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saintobio · 3 years ago

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sincerely not. (19)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, slut-shaming, cyberbullying, illness, blood, mentions of abortion, graphic depictions of self-harm, emotional breakdowns, suicide (or attempts thereof). please read at your own discretion.

notes. 12.8k wc it doesn’t hurt, it’s just full of drama. btw, i have one last chapter left for this series. thank you for the patience and all the support, i have so much to say but i’ll just save them for the last chapter! :’(

series masterlist -> episode twenty (final)

FLASHBACK — The New Mansion

When thinking about a picture perfect home, most people would start by describing the vision of a comfortable living space that would be suitable to the range of their taste—considering the modern interiors, chic furnishings, ornate house decors, or the neutral color palettes—everyone has a specific image of a home that they dream to live in.

For you, it wasn’t about how big or small the house was. It wasn’t about how expensive or cheap the furnishings were. A picture perfect home was not a shelter but of you, your husband, and the cute kids that you two would have one day.

Maybe you were truly just a hopeless romantic and not a practical and honest person like Sera or even Gen, but you have learned to value that none of this wealth could amount to the happiness of living a harmonious life with your own family. You weren’t being a hypocrite and neither were you trying to be ignorant to the fact that you had a good head start in life by being born with privilege. However, notwithstanding the plethora of blessings that you had received, you had never reached true felicity until you carried the product of you and your husband’s love. Was it a mother’s instinct to feel this way? Ever since you had the ultrasound this afternoon and had the chance to hear your baby’s heartbeat, your soul may as well have transcended to bliss while you looked forward to the future life ahead of you. A wife, a mother—you wondered if Satoru had the same thoughts when he shed a few tears after seeing your baby’s tiny figure on the sonographer. He was much more transparent with his fatherly glee that his own heart was jumping out of excitement. That, you realized, was how you became certain that Satoru finally exceeded your joys about this marriage.

Despite having a nightmarish start at the beginning of your marital union, your husband learned how to grow as a person and become the best version of himself.

The Satoru that you were seeing now was different from the Satoru that kicked you out of his bedroom on your wedding night. No, this Satoru was a man who walked three steps behind his wife while treating her like a queen in her own palace. The palace in this case was your new estate, the mansion that he had purchased for you as a gift on his own birthday. Seeing the house in person and imagining your future kids running around your new home was an ineffable feeling that nevertheless gave you a sense of contentment. But really, who could blame a pregnant woman for being sentimental?

“Do you see this space?” As soon as you stepped inside the grand foyer, you found it humorous how your husband presented the house like a real estate agent. “You can decorate our home however you like, babe.”

You held his hand, linking them together as you two walked further into the living room. “What if we just go all out minimalist?” you quipped. “Like Kim K’s house.”

Satoru tried to reject the idea with visible distaste, but still swallowed his pride for the sake of being an obedient husband. “Anything my wife wants.”

How funny. “No, really? You won’t even complain?”

“No,” he answered before you could even think. “This is your mansion. I’m just gonna be living under your roof.”

Crossing your arms, you suppressed a smile and raised an eyebrow. “But you purchased this house, so it’s still yours and you’re the boss of our family, you know...”

“Then as the boss of our family, I’m transferring all the authority to my beautiful wife,” he said, grinning as you two continued your stroll towards the best part of the mansion that overlooked the city. “Look here. This view is the reason why I chose this house.”

He was absolutely right. Anyone would have easily fallen in love at the stretch of vibrant cityscape that could be seen from the living room. Although the interior of the house was nothing but white space, the scenery outside was a colorful painting come to life. An infinity pool rested calmly from a distance away, and beyond that was a horizon that offered a potentially spectacular view of dusk to dawn. Truly, life in this new home was something that sparked excitement in your heart.

“It’s beautiful,” you spoke under your breath, mesmerized when you stepped out and headed into the pool area before turning to your husband. “When did you pick this house? The broker told me you’ve actually been eyeing this mansion since last year.”

“...No, not long ago.”

Oh… You were certain that the broker did say he had been checking this home last year. “Well, I can’t wait to live here with you.”

Satoru made a haste move to press his lips on your forehead. “And our munchkin.”

You should have already gotten used to the feeling of his kisses, but was it so selfish to keep wanting for more? To make sure that his affections were not just evanescent, but everlasting? It was your instinct that led you to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until you could taste his sweet lips against yours. They moved in harmony after being long familiar with the way they locked on each other, kissing deeper and deeper, softer and then rougher, and feeling each other’s warm breath with burning passion. You had to catch the air that you’ve lost as you pulled away and noticed how his hands gripped your waist with eagerness. “Satoru.” Heat permeated your cheeks. “We can’t makeout in here.”

“Why not?” His voice sounded whiny despite smiling down at you. “It’s just the two of us here… Or maybe, three.” His hand then found your bump, counting his baby as another presence in this palatial home. “You look cute in this dress, honey.”

Speaking of, although he already took notice of your cream puff-sleeved maxi dress, you realized that he hasn’t fully seen your overall outfit. “Love,” you tugged his hand and gestured for him to look at your feet. “Haven’t you seen?”

The bejeweled light blue Jimmy Choo heels hugged your feet with their perfectly molded shape, and looking back at your husband’s face made you realize that the shoes were of the same hues as his sky blue eyes.

In his surprise, he glanced at your feet and crouched down to gently touch your ankle. “How did you…?”

“Is it shameless of me?” you asked your husband who had turned into a knight kneeling for his queen. “You bought these shoes for Sera and yet I’m wearing them.”

Not even a second had passed before he started shaking his head in denial. “No, they look perfect on you. They were always meant for you, I’m just…” He looked up and gauged the emotions on your face. “How did you get them?”

“Sera gave it to me,” you clarified. “It was her little way of apologizing, I guess, after what happened with the tea and all of that. She told me that she always knew that the shoes were not meant for her.”

Because the rightful owner was the woman who received her husband’s kiss on her shin. In fact, he kissed both of your shins to show how he worshipped every part of your body before he got up and embraced you in his arms. “Even if she didn’t end up receiving them by mistake, I was still so awful to you that night,” he admitted, “I saw how you looked at these shoes during the auction and I thought that if I got it for you, it would be enough to make up for the things that happened in Iceland. I was such an asshole. How could material things fix the emotional damage I’ve inflicted on you? I never realized how superficial I was until I couldn’t fix us with all those gifts. You were the person that taught me that true love is much, much deeper than that.”

You cupped his cheeks and rubbed the tip of your nose against his. “It’s okay. I get what you’re trying to say.” And more than that, it was a cathartic release to hear him candidly acknowledging his past mistakes. “As long as you promise me that you won’t hide anything from me from now on, that you’ll be more transparent with your intentions, and that you won’t do things that can ruin the trust I’ve given you.”

He knew firsthand how difficult it was to earn your trust, so he unhesitatingly made his vow after being given the chance to start anew. “I promise I’ll be a faithful husband you can wholeheartedly trust.”

“Is it true?”

You see, Satoru had so many options on how to answer that one simple question.

He could tell you the truth and admit his true intentions at the beginning of your marriage, but he could also try and make sure that you would understand that everything didn’t fall as planned一that you wouldn’t get the wrong impression that he was still fooling you.

Or, he could lie to your face and deny everything that Gen had said. They were mere allegations without proof except from hearsay. The spread on social media? He could easily say that Eula fabricated some of it for her little act of revenge. Plus, weren’t you aware of his relationship with Sera already? That part shouldn’t be surprising.

But the problem was, he was disgusted with himself that there was even a second option. He promised you no lies and secrets, just raw and unsugarcoated truth. He didn’t make an effort to try and build your trust back up only for him to completely destroy it in one night. He was clearly, undeniably put into checkmate.

“Answer me.” Your eyes gleamed as you looked at him, not of joy but of despair. “Wh-Why aren’t you answering me?”

Satoru was paralyzed. He couldn’t make himself move and his feet were stuck on the ground. There wasn’t much he could do except to frantically shake his head in denial. “It’s… It’s not what you think. D-Did you follow me here? I can explain everything if you一”

“Yes or no. That’s all I need to hear,” your voice became strict, but it was obvious in your countenance that you were about to fall apart. Frankly, he was feeling the same, too. Your emotions mirrored each other like two broken souls with one heart. “I followed you here because you’ve been acting weird since you came home. Now p-please answer me. Is it true?”

His fingers twitched as an inexplicable force of pain managed to excavate a deep hole into his heart. Although it broke him to do this at the brink of a disaster, his response was a slow and honest nod that ended up releasing the buildup of tears that pooled your eyes. Those same tears that carved a path down the skin covering your cheeks had him feeling like he was drowning in quicksand. He was an empty hand, reaching in vain to grasp another. “Y/N… It was before. It was before I realized how important you are to me. I-I love you more than life itself and I know that it’s hard to believe, but I’ve changed. That’s not the reason why I married you anymore.”

It was Gen who walked closer to pull you into her arms, keeping you away from the lover who did nothing but to torture your selfless soul. “Y/N, it’s bad for you to get stressed. Let’s get inside.”

You didn’t move an inch despite your sister’s effort in dragging you away. All you did was look at your husband’s eyes like an empty flask longing to be filled. “I knew it.” You smiled through the tears that dampened your cheeks. “I knew you were too good to be true.”

On the other hand, Satoru was barely swimming in a sea of grief and his only buoy to keep him alive was you. “Y/N…”

“D-Do you know why I announced the divorce on the day of the merger?” you continued your monologue while stifling a sob, “Because I wanted to know if you would still find a reason to hold on to me even if the merger failed to push through. Because that means you weren’t just using me for business and whatever underlying intentions you have.” Your chest heaved. “And you did stay, you chased me, begged on your knees for me, that’s why I thought… it wouldn’t hurt to trust you again, but then this...”

As he took two steps forward, you were taking three steps back. “Y/N, please hear me out first…”

You wiped your eyes. “No. Stay a-away from me!” You warned while keeping a reasonable distance. “After all this time, you weren’t just forced to marry me. You personally agreed to the marriage because you had your own cruel ulterior motives. You acted like you hated me while at the same time, used me for your own entertainment and satisfaction. All this time, there’s an expiration date to this marriage after you get what you want. So, how many more lies do you have? What part of our marriage was true to you一”

“You know that’s not the case anymore,” Satoru tried to make you understand as he begged and clasped your hands just for you to listen. “Things changed. You know they did. You know how much I cherish you and our baby, Y/N.”

“No, I don’t.” While you pulled your hand back, you also hit him with the most gut-wrenching response. “And I don’t trust you with my child anymore. How can I when it feels like… like nothing you did was true? I-It’s g-gonna be easy for you to go back to your old ways since you were never genuine to us.”

Your husband was insistent on denying your words. “That’s not true. Y/N, that’s not true. I’ve been genuine to you for God knows how long.”

Gen noticed the irregularity with your breathing and worriedly held your arms in place. “Y/N, you need to—”

“The mansion,” you brought up out of nowhere, but with how your chest rose and fell heavily, you were definitely at the apex of your pain, “You were originally gonna buy it for Sera, weren’t you? You had your life all planned out with her.”

Satoru’s eyes widened in surprise. Or was it shock? Horror? “Y/N, I broke things off with her and you’re aware of that.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Your lips quivered with every word you spoke. “It doesn’t matter if you’re still t-together or not. Doesn’t matter if you still have minuscule feelings for her or none at all. I’m asking you, was that mansion intended for you and her after you were supposed to divorce me?”

‘As long as you promise me that you won’t hide anything from me from now on, that you’ll be more transparent with your intentions, and that you won’t do things that can ruin the trust I’ve given you.’

Your words played in his head like a broken record as he remembered the recent vow he made with you. Throughout your marriage, he had already broken most of his vows. He could no longer break more.

With a deep breath, he admitted the truth. “I-It was, but…”

“I’m done with you, Satoru.” Your tears shattered him. “I’m done with us. Y-You want me to live in a house you imagined with someone else?”

He saw devastation in your eyes long before he felt it. The magnitude of the pain weighed him down and he could only imagine how the abyss of heartbreak consumed you一literally, because as Gen held you in her arms, you were clutching your heart to stop the agonizing pang that squeezed your chest and restricted your breathing. It took him a whole minute before he realized that you were on the onset of an angina attack and he had to be the one to tell your sister about it while you were gasping for air. Your heart. The baby. “Gen, she’s….” At once, Satoru was at your side to catch you when your knees gave up. He was spitting out every curse word he could think of when he carried you in his arms much to the terror that he was feeling. “Y/N, hold on to me. Please. I’m taking you to the hospital一”

“N-No, d-don’t touch me!” You pushed him away despite the sharp, stabbing pain in your chest that weakened your entire body. “Don’t y-you ever… Y-You…” Sobs escaped your mouth. “You d-did this to me. You said you wouldn’t h-hurt me like this anymore…”

Gen, who was aghast from the sight of her sister’s heart condition, started screaming for everyone’s name out of panic. “Ian! Dad! Help us!”

Gojou’s misery was a storm that would not subside. He was physically shutting down with his eyes so fixated on one spot that everything had faded in the background. The white halls of the hospital did not calm the raging hurricane that ravaged his mind, and yet his ears and brain were very attentive to the things happening with each second that passed.

You could not imagine how excruciating it was for him to be sitting at the bench outside of the emergency room while waiting for any news about you as not a single word was uttered between him, your sister, and your dad. He wasn’t certain if he should be grateful for the deafening silence or if he should be wrecked by the thousand sighs that they had let out. In their eyes, the daughter and the sister that they loved was hurt by someone they mistakenly trusted. Now, she was in the median between life and death all because of her incompetent and neglectful husband.

It would have been better if they could just physically hurt him to justify their anger. Satoru, someone who recognized physical abuse as a punishment for his wrongdoings, thought that it would be best if they could just throw a punch to his gut, kick him on the shin, throttle him until he couldn’t breathe. He anticipated bruises on his skin, but he was met with a thick, invisible wall that separated him and your family. The barrier was so impenetrable that he felt like a ghost around them.

Still, he tried to reach out and apologize despite it being him putting a small bandaid on a huge gash. “D-Dad.” He looked at your father who sat across from him in the hospital's hallway. “Dad, I’m sorry.”

Sorry? He must be adding more insult to the injury because the old man refused to look him in the eyes. In fact, your father’s words carried more weight than a mere gaze ever could. “Do you know how much it pains me as a father to find out that my daughter’s been suffering from the same illness that killed my wife?” Satoru could see his father-in-law balling his hands into fists. “I let my daughter marry you because it was one of my wife's last wishes when she was still alive.”

Not only was it a clear bad judgement, they were also met with a slap of betrayal after knowing that the man that married you was the last person they should have chosen. Satoru could understand your father’s anger. He only wanted to fulfill his wife’s wish, agreed to the merger even if it was more beneficial to the Gojou Group, and tried his best to secure a good husband for his youngest daughter. The version of Satoru that your father knew was the kind little boy who smiled and cried with you, not this cruel and manipulative man who shamelessly cheated on his wife and turned her life into a nightmare. How could Satoru ever mend their broken trust when it was far too ruined to fix? The only thing he could say were words that meant so much to him, but felt empty to everyone else. “Dad, Gen, I’d rather you slap me in the face and hurt me however many times you want, but I’m being true when I say that I really love Y/N. I can’t ask for your forgiveness because the things I’ve done to her are unforgivable, and I understand that一”

“No, we don’t wanna hear your lousy excuse,” Gen cut him off before he could speak another word. “You’re a cheater, you're an asshole, and you’re a vile, greedy person. You could have easily rejected the marriage back then and we wouldn’t even hold it against you, but you and your father were the ones who kept giving us bullshit lies of how she’ll be treated with love and respect in her marriage.” And no, she wasn’t done. With gritted teeth, she gave him a threat under her breath. “If anything bad happens to my sister, I will always blame it on you.”

Gojou couldn’t do anything else but accept her words because they were all within reasonable grounds. In return, he got down on his knees to show his sincerest remorse for failing as a husband. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Be honest with me, Satoru.” On the other hand, your father's eyes were cold and grim. “Aside from the merger, what were your original goals after marrying my daughter? Tell me the whole truth.”

Satoru hoped that they could bear in mind that his past reasons were no longer the same as the present, because after having spent nearly a year with you, there was a thing called ‘development’ that progressed between your relationship. They weren’t aware of the good parts, only the bad. But since he was at a place where he didn’t have the privilege of explaining his sins, he chose to be downright honest to your dad. “My… original plan was to marry her until I became CEO, then I’d divorce her and marry my ex-girlfriend.” It pained him to even recall his own disgusting plans at the early stages of your marriage, but he had to spill only the truth. “Dad wasn’t aware of my personal plans because he was more focused on acquiring CFG. He told me to stay in the marriage, he told me to give her a baby, that way we can ensure that our family ties would remain. I despised the fact that I was being forced to stay so I… I took it out on her and did things to hurt her, treated her badly, made her suffer in silence. I’m… Dad, I’m sorry. I know Y/N never told you these things because she didn’t want you to blame yourself for marrying her off to me.”

