle, one close to your room. you heave as small breaths leave your body.

footsteps trail behind you and you freeze, usually you never had an issue with people following you home or drunkards stumbling on the path, almost always finding a way to slip away undetected. you start to speed up as much as your heels would allow on the rough terrain. you almost fall until a pair of arms catch you, fear washes over you for a second before you hear him.

“Are you alright..” His soft voice hit your ears and you sigh .. that voice again

“Fine…Fine now.” The adrenaline washed over you knowing it was just megumi, his hands felt soft.. you turned to look at him finally, but he wore a mask. go figure i guess.

“I guess.. we go home now?” You say , almost as if you were inviting him- like you don’t live together practically. You begin your walk he was silent for a while, just following you while you make your way to the castle.. going on and on about the festival as if you hadn’t experienced the same things. He didnt care though, he didnt care that you talked so much about your day because he wanted to hear it from your perspective.

The night was young , once you two made it back to the castle and your room..it was like your conversation made time go by faster.. talking to- or rather at him was refreshing. Even if he was just behind a mask.

“Want to just.. come sit inside?”

“..Okay..”

How did those few words end up with the two of you in a dark room, making out like a couple of teenagers? You couldnt tell.. you complimented his mask, almost got him to take it off.. he convinced you maybe its better to turn the lights off and you.. believed him.

Now the two of you sit on your bed, hands roaming eachothers bodies in a hot , steamy , messy makeout session.. tongues clashing in a battle for dominance you were slowly losing. You didnt even care that he were your knight.. you didnt care about anything other than how he felt right about now.

that feeling didnt last forever.. soon the gasping of air filled the area , you wanted more, needed it..

but your eyes shut gently .. you feel sleep taking you away and by the time you wake hes gone..

“ugh.. my head hurts..”

#smut writer #requests open #jjk smut #megumi fushiguro #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk megumi #jjk fanfic

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trevorsturnioloappreciator · 2 days ago

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Vigilante

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

- a stranger helps a stranger from a stranger

cw: creep behavior (unwanted advances, crude comments, and two instances of non-consensual touch), violence (one punch), mentions of drinking/being drunk, smoking, reader blames herself for a minute, in the beginning of this Matt is referred to as “the stranger” and the creep is referred to as “the man”, no use of y/n

a/n: did my best to keep the creep guy fairly tame; i did not want to write something super triggering, also the romance after is very subdued because i think it would be sort of inappropriate to have reader and matt like making out after he helped her. also sorry if you don’t smoke, just pretend like you’re in the bubble blowing section.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You stumble through the doors of the club, head just starting to pound from the reverberating bass of the speaker. The chilly night air hits you like a crashing wave, inhaling deeply as you slouch against the scratchy brick wall in the smoking section. Digging in your purse, you pull out your spliff and zippo, placing it between your glossed lips just as the cold air starts to bite at your bare skin, exposed by your tiny top and mini shorts.

The smoke calms your thumping head and just as you start to feel relaxed, you hear the screech of the heavy door next to you opening. “Oh, hey there… didn’t know anyone else would be out here…”, the voice is deep and the footsteps are heavy, this mixed with the size of the shadow nearing you clues you into the fact that this is a man.

You’re not trying to be abrasive but you’re really not in the mood to drag through three minutes of small talk before inevitably being invited to a random apartment with this random person. “Well, I am.”, your answer is curt as you turn to shoot him a tight smile, this is when you notice just how close he is.

The smoke from his cigarette is blowing directly in your face, making you shuffle over a step from where he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall, positioned to face you. “Don’t be a bitch, baby, I know about girls like you… you like the chase, right?” His smirk is making your stomach churn, something almost primal flipping on inside you.

Pushing yourself off the wall behind you, stubbing your smoke out on the bottom of your shoe and depositing the rest in a nearby ashtray, you walk to the wrought iron fence surrounding the patio of the club, looking out into the deserted, dark streets.

The anxiety you’re feeling does nothing to sober you up, you wipe the back of your hand against your damp forehead, sweating and shivering at the same time. “Are you cold, sexy? I can warm you up… let me get you out of here.”

His words are muffled by the blood rushing to your face, the feeling of a hot, heavy hand landing on the strip of skin above the waistband of your shorts, causing your back to straighten. Flipping around to shoot him an appalled look, it’s already too late when you notice the man is crowding against you, your butt pressed harshly against the cold metal behind you.

His breath is hot and smells like fireball, it’s making your head spin and your palms sweat. “G-get away. Please. I- have a boyfriend…”, not even you are convinced by your words as you speak them, his tall figure pushes you farther in the gate as you turned your head away from him, feeling his fingers come up to touch your face.

“Stop! Stop fucking touching me!” The words come out shrill, your throat squeezing and your heart beating like a rabbit’s. You look up and try pushing him away at the chest but the panic setting over you makes it impossible, the sinister smile on his face and the glazed over look in his eyes showing you that he’s only getting more enjoyment out of your trepidation.

“Yo!”

It’s a third voice, far to your right, joining your exchange. You whip your head so fast to the sound, feeling hopeful but also seeing images of this guys buddies coming to look for him. “What’s goin’ on over here, you alright, young lady?”, the man casually rocking up to the scene has his hands in his pockets, is a bit shorter than the offender- who by now is taking three steps back from you- and has locks of dark shiny hair hanging almost entirely over his eyes.

The breath you finally inhale burns from the cold and the tightness in your chest, tears prickling at your eyes, the thoughts in your head spinning, conjuring up all the things that could’ve happened, could still happen if this guy just goes on about his business, leaving you here.

“Hey, man, this is my girl, you know how females are. I’m gonna get her home.”, his performance is making you feel sick, you shoot a look to the stranger on the other side of the fence, trying to convey your terror as your breathing picks up, not allowing you to get a word out.

“Yeah, nah… I just saw you dude, she’s not your girlfriend.” The stranger comes closer, you can make out his sharp features, pale skin, and icy blue eyes. His words are still nonchalant as he smoothly swings a leg over the fence, crossing over the barrier to stand slightly in front of you.

Only now, with a human wall between you and the man, do you feel comfortable enough to suck in a shaky breath, practicing square breathing like your old school counselor taught you one time. “Bro, just get outta the way, stop being a simp and let me take her home, she wants it, don’t you, gorgeous.” The man now takes his chances trying to talk to you over the stranger’s shoulder.

You feel the strangers back slightly bump into you as the drunk man invades his space, still trying to get closer to you. Immediately the strangers fist flies square to the man’s jaw, in one quick punch he’s on the ground and the stranger is shaking his hand with a quiet hiss. “Was he bothering you?”, there’s a slight hint of comedy in his voice, all joking leaves him though as he sees just how shaken up you still are, his voice going lower as he moves to try and catch your eyes to his, “You okay?”

You shake the thoughts out of your head and feel your eyes start to focus again, they focus on the young guy in front of you. Swallowing thickly, you nod at him, “Wh-what’s your name…” you’re not even sure why you asked, maybe you just wanted to thank him properly. He turns his head to the club, then back to you, “I’ll tell you, let’s just, uh, get out of here before the bouncer comes out, they hate me here.”

He smiles playfully at you as he steps over the fence again, holding his hand out to help you over, it takes a touch more effort as you’re not quite as tall as him, you’re also realizing in this moment how drunk you still are. It surprises you, not unpleasantly, that he continues holding your hand as he leads you away from the bar to the end of the block, stopping and facing you under a streetlight.

The brunette drops your hand and holds out his opposite hand for you to shake, “Matt. That’s my name.” For a second you just look at the outstretched hand before you look back up at him, a small smile stretching over your face as you shake with him, whispering out your name. “Thank you, Matt.. I- I’m not sure what was gonna happen… that guy.. he was really drunk…”

“You don’t need to thank me, and hey, being drunk is not an excuse. That was really fucked… I’m just glad I was at the right place at the right time.” You look down at your shoes, his words making your eyes sting, the severity of the situation mixed with this kind stranger validating your emotions, your shoulders start to shake as hot tears roll down your cheeks.

“Oh- hey…”, Matt reaches out, stopping short of touching your shoulder, bending his knees to look at your face. “Hey, it’s okay now, you’re okay. D’you need a ride? You’re probably freezing out here…”, your tears don’t cease as you reach up to scrub the wetness from your cheeks, probably smearing your makeup, you don’t even care.

“Yes, p-please.. if-if you don’t mind…”, the words are slightly interrupted by your hiccuping breaths. When you look up at Matt’s face he’s looking down to you, fond expression and warm eyes are all you see as he reaches his hand back out, a question, not a demand.

You don’t hesitate placing your hand in his, Matt’s soft smile is what starts to calm your nerves as you walk slightly behind him, letting him lead you to his car. “So… why do they hate you at that club?” Your voice is lighter, you’re breathing evening out, you still feel the effects of the alcohol swimming in your head, but it feels nice now that you know you’re safe.

The laugh that bursts from Matt let’s you know he was not expecting you to remember that, “I- uh, my brother’s always dragging me out there, I hate it though, ‘s only old creeps and girls with no sense of boundaries.” He quickly turns back to look at you, “No offense, didn’t mean you.” When you meet his eye, you notice a slight blush bloom over his cheeks, it makes you smile and step forward to walk next to him.

“Anyway, I’ve been kicked out like…” he looks up to the sky, mentally counting, “a lot.” Matt chuckles, looking over at you as you stare up at him, listening intently.

The boys smile slightly drops as he now seems to be studying your face, blush still settled over his face, you do the same, taking in his smooth complexion, the slight stubble over his jaw. His eyes are what really transfix you, dark lashes, the way his eyes squinted slightly as he chuckled earlier, the ring of royal blue surrounding his shimmering irises.