Anger clouded your father’s vision and it was a sight to see how a man similar to a dormant volcano had now erupted. Satoru couldn’t blame him for grabbing his collar, pulling him up and shoving him against the wall. Your father’s fists were violently shaking as he sought his son-in-law’s eyes with wrathful tears on his own. But even then, even as Satoru anticipated his punches, all he received was a father’s heart wrenching sorrow. “How can you still face me like this, Satoru?”

It was the same thing Gojou asked himself, but couldn’t answer. And it would be cruel for him to answer it at all. “Dad, I…”

“Don’t call me dad!”

The ground beneath Satoru’s feet was collapsing because of the gravity of his guilt. “I ch-changed. I did her wrong, b-but I promise I’ll repent and make it up to her for the rest of my life.” Needless to say that his words had fallen on deaf ears, but that wasn’t exactly what hurt Satoru. What hurt him was the fact that the father-in-law who had always treated him like a real son, was now seeing him as a traitor.

“Immediate family of Y/N Gojou?”

At the sound of the doctor’s voice, all of their attention had immediately shifted towards the man in a white lab coat. Both Gen and your father turned to Dr. Mori while Satoru was behind them, holding his breath and praying to every saint that his wife and baby were safe. You have to be safe, he repeatedly said it in his mind. Please be okay, baby. Please. But before the doctor could provide an update, it was natural for the man to be quickly bombarded with a salvo of questions from Satoru and Gen. Questions that ranged from, “Is she okay, doc?” “Can I see her?” “How is she feeling?” “How about the baby?”

The absence of an apologetic expression from Dr. Mori’s face suggested that there was hope for good news. “Thankfully, she’s stable now after we gave her glyceryl trinitrate, but I suggest that we perform coronary angioplasty and stent insertion immediately to further avoid risks of heart failure and miscarriage. The patient’s already made aware of this procedure during her last visit. We’re gonna do our best to ensure that she and the baby will be safe throughout the operation.”

“Please do it, doc.” Satoru’s voice was filled with urgency. “Please do what you think is best for her and our baby.”

Gen shot him a look of disbelief. “Do you think you still have a say about this?!”

“Gen.”

“Shut the hell up and leave!” she yelled at his face. “Don’t come near my sister ever again. The fucking audacity.”

Satoru asserted his right no matter how pitiful it was. “She’s still my wife. I deserve to see her and be here for her.”

Instead of intervening, your father went ahead and spoke to Dr. Mori. “Do it immediately. Please minimize the risk factors and give my daughter the best doctors you have. I don’t care how much it’ll cost. I need her to be completely fine.”

For the past several hours, he had been sitting at one of the benches outside of the operating room with his head down, arms propped against his knees, and a face that represented the very image of unspoken agony. The extreme physical and mental suffering was taking away all the remaining sanity he had left. He didn’t even care about the people that passed by and gave him a look of concern. No, he didn’t need their sympathy. He only needed you.

He needed his wife. His one and only love. His soulmate.

Your well-being was his top priority to the extent where he deprived himself from sleep, refrained himself from eating, and punished himself with the guilt of hurting you over and over. The thick wall between him and your family remained throughout the night and the only thing that was allowing them to be on the same page was for your sake. Otherwise, he didn’t know if they would even let him be here for you at all. Gen was unwaveringly hostile and your dad was agitated—not that Satoru could blame them, but it still hurt how they walked past him like he didn’t exist. They talked to doctors without giving him any updates until it came to a point where even the doctors themselves no longer acknowledged Satoru as a rightful spouse who deserved to hear news about his wife.

He saw it coming. After all, wasn’t he notorious for being that jerk of a husband who had been the number one trending topic for the past two days? Satoru hadn’t bothered to check his phone despite the numerous calls from his mom, his stepbrother, and his best friend. They were crazy worried about his emotional and mental stability, but for now, you deserved all of his undivided attention. Even if he hadn’t taken a shower or gotten a wink of sleep, nothing mattered as much as hearing that you were in better condition.

With that being said, it also didn’t matter that he was about to faint or that his face was too pallid. He neglected himself and prioritized you over his own body’s condition, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep because he would only end up succumbing to his ceaseless thoughts about you. He was already tense to begin with, especially now that the operation was being performed and he couldn’t stop pacing back and forth along the empty hall while overthinking the worst case scenario.

For the most part, he was trying to think of the outcome and it was killing him inside. Along with Gen’s words, if anything bad was to happen to you and your baby, Satoru was the one to blame. He was heavily responsible for your stress and overall heart condition because of all the things he had done without regard for your physical and emotional state. Could he forgive himself if anything happened? He was surely going to be the first person to chastise himself before anyone else could. However, at the hopelessness of this entire situation, he remained headstrong. He kept his faith and trust that you would be fine and that everything would fall back into place no matter how long it would take. He made a vow to himself that he would love you the same because you deserved a husband who never gave you up even if the entire world was against him.

Prior to this marriage, if anyone asked him to define love, he would have given a superficial answer. What did he know about love, anyway? He never found the right response until he found his answer from being married to you. Love was to care for you beyond all rationality, wanting you to have everything good in this world no matter how much it destroyed him. Love was to put your happiness over his own, wishing for your stars to align and that nothing in this world could ever take that sweet smile and those bright eyes away.

Love was you and everything that you were.

After the operation was over, imagine the reassurance that washed over him when the doctor announced that the procedure had been successful. Imagine his sigh of relief, his prayers of gratitude, his tears of joy—all of which were quickly taken away when he was refused a chance to even get a glimpse of you.

“Please let me see her,” he desperately begged, attempting to enter the room where the nurses transferred you to, but Gen was there to block his way. “Gen, please. Please. I just wanna see her. I wanna see my wife.”

“No.” She was relentless at disallowing him to take another step forward. “Just go home. You’re no longer needed here.”

“Don’t do this. She needs me. We have a baby.”

“She doesn’t need you. Get it through your thick skull!”

About three bodyguards soon arrived and finally came to pull Satoru back so they could guard the door outside of your room. It was obvious to anyone in that hospital that the reason Gen called for her personal bodyguards was to ensure that he wouldn’t have the chance to enter inside. Was it too cruel? To think of it, Satoru deserved this. Everyone knew he deserved this. Even the bystanders who gossiped about him said the same thing when they walked along the hallway.

‘Gosh, isn’t that Satoru Gojou?’

‘He’s so pathetic, look at him’

‘I heard his wife got hospitalized due to shock’

‘He should go to hell’

Despite the endless badmouthing he received, he learned how to ignore the murmurs of the people in that hospital. You endured worse than this, so he should be able to take all the razor-sharp words from all these strangers both online and in person. He should be able to withstand the silent treatment from your family after they continuously denied him of his right to see you. He was already desensitized to the horror of his father’s violence, but how come a simple disregard for his presence hurt a thousand times worse?

Yet another day in the hospital had gone by and Satoru already found shelter from the bench outside of your room. No blankets to keep him warm, no food to keep him full. ‘Just one chance to see you’ were his sanguine thoughts that kept him there for two days without sleep. Maybe if he was patient enough to wait, your father would allow him to enter the room.

But for the next five hours, not one person in that hospital talked to him.

No one except for the three year-old girl who suddenly appeared on the corner of the hallway.

“Uncle.” Curious doe eyes stared at him as little Nina stood from a distance. She was just a small figure in this spacious hall and yet, her presence had the largest impact on him. “Mommy said you’re bad.”

Satoru’s weak sigh had gone soundless. “Do you hate uncle?”

Just like you, she had every right to be revolted by him, but there was not even an iota of hesitation when the young girl said, “No.” Besides her innocent response, she ran to him and stretched her little arms for an embrace—a hug that he warmly returned. “Don’t be sad, uncle.”

How couldn’t he? Every minute without seeing you was a stab to his battered heart. “Nina, can you tell auntie that I love her?” he requested, pulling away to look at Gen’s kid with glossy eyes that were suffused with tears. “Tell her that no matter what happens, I’m not letting go.”

His niece’s smile softened his heart. “Okay.”

“Nina?” The small conversation between Satoru and the little girl was interrupted by her father who carried his daughter in his arms. Was Ian going to ignore him, too? It seemed that he didn’t have enough reason to do so. “Satoru, go home and get some rest. Y/N’s in a good condition now.”

He appreciated his brother-in-law’s efforts to stay neutral from the situation. Although it was a prosecutor’s job to convict criminals, he wasn’t particularly applying the same logic towards Satoru and his extramarital sins. “I’m waiting for a chance to see her.”

Ian held Nina closer and hesitated whether or not to let Satoru in. Could five minutes of entering your room be alright? He could see it in Ian’s eyes that he was considering letting him sneak in, but when the doors opened and Satoru was able to catch the slightest glimpse of your bed, your father immediately shut the door with a doctor right by his side.

“Grandpa!” Nina squealed, earning the old man’s attention. “We’re gonna go see Auntie.”

“Auntie’s awake. You can go in.” He smiled at his granddaughter and looked at Ian who then glanced at Satoru, but only the former was acknowledged in the end. “Gen’s inside. She’s been waiting for you and Nina.”

Ian’s response was a simple nod and Satoru had once again become an invisible, non-player character in his own romance book. “Toji’s visiting later tonight. Would that be okay, dad?”

“Yes. Y/N’s the one who asked to see him.”

“Ah, that’s why. He’s heading here straight after his meeting.”

“Good. He can visit anytime he wants.”

Satoru couldn’t even describe how much it crushed his heart to hear that you wanted to see another man instead of your own husband. It was a torturous feeling, more painful than being burned alive for him to be treated like a nonexistent person despite his lassitude after staying up for two days straight just to talk to you. He was at the pinnacle of his heartache that he was no longer thinking straight when he got up and stood in front of your father with a look of protest. “This… isn’t right,” he said with lachrymose eyes, “I get you’re angry, but I have the right to see my wife.”

It was Dr. Mori who spoke on behalf of his father-in-law. “Mr. Gojou, your wife is completely stable now. We just need to monitor her for the next forty-eight hours, but there’s no need to worry.” Satoru was about to question him for his audacity to tell a sleep-deprived husband ‘not to worry’, but he didn’t even have the chance to open his mouth before the doctor beat him to it. “It’s the patient’s wish not to see you for now, Mr. Gojou. We ask for her to avoid stress while she’s in recovery and it’s best to respect her decision. It’s for her own good.”

“We’re already lucky she didn’t suffer from a heart attack,” stated your father whose indifference never once faded, “The least you can do is stay away from my daughter. She’s the one who doesn’t want to see you.”

Sera had never fully realized the actual consequences of her sins until her face was all over social media.

She was demeaned as a slut, a homewrecker, a gold digger, and other hurtful words that a person could think of just because she clung to a married man who had been his lover way before his marriage. The general public were callous and unsparing with how they destroyed her with their words, and even more when her fellow women started verbally harassing her in the streets or when men started catcalling her for being ‘too easy’ for anyone who had enough money in their pockets. You might as well be a hooker, they said. At some point, while she was out in the market trying to buy food for her family, a rude woman even threw one-thousand yen bills towards her and called her a nasty, money-hungry bitch.

This was unfair.

None of them understood the situation from her own lens. They didn’t understand the kind of love that she used to harbor for Satoru and why it turned into greed. She made many wrong choices in life and mistakes she should have never done, but she didn’t deserve to be treated like this by strangers who had no single idea of how tough her life had been.

For all the wrong paths she had taken in her twenty-six years on Earth, involving herself with Satoru was her greatest regret.

But this time around, Sera couldn’t put the blame on you. She had already come into terms with her own feelings by not seeing you as the villain to her supposed fairytale. Neither could she blame Satoru because he, too, was suffering the same and probably twice worse than she was experiencing. The only person she could direct her anger to was the person responsible for spreading Satoru’s proof of infidelity and Sera’s participation in it.

However, as much as she wanted to get into another catfight with Eula, the wicked woman was already rotting in jail and serving her own comeuppance.

Who else could Sera run to at her lowest point?

It was a certain blond-haired, cat-eyed Zen’in whom she sought at the lobby of the Zen’in Group’s building. All her life, Sera had gotten used to turning heads and receiving lingering stares from men and women alike, but they were often because she was a subject of their admiration. She was adored for her beauty as though she was a goddess amongst the flock of ordinary people. On the contrary, none of these people were stunned by her attractive features. They sent glances her way because she was infamous for being the mistress of a Chairman and CEO from a rivaling company.

‘Ew. What the hell is she doing here?’

‘I won’t be surprised if she tries to snatch Mr. Toji this time’

Sera glared at the two girls who carried their coffee cups and walked across from her in their high heels and short skirts. The audacity of these women to talk shit about her when they weren’t even wearing decent office attires in such a professional place.

Though, Sera wasn’t here to pick a fight. She was here waiting for Naoya who often left the office at around four in the afternoon. The receptionist at the lobby informed her that he did come to work today and so Sera was patient enough to sit at one of the couches in the lobby, hoping that the blond would finally make an appearance.

She could understand that he had been too busy for the past few days to respond to her texts, but she desperately needed his advice and she, admittedly, missed him. It had been weeks since they had that passionate night and she couldn’t wait to once again feel the comfort of his kisses or the warmth of his touches to soothe her aching heart. Out of everyone in this world, he was the only one who deeply understood her as a person. The only man who wholeheartedly accepted her despite her status in life and even willingly listened to her problems without expecting anything in return.

Before she knew it, Sera realized that she must have truly fallen in love with Naoya.

The thought of him was enough to bring butterflies in her stomach or send flames that ignited her heart. He had officially become her person, someone she cherished and appreciated in a world where classism existed, but not between a man like him and a woman like her.

Well, Sera Iwasaki, haven’t you learned?

Her tendency to hold onto her silly fairytales was yet again destroyed when she spotted Naoya Zen’in stepping out of the elevator doors while hand-in-hand with famous Japanese-American supermodel, Erika Aoi.

What’s happening? Sera was completely flummoxed at the sight. Her mind was a tornado of confusion. Is he cheating on me?

“Naoya!” She nearly stumbled as she walked closer towards the blond whose eyes didn’t even give her the slightest recognition. Sera became increasingly muddled. Perplexed. And yet, she tightened her grip on his arm and pulled him away from the haughty socialite. “Naoya, I need to talk to you. I think Y/N’s sister blacklisted me from the companies I’ve applied to and—”

“Woah.” Strangely, Naoya shoved her hand and backed away in disgust. “Who the hell are you?” Aside from that baffling question, he was looking at his bodyguards to ask about her. “Do you know who this girl is?”

Sera’s heart raced. “Wh-What do you mean? Don’t be like this.” Was this a prank? She just couldn’t understand why he was suddenly acting this way.

The intrigued Erika eyed her from head-to-toe before turning to Naoya in realization. “Oh my god, babe. I think she’s that girl who had an affair with Satoru Gojou.”

“Really?” Naoya made a face and acted like it was the first time he had heard about it. Unbelievable! Sera was too dazed and speechless to react, but the man was quick enough to proceed with his little stunt. “I think you’re in the wrong company. The Gojou Group is on First Avenue, not here on Fourth Street.”

The woman next to him didn’t even hide her sniggering, followed by the employees who started gossiping as they walked across the lobby with all eyes glued on her. Sera wasn’t certain if she was going to laugh or cry at how ridiculous this scene was, but all that she could process was the combination of hurt and betrayal that slapped her in the face with one painful blow.

Unfortunately, Sera wasn’t good at concealing her pain. “Naoya, I don’t get why you’re being like this. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” His eyes glinted with humor. “I’m sorry, but have we even interacted before? I don’t think I remember you at all.”

“Don’t be an asshole!” Sera raised her hand towards him, but was quickly stopped by the bodyguards who were there to protect the scoundrel. Sure, they managed to prevent her from hitting him, but they couldn’t stop her from revealing the truth with tearful eyes. “Is this your little game, huh? You know well enough what relationship we have. I even defended you f-from Eula! Don’t even act like—!”

Naoya tilted his head and threatened her with his piercing stare. “Do you have proof?” he questioned. “Because if not, I could sue you for defamation.”

Standing there with clenched jaws, she turned to his bodyguards. “These guys know who I am. You took me to your place so many times already!”

None of the bodyguards confirmed it. Rather, they were fast enough to shake their heads while telling her that she was being ‘delusional’ because Naoya, apparently, had high standards when it came to women. “Miss, you need to back off.”

“B-But.” Proof, what proof did Sera have? Right, she fucking had none. He could deny their texts and they didn’t even have photos together. His family and friends? They could easily lie for him. And even worse, Naoya’s brilliant acting garnered sympathy from the employees in that building who were now filming the scene with their smartphones. How did it all come down to this? If this was a sick joke, it had to stop because she was already devastated by the way he was treating her. She didn’t deserve any of this. “I-I hate you, Naoya. How could you do this to me?”

The man’s sympathy was close to zero even when she began tearing up. Like rubbing salt to the wound, he gave her a harmless smile while hiding behind his mask of innocence. “Sera, is it?” he continued his charade, “Look, I’m sure you’ve already had enough exposure on social media after the whole cheating thing with Satoru-kun. There’s no need for you to be an attention seeker and cause more scandal in other companies if you have self-worth at all.” He linked Erika’s hand with his and prepared to leave. “Please don’t ever come here again or I’ll call the police on you for stalking.”

Praises from the nearby employees filled the lobby as they cheered him on for ‘handling the situation professionally’ instead of lashing out at her. It was a disgusting act made by a disgusting man, no less. What the people here failed to see was how the real victim in this situation was her, not him. Not the man who turned his back on her in the most cruel way possible.

‘Get lost, Slut-ra!’

‘What a gold digger. Shame on you!’

‘Leave sir Naoya alone, you desperate whore!’

Naoya had already left with his girlfriend, got inside a black sedan, all while Sera stood there being recorded by the employees who continuously tormented her with their venomous words. Words that stung like fatal poison, penetrating her skin and harming her heart for an instant kill. They laughed at her face while shaming her, high-fived each other while insulting her, and found entertainment from the tears she had shed over a man who betrayed her.

Not long ago did Sera stumble upon this one quote, ‘Friends may abandon you when things get tough, but family will hardly run away from you when things are not working out.’

She had to learn her lesson the hard way and Naoya had been the wake up call for her to realize that she should never trust anyone except her family. The family that she continuously and ignorantly pushed away. Naoya’s act of betrayal made her put the puzzle pieces together until she saw the bigger picture of the complete imbecile he had made of her. He had been manipulating her all this time. The wedding dress, the tweed outfits, the saccharine words he constantly used to trick her—they were all there to set her up to her own downfall.

This was more painful than the heartbreak of losing Satoru.

Because in the end, she was just a game to these rich people. In the end, she stayed as a poor woman who was incapable of redeeming herself in a world where the rich and famous often have the upper hand.

Gojou was close enough to losing his sanity for going through another day without enough sleep. Though, unlike the past few days, he had no other choice but to return to the penthouse to take a warm shower, get an hour worth of a nap, and fill his empty stomach with a box of cereal. He willingly spent three days in that hospital but not once was he allowed to speak to you, not once was he given the opportunity to see you. Didn’t you know? The more you denied his presence, the more it drove him crazy. He couldn’t leave your side despite the people around him that told him to do so. He listened to no other voice but yours, but no one else wanted to listen to his.

Frankly, he wouldn't have left you there if only Suguru and his mother hadn’t come to pick him up after they became growingly worried for his overall health. Even Miwa had to remind him that he had other duties to tend to, one of which was the company that he supposedly valued more than his own wife.

“Chairman, it’s glad to see you again.”

Satoru barely had the time to process the life that greeted him back at the Gojou Group. Besides the fact that his car was vandalized, he was welcomed with awkward silence by his employees and a pile of resignation letters from longtime executives who had been with the company for more than ten to twenty years. They withstood the ups and downs of this company and Satoru was the only driving force who managed to make all these loyal executives leave because of his recklessness. His CFO, his COO, even his most trusted Financial Director, Mei Mei, had chosen to leave.

Oh, he must have forgotten. Mei actually turned out to be a backstabbing, money-hungry traitor. Who knew that the person who warned him about a mole in the company was referring to herself all this time? He made a fool out of him all for the sake of money, but then again, Satoru was aware that she wouldn’t have had a reason to destroy him if he didn’t do those stupid things in the first place. Like gas, she only fueled his flame.

And because that flame swallowed the entire company uncontrollably, the aftermath of Satoru’s terrible publicity led to a massive drop in stocks, investors pulling out, and a bad name associated with being employed by the Gojou Group. According to the headlines in today’s newspaper, ‘CEO Faces Backlash After Infidelity Scandal’. If things had been difficult for him after what had surfaced on the internet, how much more for all these innocent employees who were here to make a living? How would they benefit from a company whose Chairman and CEO was involved in a huge scandal? It was only a matter of time until Japan’s second biggest conglomerate would file for bankruptcy.

“Sir, I…” His secretary hesitated to speak after she waltzed inside his office. What was she afraid of? Angering him? He had no energy left to feel anything at all. “Mr. Gojou, the Board of Directors are requesting an urgent meeting with you. I-I didn’t mean to overhear it, but I think… I think they’re voting you out.”

“Miwa.” Satoru buried his face in his hands as he shut his eyes and kept his breathing steady. “It’s been stressful for you, right? If you wanna file an immediate resignation, I’ll approve it as soon as you want. I won’t hold it against you.”

He received silence as a response, and in the belief that ‘silence meant yes’, Satoru was surprised when he looked up to see Miwa crying. Tears cascaded from her eyes like waterfall, causing his panic to rise as he struggled not knowing what to do. Did Miwa learn to hate him so much that she was crying like this? Contrarily, it was Satoru who should be tearing up when he heard his secretary’s next words, “Chairman, I won’t leave your side no matter what happens. I’ll continue to work hard even if I’m the last employee left in this company.”

A stubborn girl at the very end. He might have smiled, but his eyes were empty. “You can’t work for a boss like me anymore. I don’t want you to get involved.”

“No, I…” Miwa stammered and wiped her eyes. “I know that you truly love your wife. Just because you made mistakes doesn’t mean you can’t learn and change. We’re only human.”

Satoru felt hollow. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she affirmed without realizing how broken he was inside. Miwa had witnessed the extensive effort that Gojou had done to try and please his wife—from adjusting his schedules, choosing the best flowers, sending the most perfect gifts, and even seeing him in a good mood every time he spoke about your baby. In his secretary’s eyes, he did his hardest to be a good husband, but no one else beyond his spacious office could ever see those efforts except her. “Please don’t give up, sir. You may find yourself at the bottom right now, but one day you’ll be at the top again.”

“She’s right.”

Yes, he heard it correctly. The male voice that agreed to Miwa’s statement was from none other than his stepbrother, Yuuta, who just now entered his office in his brown shearling jacket and black jeans. Just how fast did things change between the two of them? Not long ago, he had seen his the young man with misguided contempt and recognized him as a threat to his inheritance. Yet here, today, that same brother was the one responsible for putting his own evil mother to jail. It was evident in Yuuta’s eyes how much the recent events had drained him, but he was now in a place where freedom was within his reach and what better place to fully soak it in than to spend his next four years in the Land of the Free?

“Leaving for Harvard?” Satoru asked, leaning backwards to meet his brother’s gaze who soon responded with a nod. “Good luck with business school.”

Yuuta stared at him forlornly. “I’ll come back and help you around here. I promise.” Glancing to his side, he gave Miwa a gentle pat on the back. “Please look after my brother.”

The blue-haired secretary shyly nodded, cheeks turning incarnadine as she stood next to her boss’ stepbrother. “Chairman, I’ll give you two some privacy,” she excused herself by offering a courteous bow before exiting the office to indeed leave Satoru and Yuuta in their intimate conversation.

The younger man didn’t have much time left in Japan, so Satoru took it upon himself to initiate the much needed apology. “Yuuta, I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you after all those years. I’ve been cruel.”

It was crazy to even think that this person in front of him was related to Eula at all. Except for their shared features, he carried none of her rotten personality and it was something that Gojou deeply admired. Yuuta was a man who upheld his own moral values despite the evil that surrounded him. If only they had more time to bond as real brothers. “That’s okay. You had reasons and I hadn’t been transparent to you since the beginning, either. I can see why you misunderstood my past actions.”

“I was blinded by rage.” Satoru got up from his seat and walked towards the edge to look down at the view of the central business district from his office. “And most of all, I was spiteful and just a plain awful person. It’s also the reason why my wife hates me right now.”

Yuuta ended up standing next to his brother as they stared at the same urban landscape down below. “She’ll forgive you,” his words were sincere, “I’m sure she will, eventually.”

He really must be stubborn as hell. Either he got it from his father or he was just born hard-headed, but there was no denying that Satoru had always been a froward person. He didn’t listen despite the numerous times his mom told him to get some rest or when his secretary promised him that she would be the one to give him hourly updates about you. Why bother? He had already become insomniac so losing a little more sleep wasn’t a big deal.

Satoru was at a point where he could no longer stand being repressed of a right to see his own wife. It wasn’t like he would bother you in the first place. All he wanted was to touch your cheek, tell you he was sorry, and promise you that he would stay until you get better again. In sickness and in health, it wasn’t just a scripted vow with empty meanings. It was a commitment between two spouses at the union of their heart and soul. You must think it was farcical for someone like Satoru to be placing this much value about a marriage he was once ready to ruin. Wasn’t he the one who persistently declared how much he despised being married to you?

Yet, before anyone else knew about what he had done to you, your altruistic nature never stopped caring for him even when he didn’t deserve it. How you made his sleep more comfortable, how you protected him with your frail body in front of his abusive father, how you forgave him when no one would have. Where else could he find a wife like you?

Because you were running in his mind nonstop, Satoru figured that the only way for his heart to be at peace was if he could visit you. A minute or two would suffice if you really couldn’t look at his face, but it was only fair that he could at least see his wife in person. Would Gen lash out at him? Would your father block his way? He didn’t mind being on the receiving end of their hostility because it would all be worth it once he was already in front of you.

One on hand, the journey to get there was rocky. The biggest challenge down the road was facing his father-in-law who met him halfway through the hallway to prevent him from going any closer to your room.

“I really have to see her,” Satoru’s voice was begging. “I have to. I’m sorry.”

Your father’s eyes refused to meet his under the harsh fluorescent lights. With a hand in his pockets and a face void of any emotion, his main goal was to shatter every inch of Satoru’s heart by asking for one earnest request. “Divorce her.” It wasn’t even a request, but a demand. “It’s what she wants.”

No, no way. Satoru was frantically shaking his head. “No, dad—what do you mean? I c-can’t. I can’t do that.”

“I’m only saying this to you so you know, but she’s already decided.” The man drew in a deep breath. “If you really love her like you said, then sign the papers and cut off your ties with her. I have powerful lawyers by my side so it’s best if you just comply.”

“I-I don’t want to. Dad, please don’t. I’m begging you.” His face had gone ashen, almost in the same color as his white hair. “We have a baby. We… We can’t divorce, no—I can’t agree to this… I can’t.”

“Satoru, listen to me—”

“I have to see her and our baby. I have to tell her that I love her and that—”

“You can’t see her right now—”

“I h-have to, I’m gonna—”

“She’s getting an abortion.”

His brain paused for a moment and his eyes dilated in shock, taking in more light as every part of him went on an agonizing pause to allow his thoughts to connect with every living nerve in his brain. He found himself on a platform, a train fast approaching before realizing that his feet remained rooted on the ground—paralyzed, unmoving. Never before had Satoru noticed how the past three days had passed like thousands of camera frames per second shown one at a time.

No other sound escaped his pale lips but a laugh of disbelief. “That’s… That’s a sick joke. Please don’t say that again.”

“Dr. Ieiri,” the old man let out a deep sigh and acknowledged the younger woman who had arrived next to Satoru as if anticipating the hurricane that was about to come. “I think it’s best if you tell him.”

That’s a lie. No, that can’t be true. That can’t be.

Ieiri knew what answer her best friend wanted to hear, and yet all she could give was an uneasy glance at his father-in-law before enlightening him about the situation. “Gojou…” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand it’s shocking for you to hear, but Y/N’s in her room… she’s currently getting a surgical abortion. I’m sorry.”

“Ieiri—No… That’s, no. That’s not possible, that’s…” His denial was calm before the storm. His faint tears were drizzles before an impending downpour. His breathing was a whistle of wind preparing for a lightning to strike. It was safe to say that Satoru, a man whose biggest dream was to raise a child with his wife, had finally lost it. “NO! WHERE’S SH—TH-THIS CAN’T HAPPEN! Y/N—!”

Next thing he knew, he was pushing everyone out of his way as he came sprinting down towards your room in utmost desperation, thrashing the bodyguards that blocked his path, and sobbing hysterically while calling for your name. He banged your door again and again, hoping that his fist was enough to awaken his wife from proceeding to do such horror. How could you decide on this without telling him? How could you easily let go of a baby out of spite for the father?

“Satoru, wait!” Shoko was behind him, trying hard enough to pull him back but the man’s rational mind was far too gone. He didn’t give a single damn if he looked like a madman who escaped an asylum, choking on his own tears without a care for his surroundings. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay… Just trust me.”

“N-No, sh-she can’t do that! She can’t… Ieiri… Please! Let me go! LET ME GO!” Gojou’s screams reflected the throes of a father that could make anyone’s heart break in half. “Y/N! DON’T! PLEASE, DON’T DO THIS T-TO MY CHILD!”

“Satoru, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Mr. Gojou, please calm down.”

How could they even say those? His insides felt as if there was nothing there, only a stomach that twisted every time he recalled the once happy memory of him hearing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. He remembered the day when he first saw the baby sonogram. He remembered the nights where he would read your baby all those bedtime stories or the mornings where he would kiss your belly. After everything you two had been through, after the vows you recently made and the new memories you had just created, after all the days and nights he spent thinking of the future he wanted with you—why did you choose to punish him with this?

This, you, everything—it was all so unfair.

He nearly passed out on the floor after he screamed his heart out, broke down, thrashed around. He released all the pain in his heart in the form of tears and silent pleas. He wasn’t mad at you or your family or the doctors who were pulling his unborn baby out of your womb. He was mad at himself for being the reason why an innocent soul that he loved with all his heart had to suffer from the consequences of his sins. This was his fault. He murdered his own child.

“Y/N… Wh-Why…” If anyone could see Satoru weeping, they would probably rejoice and applaud you for giving him what he deserved. That wasn’t what hurt him, what killed him twice in a slow painful death was the thought of a 5-month old fetus being taken out of you. “Ieiri, why did she—”

“It’s gonna be okay.” Shoko held him in her arms and rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. For a gynecologist, hundreds of women visit her clinic every year due to unwanted pregnancy. This case was no different to the ones she had dealt with before, but the fact that even Ieiri herself refused to do the job, Satoru hit the peak of his misery.

He questioned the legality of this procedure all while he wailed in her arms. His bloodshot eyes, all red and moist, were searching hers for some comfort. “I-Isn’t it too late for her to do this? I don’t get this—I don’t. She loves our child, how could she just…? Why did they allow it? Ieiri… Please. It hurts so much… My baby, our baby.”

“Satoru, I’m sorry. Second-trimester surgical abortion can be performed for pregnancy termination due to maternal health conditions,” was her professional answer, but minus a medical standpoint, she could see why this was extremely painful to a father who had no idea that he was never going to see his child. “Just trust me. It’s difficult right now, but one day you’ll understand that things aren’t what they seem.”

What does she even mean? He was too nauseous to ask. Too weak to get up. Too mentally traumatized to process anything except his wife’s sudden decision. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout and release the heavy weight in his chest just so he could feel a little bit better, even for a minute, a millisecond. He wanted to punch the wall until his knuckles would bleed just so he could redirect the pain out of his system.

This was his fault. He did this to you. He did this to your baby.

He had no worth.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Satoru had everything. A mansion of his own, a collection of expensive foreign cars, a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, and fortunes that he could enjoy until his last breath—but if the universe couldn’t grant him his wife and their child, what else was his purpose in life? How else could he define happiness in a world without his only source of light?

It was ironic, wasn’t it? When granted everything, you couldn’t do anything but just die peacefully.

He was thrown into darkness, sucked into an inescapable black hole, eternally surrounded by the absence of light without ever reaching the bottom.

At times like these, alcohol was the only way to numb this colossal pain. It was his needed remedy to bury the rippling stress and anxiety that coursed through his body. The burning feeling in his throat felt like a graze from a thousand razor blades, silencing him from his screams, hushing him from his grief. The whiskey had a strong flavor of melancholy that heightened his evanescent lack of sensation. Paralyzed from waist down, it was almost a robotic movement for him to down another gulp of the hard liquor before planting his face against the cold surface of the wood.

“Gojou.” Suguru’s strict voice overpowered the bar’s old classic tunes. “Gojou, that’s enough.” The man only had unaccomplished attempts to steal the bottle from his best friend’s grasp. “You’ve had too much of that.”

Besides his lazy eyes and empty smile, the drunkhead was a minute close to blacking out. “How much is too much?”

“Your life’s not gonna get better with alcohol.” Getou’s irony elicited a scoff from the drunken man. “Y/N’s not gonna come back if you—”

“Hasn’t she given up already?” he cut him off, eyes reflecting his breaking point. “She refused to let me see her. She got rid of my child without telling me. Isn’t that… Isn’t that a sign that she just won’t be coming back?”