“M-my car’s just up there.”, he points his other arm out in the direction of a black SUV, still never breaking eye contact. Nodding, you realize you’re already in front of his passenger side when he drops your hand and opens the door for you, “I- uhm, feel like all the drinks are hitting me now…”, you groan out, slumping down into the soft leather interior, curling slightly into yourself.

“‘S okay, lemme buckle you up, alright?” Matt grabs the seatbelt and leans over you, clicking it into place. The warmth in your belly could either be from the tequila you had been knocking back earlier, or maybe from the feeling of being taken care of, whatever it is, it makes you feel elated.

“You smell nice…”, you whisper the words, sporting a deep blush and a goofy smile, looking up at him as he straightens up from where he was adjusting your seat belt.

Matt chuckles and shakes his head, stepping back and putting his hand on the door, his opposite on the roof of the car above you, “Alright, little lady, whatever you say, just stay awake long enough to put in the address you’d like me to drop you off at, okay?”

You let out a playful scoff as he opens his door, “I am not even tired.”, you straighten up in your seat, almost like you’re trying to convince him with your posture. Matt smiles over at you incredulously, handing you his phone open to apple maps, for some reason, there’s a nagging part of you that doesn’t want this night to end.

Turning in your seat, you face Matt with a sheepish smile, aware of the drying mascara under your eyes and shockingly, feeling no embarrassment about it. “Could we… hang out for a little?”, Matt feels a tug of protectiveness toward this disheveled stranger, “Yeah, wanna get something to eat?” He watches with a smile as your face lights up either at his idea or his agreement.

˗ˋˏ♱ˎˊ˗

It’s about an hour since you and Matt met in the smoking section, you’re now both unbuckled, sideways in your seats to face each other, sitting in the taco bell parking lot. Getting to know Matt felt easier than anything you’ve ever done, it’s like you were meant to meet him. The events of tonight hang low in the air as the easy conversation lulls to an end.

You tilt your face just slightly away from Matt’s heavy gaze, rubbing at your eye.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” His words leave you a bit taken back. “I- yeah… I just feel kind of stupid, i guess…”, your voice is meek answering him, “It’s like, I know i should’ve been able to push him off me- I froze like an idiot…”

Matt’s face shifts from apologetic to serious. “Stop talking like that.”, his voice comes out stern and sharp, “You didn’t do anything wrong, you should’ve never even been in that situation.”, his hand comes up slowly, loosely capturing a strand of your hair in between his pointer and middle finger and tucking it behind your ear.

Something’s making it feel impossible to look up to Matt’s eyes. When you do, the sheer compassion written on his face causes your lip to quiver. Eyes welling, you turn more to hide your face in your hands before inhaling a shuddering breath, collecting yourself. Crying a second time tonight is something you’d much prefer doing under the hottest spray of water your shower can muster, not in front of the sweet (and drop-dead gorgeous) stranger who very well might’ve saved your life earlier.

A slight feeling of embarrassment bubbles up inside you, always priding yourself in being strong and independent and now you’re here, getting saved by a random guy, a random guy who is surprisingly compassionate.

You feel your heart rate slow, calming down just a little as his hand that was previously fixing your hair, comes to lay softly on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Matt’s gentle fingers are spread slightly on the nape of your neck while his thumb is vertical under your ear.

The warm pressure from his hand slowly easing the tension wrapping your head.

You tilt your face up from your hands to look into his eyes, he has a half smile playing on his face, a comforting expression matching his low lidded eyes. “Thank you… I’m serious, and I have to thank you, so don’t tell me not to.”, your sentence trails off into a wet chuckle, you blink slowly at him, the fuzzy feeling from the alcohol now tenfold when combined with how tired you are, it makes you feel pliant and open.

The rhythmic sensation of Matt’s thumb rubbing circles on the side of your neck almost makes your eyes roll back, it’s like he was massaging away a knot you didn’t even know was bothering you. “Alright, sleepyhead, why don’t i get you home, hm?”, you nod drearily, straightening out and turning again to face him. Matt’s hand stays steady on the nape of your neck, he squeezes lightly before letting go of you. “Tell me your address? I’ll get you home.” his eyes soften while he studies your drowsy expression, makeup smudged under your eyes, and your dark lashes clumped together by drying tears.

After telling Matt the address to your apartment he turns his key in the ignition before looking slightly over to you, watching you buckle yourself in, once your done he pulls out of the parking lot and follows the directions to your place.

By the time Matt turns into your spot outside your building, you’re sound asleep in the passenger seat, slumped sideways against the window, shoes kicked off and feet tucked up under you. Matt lays a hand on your shoulder, rubbing up and down your arm to try and rouse you from your sleep. He whispers out your name and raises his hand to gather the hair thats covering your face. “You’re home, c’mon, time to get up…”, his voice is soothing as it cuts through the silence in the car.

The sound of his voice travels into your sleep-addled mind, it sort of sounds like he’s underwater, but the almost sing-song inflections of it have you stirring from sleep with a smile. “Hm?”, you whisper out groggily, blinking your eyes open to watch Matt’s face. “You ready for bed, kid?”, you nod in response, rubbing at your eyes.

When you make no immediate move to reach for your door handle, Matt gets out and rounds the front of the car, opening your door for you, seeing that you’d unbuckled yourself, he reaches a hand to you. Stumbling slightly out of the car, you shiver in the night air. Matt takes notice and wraps your arm around his shoulder, he grabs your purse where it had been discarded on the seat behind you, as well as your shoes. “Do me a favor and get your keys for me?”, he speaks softly as your face is resting on Matt’s shoulder, inches away from his.

“Mhm… yeah..”, you don’t lift your head off of Matt while he holds you at the waist, handing you your open bag. Digging through messily you finally retrieve the keychain attached to your apartment keys. “Perfect, thank you.”, he speaks lowly, your whole body is now being supported by Matt, he walks the both of you to the entrance as you slur out which number you live in. “Okay, d’you think you can walk up all these stairs, hm?”, you know you probably could make it up the three flights to your door, but another part of you loves the feeling of being taken care of, Matt was sweeter than anyone you’ve ever met. Every other boyfriend you had would’ve never punched someone for you or carried you up three flights of stairs and certainly not without the promise of sex, and here was this perfect stranger, he felt like the first person to pay attention to you, actually see you.

If you weren’t so exhausted it would probably make you tear up again, but instead you just cuddled further into his chest, your left arm wrapping around his torso to lock hands with the arm you have circling his back. “Carry me?”, you speak shyly, letting yourself feel cared for, even if you’d never ask for it sober.

A part of you is surprised at how easily he complies with you request, his only response being a calm chuckle as he keeps his arm around your back to support you and swings the hand holding your shoes and keychain up under your knees. A small squeak leaves your mouth as he adjusts his hold on you, keeping your own arm locked around his neck, tilting your chin to look at the dazzling smile he’s aiming at you.

The journey to your door is comfortably silent apart from one or two quiet giggles that escaped you, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. When you’re finally in front of your apartment, it feels nearly impossible to keep your eyes open, you know you’re not a heavy drinker but a part of you has to wonder if it was the panic you experienced earlier that has you so exhausted.

Skillfully without setting you down, Matt unlocks your front door and softly shuts it behind him, “Where’s your room, you look like you’re gonna melt, kid.”, the low tone of his voice and his sympathetic laugh makes you want to ask him to marry you, and even through the fog shrouding you, you know this thought is ridiculous.

After hiding your blushing face slightly in his chest you point him to your decorated bedroom door, it’s slightly cracked so Matt uses his shoulder to nudge it the rest of the way open, he deposits you on top of your fluffy comforter and you feel the heavy throw blanket at the foot of your bed being tucked in around you.

The last thing you hear is a gentle “Good night…”, and when you wake up the next morning, slightly disoriented with a scratchy throat and an unopened water bottle on your nightstand, you’re more than pleasantly surprised when you find a sticky note attached to the bottle;

(xxx) xxx xxxx ~ Matt :)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tags:

@shadowthesim

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #trevorsturnioloappreciator

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beomgyucoded · 1 day ago

Text

Genre: established relationship, idol!Taehyun x non idol!Reader, fluff, so much fluff and warmth, slightly suggestive

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none that I can think of other than it being the slightest bit suggestive in one part

Summary: The Star Chapter: Sanctuary was gearing up for release and fans couldn't help but point out how the album feels like it was written in glitter pen.

The air was warm, both outside and inside your room. You stretched lazily on the bed, feeling the soft cotton sheets against your skin for the first time in hours. Taehyun’s chuckle floated through the space behind you.

“You look so content,” he remarked, amusement lacing his voice.

You turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, a knowing smile on his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Can you blame me? This bed feels like a cloud.”

Taehyun chuckled again, pushing himself off the door frame and walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” he said softly.

“I’m surprised you were able to come over. I’ve missed you,” you murmured, sitting up and leaning into his touch.

"I've missed you too," Taehyun whispered, his gaze tender.

The warmth of his hand against your cheek ignited a familiar flame in your heart. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled away.

“They’re working you guys way too hard,” you pouted.

“You have no idea,” Taehyun sighed, his expression turning somber.

“It’s been non-stop. I feel like I haven’t had a moment to breathe.”

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles.

“You need to take care of yourself. Don’t push yourself too hard."

Taehyun’s eyes softened at your words.

“I’m trying," he whispered.

“You have to promise me too,” he insisted.

“Have you taken any breaks today?”

His voice grew firmer, knowing how easily you lost yourself in work.

"I... I might have gotten a bit caught up," you admitted sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

"You and your dedication," he teased gently.