Suguru watched how Gojou held on to his glass with a somber expression. “Do you think she’s gonna be happy when she sees you like this?”

There was no answer to his question. Your romance book was destined to meet its tragic end from the very beginning because a man like him was no perfect prince in a fairytale. Staying with him made you miserable. Marrying him was a taste of hell in itself. With over seven billion people in the world, Satoru was the last person you should have exchanged vows with because he could only give you nothing but misery for the rest of your life.

“There’s something you should know.” Suguru placed a hand on his shoulder. “I wasn’t gonna tell you because of Ieiri, but…”

What else could kill Satoru at this point? He had already gone through it all. It was clear from his crestfallen face that the thin string of hope that was holding him together would soon get cut. “What is it?” In spite of asking, was he really prepared for the answer?

He wasn’t.

He was far from prepared that even the alcohol in his system had flushed out on its own when Suguru finally told him, “Y/N’s planning to leave Japan for some time. I… I heard her and Ieiri talking over the phone,” he paused, refusing to see the pain that casted Satoru’s face, “She leaves next week.”

Satoru’s grip on the glass was so strong he could almost break it. “…Do you think she’d be happier without me?”

Of course Suguru would say no, but Gojou realized that he would rather not hear words that carried no weight. He would rather not hear words that were only uttered for the sake of protecting his feelings. There wasn’t anything to protect nor was there anything to save.

“I think you should let her go,” was the candid advice his best friend could give.

Satoru was a lost cause. He knew it himself that Suguru was right. Letting you go instead of chasing you around was the most selfless act he could return as a payback for all the sacrifices you had done for him. For better, for worse. It was about time that he understood his own vows.

Although he was already at the margin of despair, he held it together until he had come home to the penthouse at 3 a.m., stumbling on his weak feet and dizzied mind. What was once a happy home became a dark, empty apartment that produced no other sound but the echoes of his muffled sobs. Satoru had not bothered to open the lights and neither did he run to the room to check if your clothes were still in the closet. He would only hurt himself for doing so, knowing that he was yet again back to the version of him who was left and abandoned by the most important person in his life.

Frankly, it was tiring to live like this. It was exhausting to even traipse across the apartment, forcibly dragging his torpid body and watching his silhouette cast its shape from the floor-to-ceiling windows that reflected a constellation of city lights and twinkling stars. But unlike the luminosity of the world outside of his home, he was a shadow full of cynical thoughts. His despondency had no other color but black.

Everything around him was monochrome except for the large wedding portrait outside of your room. His heart stopped as his eyes scanned the large frame—seeing that beautiful wedding dress, seeing that radiant face, seeing you standing next to him as his lawfully wedded wife. It was deeply insulting that he could barely rewind the exact memory of you walking down the aisle on your wedding day because he had barely paid attention to you at the time. All he could remember was the devastation on your face when you met him at the altar and realized that you were falling into the trap of a loveless marriage with the worst husband of all.

This marriage was a failure he brought upon himself, but a chance at freedom that he had decided to willingly give you. There was no point in holding you hostage for his selfish desire. Keeping you caged in his heart, no matter how desperate he was, would only ruin you more.

After taking another swig from his bottle of whiskey, he had fallen on his knees with his palm pressed against the wedding portrait. Looking up to see your face was a bullet to his heart that killed him every second, sending a fatal shock of electricity in his veins, and leaving him choking in a flood of warm tears.

“I can’t go on without you,” his hushed voice was the loudest silence in this empty room, “Y/N...”

Again, that question: what did he know about love? He found yet another answer to it. Love was like oxygen that his body needed in order to breathe, and although it remained unseen, without it he was better off dead.

“For the whole time we were together,” he continued his heartbreaking monologue, “You tried so hard to fix me, but in the end, you still couldn’t. I-I was… I was far too hopeless. I didn’t deserve you. I ruined you. Us.”

Satoru felt as though he was transported into a cosmic void where perception, communication, and every action involved in living was forcibly carried out an infinite number of times. Flashes of memory entered his mind like a cinematic frame rate running at twenty-four frames per second. Each picture had your happiest days and saddest nights that widened every crevice in his heart, bleeding it all out until there was not a drop of blood left to release.

Blood, he found dark humor at the sudden thought that crossed his mind. If even alcohol could not numb his pain, then…

[warning: depictions of self-harm, suicide]

“Maybe this will.” He sat on the floor, smashing the glass against the marble surface, and reaching for the largest shard he could find. Instead of numbing the pain, how about terminate it completely? This sadness was a force pressing down on him and he concluded to himself that submitting into it was the only choice he had left. Death to him was a reward, pain to him was a gratifying sensation. As he wrapped his palm around the glass shard, the sharp edge managed to cut through his flesh and open new wounds where a thick gush of blood could seep through. The sting from the laceration gave him a sense of satisfaction as blobs of crimson liquid flooded the floor along with the waterfall of tears that escaped his eyes.

More, more, more. He deserved to punish himself and he did it by stabbing his left forearm, puncturing the skin on his wrist and dragging the sharp edge deep within his tendon to tear the outer flesh in a trajectory that went upwards. He should probably cut a vein or two in there so he could leave no room for healing.

Or, perhaps he could just aim straight to his heart. Just one stab deep enough to pass through his chest—it wouldn’t even take an hour for him to kill himself. He hoped you could understand. This was his only way out. The suffering, the torment, the endless agony—they would all leave his body without any scintilla of misery left to hurt him further.

And once he reunited with his unborn baby in the afterlife, they could both look after you in a distance where pain could no longer reach you.

I love you, Y/N. So much that I’d rather die than not be with you.

While his tears continued to flow, Satoru was a dried prune. His intoxication only heightened his inevitable depression, realizing that his life had no purpose and that no one would have cried for his loss. He had no one else—the world hated him, Nana was gone, his mother had her own life, his father was a dying vegetable, and his unborn child had become an angel. He only had you and still lost you, but this time, it was because he would rather lose you than to live a life full of guilt by forcing you to be with him. For all the wrong things he did, he finally recognized the boundaries that he had to respect. For you.

So if ending his life by his own hands could free him from his agony, then by all means. A quick death by stabbing his heart or cutting a gash on his neck which would be enough for him to choke on his own blood. Death and darkness, both of which were pulling him in and whispering the words ‘do it’ in his ear as he raised his shaky hands to finally end the searing pain in his chest.

“Satoru! What are you—what are you doing?!”

Blinded by the sudden light that appeared above him, the face of his crying mother who once abandoned him was now here to stop his wrist from piercing the broken glass into his chest. She was on the floor, sobbing for her son and bringing him into her arms like she was cradling a child. The child she had left behind.

“M-Mom, j-just let me.” His tears soaked through her cardigan. “I wanna die.”

“No, don’t say that!” What came out of her mouth was the sound of a mother’s heartbreak as she took the shard away from his clasp while joining him in his ceaseless crying. Embracing him tightly was the only thing she could offer as he continued to cry his heart out. The sound of his weeping brought an excruciating clench in her heart. “My son. Don’t do this to yourself, please… Please. Mom’s here for you. I won’t leave.”

He clutched her arm with his bloody hands and burst into a sob. Much to the violent tremble of his hands, his voice also quivered uncontrollably. “I wanna… kill myself, mom.”

Outside the large windows of his apartment, the moon stared at this doleful scene between a mother and her son. Both grief-stricken, both in a fit of winter doldrums.

“Satoru, killing yourself will not stop the pain,” she spoke through ragged breaths as tears welled up her eyes, “it’ll only bring more pain to others left behind.”

His heart lurched. “No ones left behind.”

“You have me,” she reassured, “you have your stepbrother, you have your best friends.”

Despite being a mere speck of dust in a supercluster of galaxies, no one would understand that Satoru Gojou’s universe was a woman that had the other half of his soul.

“I don’t have her.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

jjk general taglist: @kity @deeznutss @suhkusa @wonyoschubs @the-golden-jhope @6mattsun9 @hokageyamz @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @crashica @aizawap @juniorhooter @atsumusoup @gxtitobxby @dora-the-grownup @softy-woo @tsumume @kac-chowsballs @anime-nymph @kageyamakock @onlyonew @underratedmage @crapimahuman @alicia-1725 @fatal-impact

sincerely not taglist: @itsnotsoni @pluviophilefangirl @daphnxy @choso-bee @omisemi @captainchrisstan @http-strawbebbies @xllance @jonsncws @and-you-found-me @tobiotetsu @jeonjungkookismyfuture @d-efend @honouredsatoru @my-reality-is-in-my-head @blueowl51 @misslovingpearl @cuteissei @japanesevenom @borpcorp

#gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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chell10xo · 4 years ago

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Well it’s been a while since I posted so I thought I’d go all out on this blog. I’m going to discuss, soul connections, astrology, inner work and the 7 chakras and a little bit of tarot.

In 2018 I began going through another spiritual awakening, I stumbled across the term twin flames and I was quite taken back by it. I always grew up thinking we all had one soul mate and it was a fairytale kind of love but the deeper I dove into spirituality my beliefs began to change.

We can have several soul mates but only one twin flame. The common theory for twin flames is that the soul splits and reincarnations into two different bodies for soul evolution. A twin flame is a mirror soul, a reflection of you , the good and the bad. Your twin will shed light on everything that you need to heal and what you try to run from and eventually they will help you to ascend. There is no other connection like it. They usually come in and out your life triggering different stages of spiritual awakenings and to ensure you continue doing the work you signed up before reincarnating on Earth.

The twin flame journey isn’t easy, there are many different stages and there is usually a runner and chaser dynamic going on. One of the main lessons is to learn that twin flames will always be connected it’s only their ego that separates them from each other.

🖤A soul mate is usually a relatively easy relationship, you grow together and are able to overcome challenges, the relationship brings stability, peace and love they are usually a life partner that you settle down with.

-🖤Karmic people are the ones you will meet through out your life, the union between karmic people can often be intense and short lived. The reason being is that they cross your path to teach you something valuable and it is up to you whether you want to learn the lesson. Sometimes we keep meeting the same people in different bodies so that we are forced to pay attention to what they are trying to teach us.

🖤Catalyst twin flames A catalyst twin flame is a term used for someone who may be very similar to your twin flame, they may belong in the same soul group or share the same vibrational energy. They also trigger inner work

- You may find yourself meeting karmic people during retrograde seasons.

- South node in astrology represents our past lives, where we came from and where our souls last resided. I would look at personal planets, moon, mars, mercury and Venus aspecting South node to see what karma you have to unravel. I would look at harsh aspects usually squares, oppositions or conjunctions to the south node.

- Venus square south node would be a good indicator that you shared an emotional bond with this person in a previous life time.

🖤Megan fox and machine GK synastry 🖤

An article published on 22nd July 2020 - the date is definitely a synchronicity since 22 22 is considered a twin flame number, In the article Megan claims that MGK is her twin flame. She recalled feeling an instant connection with him.

“I went deep right away. I knew before I even did his chart, I said to him, he has a Pisces moon. I could tell by his energy,” she said.”

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.yahoo.com/amphtml/entertainment/megan-fox-connection-machine-gun-kelly-immediate-twin-flame-194629807.html

MGK also captioned a picture of them both on Instagram as

“waited for eternity to find you again... 🔪 💫❤️ 🔪 “

So let’s look into this magical connection they share.

With MF and MGK both having Taurus sun’s, they will share similar personality traits which will bring harmony. However their rising signs are quite different since Megan has Capricorn rising and MGK has Gemini, the Gemini energy and sun in his 11 denfentily gives MGK more an edgy style.

When have a soul tie with someone we are able to communicate with them telepathically but between twin flames the telepathic connection is very powerful.

Mental connection -

🌚Sun conjunct telephus - in 11th & 3rd house - telepathic connection, understanding, knowing

🌚Mercury conjunct mercury in 12th &4th house - psychic connection , mental connection, depth , understanding

🌚Both have mercury in Taurus , creating a conjunction this means similar ways of thinking / communicating

🌚Neptune in 8th trine mercury in 4th- telepathy, imagination, romance, dreamy , depth

Physical connection

⚡️Sun in 11th opposite Pluto in 5th

Electrical, life changing, obsessive, fated , magnetic , explosive

⚡️Megan’s mars falls into MGK 8th house

Sexual chemistry, exploring taboos, depth, intensity, reading the subconscious mind, sharing secrets , sexual tension

⚡️MGK Mars in Pisces is trine MF Pluto in Scorpio

Satisfying each other’s desires, intimacy, power games

⚡️Mars in 11th - squaring Pluto in 8th composite chart - experimenting, powerful emotions, bringing out each other’s shadow/ darker side, knowing what triggers one and other

connection -

🖤 Megan’s Leo moon is conjunct MGF south node - 3rd house of communication .Any personal planets aspecting the south node can indicate past life encounters. The moon represents our emotions and connections we have with others and since it’s touching his south node this can indicate an instant connection, familiarity and deep bond.

🖤 Jupiter expands and blesses everything it touches, if aspected positively. MGK Venus in Pisces is exactly conjunct MF’s Jupiter in Pisces - this aspect would give a dreamy, fairy tale kind of love and with a dash of Jupiter for sure it would be expand their love for each other.

🖤 MGK Alma which is another term for soul is conjunct MF’s Neptune in Capricorn in her 12th house. As mentioned earlier the 12th house is known as the karmic house. Capricorn’s ruler is Saturn which also known for representing karma in astrology. Now let’s switch it round. Their Neptune conjunct Alma also falls into MF’s 7th house. Now taking in both placements, I would say this is a spiritual connection.

Fate, destiny and karma

The vertex is used in astrology to identify fated events, karma and destiny. Scorpio is considered the most interned sign of the zodiac because of the powerful energy Pluto carries.

Her Pluto is conjunct his vertex in his 5th house of fun, dating and romance. This is likely to be a life changing relationship filled with passion and. They will be strongly drawn to each other and with this conjunction also falling into MF 9th house, this union would more than likely transform her beliefs and lead her to search for spirtual guidance to make sense of their connection.

-South node conjunct union in Libra (spiritual reunion)

-Venus square Chiron (deep healing)

Elements

Fixed - Taurus , Scorpio , Leo , Aquarius

Mutable - Pisces , Virgo , Sagittarius, Gemini

Cardinal - Cancer , Aquarius, libra , Aries

🌚Feminine signs - Earth + water

💥Masculine signs -Air + fire

Usually with twin flames you will notice similarities or oppositions within the chart.

Both sun signs are in a fixed sign

🌙 Megan’s moon is in her 7th house which is a cardinal house

🌙 MGK Moon falls in his 10th house which is also cardinal house

🌪MF Venus is in Pisces & MGK Venus is in Gemini both are mutable signs

💥Megan’s mars falls Into her 1st house & MGK mars falls into his 10th both cardinal houses.

💥Megan’s mars is in Capricorn MGK mars falls into his 10th house which is the house of Capricorn.

🌙Mercury in Taurus are both in water houses 12 & 4

🌙Ruler of Megan’s DC is in cancer and her moon is in her 7th house.

🌙Ruler of MGK 7 house is in Jupiter which is in his 1st house

Alma means soul in Spanish it also considered the second moon in astrology.

🌙Megan’s Alma is in her 1st house

🌙And MGK Alma is in his 7th house

It is not clear whether they are actually twin flames but they are likely to share a soul connection. It will be interesting to see how this relationship plays out in the future as no twin flame journey is a walk in the park.

Astrology can not determine who your twin is.

Every twins journey is different, some are meant to be together in this life and some are not it all depends on the soul contract, all twins will have different strengths, weaknesses and connections which will show up differently in each individual chart. I found some asteroids which seem pretty interesting. You can go over to Astro. Com (extended chart) and calculate synastry between you and whoever. Asteroids should be in conjunction, opposition or squaring personal planets.

💫 Telephus 5264 - what a magical asteroid, it represents intuition, telepathy your inner voice.

💫 Psyche 16 - the Greek translation of soul. This asteroid can also indicate shadow work that one is yet to do.

💫 Juno- your ideal mate, a soul mate, a life partner, the one you’re likely to marry.

💫 Moria 638 - associated with destiny, fate synchronicities and karma

💫 Alma 390 another term for soul, connected with the heart , it can reveal information about your recent past life.

💫Urda 167 is similar to the south node as it is connected to past lives

💫 Child 4580 , child can represent our inner child and how to nurture , heal & connect with our inner child.

💫DNA 55555 , shows genetic information

💫Memoria 1247 - this is an astroid that holds memories of your past life

💫Union 1585 , reunion , being drawn to another , fate

💫193 Ambrosia , associated with healing, Devine masculine and feminine energy , eternity

💫ALTJIRA 148780 ,Shananic journeys , visions

🪄Numerology / synchronicities / dreams

-Some are born on the same day

-same life path numbers (this isn’t always) try calculating the numbers also

-Seeing repetitive numbers what are associated with twin flames - 1111/111/1212/1221/1313/2222/

-Reunion on the 11th month or 11th day etc

-months or days calculated between birth date may be meaningful

-having visions / dreams

-astral projection

-meeting/ unions during astrological events - new moons / full moons / portals

Dealing with separation / dark night of the soul

Energy work is a vital part of your spiritual journey. For those who feel they are on a twin flame journey then it is important that you balance your chakras especially if you are hoping for a reunion after separation or going through ‘the dark night of the soul’ or if you want to ascend high enough to meet a soul mate.

Everybody has 7 energy points in the body which is known as the chakras.

💜The crown chakra is associated with the planets Jupiter and the sun (Neutral)

👁The third eye chakra is connected with the moon and and Jupiter (feminine)

💙The throat chakra is associated with mercury (masculine)

💚The heart chakra is connected to the moon and Venus (feminine)

💛The solar plexus chakra represents the sun and mars (masculine)

🧡The sacral chakra is associated with Venus and the moon (feminine)

❤️The root chakra is connected with Saturn (masculine)

Use your astrology chart to connect with your chakras and find out identify your strengths and weaknesses. A person who has Neptune positively aspecting their personal planets may have an active third eye chakra which makes them in intuitive , spiritual and psychic. But they may have harsh aspects to their moon where they may shy away from emotionally intimacy, be guarded or have conflict feelings. They will need to do more work on their heart / sacral chakra through out their life time for spiritual healing.

An example of this would be moon square Saturn as it can indicate mother wounds, if you don’t heal then over time you can create and an emotional wall , this where the heart chakra becomes unbalanced or blocked. By observing where your moon is in your chart you can find where you will find comfort in life and what makes you feel content.

Your birth chart is a guide of what you need to heal, the more healing you do the less likely you are to keep recycling your experiences as you will raise your vibrations you will attract your soul family, be able to manifest the life you desire and ascend higher.

I’ve written a list of how the planets can relate to our shadow side.

🪐Pluto - what we desire, obsessions , secrets

🪐Lilith - Lilith is the wildness that resides within all of us, she holds the key to the closet that holds all your skeletons. She appears as taboos, addictions, obsessions, lust, and desires

🪐Chiron -the teacher and also the healer

🪐Saturn - what we fear , what we resent , karmic patterns

🪐Venus- What and how we love

🪐Mars - our drive , aggression

🪐Mercury - our mind

🪐Neptune - how we escape

🪐Squares and oppositions - challenges , work that we need to do -

🪐8th / 12th house

Shadow work

Our shadow side is the darkenss that lies with in us. It’s something that karmic partners usually trigger with in us and our twin reflects our dark parts which helps us to ascend. In astrology we could look at the astroid Lilith sign and placement to understand our darkest parts and what triggers us , or we can look at Pluto or even the more harsh challenging aspects such as squares which sometimes makes it difficult for others to understand us or even for us to understand our selves and why be behave in certain ways.

Shadow work usually rocks up as

-healing childhood trauma/ wounds

-recognising toxic patterns , how we self sabotage ie

-acknowledging

-facing our ego

-embracing our wild side

-Devine masculine / feminine work

-Taboos sexual desires

Tarot cards I Associate with twinflames/soulmates /karmic

-Queen of wands and king of wands / devil (twin flame energy )

-The emperor (Devine masculine)

-The empress (Devine feminine)

-2 of wands / 3 of cups / 10 of cups for reunion

-Judgment -karmic

-The lovers /2of cups / ace of cups - soulmate

-Dark night of the soul / the tower

-separation 8 of cups , death

Happy new moon guys, thanks for reading. Please feel free to share your experiences/ thoughts 🖤🪐⚡️.

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dark-in-the-rooms · 1 year ago

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(i woke up today and decided to answer questions I wasn't even asked, i'm sure ray already wrote about this, because he made best language posts i ever seen, but i don't remember reading their thoughts about the structure(?), also i'm feeling crazy today)

i throw toddler tantrums because I can't do whatever I want with sentences in english. also i feel like english is straight to the point and i can't speak in riddles and hide triple meanings in every other word.

i will use my own translation (pretty much word by word) of shortparis song (yes, very sad, but this year is one of those years again) and try to demonstrate what i mean.

tw for all the bad things

notice: there is no punctuation marks. this could be several sentences, one sentence or every line could be a sentence. that's why i can't give any line here exact meaning and translation.

falls on/across the/an iron (also could mean ''iron is falling, everyone got a piece'', but not in the context, i think)

with the sky in half (something falls from half of the sky, sky is broken in half, snow is a half of the sky or we share our fate with the sky)

snowy regret (could mean snow/snowy regret was falling from the sky)

through/for the woods and through/for us

in the red juniper berries

snowy regret (again: snowy regret could fall in the red junipers)

heavy branches/branches are heavy/branches became heavy (could be heavy from the snow)

of light regret (regret isn't small, regret is metaphorically full of metaphorical light, like, you feel so much, your soul is pierced by the sun, you are sad, but also you desperately hope for the best and remember peaceful, happy times. it's hard to translate. also, could be ''branches are heavy because regret is on the branches'' or ''regret has branches and those are heavy'')

oh, how a mom wanted (she wanted that very much or she wanted that to be the exact way)

for her son to walk upright/straight (could mean literally walk or walk the right way or walk without hunching. every good caregiver wants their child to be physically well and be able to move. every good mother wants her son to became a kind honest man. every good parent wants their child to not be horrified, ashamed or grieving)

eternal glory, mom

to those who were broken (the word broken is difficult to translate correctly. some force either broke the person itself, physically or mentally, or the person broke themself because of the presence of this force in their life. but it is not specifically stated what or who broke the person. they are simply broken now, not the same. perhaps like the sky. the same difficulties arise in the translation of dostoevsky, you understand the vibe)

stand up, mother i've been walking upright/straight (stand up could also mean a lot of things. it could be "get up, mom, let's go together" or "protect me, mom, stand up for me" or a bambi-type ''mother, wake up'' situation. also, you know, mother-land, with all of the meanings we have above)

when i started typing, i was so full of emotions, now i feel like i am an empty husk of a human, and i can't describe how many pictures i had in my head, and how much i wanted to tell my fate-siblings, my real mom, all of the mothers, everyone.

you girls in the jazz band (word for ''girls'' used here is friendly-rude, you can't call any girl like that, only your close friends, close-sister-like friends. also, jazz was known as western plague sodomitic music that was ruining young minds and safety of the country. i failed to mention lyrics are based on voznesensky's poetry. so, historic nuance is here, guys (gender neutral))

do you remember the school bows? (basically, ''do you remember we were classmates in first grade?'' or ''do you remember we were close-like-sister-and-brother-friends since childhood?''. we have a tradition to put enormous white flower-like bows on girls' heads when they start school. then girls put them on themselves when they finish school. this is a symbol of childhood and innocence. so also ''remember those times when we were innocent?'')

stand up jolly, stand up (''stand up'' and ''become'' sound similar, by the way. this could mean ''stand up and protect us like our mothers swore they would protect us'' or ''at least stand up for yourself and your children (real or metaphorical)'' or ''could you become ours joyful mother figures for a minute, we need that'' or anything similar. remember motherland sometimes threated like a literal mother? yes, also that)

stand up

you stand up in siberia

stand up in moscow (message for the whole country, from poor little villages to megapolises)

we've killed so many

without giving birth ourselves (because of historical language changes i, as a man of culture, hear ''without giving birth to ourselves''. so, not only our moms gave birth to us physically, they also shaped who we are as people, gave us personhood. also, motherland)

deep sorrow. snow clouds gently covering night sky. sharp chest pain. metal rain. juniper bushes near my childhood home, dried and warm. you really want me to go there and do that? remember doctors told you i may never walk on my own? i never did anything bad. why you became so hateful. school desks smell like fresh paint. bad news. shame

you tell me i can't just move words in centences and break sentences in half? but how am i supposed to show everyone i have big big big feelings? will words move. need i. me not understand no one? why that is? i can't even play with different meanings like i used to? subtext and second meanings gone? i spend hours trying to explain why a couple of lines had so many personal meanings it destroyed me?

Are there any significant features of Russian that English doesn't have? Just in terms of 'thing you take for granted before realising to your frustration that other languages don't have it'.

Kinda like, idk, English having the possessive apostrophe, or reduplication in some languages signifying that a word is plural.

TWO WORDS FOR "BLUE".

These are not the same color! In Russian they are голубой and синий respectively! A RAINBOW HAS SEVEN COLORS IN IT! English stole so many words from other languages but just this once I wish it had stolen more.

It also doesn't have as many diminutives as Russian does. I think the nickname-y suffixes count as diminutives? Like "Bill" -> "Billy" or some such. But you can't make words tiny and cutesy in English. It sucks.

Another thing is the opposite of a diminutive, which google says is called "augmentative" but I think it's wrong? Anywho, I want to be able to make words bigger via suffixes. Like. Друг (friend) - дружище (big friend). Дом (house) - домище (big house).

Same for adjectives. Красивый (beautiful) - красивенький (little beautiful). Большой (big) - большущий (big big!). I want to say big big in English. This shit rocks.

I also miss "а". Okay, lemme explain. English has two basic sentence linking words: "and" and "but". One inplies sinilarity, the other one - contradiction.

Russian has "и" for similarity, "но" for contradiction... And "а". It's kind of like. It's still adversarial but not contradictory. It's a very "but what about x?" vibe. It's so hard to explain.

"Я пришёл, а ты - нет!" - "I came, but/and you didn't!" - I'm bringing up two different subjects, they're opposite one another, they did opposite things, but they don't contradict each other, so there's really no "but", but you have to put a "but" because a butt is an arse and arse and on the grass auwueueueueue

There are also individual words that English doesn't have, and I'm very appreciative of Russian three-storey swearing which English can't replicate, but Ithink these are the biggest ones. Cheers!

#first everything went okay #nice russian post #then vent #claus why #no one asked for this

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kthynes · 3 years ago

Text

THE MIXOLOGIST 🍸 (1/7)

part one: tequila wine

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: bartender!steve rogers x fem!reader

summary: after a rough break up you find yourself frequenting the same bar every night where you’re tended to by Steve who helps you through your heartbreak.

warnings: 18+ nsfw — MINORS DNI. This part contains: excessive alcohol consumption and the very repercussions of it, course language, mentions of heartbreak/break up/cheating (don’t condone this bit). Angst. Crude humour, bit of passive aggressiveness/self deprecating tendencies. TW the reader yacks here.

word count: 5k

authors note: this part will mostly play into the readers emotions just so you guys get a feel for it. The rest of this series will be a bit easy going and fun with lots of lessons to be learned and tribulations to overcome. But that’s life right?

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged! And as self explanatory as it should be, please do not copy and/or translate my works onto any other platforms. Cheers!

taglist: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @mrs-djokovic @bookwormchick91 @lauracontisstuff @blossombela @maroonsunrise83

This series has not been beta’d so any mistakes are my own.

Here’s an unfortunate truth: By and large, humans are pretty bad at relationships. Sure, we’ve devolved into them well enough that the world somehow keeps a moving tailspin.

Life goes on, we rechance those encounters and take part in the hierarchy of social genesis — that’s how the subspecies have adapted to what Darwinian scientists root as the segmentary socio-cultural differentiation dogma. Blah, blah, blah...

But apart from the whole anthropological semantics, there’s another end to a beginning when it comes to fostering deep, personal relationships, more so romantic relationships. And that is heartbreak.

“Fuck me.” You moan under your breath, head making a near bang against the curving plexiglass bar top.

They say heartbreak is a consequence of emotional bonding. It’s a soul crushing adversary that almost every romcom thrives on.

Now, by default, it’s your turn.

“With love comes heartbreak. Am I right?” You drunkenly proclaim to a neighboring patron who wordlessly lifts his beer snout on cue. He’s reverent on hearing your troubles as his own for the fifth time in a row.

“Cheers to that, I guess.” You sardonically forfeit while doing the raw honor of slurping your shot rather than being sensible and shooting it down. You were keenly inept on feeling the burn and no one was meant to stop you.

The apocryphal Manhattan nightlife is a buzzing quandary. Somewhere on Bleecker Street, once an American Bohemia, you become a near right chauvinist. You have seven brimming tequila shots neatly lined up, four emptied and the rest dumped into a wide glass full of red wine. You spirited away your pain and made up your own concoction; tequila wine, as you called it.

Blow by blow you could only recall how ugly and despairing your life had become. Loving one man who chose to sleep with another. Men, they’d have gall and curiosity, both in spite of the other.

“You know I gave him my all.” You joust, half lidded. The no name man gives you another fleeting, uneasy smile. “Fucked him in all sorts of positions and places and then lo and behold he’s getting his dick sucked on an all inclusive business trip in Hawaii.”

“Oh c’mon!” He rambunctiously groans, not because of your existential crisis but because the Sox had defeated the Yankees in a series match. A number one crime in the big apple state. Now where were we?

“His little doe-eyed secretary, skanky as they come and barely legal I’m sure. God I should’ve known.” You pathetically fuss, soon gritty with anger that glosses over you.

Your hand slams down on the hard surface and lingers. There’s a rejoicing thought, one you replay over and over again. It doesn’t escape you when you’d been fateful enough to grovel through hours of pre-recorded footage and fun play, not to mention the lewd pictures, token messages and voice memos that left a soldering imprint for you to latch onto. Reminding you of a far less woman who was only desired in consolation.

“Who the fuck saves their nudes on a shared cloud account? Ass out, tits drawn—“ Another snarl is sent your way as you peruse, obliterated out of your mind. “She’s got great tits by the way, they sit nice and high. My fiancé, EX FIANCÉ, let me tell you, he’s a big boobs guy. Mines aren’t even contenders, they’re spread apart, almost like Admiral Akbar on a good day. What am I talking about, I should just show you. Do you wanna see ‘em?”

Your bar buddy is nearly horrified, mouth agape and possibly someone’s father and husband at that. It’s a mere attempt, a strip show that he’s saved from as you go to unbutton your top.

“Hey, hey! That's enough, you can’t do this here, alright?” Your long time friend Matt Fontucci sweeps right in uniform. He’s been tied up, bar back and working the stretch before coming to your aid. He had no idea you were coming until you showed up.

“Matty!” You squeal with your arms flailing in the air gesticating a warm, hearty welcome. The top few buttons of your blouse are left flung open, reprimanding the sweaty bartender an eyeful. “How come we never fucked?”

“Well maybe, for one, it has to do with the fact that I’m married, have been for a while now.” He cautiously studies your sagging, messy composure that comes undone to a different pulse.

“So I’m not your free pass then?” You valet, laying your chin on top of your stacked fists.

“What has gotten into you?” Matt winced right under the cowering strobe lights as both his hands brace the counter, lowering to get a better look at your bloodshot eyes.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You peer at him innocently. The corners of his mouth twitch just as he sourly ponders over your inquisition, not that he has to. But overall it pains him to see you hurt like this. It’s a new wonder.

“No.”

“Rude.” You sit up straight and vainly spare no effort to finish off your cocktail. Hand to mouth coordination is unparalleled as the alcohol starts to dribble down your chin and onto your delicate work blouse.

“What is this?” Matt yanks the glass away from your grasp to inspect the drink. He didn’t serve you tonight so clearly you had gotten your jaunty way with the wait staff who probably weren’t aware of the situation. You were coded “trouble” in a semi decent crowd. He’d now have to make sure of it.

“Hey!”

“The devil's margarita, nice.” He hums after taking an unwarranted swig and letting the taste marry in his mouth.

“Sure whatever the hell that is.” You grumble while reaching over to take back the sloshing wine glass. With dire retaliation you chug down the entire cocktail in one go. Matt growls with displeasure and you hiss loudly once the drink is polished off. “Oh look it, now the devil’s in me.”

The glass drops from above, a near jerk reaction from Matt who catches it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N, you’re gonna end up on a stretcher.”

“I have an undiagnosed ulcer the size of Mars, I’ll live. Now how about you do me a solid and get me ‘nother shot. Just one, look away if you have to… I don’t give a shit.“ You slur and Matt squarely clenches his jaw, glaring with irreparable judgement.

Meanwhile there’s some enigmatic juxtaposition as Steve watches the unraveling back and forth. He’s distended with some concern as your body resigns and slumps halfway over the barrier, the weight of your drunkenness keeps you down for the latter being. It’s a truthful sight that he’s partway gotten used to by now. Every week there’s a new drunk. This week you were on the special.

“She’s cut.” Matt bashfully declares to his superior who’s working the beer taps and a less rowdier crowd that comes and goes.

“You know her?” Steve ponders before turning to hand a customer their bubbling pint. “Here you are.”

“Yeah she’s a… friend.” Matt drags his feet, clearly frustrated with himself.