"Always diving headfirst into your work without thinking of yourself."

Feeling a twinge of guilt, you playfully swatted his arm before leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder. Taehyun wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you.

"I think we both need a break," Taehyun murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“I agree,” you whispered, soaking in his warmth.

After a comfortable silence, Taehyun gently took your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. His touch sent a wave of reassurance through you, reminding you that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you’d always have each other.

You first met years ago, when Taehyun was still a trainee. You would often take evening dance classes at a nearby studio for fun and enjoyed clearing your mind after busy days. It wasn’t uncommon to see other trainees spilling out into the hallways or staying late to practice.

One night, you noticed someone else working in the studio next to yours. He looked deeply focused, repeating the same moves over and over until they were just right. You had seen him around before, but that night he looked especially exhausted, covered in sweat and slowing down with each movement.

On your way out, you decided to take a chance and knocked on his door, offering him one of the water bottles you brought.

"Here, it looks like you need it more than I do," you said with a small smile.

He seemed surprised but grateful as he accepted the bottle.

"Thanks...I'm Taehyun," he introduced himself with a shy smile, catching his breath.

From then on, the two of you would often chat after class about your days, your dreams, and the hard work required to keep pushing forward.

Over time, these late-night encounters became routine. You would hang out in the hallway after class and talk about anything and everything, enjoying each other's company and finding solace in being understood by one another.

When Taehyun finally debuted with TOMORROW X TOGETHER, you were one of the first people to congratulate him. Despite his busy new schedule, your friendship continued to grow deeper as you continued supporting each other through life's ups and downs. Without realizing it, those late-night talks and shared aspirations brought you closer until eventually, you became something more.

You remember when he asked you out, that night a mixture of chaos, confusion and relief.

Taehyun had planned everything out carefully. He’d decided that after movie night at the dorm, he’d casually ask you if you wanted to take a walk, giving him the perfect opening to finally tell you how he felt. What he didn’t know, was that his members had noticed his feelings long ago and were each, in their own quiet way, scheming to help him along.

You arrived at the dorm and Yeonjun was the first to greet you, holding the door open with a warm smile and an encouraging, “Hey, glad you could make it.”

Then he threw a sidelong look at Taehyun, who blinked in surprise but brushed it off.

The movie was picked carefully by Beomgyu, a romantic comedy that the group had never watched together before. He insisted, with a knowing look at both of you,

“We need something lighthearted tonight, don’t you think?”

As the movie went on, Taehyun tried to focus, but the occasional glances from his friends were keeping him on edge. Halfway through, Kai got up to dim the lights even further, leaning over with a grin.

“You know, dim lighting really makes the whole vibe cozier, doesn’t it?”

“Sure, I guess…” Taehyun mumbled, catching your eye with an apologetic smile.

You gave him an amused look back, sensing his friends were up to something but deciding to stay quiet.

Finally, as the credits rolled, Taehyun gathered his courage and turned to you, just as Kai and Soobin exchanged an exaggerated stretch and yawn, subtly nudging the rest of the members to leave the room. Taehyun, still slightly clueless to their orchestrations, took his chance.

“Hey,” he started softly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the others were gone, “do you want to go for a walk? I thought it’d be nice to get some air…”

You agreed, and the two of you slipped out, walking side by side in the cool evening air. Before Taehyun could say what he’d planned, Beomgyu appeared out of nowhere, calling after you with a suspiciously innocent expression.

“Forgot to say goodnight!” he said, grinning.

Then he added, with a barely hidden smirk, “Make sure you two enjoy yourselves!”

After Beomgyu disappeared, Taehyun groaned, finally realizing what his friends had been up to. He laughed, turning to you with a shake of his head.

“I’m pretty sure they were trying to set this whole thing up tonight.”

“Well,” you replied with a soft smile, “it’s about time you caught on. Did you really not know?”

Taehyun’s face softened as he looked at you, taking your hand with a quiet laugh.

“Guess they saved me some trouble. I wanted to ask… if maybe you’d like to go on a date with me?”

You nodded, your hand fitting easily in his, and you both laughed at the subtle chaos of the night. In the end, the efforts of his well-meaning members brought you together in exactly the way he’d hoped.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Taehyun’s voice brought you back to the present.

“Huh?”

You blinked, realizing you had zoned out while lost in the memory of that night.

Taehyun chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned back.

“You were miles away just now. I thought maybe I lost you to the stars or something.”

You smiled back at Taehyun, grateful for the way everything had unfolded.

"Sure, let's watch a movie," you replied, grabbing your laptop from your desk, closing out all the programs you had opened.

Opening Netflix, you decided on a movie neither of you had seen before, but had saved to your watchlist.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the movie playing on the screen. You nestled closer to Taehyun, feeling the warmth of his body as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in.

The movie was acting as background noise, neither of you were really paying attention. His rare free time meant more than just physical proximity, it was the comfort of having him fully present with you, not thinking about schedules or meetings or the endless hours of practice.

"Do you want me to grab some popcorn?" you whispered, feeling a shift in his posture.

Taehyun didn't answer right away.

Instead, he shifted slightly, his eyes glued to the screen as if something had caught his attention. You looked up at him, puzzled.

"Taehyunnie?" you asked gently, softly poking his side.

His arm was still holding you close, but his gaze seemed distant, focused, as if he were deep in thought. Then, his eyes snapped back to you and you could see the spark of realization in them.

"Wait," he murmured, his voice tinged with excitement.

"Can you… can you grab me a pen? I just got an idea."

You blinked in surprise.

"A pen? Now?"

He shrugged apologetically, his face lighting up with that familiar, almost boyish grin.

"I know, I know. I didn’t expect it either. But it’s like—" He paused, trying to find the right words.

"It’s like the lyrics just clicked. I need to write them down before I forget."

With a soft laugh, you paused the movie and sat up.

"Okay, okay. I’ll get you your pen," you teased.

"But only if you promise not to get lost in your thoughts for the next hour."

Taehyun smirked, his eyes twinkling.

"I’ll try, but no promises. Inspiration’s a funny thing."

Giggling, you made your way to your desk, rummaging around for a pen.

Since most of your work was done digitally, you didn't have many writing tools on hand.

You sifted through the small drawer of your desk, and just as you were about to give up, your eyes spotted one.

"Found one," you said, turning to Taehyun with a grin.

Taehyun’s eyes lit up as you handed it to him.

"Is this a glitter pen?"

You nodded, chuckling softly.

"Yep, a pretty pink one."

Taehyun chuckled, taking the glittery pink pen from you and pulling out the small notebook he always carried around with him.

After a moment, Taehyun looked up, a spark of excitement in his eyes.

“This is it,” he murmured.

“I think this pen is magic.”

You raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Magic, huh?”

He nodded, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"I don’t know what it is, but everything I’m writing right now feels perfect."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, watching as he carefully wrote down more lyrics.

"Maybe it’s the glitter.”

“The glitter is definitely a vibe,” he said with a laugh, not looking up from the notebook.

He continued to write, his expression one of pure focus. It was mesmerizing to watch him work, to witness his creative process unfold right before your eyes.

He was so absorbed, and you couldn’t help but admire the way he worked, so focused, so in tune with his craft.

The soft sounds of the pen tapping on the paper was the only thing that filled the room, a comforting rhythm in the otherwise peaceful silence.

You shifted a little closer, resting your head on his shoulder, watching him finish the last few lines. When he finally put the pen down and leaned back, he glanced over at you with that familiar, warm smile.

"Done?" you asked, a teasing glint in your voice.

"Yeah," Taehyun replied softly, his gaze lingering on you.

“What?” you asked with a laugh, nudging him gently.

He shook his head, the mischievous glint still present in his eyes.

Taehyun just watched you for a moment, the softest smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t respond. You tilted your head, waiting, but he seemed lost in thought again, his eyes warm and full of affection as they met yours.

Finally, he glanced back at the glitter pen on the bed, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, it must be the pen,” he said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance.

“Definitely something magic about it.”

You laughed, playfully pushing him.

“Glitter is powerful, you know.”

He chuckled, nodding along. But in his mind, he knew that the pen didn’t play a part at all. The real magic, his biggest source of inspiration, was sitting right there beside him. For now, he’d let you believe it was the pen.

Taehyun’s eyes held yours, and without a word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The warmth of his touch ignited something deep within you, each soft, lingering kiss drawing you further under his spell.

His lips trailed slowly from yours, brushing along your jaw and down to your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake.

His voice, barely a whisper, reached your ear, sending a thrill through you.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he murmured, his fingers tracing slow, teasing circles along your waist.

A shiver ran down your spine as you held him closer, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, your touch electrifying even the smallest points of contact. You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your fingertips, grounding you in this intimate moment.

You let your fingers trail down his back, as you listened to the steady rise and fall of his breaths. Taehyun pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. There was a glint of something playfully wicked there, and a quiet longing that made your heart race.

“Should we try and actually watch the movie this time?” he whispered, though his eyes were fixed on you, clearly not invested in the idea of focusing on the screen.

You blush at his attempt to divert your attention away from the inevitable, undeniable pull between the two of you.

With a shy smile, you nodded in agreement, feigning innocence.

"Sure, we should probably try to watch the movie. But I make no promises," you teased, reaching up to brush his hair away from his face.

"You’re dangerous, you know that?" Taehyun murmured, his voice low and full of affection.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.

“Dangerous?” you repeated with a teasing grin.

How?”

He chuckled softly, his hand finding yours once more, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

"Because you make it impossible to focus on anything but you."

You rolled your eyes, though your smile couldn’t hide how his words affected you.