“Hey man can I get a—“

“He’s off the clock, what can I get for you?” Steve in turn diverts the patron his way. The older gentleman, dressed in business casual, was wisecracking his inquiries that could call for trouble and cut corners.

“Do you guys do triples?”

“In the same glass? No. That’s measured past the legal limit, we only serve doubles.” Steve scratches his bearded cheek, his super soldier hearing could pick up on your gargling groans. His eyes flicker in your general direction and that’s when you peel yourself off the sticky bar top. A relieving prospect for any bartender.

“Got it. I’ll just get a whiskey neat then.” He decides.

“Coming right up.” Steve idly reaches for one of the top shelf whiskeys, then brandishing a clean lowball cocktail glass to pour a double shot of Crown in. His own choice.

“I don’t know where I put my phone and wallet…” Matt feels his back pockets, narrowly pacing the strip before stopping a short distance.

“MATT WHERE’S MY FUCKING DRINK YOU ASS?!” You boom over the surround sound causing heads to turn in your wake. You’re propped up on your knob knees that swivel in the barstool due to the lack of balance.

You were wreaking absolute havoc. Unbothered and wrongfully awry, you smolder your friend and his hot bar companion a narky ‘what now’ glare.

“What a peach. Someone better catch her.” Whiskey neat snickers, running a thumb over his bottom lip with an indescribable look.

“IF I DON’T GET MY DR-INK THIS INSTANET. I SWARE TO YOU I’LL—“

“Hey lady cool it will ya?!” The man sitting next to you has had enough of your shit. You offensively gawk at the pigheaded man who’s blotchy and just as intoxicated as you.

“Oh fuck off Lord Crumb.”

“Is she alright?” Steve asks his off duty attendant.

“Her dickhead fiancé cheated on her. So she’s never been better.” Matt rushes to undo his apron, planning his escape before slowly regressing to stop and look over his shoulder. “Why the fuck is she like this?”

Steve, using a few second count, finishes pouring the drink and then slides it to the customer who hears his order.

“Thanks boss.” The suit kraken chimes. Steve doesn’t appraise this type of man who flicks his tip at him. This is an era that made no sense to the nomad who realizes that common courtesy was masochistically excluded from the working class.

He sighs while shoving a crumpled Abe Lincoln into the communal jar, not pressing his indignation.

Today’s troubles are tomorrow’s struggles. You’d come to know that as well.

“Great, how am I supposed to leave now?” Matt looses himself while trying to get to you. A good friend with a heavy hearted conscience. “I can’t be around for this, Steve. I have to somehow get back to Lana and the baby, fuck the baby.”

Steve tries not to laugh at the young man who’s almost always taken aback by the fact that his fruitful loins made him a father.

“Yeah you should really get going man, can’t tell you how many times Lana has called the bar line. Hi there sweetheart, another refill?” Steve charms a beautiful ailing blonde who shyly approaches the till with her friend in tow.

“Yes please.” While twirling a stray lock of hair she hands him a used wine goblet. Her world consumes him as he smiles wholeheartedly.

“What is it that you’d like?”

“Can I get a Zinfandel?”

“Absolutely.” He winks at her to acquire a nice tip and to make her night while at it. “And for your friend?”

“Oh, um, just a cosmo please.” The meek brunette incites just below a hearing decibel.

“Of course.”

Matt stares at him incredulously. “OK so I’m in deep horse shit then?”

“Possibly.” Steve moves around to grab the requested wine from the cellar shelf. He examines each label and then produces a house wine to defuse.

“Why didn’t you think to tell me this earlier Steve?”

“Would you have left?” The cork lets out a pop fizzle, freely releasing the aromatic scent of the ripest black-skinned wine grape, one that would make any bartenders mouth water. The two men soon share a funny look, Matt clicks his tongue with disappointment. “What?”

“You don’t know what it's like.”

“I don't, which is why there is absolutely no reason for you to be stressed, my friend. I’m around, I’ll keep an eye out on Granny Moses over there and make sure she gets out in one piece. After all, it’s my bar, my rules.”

“Chilled or room temp darling?” Steve’s piercing blue eyes catch the swooning blonde who quirks up from her trance.

“Oh, room is perfectly fine.”

Matt snorts, rubbing his face a couple times. “You’d do that?”

“Not without a good fight.” Steve adds while topping off the young woman’s wine glass. Her slinking form studies him as he crafts his work with precision and care. “There you are, doll. Enjoy. And I’ll have your cosmo to you shortly.”

“Great thanks!” The brunette squeaks like a caught spectator.

“Go. Home, Fontucci.” Steve pauses to tell his subordinate. “I promise you’ll have a job tomorrow.”

Matt watches you zone out with waves of sadness. He feels your anguish. It doesn’t sit right with him but he reluctantly chooses to leave it at that, patting Steve on the back as he did, the apron comes swishing off his waist and wrapped in a bundle.

“That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll see you tomorrow Rogers.”

🍸

You had extended your stay well past invitation, your drunkenness still stringing you along in spurts. Throughout the night, Steve had some of his pious wait staff check up on you because he was too busy, single-handedly working the bar. Not that he wanted to.

Your phone would chime, Matt pleading with you to go home. You’d reply with emojis, immaturely blowing up his device to get a point across.

“On me." You slowly glance up at the stranger, soon like a fish out of water.

Right in front of you was god almighty himself. A tall, buff, brooding man, sporting a close garibaldi and long light brown tresses shared a softened expression as he passes you a sweaty glass that contains something more insipid and resembling closer to water.

"This better be vodka." You lament, a light sip passes your lips and confirms that it is, in fact, glacial water straight from the East river bayous. “And it’s not.”

"I'm only saving you from a hangover sweetheart." Steve reckons his usual call.

"If only you could save me from all this fucking misery." You huff into the cold brimmed high ball. He guns you another look, brows stitched together while one hand wrings the other. There’s some passing concern that intercepts his thoughts but doesn’t quite reach past his gaping mouth.

"Hey!" A stocky middle aged man calls out to the strangling barkeep.

“Don’t let me hold you up.” You grumble.

"Give me a second alright?" Steve’s voice discernibly deepens. There’s a group of howling men that begin to encroach the opposite end of the establishment, unattended as you wave off the super soldier.

"It's fine I'm going to head out soon anyways." You tell him even though your feet barely touch the ground. It's ascertaining that one wrong move could have you toppling over so you hold up a propositioning finger and signal to your overly cautious savior. "That’s if I can get my head on straight.”

You giggle out of the blue, catching yourself as you did. When was the last time you actually genuinely giggled? “I’m sorry.” You pathetically hiccup to yourself and out loud.

"Stay." He warns you. A man on command.

“Do I even know you?”

“You know Matt right?”

“Sure.”

“Then you know me. Steve.”

“Lovely.” You roll your eyes while taking another distracted sip. Steve cracks a half grin, backing away to attend his coupe.

Then came last call. You were bum numb in your seat. The evening crowd was thinning out. You had the whole aisle to yourself, barely holding on. Steve kept you at your lonesome peace, guzzling water from the tap at every opportunity. But little did he know, you were carrying a small ritzy hip flask filled with bourbon, sneaking sips in between each soundtrack that aptly relayed your angst. You could never have enough.

First it was Un-Break My Broken Heart. Sip. Then Dreaming with a Broken Heart. Swig. To finally elate your spite, Heartless was thrown in and at that you’ve drained down the rest. Your tribulations become an early 2000s orison. Beauty ain’t it?

“How are we doing?” Steve swings by, wiping his large veiny hands on a rag. He nods at a passing bus boy who gathers people as they’re soliciting chatter.

2 am never felt somber than this.

“I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing. Just prayin' to a God that I don't believe in. […] Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even!” You belt out loud and off key with the next track that plays on loop, startling Steve who wasn’t expecting a sudden performance.

“What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?” You tilt the flask up to your lips, forgetful when you’re left with a drop. Clatter and bang. The flask gets swung and dropped, far from your reach and below you swinging feet.

“Sweetheart.” He pitifully hums as you continue.

“And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK? I'm falling to pieces, yeah. I'm falling to pieces.” You sing, voice cracking a smidge.

“Hey, do you mind clearing the kegs for me?” Steve dully asks his floor assistant who pipes a ‘yes boss.’ Sorry for him and sorry for you. “Thanks.”

“Great song.” You sniff, refusing to meet the handsome bartender's eye.

“The Script right?” Steve starts clearing the area for you, picking up the empty slim jim and carefully showcasing some display of understanding. Usually he’d kick people out at the first whiff, no warning, no remission. But your hurt spoke to him at a spiritual level —in ways he, himself, couldn’t explain to a monk.

“I don’t want to feel this way anymore, Stove.” You say right after he goes to put away the last glass in the dishwasher.

“Steve.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” He chuckles.

“I’m not being funny.”

��I know you aren’t.” He bites down on his thrashing lip, his eyes boulder you a look that imitates life in its purest form. “You’ve been wronged and so here you are, entitled as can be.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Just not my call.”

“Oh fuck off.” You turn your head away, still off balance in your seat.

“Look sweetheart, you don’t need me to tell you how it is and how it’s going to be, alright? I’m just a friend owing another friend some relief.”

“Unbelievable. Matt didn’t have to put you up to this.” You snap, grasping the ledge to lean forward like a snooty school child.

“You’re telling me.” That earns Steve another eye roll and a girlish whatever.

“Wait, hold on, what is it that you think of me?” First impressions, they ought to mean something. Steve was magmatic. Beautiful bone structure, strong and supple while choosing to chop you up with every little punitive glare. You were flummoxed.

“What do I think of you?” He admonishes.

“Yeah.”

“I think that you don’t have to be at my bar, crying a nuisance to know your worth.” Steve ruminates. “And I’m not saying this for the sake of but I genuinely believe you deserve way better than what you’ve been dealt with.”

“Oh nice is this where I take off my pants for you?” Your hands fumble on the tightly wedged in button that gives no way.

“It’s your lucky night. Keep ‘em on,” Steve humors with one clean swipe of the bar counter. He’s taken by your quick wit. A woman out of his time but virtuous at most, nearly taking every crap shot with earnestness.

“Hmm, why thank you.” You pageant.

Steve holds off when a mused thought graces him. He’d surely have to know and that’s when the rag drops. “If I see you back here, will you promise me one thing?”

“Schuwaaa.” Sure. You meant sure.

“Be better. He’ll die to see it, but if you know how to live and how to move on then there’s your redemption.”

“That’s kind of a hard ask, don’t you think?” You scoff while he dashes around to quickly to put away his equipment.

“Never said it was going to be easy, love. Now c’mon let’s get you home.”

Steve doesn’t wait for a yes or a no, he simply ambles down a few steps to make a showstopping appearance. Your sight is set on his full form that prances around in a fitted, all black ensemble, stationary with the dress code. He’s a domineering man by nature and for that your head begins to spin. Closeness is a unsaid proximity.

“Ugh do I have to go?” You boldly whine up at his stature.

“Unfortunately.” He chuckles as he helps you land on your feet with known grace and delicacy. “Bars closed.”

You can’t outshine the doer. It takes you a while to forthright your bearings, the cool air whipping around as you swayed in Steve’s baggy flight jacket. His scent envelopes you like a warm, citrusy hug on fall evening.

Steve hovers over in a far corner, rocking on the balls of his feet while taking a smoke break, inhaling and exhaling quick, short puffs that were meant to provide solace.

“Your Uber should be here soon.” He tells you with a far away look. Your stomach violently lurches with insight and vengeance, everything you've consumed comes creeping up, mouth salivating in preparation like Pavlovian hound dog.

“Great long before I—“ Projectile vomit. Chunks. Red white and murky. Bits of the very questionable dinner you had slimed onto the pavement. “What is that?”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, stamping out his cigarette as you groan at the monstrosity laid out on display. “Alright hang on.”

“I don’t think I ca—blarghahaka.” New sounds chorus out of your mouth, an onomatopoeia of dreadfulness that covers you in sweat. Two warm hands keep your head still as you heave and swab globs of spit onto the cracked sidewalk. Your lungs tire out deep, burning breaths. The lining of your stomach quelled some more, churning against the gravitational pull that keeps you keening over.

“Is she throwing up?” You could hear the fazy Uber driver stick his head out the window. He sees a Picasso painting and sneers with disgust. “Oh hell nah. I can’t take her like that. Are you kidding me? I just got my interiors detailed.”

“She’s letting it all out man. You won’t even have to worry.” Steve relents with a close hand hovering the small of your back. His ghosting touch relieves you as you’re hunched over with tears pooling in your eyes. You’re stupid for this. You should’ve stayed home, cried into a tub of ice cream instead.

“Forget that. Nah, you’re going to have to find someone else. She’s a liability and not to mention sloppy as hell.”

You aggressively flip him the bird. He curses you out in Spanish, like a scorned Bronx native. There’s enough cockamamie to run its course. Steve furrows an off put frown, hoping someone would play nice.

“That’s enough.” His hand cradles the back of your sweltering neck, gripping it ever so gently. You moan, sidling his guilt upon contact. Steve gets slightly protective of you, a woman he’d met just a few hours prior to. Your life was in his hands, sinfully warm and broken beyond repair. How did you become his tyrant? And why did he feel stuck?

Words were left scarce as your eyes pulse shut. Steve, still watchful, doesn’t budge from your side. His hand softly rubs your back, soothing you from the jaws of the technicolor yawn. He drifts when you drop a squat at ground level, your joints crack agonizingly as you go to hold your head. Old age and poor alcohol tolerance served you right.

“You’re on your own, my guy. Good luck.” The snarky Uber departs with a light cackle.

Steve purses his lips, scoffs with a resounding ‘I know’ that’s way too quiet for you to pick up on. Not that you cared anyways. Who was he to you?

“Mmmm.” You groan at the putrid stench of bile that rinses your flavor palette. Agitation is kept dormant as your face crumples, a residual defect hollows your insides through constant hurdles and false alarms. Deep breaths.

Deep. Breaths.

“I read that the ‘hair of the dog’ approach always works. What do you think?” Steve sarcastically punts, hands shoved in his pockets as he passes you a crinkly eyed smile, trying to ease light into the situation.

Hair of the dog. An old wives tale. A running myth where you’d counterintuitively drink more to cure a hangover or the precipice of one.

“Oh bite me.” You spit before wobbling back up on your feet. His hand easily catches your elbow, trying to keep you steady in waiting.

“You’re all sorts of trouble aren’t you?” Steve’s eyes glimmer the second he notices the smudged mascara, patchy foundation and pouty, wet lips. Your hair, wind chapped, is a character of its own. Heartbreak, embedded your live caricature with unceasing reigns.

It’s no comparison that Steve felt sorry for you. His astuteness came from the fact that he would’ve been the same. Love came intensely for him but then went away as the years passed on. An infirmary of his life was temporary. He couldn’t rely on love or people. But because time heals everyone, he's sure you’d also get your unsaid way. Maybe even without him chuck hauling you in the middle of Greenwich where everyone else was one and all the same.

“Like the rest.” You slyly chime just as a soirée of drunken youth hoot past you both. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna try to get home.”

“Not on your own. You’re coming with me.”

“Woah stranger danger! I’m not going anywhere with you.” You garble as he’s close to dragging you by the elbow, fully capable of taking you hostage if by will.

“I promise, I’ll get you home safe.” Steve Rogers reasons, patriotic and truthful.

“Ha! Yeah right. I’ve seen Dateline mister.” He hasn’t.

“And I’ve dealt with HYDRA. What are our odds?”

“Is that like a utility plant?” Your confusion stuns him, not that you were meant to be extraterrestrial or literate. You were a plain ol’e Nashville civilian. But then there’s Steve, who doesn’t need to dwell on his past life anymore. There’s no reason for him to bring it up. So instead, he drags you around the block, maybe curbing you to your senses while getting to his car.

“So is this how you get women to come home with you?” You dredge the heels of your loafers that come in contact with the dry concrete. Being a deadweight serves you no purpose as Steve skids your tread with his quick feet and even stronger pull.

“Not just any woman.” He grunts, remote starting his Ford Mustang before ushering you into the passenger side. You barely bend to get in but then finally acquiesce when he huffs softly. For someone who’s the size of a wild bison Steve had beautiful, soul piercing blue eyes that chipped away at your resolve. He was that good. And you’d never tell him.

“Aww I must be the exception then?”

“No you’re just a pain in the ass.” The door slams right in your face. It’s endearing.

“I’m usually not like this.” You ruefully mention and he yanks the car into a deep, guttural start. Six cylinders and the monster roars for life.

“I find that hard to believe, your honor.” He reverses out, watching both ways before turning onto the main roads. The bar lights flicker, the open sign dims out. Steve tuts a silent thank you and hopes to see another day.

“Just so you know, I didn’t show up for you. We weren’t even supposed to meet.” You state matter of factly. There’s some static emitting from the radio that switches off from time to time.

“Why, were you hoping to get picked up?”

You’re quiet. “No.” Is a weak statement. Steve looks at you with disappointment, coming up at a yellow light that turns red. “No!”

“I just— I couldn’t fathom drinking alone… being alone.” You sound small, resorting to the half truth that brought you to The Grotto in the first place.

“You do realize that comes in part with your existence.” Steve mentions.

You huff and you puff, folding your arms across your chest while trying to pose up like a child asking for cookies before dinner.

“Loneliness is insufferable, Stan. Wouldn’t you rather be freed from it?”

The drive is aimless at first until you finally guide Steve down the short backroads to your two storey walk up.

“It’d be an unconditional freedom.” He sighs, knowing the comfort of his own solitude which is not accustomed to you. “We’re born alone to die alone.”

“Wow… you have it all figured out there. That’s— fucking depressing as shit. But you know what, you look like a man who’s loved a whole lot. It doesn’t escape you, so don’t make this out for me because we both know what we’ve fallen into and climbed out of. It just so happens to be that mine is made for TV and it's been critically acclaimed at that.” You telltale.

“And what about mine?” Steve inquires. The one way street leads him up a slow slope that passes the better show homes and estates.

“I’ve yet to know but I won’t care to ask. You seem like you’ve healed from whatever it is...” You muse, legs curled up, bare feet on the seat to much of Steve’s approval. “So why bother?”

That keeps Cap quiet until you point down some lane that winds around the cul du sac. You finally gesture at the far corner lot and that’s when the car comes to a stop.

Steve goes to undo his belt and you alert him.

“It’s fine. I got this chief, not my first rodeo y’know.” You confide with an air of confidence. He sighs, letting you have it your way this one time among all the other instances. “Thanks bud. You were great.”

“I’ll be giving you a five star rating on the app. You’re with Uber or Lyft? Or was it…”

“Go home.” He says it the same way Matt’s heard it; droll and weary,

“You got it!” You quirk while stumbling out of the car.

The downright theatrics of it all has Steve succumbing with light, exhausted laughter. He's bemused by you and your constant outpour. “Thanks Sterling!”

“Anytime sweetheart.” He hums while biting down on his bottom lip and jutting his jaw out with continued amusement that eyes you completely.

Steve doesn’t miss your mash of limbs digging through your purse, looking for your keys only to push through the wrong key slot. You yell another profanity and that alerts a nearby yard dog, barking for your attention.

There’s a lot going on.

Steve’s had rough nights and rough encounters. Yours was a bit timely, human and close to special. He knows you’d be around. How soon? Maybe never. He’d have to copulate on the wishful thought before steering off for another night of self submission to himself.

#steve rogers series #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #chris evans angst #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers x reader

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diaco1968 · 4 years ago

Text

Thrill

Shigaraki Tomura x f!Reader

WARNINGS! +18, lemon/smut, heavy NONCON!, Forced! , implied cheating, dirty talk and degradation, unprotected, yandere-ish

The sound of the sharp knock resonating off the walls of the otherwise completely silent apartment had you almost jump out of your own skin, a cold sweat immediately beeaking out all over your back despite the heavy warm blanket you were under. You muted the video even though you assumed it was already too late for the unwelcome guest not to have heard it. Another sharp knock and you knew your assumption was right. Either way you quietly slipped out from under your blanket, feet meeting the cold floor and worsening the already cold shivers rolling down your spine, no one had business visiting you at 3 in the morning. Reaching up you looked through the peep hole. The silhouette of a familiar person with light hair was visible but mostly blocked by a smear of something dark across the glassy cover making it extremely difficult to make out the face.

This time instead of the sharp knock, fingers almost gently rapped over the wooden door as if the person knew you were standing right on the other side, the rapping playing a familiar and serie rhythm. Eerie because you only knew one more person who knew this rhythm.

Your hand rose and your fingers wrapped around the doorknob all on their own accord. The rude knocking was his way of respecting you actually, cause you knew as well as he did that this flimsy door could not stand in his way if he had decided to come in already. Chills from your cold feet on the floor made the whole experience worse than it needed to be. With a quiet shaky intake of breath and a shake of your head to regain your stoic composure you pulled the door open slowly, enough space so that your whole frame was in the doorway and not more, one hand still on the door for emotional support.

And surely you needed that.

He was way more terrifying than you remembered him from last time. His white hair glowing and almost reflecting the moonlight that seeped inside the corridor from the window at the end, the white light engulfing and giving his form a ghostly appearance, with bright crimson eyes staring at you expectantly. And that was not the only crimson in the mix. A big splash of red was covering one whole side of his face as it had either dripped down from his own head, which was likely cause strands of his hair was also still dripping with crimson, or had sprayed onto him from some other poor soul, down his neck, disappearing in the black of his shirt, making it look even darker, all the way down to his left hip. He was leaning his bloodied hand on the doorway, looming over you with his nonchalant yet completely insane face, lips slowly parting into a smirk, knowing by the pale look of your face that he absolutely had not given you a choice for this surprise meeting.

"May I use your shower."

Your jaw went slack staring at him with an open mouth as you clutched the door unable to answer what wasn't really a request.

"Of course, what a dumb question."

He pushed off the wall and gestured for you to get out of his way as he pushed the door wide open, stomping right past you. Feeling way out of your comfort zone you glanced left and right in the corridor before succumbing to your fate and closing the door behind you, staring at the muddy bloody shoe prints going to your living room. You followed them and watched him kick his shoes off in the middle of the living room on the creme carpet, lean in to look at the pictures over the chimney, scoff then make his way over to the kitchen.

"That's not the bathroom-..."

He totally ignored you as he went to the fridge grabbing a cold beer, all the while making sure he smeared everything with the blood on his hands.

His eyes glanced sideways towards you as he chugged the bear in one go, putting the bottle on the very edge of the counter.

"Ahhh."

His eyes locked onto yours, beginning to show a slight bit of annoyance. And as his mouth split open into a wide grin he tipped the bottle over the edge. It hit the floor with a noise that sounded way louder to you than it should've before it shattered on the kitchen tiles.

"Oops. My bad."

Your eyes snapped onto him from where they previously were glaring at the broken bottle on the floor, grinding your teeth together in annoyance.

"The bathroom is the other way."

"I know."

You hissed out from your clenched teeth and he waved his hand dismissively, stepping over the glass and walking towards your bedroom. Of course he was going to use the master bathroom. What else. He stopped in the doorway to the bathroom and looked at you.

"Join me."

You crossed your arms over your chest this time glaring at him directly.

"I see no need for that. You're a big boy."

He faked a pout before shrugging his shoulders and stepping into the bathroom.

"Well I thought you wanted me gone as soon as possible. Apparently not, so I'm gonna take my time then."

You shook your head and sat on the edge of the bed, every single muscle in your body rigid from stress. How long could he take anyway?

Apparently too long.

An hour of chewing your lower lip and tapping your foot nervously later, you decided to check up on him. You knocked on the door but got no reply. Three times. So you opened the door slowly and carefully to peak inside. Unlike what you had imagined the bathroom wasn't filled with steam from the shower. But sure enough he was standing under the running water. You stopped yourself before you could rake your eyes down his body you went to close the door.

"Come on now, it's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Shigaraki."

You whispered in a scolding tone but didn't close the door, instead staring at his eyes.

"Eh? What happened to Tomura? Or the one I like more, Tomuooo~"

He attempted to mimick your voice with a whiny needy tone and remembering exactly what he was talking about you flushed bright red stammering.

"Oh my gosh... fuck off..."

He laughed, the sound taking you aback not recalling ever having heard him laugh.

"Fine, but seriously. I need your help."

He turned around to show you the half ass cleaned wounds on his back.

And of course you had to inspect so you stepped inside to take a closer look at the gashes. Two long angry stripes across his middle back, not bleeding anymore but spots of dried blood still sticking around them.

"No way I'm gonna blindly scrub at those. They hurt like a motherfucker."

You heaved a sigh finding the reasoning legit. After all you were used to seeing such wounds yourself. You grabbed a towel for the lack of a better option, finding out that he was too far inside the shower for you to reach. Not wanting to hear his retort on telling him to get closer you decided to step in and that's when the cold water ran over your hands and slid all the way down your arm inside your sleeve.

"Shit! Why so cold?!"

"Why not. Not how he likes it?"

You clicked your tongue annoyed and pressed the towel to his back a little too harshly making him hiss and glare at you from the corner of his eye. If you were completely honest it was a terrifying glare but you didn't budge and instead started to scrub away at the skin lightly enjoying the silent tease-less mood. Not for long though.

"Speaking of him. Where even is he?"

'As if you don't already know.'

You bit back your retort and settled for somthing else.

"We were and are not going to be speaking of him."

As if to emphasize, you scraped the towel a little harder over his skin and watched as his shoulderblades rolled and rippled right under the skin but he ignored it.

"We're not? Having a naked man in his shower makes you feel guilty?"

Your nails dug into the towel and you paused.

"Shut it."

"No. He is away working, not even dreaming of his little fiance being unfaithful to him. Trusts you a little too much, huh?"

"I said shut it!"

You growled and slammed the towel onto his back, right into the gashes. His shoulders twitched angrily and he reached back and grabbed you right before you could storm off angrily. A loud surprised gasp left you as your back got slammed into the wall, cold water from the shower pouring over you and soaked you to the bone in a matter of seconds.

"And I said no."

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp or wiggle away from under the onslaught of cold water to no avail.

"Fuck! Let me go!"

His hands grabbed at your wet heavy hoodie ripping it enough to make space to slip it off your shoulders and expose your chest then let it hang around your waist. With your hands still inside the sleeves you felt bounded by the tight heavy cloth unable to do anything but struggle in vain.

"He has no idea his fiance, the love of his life, is secretly a villain fucker, does he?"

"I am not!"

"The love of his life? Cause we both know you ARE a villain fucker."

"Stop!"

"Stop? But you don't really want me to, do you?"

His fingers wrapped around your neck tightly, pressing you harder into the wall forcing a squeak out of you before he shut you up by pressing his lips onto yours and his tongue shoving into your mouth, making you turn your head to the side with a cough.

"You don't want me to stop cause he doesn't screw you like I do,"

His fingers tangled in your wet locks like snakes slithering through the grass, tightening on your scalp with a fist full of hair and forcing your face back towards himself and running his lips over the side of your mouth.

"He doesn't grab you and force you down in your place like the little whore you are-"

"We were on a break! It was one time!"

"It was not one time."

He pressed you into the wall harder with his body, freeing his hand and grabbing your panties. The flimsy fabric turned to muddy dust and washed away down the drain. His hand immediately replaced it and cupped your heat roughly. And for once you were glad for the running water, you could not stand his comments on the moisture gathered between your legs otherwise.

"To your credit, you did try to be a good girl. You just couldn't stay away from me. It must be thrilling, huh?"

You pursed your lips staring at the ceiling trying not to focus on his fingers running all over you, as if he couldn't decide what to touch first. They ran from your sex to your hips, back to your ass then over your breast, pausing to enjoy the erect nipple rolling it harshly between his fingers, making you bite your lower lip.

"Tell me. Which one is your derive? Is it the thrill of being used like a fucktoy by a villain and not knowing if I would dispose of you afterwards?"

He slipped his hard cock between your thighs, tugging your hair down to expose the length of your neck to him, leisurely kissing sucking and nipping on the soft skin as you shut your eyes and opened your mouth to breath cause the water was now angled right in your face.

"Or are you thrilled by cheating on the poor fucker with his enemy and not getting caught?"

You started thrashing your arms and managed to free one before he pulled you over and slammed you back into wall by your neck again making you Yelp and cling to his wrist tightly.

"Is this really how you want to go? Half decayed and well fucked in his shower? And imagine he is the one who will find your body too... tragic."

He was bluffing... he was definitely bluffing... right?

"Is it?!"

He roared in your face, his voice echoing off the walls and you found yourself trembling in his hands, shaking your head no.

"Then be a good bitch like the horny little slut you are and cooperate."

You felt as if his words smeared over you and make your skin tingle with filth. He was right, you were not used to this kind of treatment. And your quivering legs and throbbing pussy was evidence enough that you did in fact find this thrilling.

Sensing your submission he freed your other arm from the hoodie, throwing it away before leaning down to hook his arms under your legs, picking you up and positioning you over his cock, the tip proding between your folds and poking at your hole. And unceremoniously thrusted himself all the way in, by letting you drop down onto his lenght. You gasped at the sudden stretch, arms flying from the wall to wrap around his neck to hold yourself steady as he stepped away from the wall, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"Mmm your tight cunt never ceases to impress me. Does he fuck you at all?"

"... please stop..."

He chuckled and grabbed your ass with your legs draped over his arms and he started moving you over his cock, the position had you unable to do anything except cling to him tighter and clenching constantly around his dick from the hard angle, moaning into his neck. You could see the goosebumps on his skin and it oddly managed to give you a satisfying feeling.

Untill all sense was drawn out of your head as he started thrusting into you while he moved you up and down, drilling into you deeper and deeper each time. You screamed as your whole body went rigid and hard shivers ran down your spine, your toes curling as you came hard with his cock still screwing into you roughly, your scream drowning out into a quiet gaping mouth.

"Fuck... you used to be way harder to please. Missed me a lot, yeah?"

His nails dug threateningly into your hips but you refused to reply.

He pressed your back on the wall again, moving your legs all the way up over his shoulders, not bothering to pull out while changing the position.

"Still stubborn I see. No problem. I know how to deal with you."

"You're a one night stand gone wrong!"

You spat as you glared at him. Should not have said that. Should. Not. Have.

His fist found its way back into your hair and he pulled it up to expose your neck again.

"Is that right?"

He leaned all the way over you as his hips picked up a bruising pace, slapping against your ass with each thrust with a loud sound. His lips latched onto your neck and he started sucking on the skin. Shocked you went to push against his shoulder and he tightened his fist in your hair, forcing you to grab his arm instead from the pain burning on your scalp.

"What are you doing?! Stop!"

He changed the spot and started sucking another deep purple mark on the other side, before moving lower and sinking his teeth into your chest.

You yelped loudly digging your nails into his shoudlers and in return he move his mouth again biting your other breast.

"Fuck! Fuck! Stop! He will see those!"

"That's the point you dumb cunt. And that's not all either."

Feeling your distress had you clenching around his cock again he moved his hand and started rubbing your clit roughly as you squirmed and struggled.

"I'm going to cum soon with your dirty pussy milking me like that..."

Your breathing was ragged and you were moaning on each thrust and he absolutely loved the way your face scrunched up im horror from the realisation. He leaned in to whisper into your ear.

"That's right. Now tell me, are you a dirty little whore?"

"Please! Please don't!"

You were now half sobbing as you pleaded and gripped onto his shoulders.

"Answer me then. Are you a cheating filthy fucking whore?"

"I am! I'm a cheating whore! Please!"

"Oh but you're not any whore. You are mine. Your thirsty little cunt is all soaked for me alone. Right?"

"Yes! Only for you!"

"Do you think of me when he fucks you?"

You hesitated and he did not like that, delivering a harsh wet spank on your ass.

"Ah! Y-yes!"

"Yes what?"

You were now definitely crying, tears streaming down your face as guilt and pleasure mixed into your system, clinging to him desperate for some little comfort.

"Y-yes I think of you.. when he... when he fucks me..."

"So you missed me a lot, didn't you?"

"I missed you a lot..."

"Address me properly."

"I missed you a lot Tomuooo~"

And with that he rammed himself into you one more time, warmth exploding in your lower belly as to your horror he spilled his load inside you. Your whole body went limp, dread and fear gripping your chest and your throat. He turned off the tab and it was all silent except the sound of the last few droplets hitting the tiled floor before the silence was broken by his evil chuckle.

"Good, cause I'm far from done with you."

#tomura shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader lemon #shigaraki x reader smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha lemon #bnha #mha

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captainsimagines · 4 years ago

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter One

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 1 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Trope: ‘Enemies to Lovers’; mainly angst, mutual pining, fluff, and eventual smut

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Word Count: 4000+

A/N: Ooo, let’s hope this does numbers! I love myself some ‘enemies to lovers’ tropes. It’s been a while since I’ve written Steve fanfics. :)

Wakanda, 2018, 4:04 pm.

The flash of bright white light temporarily blinded you, sending you back to the ground and cupping your face in self-defense. But as quickly as the initial crack, it was over. Eerily silent and loud at the same time. The birds whistled their same tune, some higher-pitched than others. The wind seemed to blow louder, rustling the leaves from the trees and landing all around you and your teammates.

“Thor?”

You lifted your head at the sound of Steve’s voice and checked if the coast was clear. All that remained of the evil was a new blood-stained hammer - a hammer that Thor was watching intensely, as if the answer lay hidden there. It was the only remnant left and your mind was already wondering how to use it to bring that evil back to finish a fair fight.