"You’re such a flirt," you replied, squeezing his hand gently.

You bit your lip, leaning in just enough so your noses brushed, the spark of chemistry crackling between you.

Taehyun’s smile softened, but his eyes still danced with mischief.

“Did I mention that you’re dangerous?”

“You love it,” you replied, letting your gaze linger a little longer before pulling back to glance at your laptop screen again.

But Taehyun wasn’t ready to let go of the moment.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was just a touch longer than a peck.

He pulled back, his lips still hovering close to yours.

“You know, I’m starting to think the only thing I want to focus on right now is you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart racing a little faster.

“I’m starting to think that’s exactly what I want too.”

And with that, the movie was officially forgotten, for the second time that night. Your focus solely on each other.

Months had passed since that night, it was the last time you’d been able to see each other. The whirlwind of TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s comeback was finally in full swing, The Star Chapter: Sanctuary was about to drop, and everything was a blur of excitement.

Teasers, track previews, and concept photos flooded your social media feeds.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you watched the fans get hyped, knowing all the hard work that had gone into this moment.

Scrolling through fan posts, one in particular makes you pause.

"All their songs are written with pink sparkly gel pens made to listen for pretty people only."

A laugh slips out before you can stop it. You remember that late night so vividly, the glow in Taehyun’s eyes when you handed him that silly pink glitter pen, and how he insisted that everything he wrote that night felt perfect. You wonder if any of them actually made it into the final lyrics.

Without thinking twice, you copy the link of the post and quickly send it to Taehyun, adding a message:

You lean back in your seat, feeling a soft warmth in your chest. You missed him terribly, though you’ve gotten used to it. Getting to see him live his dream was more than fulfilling and it made the time you did get to spend together even more special. Your phone buzzes not long after, his name flashing on the screen.

A second message quickly follows, this time with an image attached. You open it, your heart skipping a beat.

It was a photo of the lyrics Taehyun had written that night, the ones you only got a tiny glimpse of.

You stare at the photo, fingers hovering over your phone screen as you read the lyrics he wrote. The familiar handwriting makes your heart skip a beat. You can't help but smile, your mind, once again, racing back to that night.

Without wasting a moment, you tap out a quick message to him:

Can you call me?

You sit back, mind still racing, until the sound of your ringtone fills the car.

"Hello?" you say, your voice filled with curiosity.

"Hey," Taehyun’s voice is warm, comforting, and you can hear the slight smile in his tone.

"Those lyrics are so sweet," you say, your smile widening.

"You held onto my pen, didn’t you?"

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then Taehyun chuckles softly.

"I did," he admits, his voice filled with a quiet kind of pride.

"I actually wrote all of my lyrics for this album with that pen."

You feel your breath catch in your throat.

"Seriously?"

You’re both amused and amazed.

"I didn’t know a glitter pen could hold that much inspiration."

"Well, it’s not the pen," Taehyun says, his voice turning a little more serious, but still light.

"It’s just that the pen reminded me of something important. Something I wanted to express for this comeback."

You tilt your head, puzzled.

“What do you mean?"

"The lyrics... they feel like a reflection of my feelings," Taehyun explains softly.

"And a lot of them made it onto the album. I’m not surprised though. This album is... different. It’s more of a love album this time around."

A warm feeling spreads through you, his words lingering in the air like a soft melody.

"And, uh, I may have told you it was the pen," Taehyun continues, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But really, it wasn’t the glitter or the pen that sparked anything."

You can hear the quiet sincerity in his voice now, and you sit up a little straighter, listening intently.

"It was you," he says, his voice so gentle and full of affection that it makes your chest tighten.

"You’re the magic, the real inspiration. I could never have written these lyrics without you in my life. Without you, it wouldn’t have come together the way it did."

Your heart swells at his words, your mind reeling with emotion.

"Taehyun..."

You can barely find your voice, but your feelings are so clear. You’ve always known how much he meant to you, but hearing him say this, knowing he sees you as his muse, makes you feel overly emotional.

"I’m not just talking about the lyrics," Taehyun continues, his words coming from a deeper place now.

"I’m talking about everything. The way you’re always there for me, even when things are tough. You’re my biggest inspiration, my strength, and you make me believe in things I never thought possible."

There’s a pause, and you can hear him exhale softly.

"I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. I’ll always be thankful for you, for the way you make me feel, and the way you light up my world."

You swallow hard, trying to steady the emotions rushing through you.

"Taehyun..." You repeat his name, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You don’t know how much that– you mean to me. I—I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," he replies, his tone tender.

"I just wanted you to know that even though I joked about the pen, it’s always been you. You’re the reason everything falls into place."

A few more moments of silence pass, and then Taehyun adds, "I wanted to share that with you at some point, I was hoping it’d be a bit more romantic than this though."

You smile softly, the weight of his words settling into your heart.

"I’m glad too. Oh? And what did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he started, letting out a small sigh followed by a chuckle, “I was going to ask you to come out with me the night before the album releases. I’d give you your usual album listen, and then tell you everything I just said while we watched the sunrise.”

“And you say you’re as cold as Antarctica,” you teased.

"I have to get going now, we have a choreography lesson," Taehyun says, his voice matching your teasing tone.

"But really, I wanted you to know, every time you listen to the album, that you’re in there.”

You feel your heart flutter.

"I think that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard."

There’s a brief pause before Taehyun laughs softly.

"I’m glad you think so. Just don’t forget who the real magic is."

You grin, feeling a warmth spread through you as you hear the affection in his voice.

"I won’t forget. I promise."

a/n: finally a story that isn't a beomgyu one lol. I'm just kidding, but here's another idea inspired by this comeback and a few posts I've seen! A few of my friends actually suggested Yeonjun for this idea, but I went with Taehyun in the end cause he was the first member I thought of when I came up with this. I hope you enjoy it! as always, comments, reblogs and asks are much appreciated!

Taehyun Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#✎˖ᝰbeomgyucoded✧˖°#kang taehyun #kang taehyun fluff #kang taehyun imagines #kang taehyun x reader #taehyun #taehyun fluff #taehyun imagines #taehyun x reader #txt taehyun #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fluff #⇢ ˗ˏˋ taehyun 🐿️ ࿐ྂ

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ladykailitha · 2 days ago

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Around the World Part 8

Hey guys!!! Just one more chapter to go!! Next Sunday will be the epilogue and I will post it Sunday and Tuesday and it'll be all done. It's honestly a little sad for me to see this little universe go. I loved playing in its sandbox and I am grateful to have gotten three stories out it. Will I return? Maybe, but right now, it has run its course.

In this we have Eddie fucking up and making up for it and we see the start of a blossoming romance that will take awhile to come to fruition.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Eddie paid a gondolier in Venice to dress up in Carnivale gear and ferry them through the city with their own costumes and masks. Murray opted to sit that one out as there was no way that anyone would recognize Eddie in the Harlequin getup he wore. Steve wore the white baggy outfit of Pulcinella while Robin and Chrissy dressed as the lovers, in fancy dresses and fitted clothes.

Eddie had wanted Steve to Colombina or even a male version Colombo. But Steve was still worried someone might recognize them. He was drawn in on himself during that river trip, with not even the antics of Robin as the male lover and Eddie as Harlequin drawing him out of his shell.

He handled the mask he was wearing better than his peers, having been used to singing and dancing with one on. When they removed theirs, laughing and talking rapidly, they were covered in sweat and smeared makeup.

Steve had sweat on his temples but was otherwise unscathed.

“You know,” Chrissy huffed, putting her hands on the flared skirt of her costume, “you could have share your tricks with us before leaving the hotel.”

Steve cracked a smile for the first time that evening. “Unless you can suddenly have three years of performing in a mask under your belt, I really don’t think my advice would help.”

Robin opened her mouth to protest, but Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and ran off with him. The girls started to give chase, but Murray stepped up to stop them.

He shook his head. “Just let them go. I think Steve is feeling a little morose having to wear a mask on his vacation away from being masked all the time.”

Chrissy and Robin shared opened-mouth glances of shock. No one had stopped to ask Steve if he was okay with the costumes and the masks.

“But he could have gone as Colombina or Colombo or whatever,” Robin protested. “That character doesn’t wear a mask.”

“But the rest of you were.”

“Oh.” Chrissy sat down hard on a nearby bench and Robin followed suit. Typically the lovers don’t wear masks but they all thought it would be a fun idea to wear Venetian masks on the gondola. Well most of them.

And then add to the fact that Steve picked someone who wore shapeless garments? Yeah, they fucked up.

Hard.

Steve could barely keep his feet under him as Eddie shoved him into a nook away from prying eyes.

“I fucked up,” Eddie hissed as soon as he was sure they were safe from view. “I couldn’t be here during Carnivale and wanted to experience the costumes and the masks and thrill of a river ride at night. But I didn’t ask you. I assumed you’d be fine despite everything screaming that you weren’t. You even tried to ask to do something else, but everyone else wanted to do it and my kindhearted sweetheart would never disappoint his soulmate, never mind his boyfriend so you went along with it.”

Eddie took his face in his hands. “I’m sorry Stevie. I’m so sorry. This was supposed to be romantic and I fucked up.”

Steve’s lower lip began to quiver. “I should have been more vocal about why I didn’t want to do it.”

Eddie pressed their foreheads together. “No you shouldn’t have. You don’t owe us an explanation of why you don’t want to do something. Okay?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie lifted his head and pressed their lips together. “I love you, baby.”

Rome was better than Venice in every way imaginable.

For starters, no masks.

For another, they happened to be there when Simon was.

Well, okay that was better for Steve, not so much Eddie. It was a feeling that was just so hard to shake. He knew that Simon was straight. He knew that Steve loved only him, but he felt his stomach drop the second he saw that stupidly buff Adonis leaning against the Key bridge, like he was waiting for Steve to share a lock with, not Eddie.

He tried to tramp down on the feelings of jealousy as Robin and Steve ran up to Simon and were hugging and laughing with him.

Chrissy put her hand on his elbow. “Down, boy.”

Eddie turned to her, bristling but when he looked at her, she was pointing to a bench not too far away from the bridge.

Eddie’s salvation. With bright red hair, green eyes, and cute freckles on her face. Vickie Cameron.

It didn’t appear that she was aware of the reunion going on literally twenty feet from where she chose to read.

A grin spread out over Eddie’s face. He licked his lips slowly and did his little loping walk/run over to Vickie.

“Well hey there, stranger,” he said brightly. “Fancy meeting you here. You here for business or pleasure?”

Vickie looked up and smiled just as brightly. “Eddie? Oh my gosh! It’s great to see you!” She leapt to her feet to give him a hug. “It’s a little of both actually.”

“How are you doing?” Eddie asked with a fond smile. Despite his current mission, he really did like his new agent.

She waved her hand back and forth. “Eh. I’ve been keeping up on things and they’ve really been quiet. The new looks have really gone a long way to keeping a low profile. Boston notwithstanding.”

Eddie winced. Boston was still a sore spot of their trip.

She picked at his lapel, running it between her finger and thumb. “I’m really digging the pink suit and shirt. It looks good on you.”

Eddie grinned back. “That’s all Stevie. Speak of whom, would you do me a favor, light of my eyes?”

Vickie snorted. “I thought that was Steve but go on.”

“Do you see that beautiful hunk of a straight man next to my heart of hearts?” he asked, pointing over at Simon.

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, grimacing. “You see I have this very romantic evening planned and that bronze Adonis will absolutely derail all my best laid plans.”

“Consider it done,” Vickie said with a smile. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

Eddie loped back over to the others. “While you were admiring the statues, you missed a beautiful rose in bloom.” He moved to the side. “Look who I found!”

“Vickie!” Robin squealed and threw her arms around the other woman.

Then it was Chrissy’s turn to bristle.

“Down, girl,” Eddie teased. “I have a plan. Your little bird is safe, I promise.”

Simon lit up too. “Vickie! Imagine meeting you here.”

Chrissy’s mouth formed an O. She pursed her lips and ducked her head, slyly looking at the painfully shy guitarist. So that’s the plan then, she thought. Three couples.

Steve was torn. He liked Simon and loved hanging out with the guy, but Rome was supposed to make up for the disastrous Venice.

“I have an idea!” Chrissy said, coming to the rescue, her manager senses tingling. “Why don’t Robin and I take Vickie and Simon out to dinner so that Eddie and Steve can still have their night and then we’ll all meet up for breakfast.”

Simon readily agreed. “We’ll meet at the Fontanella degli Innamorati at, say, 9am?”

Steve looked to Robin to translate.

“The Fountain of Love.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds good. You four have fun!” He grabbed Eddie’s wrist and tore off the opposite direction.

Eddie followed behind, laughing. He really didn’t have anything to worry about. Steve would chose him every time unless it was an emergency.

Eddie and Steve had a wonderful candlelit dinner and moonlit walk of the city. The walked to the Key Bridge and Eddie pulled out an antique lock with their initials engraved on the back. He held it out to Steve with the key.

“Did you want to do the honors?”

Steve smiled and took them both from him. He looked up and down the bridge looking for a good spot, Eddie watching with a fond smile. Finally Steve called Eureka! and Eddie made his way over. Near the middle, toward the top, Steve snapped their lock into place.

He handed the key back to Eddie. “I placed it, I think you should throw away the key.”

Eddie grinned. “Sounds fair.” He took the key and chucked it as far as he could. It landed in the water with a soft plunk!

Then he got got down on one knee and held out a small velvet box. Steve’s hands went to cover his mouth as he fought back tears.

“I know we can’t do rings because Abbadon doesn’t wear them,” Eddie began, “but he does wear other jewelry.” He opened the box and inside was a single charm on a delicate chain. It was a guitar. He pulled out a similar chain from under his shirt. It was a pair of wings. He pulled up his shirt sleeve to show that the tattoo had been altered too.

Steve looked down at the white wings in confusion.

“After Venice,” he continued, “I realized that you aren’t your mask, Stevie. You’re the wings. The way you fly is incandescent. So I had it changed to wings so that I will always remember that if I fall you will catch me.”

Tears started flowing down Steve’s cheeks. “I love you so much.”

“Will you marry me?” Eddie asked. “We don’t have to get married right away but–”

Steve pulled him to his feet and kissed him soundly. “Of course yes!! A million times yes.”

The next morning they all meet for breakfast and Steve and Eddie shared the news.

Simon smiled. “About time!” he said nudging Eddie shoulder playfully. “I was starting to think I was going to have to give you the shovel talk if you didn’t ask him on this trip.”

Eddie blushed.

They walked back to the Fountain of Love and there was a beautiful older woman there in a white dress and large brimmed hat, dipping her fingers into the pool and splashing any pigeons that got too close.

She looked up at the six of them and smiled. “A coin for the fountain, dearies? To ensure true love?”

Simon and the all the ladies hastened to get out a Euro or two for the fountain. She turned to Eddie and Steve.

“Is love too good for you gentlemen?” she teased.

“No ma’am,” Steve said softly, looking up at Eddie. “I just already have it.”

Her face transformed into a brilliant smile. “Aww, young love. Well then perhaps an offering to the fountain as thanks for your good fortune?”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance and then Eddie dug into his pocket. He handed Steve a Euro and they both tossed in their coin.

“Thank you,” she murmured and then looked over at Simon and Vickie laughing together. “How long do you think it will take the other young man to realize the lady is his true love?”

Eddie chuckled. “Well it took Steve and me a decade and they’re way smarter than us. So half that maybe. Five years give or take?”

The woman nodded solemnly. “I fear you maybe right. But they’ll get there.”

A flock of pigeons took to the air and when they had gone, so too, had the woman.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked anxiously. “Did we talk to another spirit?”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded wide-eyed, rocking back on his heels.”Yep!”

“I hope that was some ghostie,” Eddie said with a grimace, “and not actually a god.”

“Same.”

Narrator voice: Just Venus, blessing our boys. Nothing to see here, move along.

Tag List:

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar au #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar steve harrington

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crimsonwolf715 · 1 day ago

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Parting Words of Regret

(Alternately, Jason left Damian with the LoA to start getting revenge on Bruce and the others who wronged him in Gotham. He reunited with his little brother upon returning to his family, but things aren’t the same.)

Damian’s studying in his room.

“Hey, buddy,” Jason says from behind him.

“Hello,” Damian replies, turning to face Jason. “Why do you look guilty? Did you spike Ommi’s coffee again?”

Jason smiles. “No, nothing like that. I just have something I wanna talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

“I have to go.”

“Go where?”

“Going to do some training before I go back to Gotham.”

“So you’re not coming back?”

“I am coming back, just once I’ve dealt with Bruce.”

Damian’s face gets hard. “So you’re not coming back. You and I both know that if Grandfather couldn’t beat him, then you can’t.”

“I know him better than Ra’s does.”

“Don’t go.”

“You know I have to. I’m sorry that I have to leave you.”

“No, you’re not. Go.”

“Damian…”

“Go deal with your strife and we can talk once it’s done.”

Jason pulls Damian into a hug, which Damian barely accepts. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Don’t make that promise.”

Two years Later

It’s been a long three months. Three months since Jason joined back into the Wayne family. Damian made no sign that he recognized Jason, so Jason’s been pretending that he doesn’t recognize his little brother. Jason’s reading in the living room of the manor because he’s waiting on Bruce to show up so he can try to talk him out of making him get a GED. Damian storms into the house and goes straight for Jason. He almost gets to Jason when he stops. He gets this angry kitten look, then turns and storms upstairs. Jason feels a pang of sadness and shifts uncomfortably.

Bruce walks in. “Where did Damian go?”

Jason points to the stairs.

“He got suspended for fighting.”

“That’s what he was taught to do when he has a problem, but I find it unlikely that he started a fight.”

“Why? I mean, I know he didn’t start the fight, but what makes you think that?”

“Common sense,” Jason answers, dodging the real answer as best he can.

Bruce heads up the stairs and Jason decides that it isn’t worth having this fight today. Jason heads into the kitchen and starts making a sandwich. Tim comes down.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Jason asks.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Tim replies.

“Fair. Do you want a sandwich?”

“No, I ate lunch at a normal time, not two o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Lucky you, I guess.”

“I do have a meeting to go to, so I’ll be back.”

“Bye, Tim.”

Tim heads out and Jason ends up spending the rest of the day in his room, skipping dinner. All the little things are really getting to him concerning Damian. He’s used to his little brother running over to very aggressively tell him that they have to spar or he’ll commit a murder. Or that he’s just been struggling with his grandfather’s impossible standards for him. Damian would tell him everything. He ends up falling asleep without coming to a consensus on what he’s gonna do considering he hasn’t slept much the last week.

The explosion buries Jason in debris. He can’t breathe, he struggles to get out from under the rubble. He feels himself losing consciousness and he cries out for his dad one time before losing consciousness.

Jason wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He sees a small pair of eyes at his door.

“Dami?”

“Are you alright?” Damian asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Jason answers between breaths.

“Alright, goodnight.”

Jason’s door shut and footsteps retreating. Tears spring up in Jason’s eyes and he aggressively tries to rub them away.

I deserve that. I left a little kid.

Jason lays back down and tries to fall asleep again. Instead, he spends the rest of the night wide awake. He’s exhausted, but he can’t seem to fall asleep.

“Jason, breakfast!” Dick shouts.

Jason groans, then gets up and heads downstairs.

“You look…” Dick starts, but Jason cuts him off.

“Comment on it, and I’m going to take out your knees.”

Jason sits down at the breakfast table and everyone’s there. Jason glances at his watch and remembers that it’s a Saturday. Breakfast is rowdy, but Jason avoids talking to anyone. Dick keeps trying to make conversation with him, but he shuts it down with one to three word answers. He gets up and heads down to the Batcave to blow off steam and hopefully tire himself out enough to sleep. He doesn’t tire himself out enough and he spends the day mostly like a zombie.

That night on patrol, a major villain attacks, bringing all hands on deck for damage control. Jason’s dealing with civilians when he sees Damian running. Damian trips and falls, and he looks terrified.

“Damian!” Jason runs towards his younger brother and scoops him up quickly.

Damian blinks slowly. “Jay?”

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re safe.”

Damian grabs his jacket and puts his head on Jason’s chest. “Don’t leave me again, please.”

“Is Robin okay?” Tim asks. “He got hit with a gas and he made a run for it immediately.”

“I’ve got Robin, he’s alright,” Jason says. “I’m gonna take him home.”

“Do that,” Bruce replies. “I don’t want him in harm's way if he’s been gassed. Run blood tests when you get back. If he needs it, get him to Leslie.”

“I will.”

Jason takes Damian back to the Batcave and easily distracts Damian so he can get his blood.

“That’s it,” Jason says. “That was easy.”

“What was easy?” Dick asks. “How is he?”

“Still fine, and getting blood.”

It gets quiet on comms. Jason ignores it and starts running tests, keeping Damian held against his chest.

“How did you do that easily?” Dick asks. “I need you to teach me that.”

“Maybe later,” Jason replies. “His blood’s got some drugs, but none that will do any lasting damage.”

“That’s good,” Tim says.

“Keep an eye on him, Hood,” Bruce says. “At least till I get back.”

“Will do, boss. Signing off.”

Jason pulls his comm out. “Do you wanna change?”

Damian nods, so Jason puts him down. The two change, then Jason picks Damian back up. He carries him upstairs and they settle down on the couch. Damian falls asleep not long after getting settled. Jason runs his hand through Damian’s hair, careful not to make contact with the healing injury near the front of his scalp. He makes sure to keep up on where Damian’s injuries are.

“I’m sorry I left you, buddy,” Jason whispers.

Damian makes a soft noise and turns a bit, but doesn’t wake up. Jason’s chest feels tight and he forces back tears. He pulls Damian a little closer and puts his cheek against Damian’s head.

“I love you.”

Jason ends up falling asleep too. He wakes up hearing the door slam shut. The sun is out, so he slept for a while.

“I’m here!” Dick calls out.

Jason looks and Damian’s still asleep.

“Shut up, Dickie,” Jason hisses.

Dick pokes his head into the room and his face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Don’t you even…”

“Awww. Look at you two.”

Jason glares at him until he raises his hands.

“I’m gonna go find Dad. Love you, Jay.”

“Get out.”

Dick goes upstairs, so Jason returns his attention to Damian. He gently picks his younger brother up and takes him up to his room. Once he’s covered up and still soundly sleeping, Jason heads to his room. He spends an hour in the shower, then heads down to the Batcave. He starts wrapping up his hands so he can punch the punching bag. Damian comes down and goes right over to Jason.

“Hey,” Jason says.

“May I speak with you privately?” Damian asks Jason.

Jason stops mid-taping up his hands. “You mean without cameras? Because we’d have to take a walk.”

“That is fine with me.”

“M’kay, let me finish this up and we can go,” Jason replies, continuing to tap up his hands.

Damian walks over and holds out his hand. Jason hands him the tape without hesitation. Damian starts taping up his hands quicker than Jason was doing it, but just as carefully. Jason smiles a little as his brother finishes taping up his hands.

“You’re slow. Let’s go.”

Jason gets up and follows Damian upstairs to the living room. Damian grabs a jacket and offers Jason his.

Jason takes it. “Thank you.”

Once they’re out of the house, Damian sighs. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Don’t want to do what anymore?” Jason asks.

“Pretending that we didn’t know each other before. You seem to want to, but I don’t want to keep this up.”

“Hey, I just did it because you didn’t act like you recognized me when I got back.”

Damian cuts his eyes at Jason. “I did it when you first came back. Like to Gotham.”

“Oh. Well, I feel stupid. I never want you to do something you don’t want to do, buddy. Except eat your vegetables.”

“It’s just cauliflower and it tastes horrible,” Damian replies. “You can’t make me eat it.”

Jason smiles and puts a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I was just thinking about how I couldn’t keep this up.”

“Because of yesterday?”

“Straw that broke the camel's back.”

“So we’re going to stop this weird act?” Damian asks.

Jason nods.

“Good, I’m far past sick of it. Mother’s been wanting to talk to you since you came.”

“Oh yeah, not dealing with that right now. I’m still too tired for that. Tell her I’ll call her when I’m up for it.”

“Sure, that’ll blow over well.”

“What is she gonna do?”

Damian shrugs, even though his face says he does know the answer. “We should get back before someone comes looking.”

“Yeah, come on. You gotta hold my hand while we cross the street.”

“I will kill you.”

“I love you too, buddy.”

“Love you.”

They head back to the manor, Jason holding Damian’s hand.

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fall0utmind · 1 day ago

Text

Medical leak AU pt 7

It's 11pm, have 5k words of whump from Vale's POV.

Chapter 7 - Vale's Interlude - A03

Parts 1-6 on the #medical leak au tag

Usual TW apply (suicide, abusing pain meds - no graphic details)

LMK what you think

Ever since the news broke, Valentino had been overwhelmed by a myriad of confusing feelings.

He first heard whispers in the paddock on Friday morning. He was walking past some journalists and had noticed the excited murmuring that usually accompanied big news. It wasn’t until he heard Marquez’s name that he stopped, pretending to be busy so he could eavesdrop.

Although he liked to pretend Marc was no longer important, he could not deny his interest in the man. Marc had ruined his untarnished career; it was only normal to feel such intense rage whenever he was reminded of the man. It was the reason he still spoke about him, he needed the world to understand the injustice, to feel his hatred. Because that was what this was all about. Hatred. He knew the boys would call him obsessed, but really, he was just getting a better idea of the enemy, for Pecco’s sake. He scoffed when he figured out what the journalists were talking about, the apparent breaking news– yeah, as if. He continued walking, amused by the idea. It was preposterous, all Marc wanted was to beat Valentino, to take his records. He wouldn’t have given up on that. The one thing Marc loved more than anything else was winning. He shook his head; Marc was never so weak.

It wasn’t till later, when he sat watching the press conference, that a sliver of doubt crept in.

He considered himself an expert in Marc. The way he calculated every action, how he performed every expression. Everything was a persona with him. But after the first question, it all crumbled. He watched pure fear cross Marc’s face before he could school it. The press constantly brought up 2015, it usually made Valentino feel slightly vindicative, the way Marc always had to paste on his media smile. This time, though, he only experienced a creeping sense of dread. Marc was trying to get them to move on from the topic, with limited success. Valentino observed the way Pecco was staring at Marc, concern and bemusement unhidden in his countenance. It made Vale frown. The atmosphere in the press room was tense, even through the screen.

It only got worse.

Marc was staring into the distance, looking at something off-camera, his expression alarmed. The next question was worse, shaking Marc out of his daze. He watched in fascination as Marc’s façade fell apart, sweat glistening on his brow, his face carefully blank to the casual observer. Valentino flinched when his name was mentioned, and his stomach dropped at the sentence that was uttered.

Marc? Suicide? No way. No, that wasn’t possible.

Valentino was clenching and unclenching his fists, his brow furrowed as he intently stared at the screen. He thought he might be having a heart attack.

Jesus.

He was fixated on Marc’s face; Valentino saw the horror dawn on his face as understanding settled and felt his own nausea rising in response. He watched as the Marc on-screen flitted his eyes to the other riders on stage, he followed the younger man’s gaze. Pecco looked wrecked, fear shining in his eyes. The others didn’t look much better. The silence was deathly; Marc was frozen in place – a rabbit in headlights.

Valentino blinked. Marc shot out of his seat, sending it clattering to the floor. He watched in horrifying confusion as Marc fled. There was a second of quiet before the media room exploded. The three remaining riders looked bemused, staring after where Marc had bolted, before they too rose to their feet, trailing out of the room in a daze. Valentino had to close his eyes for a second. This could not be happening. Seriously. This had to be some elaborate joke, a media ploy from Marc’s team. He simply could not believe that happy, carefree Marc had done this. He settled slightly, yes, of course. It had to be false. Marc would never give up, no matter how bad it had gotten.

Thoughts of Marc were still on his mind when he found Pecco later. He wondered what had happened and why Marc had reacted in that way. A part of him thought this must have been some elaborate ploy to gain sympathy.

Pecco was sitting despondently on the settee in his motorhome, deep in thought. Vale once more cursed Marc Marquez, of course, Marc couldn’t just leave Valentino alone, he had to fuck with his students too. Anger rose within him; he shoved it down. Right now, he had to focus on Pecco. He sat down, their knee knocking as he did so, and sighed quietly.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

“Ah, I do not know. Cazzo, that was hard to watch”, Pecco replied.

Valentino cocked an eyebrow, there was more anxiety in Pecco’s voice than he had anticipated. He had hoped that it wouldn’t have affected his student as much, Marc was clearly fine, wasn’t he? He said as much to the other man, who scowled in response.

“You’re joking, Vale. You should have seen him after, he was a mess, throwing up in the toilets, almost crying. It was horrible”, Pecco snarled. It raised Vale’s hackles, Pecco didn’t know Marc the way that he did.

Marc was a manipulator; he changed that narrative to suit himself. He would do anything to win, including betraying people he claimed to love. He got people on his side by any means. The way he’d convinced Ducati to hire him for next year still baffles Vale. Sure, he was a good rider, but putting him in red was a bad move, stupid if you asked Vale. Marc was dangerous, and unpredictable. Ducati was Italy’s pride, and they had gone and put enemy number one on their bike. Valentino’s frustration had nothing to do with his title record and his own failure on the Ducati machine.

Nothing at all.

Valentino tried not to consider it too hard, how much he thought of Marc. In his weaker moments, he allowed himself to reminisce on what could have been. He hated to admit his former soft spot for Marc, the way the younger looked at him as if he had hung the moon and the stars. At his worst, he let himself imagine sharp cheekbones and pink lips, of loud laughter and warm brown eyes. Marc should always be smiling; even going through tragedy, he smiled. The thought of him in pain made him shudder. But he was not in pain, because it was a lie. It was abhorrent to think of it as the truth. It could not be. It went against the very fabric of the universe. It was a bit like this: he hated Marc Marquez, and Marc Marquez was a smug bastard who was always infuriatingly happy. These were two facts that he clung to desperately.

He turned back to Pecco, who had gone stiff beside him. Valentino had heard that Alex Marquez had swept Marc back to their motorhome after the press conference, he tried not to think too hard about that. Clearly, it had shaken Pecco, and Vale didn’t like that one bit. He settled a hand on the younger’s back, ignoring his own thoughts for a minute.

“Pecco, you cannot let this get to you”, he said. “Let Marquez deal with his stuff, it will blow over soon enough.”

Pecco did not look settled by his answer, but Vale did not have anything else to say, instead, he changed the conversation into a practice debrief, easier territory for them both.

If only he had been correct.

Marc got pole position in qualifying. It made Valentino grit his teeth in frustration, wondering how the hell the Spaniard was beating the others on a year-old bike. He had been watching Marc carefully in his box, noting his slightly subdued manner. It made an unnamed emotion swell within him. He pushed it down. His stomach soured when he caught sight of Andrea Dovizioso in the Gresini garage, looking at Marc with unconcealed fondness. He was all over the Spaniard, the two of them laughing together like children. Surely nothing was that funny. The ugly feeling only grew when they walked past whilst Vale and Pecco were chatting in the paddock, the older whispering to Marc. Valentino couldn’t help but stare, as he always did when it came to Marc.

Valentino didn’t notice the man until it was too late. He watched it happen in slow motion- the cruel words and Marc’s heart-breaking reaction. The ‘fan’ was brutal, viciously attacking Marc. It was hard to watch the way his face broke, his eyes going shiny with tears. Valentino’s world stopped at the hurt he saw. By the time his brain came back online, Pecco had gone, stalking over to the incident. He followed closely, grimacing as Pecco began to shout at the man. Marc was being dragged away by Dovi, Vale tried to shove down the misplaced discomfort at seeing the two together, it almost felt akin to jealousy. But that was impossible. He had nothing to be jealous of.

(Nothing).

He re-focussed on the way that security was hauling the man away from them and towards the exit. Valentino tugged Pecco’s sleeve, wanting to escape from the public as soon as possible. He swallowed down the feelings which threatened to rise at what he had just witnessed.

“Come on, let’s go, it’s not worth it”, he sighed, pausing briefly before continuing, “you are upset, it is not worth staying and watching, we will make sure he never comes back. I promise.”

Pecco relented. His face was distraught, his anguish clear. By the time they reached the Ducati motorhome, Pecco had fully retreated into himself and asked to be left alone. Valentino accepted the request despite his concern. He did not really want to abandon the younger man but felt he had no choice after he had almost screwed up that morning.

Being alone gave him time to think, as uncomfortable as it was. He was surprised by the venom that had laced the man’s voice as he spoke to Marc, it made Valentino wonder if that was usually how people addressed him. He could understand Marc’s reaction to such horrible words, and Pecco had always been a kind-hearted person. Dovi’s intentions were still unclear to Vale. He let his thoughts drift back to Marc- his sad eyes and blank face. It couldn’t be easy to be hated so viciously. To make matters worse, a quick look on social media told him that a lot of people had said similar things. He thought back to his interview this morning, where he had suggested that they disregard thinking about Marc’s life from 10 years ago. It was, after all, pointless. The past was the past. Clearly, he was alone in his views. He pointedly did not lament the fact that Sepang and his 10th were a decade ago too, because that was different. He closed his eyes, pushing away the mental image of Marc’s shattered face.

Instead, he focussed on his anger. The way Marc had practically fallen in Dovi’s arms as if he was anything but a lone wolf, an outsider in the paddock. He had heard whisperings in the paddock that Dani Pedrosa and Jorge Lorenzo were in Gresini today too. It seemed like Marc was inviting all the retired riders to watch. He did not analyse the feelings too much, but let the indignation rise within him. Marc’s stupid games were affecting Pecco, it was unfair. Vale frowned at the thought, it would not do, he would have to tell Marc to cut it out. Make sure that Marc knew that Valentino knew the truth.

It wasn’t too difficult to catch Marc before the sprint. The younger had, predictably, taken the quiet route through the motorhomes to get to the garages. What was more unexpected was the tense fight that occurred. Valentino had expected to call Marc out and be met with annoyance and maybe an admittance of guilt. He had not anticipated the stone-cold fury in Marc’s voice, nor his own rising emotions, made worse when he spotted Dovizioso’s stupid jumper. He tried to keep his temper under control but the thought of Marc lying to the media, making everyone feel bad, only to be doing that, with Andrea of all people, left a sour taste in his mouth. He was meaner than he intended to be and was met with blazing anger from Marc. There was startling hurt in his voice. It was only once Marc had turned on his heel and stalked away that Valentino realised that the younger had had tears in his eyes and that he had sounded scarily like he was telling the truth. He watched him leave as regret welled up inside of him.

Merda

When Marc crashed out of the sprint race, the guilt and regret increased tenfold. His heart had stopped when Marc had collided with the ground, nausea rising when he did not move after. He could not stop thinking about the look on the younger’s face as he had called him an attention seeker. It hurt too much. Suddenly, ten years of anger seemed irrelevant. To make it worse, now people were talking about more leaks, something about Marc and painkillers. Valentino wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. He was beginning to question why Marc would do this to himself.

Afterwards, Valentino tuned into the stream of the media pen, not wanting to go down in person. Pecco had won the race, and Marc had gotten back to his feet, scoring no points but alive. Valentino could only watch in horrified fascination as the press continued to hound Marc. He had never seen it so bad. The way the journalists watched Marc like they were hunting prey made him shiver. He didn’t think he had ever seen Marc look so ruffled. A distant voice told him that this was his fault. The aftermath of Sepang flashed through his head, he steadfastly ignored it. It was not his fault the media had broken into Marc’s house. He had not caused the fallout or the hatred, if Marc had not ruined his title chances, there would have been no issues. Valentino scowled at the thoughts.

His momentary distraction ended when Marc once more stalked out mid-interview. It left Vale feeling slightly dumbfounded. Why would Marc keep having such strong reactions to the news if it was planned? As much as he hated to admit it, his theory was beginning to show cracks, splintering at the edge. He chose not to consider the other feelings that came alongside that revelation. Instead, he turned off his phone, hoping the boys would provide some distraction when they came back.

The boys came pouring into his motorhome an hour later, after their celebrations and debrief, as was usual for the academy on a race weekend. Luca and Bez were first, talking between themselves about the race, making Valentino smile with their rehashing of the events. When Franky entered, he was complaining about how long his debrief had lasted, making Valentino grin as he reminisced. Long debriefs were always painstakingly boring. Pecco and Cele eventually stumbled in half an hour later, the older still buzzing from his win. Vale tried to let his awkwardness from earlier show as a round of cheers sounded. He congratulated Pecco warmly, and let happiness fill him at the sight of Pecco’s beaming smile in return. Things would be okay.

Valentino drifted in and out of the conversation after that, his thoughts elsewhere. He nodded at appropriate times and tried to look interested whilst his mind whirled. It was inevitable, really, that someone would bring up Marquez eventually.

“Did you see Marquez’s crash?”, Bez asked.

It prompted a round of affirmative hums from the others. Luca flicked his eyes over to Valentino, his eyebrows furrowed.

Pecco looked contemplative before he responded, “I am worried, he would not look at me on the grid. Then he crashed. He was distracted. I think the media are being too harsh. And the fans. They are being cruel. The things being said...”

He trailed off, deep in thought. Luca bumped their shoulders together, smiling gently when Pecco met his eyes. Valentino had the distinctive feeling that he was missing something.

“Did you hear about what happened in the press pen?”, Cele asked.

Pecco frowned at him, tilting his head to signal that he should continue.

“Apparently, he froze up completely when they asked him about the pain medication. Aleix and a few others basically carried him out. I saw it happen; I’ve never seen him like that before. It was horrible”.

His eyes flashed to Valentino as he spoke the last bit as if he feared being chastised. It made him feel distinctly uncomfortable, was he really so obsessed with Marc that his boys were afraid to mention him?

Bez looked on in confusion. He turned to Cele,

“What do you mean pain medication?” he asked. “I haven’t really looked at any of the articles, I thought it was bullshit? Or some kind of a joke”.

Pecco huffed slightly, scowling at Bez as he did so. The younger touched his arm in apology, and yet again Valentino felt out of the loop.

It was Luca who pulled out his phone, bringing up one of the many articles which covered the news.

“Here”, he said. “Yesterday his medical records were leaked to the press. There were a whole bunch of appointments and hospital visits documented. The main bit was at the end of 2015 and onwards. He had been to A&E twice, there was a lot about suicide attempts and Alex saving his life. Apparently, he had tried to overdose, it's unclear what happened the second time. His heart stopped I think.”

Valentino blanched. Luca grimaced slightly before continuing.

“From there, there was a whole bunch of stuff about his mental instability and risk. It looked pretty bad, even as a non-medical professional. Then today, more of it was leaked, this time about his crash in 2020. Apparently, he was abusing the painkillers prescribed to him. He would race through agony, causing more issues with his arm, and then just take a load of painkillers after to mask it. Again, Alex ended up getting him help. No wonder they are so close. I think there was a lot of concern about him using the pain as a form of self-harm or something, then it was so bad he just kept taking medication.”

Pecco spoke up then, his voice strained, “I just don’t understand how no one noticed. One of the most prominent drivers on the grid and no one noticed his declining mental health or his use of painkillers. It’s ridiculous.”

Valentino was barely listening, transfixed instead by Luca’s words. He took the phone out of Luca’s hand without asking, staring down at the article. There, in black and white, were pages and pages of clinical medical records for Marc Márquez Alentà. Valentino felt a bit sick. He couldn’t stop reading. There were blocks of gruesome detail about his A&E visits. The medical terms flew past Valentino, but he got the gist. It was bad. Page after page after page of horrific detail about every bit of pain Marc had gone through across the past decade. His eyes glanced over words, his mind conjuring the images to life. He could see 22-year-old Marc’s face, heartbroken and desolate in Sepang, and then blank afterwards. Fuck. How had he not noticed?

He wanted to stop. He couldn’t. Panic was rising inside him; he clamped it down. It was a lie. A lie. This couldn’t be true. He tore his eyes away. It swelled within him. He was going to be sick. He was losing it. Marc. He had missed it, how had he not seen it back then? The thought of his Marc like that broke him. The thought of him being the cause made him choke. He squeezed his eyes shut. Where was this coming from? Why did he care?

Vale spoke without thinking, his mind a million miles away.

“Why would he do that?”, he asked. Luca shot him a sympathetic look. Valentino had a suspicion that his face was betraying his emotional turmoil.

He choked over his next words.

“It’s not true. It can’t be true. Marc wouldn’t do this. Marc loves winning. He couldn’t win if he was 6 feet under. No. No. It must be a lie.”

Valentino knew he was now ranting like a madman. The boys were staring at him with wide eyes full of fear. He felt like he was going crazy and yet he continued.

“Why would be so selfish? Why would he do something like that? He was so young. He had so much to live for. What about his family? His brother. It’s not fair. It’s so selfish. I hate him. Bastard.”

Valentino was on the brink of tears, clutching at his hair. He didn’t notice the way Pecco’s eyes had turned hard and cold. He didn’t see the way Bez had frozen, clutching Pecco’s arm. The others were silent, shocked at his words.

Valentino looked up. He met Pecco’s eyes.

The younger man stood and stiffly walked to the door. He opened it and looked back towards Vale.

“You do not get to say things like that when you were part of the cause. Don’t you dare call him selfish. You are the bastard here”, he whispered, his words scalding. Before Valentino could respond, he was gone. Bez leapt out of his chair to follow, slamming the door behind him.

Valentino shot Luca a questioning look. His younger brother sighed,

“You are so obtuse, Vale. His sister also went through similar. She almost died. He is hurting seeing Marc this way too.”

Vale found himself full of outrage. How was he meant to know? Of course, he felt bad for Pecco, but this was Marc they were talking about. He said as much to Luca, who just shook his head, looking angrier than Vale had seen him in a long time.

“You need to wake up Valentino.”, he said.

“You do not hate Marc; you are obsessed with him. Yes, you were angry, but that was a decade ago. Surely you are over it by now. If I were you, I would consider what all your feelings about Marc really mean. Before you fuck it up even more.”

With that, the rest of the boys filed out of the motorhome, leaving Vale to stew in his anger and his guilt. He did not want to think about what Luca had meant about Marc. Instead, he would find Pecco and apologise, it was, after all, unfair to bring the boys into it. It was not his finest moment; Marc had always had that effect on him. He scowled at the thought. No one had ever been like Marc, he doubted anyone ever would. For Valentino, Marc was like a drug, inherently bad but at the same time addictive. A strange paradox for someone he hated.

Vale locked the door of the motorhome behind him as he headed out to find Pecco. The wave of anger had receded, and the guilt came crashing back down, threatening to drown him. He had to make it right.

Pecco wasn’t in his own motorhome; the lights were off as he went past, the door unanswered. He tried the Ducati garage but still had no luck. The staff had not seen him since earlier, after the sprint. Bez’s motorhome was similarly empty. He was running out of ideas and worry was beginning to engulf him.

One last idea struck him, and he walked slowly toward Marc’s motorhome, the lights were on. As he approached, the dread he felt threatened to engulf him. It was like a premonition. A war between guilt and anger was waging inside him. He heard Luca’s voice, followed by Bez’s, and the fury took hold. He threw the door open; it hit the wall with a resounding bang. He took in the scene before him, the remorse souring in his stomach, turning to resentment.

“What the fuck is going on?”

In hindsight, he could have handled it better. He had seen red. The thought of his boys running to Marc. Then he saw Marc on top of Dovi and Lorenzo.

He lost himself.

It wasn’t until Marc addressed him directly that he felt like he could breathe again. He returned to his body. The more Marc spoke, the more his fury faded to irrelevance. But then Valentino had spoken without conscious thought, once more putting his foot in it.

The realisation had taken his breath away. Marc had been crying. Marc had been vulnerable; he hated being perceived as weak. Marc was angry, no, he was furious. Marc had just had his deepest secrets announced to the world. He was receiving more hate than Valentino had ever seen.

He hadn’t been lying.

Why the fuck did Vale ever think he had been lying? The evidence had been right in front of him, but it had been too scary to really look at. Valentino hadn’t wanted to admit what he had done. He realised what Luca had meant then. He didn’t hate Marc. Yes, he had been angry about his tenth world championship slipping through his fingers. Yes, he had partially blamed Marc. But alongside the hurt, the anger, the pain, was pure devotion. He had lost the championship and blamed it on the nearest person to save his ego. Although Marc had done wrong, he had never deserved this. Sure, Valentino still thought he was dangerous, pushing the bike to stupid limits. But Marc would never hurt anyone on purpose. It was like falling 50 feet and hitting the ground, the realisation crashing into him. He was jealous of Dovi, that he got the Marc that smiled and laughed, the Marc that Vale used to have. Before everything had gone to shit. Valentino thought that maybe he had loved Marc for 11 years and that somewhere in his head, love had become confused with hate. He had never hated someone like he hated Marc; he had never loved someone like he loved Marc. It was all-consuming. He was obsessed. He thought about him all the time. He was always angry, scared, and jealous when it came to Marc. He couldn’t pretend he was ambivalent, not when he consumed every waking thought. Not when he still went on podcasts to talk about the younger man. Every insight was like a punch to the stomach.

He thought Marc was stupidly pretty, with his cheekbones, his bronze skin, his wide eyes and plush lips. He wanted Marc next to him, under him, above him. He wanted to kiss the stupid, smug smirk he always wore on his face; he wanted to kiss away his tears. Valentino wanted to bring Marc breakfast in bed, make him laugh, and make love to him. He wanted Marc on his track again, taking off his helmet after with wild eyes and messed up hair. He wanted to fuck him on every surface of his house, in every position. He wanted Marc in every way that he could have him.

Oh god, he loved Marc and all he had done was fuck up his life for a decade.

Valentino panicked.

He scrambled, pleading with Marc, distantly aware of the horror on everyone’s faces. He had been kicked out. Marc had shouted at him, and then Alex had shouted at him. Pecco left and Luca was disappointed.

He deserved it all. If he could take all of Marc’s pain, he would. Instead, Valentino was left with a yawning pit of desperation and want, devastation and pain. His anger was gone.

He thinks about the way the younger man used to look at him. He thinks about the adoration that he had brushed off as hero worship. He had broken Marc’s heart. The look on his face in that press conference. The way Marc would look away during Vale’s jokes about them together. He had assumed it was awkwardness, now it seemed like someone had hit too close to the truth. Now, Marc barely glanced at him, brushing off every comment Vale made to the media in a desperate hope for a sliver of attention. It destroyed them both.

Standing there, outside the motorhome, Valentino realises just how much he has fucked up. He isn’t sure there is any coming back from this. Certainly not with the way Dovi and Marc look at each other. But damn it, he will try. He will spend the rest of his life on his knees grovelling if he has to. He has spent too long with his vision clouded by misplaced anger. It had taken him 11 years to work out his love for Marquez, he would spend the rest of his life loving him, and every day trying to prove it to him. Even if it killed him.

#motogp #marc marquez #rosquez #motogp rpf #my fics #medical leak au #valentino rossi #pecco bagnaia #luca marini #andrea dovizioso #hope you like this #bit funky with Vale's pov i know i know #i didnt think it would be so long #this fic is fully getting out of hand #i need to sleeppppp

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