“Where’d he go?”

The birds stopped singing.

“Steve?”

You whipped your head around at the sound of Bucky’s confused voice, watching as one of your best friends dropped his gun and looked up at Steve as his hands began to disappear. In a matter of seconds, Bucky - or what became of him - fell to the dirt below. No one spoke, and you watched as Steve tried to control his breathing as he took a knee to place his shaking hand over his best friend’s ashes. A life and mind brought out of the darkness to finally amend those knots he had twisted, now ceasing to exist. In the distance you could hear Okoye shout in turmoil and Rocket begin begging.

“What’s happening?” you finally choked out, turning just in time to see Wanda lift her head to the sky, defeated and out of will, and succumb to the same fate. “No!”

You ran and fell beside Vision’s now gray and decaying body, reaching over and palming through Wanda’s ashes. You rubbed them between your fingers, inspecting them, and brought your hand to your chest. The pit of your stomach churned as you sat there, immobile and numb.

“Sam!”

So many names were being called but soon everyone who remained fell silent. The trees were still guiding the wind, leaves falling into the ashes of your friends, a sign of a new and unwanted chapter. You felt Steve drop beside you, turning Vision around to see the damage to his body. You winced when you saw the gaping hole in his forehead.

“What is this? What’s happening?”

Natasha ran to where you were seated, hand over her stomach as if she was ready to vomit. And once she took one look at Vision, that’s exactly what she did.

You removed your hands from your chest to look at them, the ashes still there and practically mocking you into finally believing this as reality. “Did we just lose?”

Steve was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. He simply looked up at the trees, watching the way the sunlight still burst through with no disruption. “Oh god.”

You caught Steve as he tipped his upper body toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding onto something real. He had to believe you were real. Anyone. And you were the closest person to him. You shut your eyes and held him, running your hands through his hair, wincing when you realized Wanda’s ashes were now on him.

You held him tight, praying to any God you chose to believe in at that moment, that Steve wouldn’t disappear too.

Unknown Location, 2025, 1:07 pm.

The air was incredibly musty, as if each person who struggled for breath in this room at one point or another left a piece of their soul floating in search of last minute penance for their sins. And the man in front of you was no different, choking on the purple blood that dripped down his neck and onto his now unbuttoned, white dress shirt. His chest was rising and falling, his breathing becoming less labored with each blink of the eye. His hands were tied behind his back and to the chair he sat on, a flickering light in the corner of the dark, concrete room somehow mocking this man’s last remaining seconds of life.

“I’m not an evil person,” you started, kicking one of the legs of the chair to startle the poor man. But your guilt was minimal - it’s not like you wanted to do this - but knowing this man did exactly what everyone said he did, hands red and dripping with young blood, you selfishly took pleasure knowing this man would look at you when he died. “It’s just my job as third in command.”

You gave the man a small smile as you bent down to his level, head hanging in shame, slow breaths now pausing in between each intake. You looked to the other party in the room, handing them the gun in your holster, and walked out the room as the sound of two gunshots rang out.

Left twist. Sting. Breathe.

You washed away any smell from that godforsaken room, giving extra attention to the roots of your hair and under your fingertips.

Scrub. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The crack of your neck frightened even you, and you stood under the burning shower for a few more minutes before deciding the sting was enough. You changed into the most comfortable sweats you owned, surprisingly calm for such a gruesome morning you had, and took your time with your skin care routine.

Circle. Wash. Dry.

Soft music played in the overhead speakers, the classical sounds vibrating from one wall to another and surrounding you with something tranquil - something still. There was nothing to expect from such a sound, only the next repeated chorus, no words or drops - just tranquility. You could barely hear yourself breathe but you were at peace - or mostly - and ready to sooth your growing headache behind the eyeballs with more than just music. You slipped on a pair of comfy, forest green socks and bent them at the ankle to achieve an even fluffier look. You applied your favorite perfume, lotioned up your hands, and donned your tacky friendship bracelet.

One for you. One for Bucky. One for Peter. And one for Wanda.

You hummed the whole way to the common room, waving at the morning staff as they fixed lightbulbs, covered holes in the walls, and swept the floors. One muffin and a cup of coffee later, you were resting with your head in Wanda’s lap as she filled your thoughts with your chosen sceneries.

“I can make you see anything you have already seen, so yes.”

“A miniature golf course, Peter’s high school graduation, a field of all kinds of flowers, and Natasha.”

Wanda stilled her floating hand, smile faltering for a moment before she nodded. “Okay… okay, I can do that.”

They were images well-drawn out, slow and steady to make the atmosphere similar to when you were actually there. They seemed to float across your vision, comfortable in their positions and radiating the same warmth you had felt the first time around. A moving picture. Wanda really had excellent control of this.

“I won!” Sam leapt into the air, pointing at a disgruntled Bucky, who stepped off to the side to not throw Sam over his own head. “I won!”

“How is it possible for you to get a hole-in-one each fucking turn?” Bucky groaned, moping in Wanda’s shoulder as she held him and struggled to keep herself standing from her own intense laughs.

“I think we got a cheater on the loose,” Steve grinned, pointing at the ring Sam was trying to discreetly tuck back into his pocket. A friendly gift from T’Challa, no doubt.

“Nuh-uh, give me the fucking proof, Wilson!” Bucky roared, wrapping his arm around Sam’s neck and tugging him forward. “I will not admit defeat if there was foul play involved!”

Sam escaped the hold, climbing onto the rock located to the side of the flag and a sign that read ‘do not climb on rocks’.

“It just helped me calculate all things geometry, Barnes. We’re good.”

Bucky looked as if he was going to leap on him again, but before he could even finish that thought, Sam slipped on the wet surface and plummeted into the rushing little river.

Laughter erupted and did not cease until you were escorted out of the fairgrounds by four security guards.

A flick of Wanda’s wrist and a new memory began forming, colors blending like an oil painting, dried and covered with a glossy varnish, ready to hang.

“Don’t trip on your way up, kid.”

Peter swatted Steve in the side as the super soldier left the room, leaving Peter alone in front of the full-length mirror. He adjusted his tie and tried to lay that pesky dangling strand of hair over the top of his head.

You got up from the couch and made your way over, wrapping your arms around Peter and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’ll do great. We’re all so proud.”

“It’s just high school…”

You frowned and turned him to face you. “No, you should already be in your second year of college. This is seven years in the making. We are all so proud.”

Peter could feel the slight burn at the corner of his eyes but he swallowed it down, giving you a small smile and a hug.

“And can you trip? Don’t you stick to all surfaces?”

Peter scoffed and pushed you away, his tiny smile never faltering.

You could feel Wanda shift her legs underneath you, searching for the most comfortable position as she continued her work. You sighed, already feeling the therapeutic effects.

“They’re all so pretty!” you yelled cheerfully, running through the field with your arms extended to the sky. Bucky and Steve followed close behind, leaning down every so often to pluck the flower of their choosing and adding to the bouquet in their hand.

“Which did Tony prefer?” Steve asked, snapping you from your pollen-filled, ecstatic state.

“Aesthetic beauty, Rogers! Natasha was a sucker for anything pink and sunflowers.”

Bucky nodded, seeming to take that information into consideration as he plucked the yellow and pink flowers only. Steve chose the most healthy looking flowers, his hand struggling to hold them together as he reached the two dozen mark.

“I think we’re good. These are good.”

You smiled at both super soldiers and admired their bouquets, leaning over to sniff their masterpieces. “Awesome.”

Wanda sighed as she neared your last vision, debating on showing you your chosen moment instead of another one. This moment always hurt Wanda as she wasn’t there to witness it, but it was special to you. There were so many others to choose from, but you insisted this was the one you always wanted to see. And Wanda was always hesitant at first - but when she lifted her hand slowly and dropped the memory back into the front of your brain, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Are we ready?”

Everyone was practically bouncing on their heels, both excited and terrified. Time travel was new to humanity and you were to be one of the first to experience such a thrill. You were going to get everyone back.

You squeezed Natasha’s hand once more before you walked back over to Thor and Rocket. You all nodded to each other, saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘good luck’ with your childlike expressions.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha grinned, her cheeks reddening with a friendly blush as she looked over at Steve. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, a braid you had helped her make, and she was carrying an extra pair of socks in case of a long hike.

Then a blast of color surrounded your body and the smell of peaches as you landed on Asgard filled your overstimulated senses.

You opened your eyes and smiled up at Wanda. You didn’t want to see old memories with your friend, but the most recent. It was like you were grasping onto that last memory of her, not wanting to change anything about her last smile, her last laugh, her last shred of existence. It was oddly calming, and so you hoped Wanda would understand.

You thanked her again and proceeded to the kitchen. It was bigger than the one before, the soft forest green color of the walls a nice contrast from the blue ones before. You laughed to yourself and your conscience as you silently thanked the explosion that obliterated the horrid blue walls, quickly backtracking at your dumb thoughts. Still, you chose to joke about everything that happened before to avoid falling deeper into yourself. The kettle started howling, smoke circling around the tip. You poured your tea, dropped two cubes of sugar in, and added a little milk.

It was quite bizarre how quickly you could bounce back from the morning you had. A very bloody, order-filled morning. When one order was given, you had to come up with a plan on how to not disregard the other. You had to listen to Fury and your father, gaining a few feet on each side without toppling the other. Still, it took a physical toll on you. But with Wanda’s help in easing your mind and the very sweet tea you nursed, your emotional baggage was pretty minimal. It sometimes scared you how easy it all was.

Your morning carried on quietly as you sat on the concrete curb, happily sipping your tea in your sweatpants. You could hear Sam and Scott arguing about something a few feet away from you and Bucky taking his afternoon jog around the track. Quite distracted, the sudden ‘thwip’ and superhero landing of a certain teenager scared you enough to spill a little of your tea.

“Goddamn, dude!” you whined, looking up at Peter as he tried to control his laughter.

“I’m sorry, I thought you saw me!”

“Excuse me for being distracted by the hot super soldier just over there,” you joked, pointing over at Bucky.

Peter rolled his eyes and sat next to you, immediately reaching over to take the tea from you and take a sip himself. You let him, as you had no other choice, rolling your eyes anyway.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had classes today?”

Peter handed back your cup, “Nah, I’ve only got classes every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Ugh, that sounds great. I remember I scheduled my classes for every day of the week just to have more units,” you sighed, taking another sip of tea.

“Stupid.”

You pushed Peter’s shoulder playfully, both your laughter catching the attention of Sam and Scott. But as quickly as you had distracted them, they ignored you and went back to bickering.

“I’m just here to see my friends, sue me!”

“Nope, you’re always welcome,” you smiled, holding out your wrist and bumping your bracelet with his. “How was your week otherwise?”

“Eh, nothing major. Just trying to navigate the world now that they know who's behind the mask.”

You gave Peter a look of sympathy, still mad at the sudden manipulation of the kid after such traumatic events. You had promised him you would protect him by any means possible, as did the rest of the team, but he seemed to be navigating the situation just fine. Staying away from reporters, scheduling his classes during the most isolated gaps of the day, and signing dozens of forms that promised to protect him, give him royalties, etc. After you had brought everyone back, it seemed the least the new management/orders could provide for you all.

“We all have our days,” you muttered, handing your tea back to Peter. You two sat there for a while longer, enjoying the slight breeze and taste of sugar.

An agent rounded the corner and spotted you, jogging up and handing you a yellow folder that was sealed in plastic. “For you, from Fury, from whoever before that.”

“Um, thank you?” you said as the agent walked away. You inspected the folder, turning it over in your hands and playing with the thin plastic.

You lifted it up to Peter’s face, “Here, smell it and tell me if there’s poison.”

Peter scoffed, “I can’t do that!”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

Peter muttered to himself as he took the folder from you, sniffing it awkwardly. “Smells like paper, dude.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You ripped the plastic off and unhooked the folder, dropping the single item onto your lap. Peter just sipped your tea and watched you open it.

It was another envelope, but this one was white with custom-printed indents that swirled across the front and a big, red blob of wax smushed- with your initials- sealing it. You ripped it open and pulled the invitation from inside. You must have read it a thousand times, eyes rapidly scanning the small page with secret meanings.

“You got invited to a wedding?” Peter asked, taking it from you and reading it himself.

“Yeah, but this is so much more than that,” you said, snatching it back and standing up from the curb. You quickly went back into the compound, searching for the one person who needed to read it also.

You seemed to find everyone before you found the super soldier who wasn’t out for a jog, a line of somewhat concerned superheroes following behind you from room to room. Eager minds and yet, inflexible rib cages full of anxiety and worry, all ready (and quite not) to tackle the new evils of this new world. And whether they followed you blindly or with functioning minds, they were prepared.

With the rest of the team behind you, you burst through the second floor with the invitation held over your head. Steve stopped mid-bite, milk dripping from his bottom lip as he stared at everyone in confusion. “Um…”

“It’s time-” you started, pulling the stool from next to him and sitting down.

“Time for what?” Steve interrupted, his mouth still full of cereal.

“Time for this,” you motioned to the envelope you were handing him. “-to finally end.”

Steve read the invitation word for word, the wrinkles in his forehead becoming deeper as his mind worked. You couldn’t quite discern the feeling in the pit of your stomach, twisting and spinning into a tight coil, seeming to spread to the others as it grew in pressure within you.

“All three?”

“All three,” you confirmed.

Peter pushed through Bruce and Rhodey, “What’s happening? What’s gonna end?”

You looked over at Steve, his bowl of cereal now forgotten and soggy.

His eyes were distant and rather cold, hands extended on his knees as if he was drying the accumulating sweat, shoulders building tension.

“Steve, we can finally end this. We have to tell everyone. It won’t be enough if it’s just you and me.”

He wanted to explode, in both anger and anguish, to stumble over his intact persona and leave it behind - someone he hasn’t known for a long time. It ate away at him each day since Fury notified him of your selfish choice, burrowing into his now tarnished soul in the most sadistic way. But the prospect of finishing this chapter - a chapter that was unexpectedly halted when half the world disappeared - was considerably euphoric. A chance to move on.

“Okay.”

Rhodey already had knowledge of your background, recruitment, and family but Steve’s initial involvement - the start of it - was still a mystery. You sat everyone down in the living room, making room for the others who arrived later, and clapped your hands together. “Story time!”

Steve groaned, face already pressed against a throw pillow. “Just tell them.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“You know whose spawn I’m from,” you began, snickers from your amused friends encouraging you. “To better transport their product, they sent me over to the states to attend college like the good little girl they think I am.”

Sam cracked open a beer and lifted his legs up onto the couch, sitting back with a massive smile on his face as he got comfortable for your story. He handed another beer to Scott.

“Wait, product?” Scott asked, taking a sip from his drink.

You smirked at him and tapped your nose twice, amused by his ‘O’ reaction. “Anyway, by then I already knew that I wanted out of the game. I didn’t like that life, I didn’t like the violence, I didn’t like my family.”

Steve knew that was an understatement, a cruel and restrained statement from your part, and he wanted to tell everyone just how justified you were in your words, how real you were being, and how much help you would certainly need for this. But like always, he remained silent.

“But Fury got to me before I could leave. So, we made a deal. I would train as a field agent and he would promote me every other year to lessen suspicion on this whole ordeal. The deal being I would play both teams.”

By now, your whole team was intrigued.

“I would do what I could for my father and still have my family’s trust, while feeding the information to SHIELD and our lovely star-spangled man over here,” you pointed over at Steve. He gave you a tiny but forced smile.

“But after the collapse of SHIELD, my father only became more violent, more hard-headed, more suspicious. He- uh-” you stuttered, flashbacks suddenly filling your head. Wanda watched your eyes dart rapidly, sensing the rush of blood to your legs and tips of your fingers.

“He was power hungry,” Wanda said, immediately feeling your heart rate lower. Although you never actually said it, she could tell you were grateful for her intrusion.

“Yeah, exactly,” you cleared your throat. “But Steve’s involvement all started when Fury asked me who would be the best front - the most reliable front.”

“So, with only Fury and the bad guys knowing - Y/N named me as her partner in crime,” Steve explained, head hanging low as if it was such a disgrace to do what you openly did. You knew his troubles with coming to terms with such an offensive role were multiplying daily, but you were now this close to stopping every bad force involved.

“So, Captain America is the ultimate drug smuggler,” Scott spoke, somehow trying to comprehend the information all at once. You and Steve both nodded in confirmation and avoided the wide and questioning eyes looking back at you.

“Yeah, he’s essentially the top boss.”

“Y/N-,” Steve interjected, but you beat him to it.

“And here we are! Him and I both invited to the wedding.”

Wanda stretched out her words, “The wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding - where three of the most famous and powerful drug lords south of the border will be attending and ready for our taking - including my father.”

Steve stood from his seat, posture straightening as he spoke to the group. “The invitation reads like a threat. No cameras, no plus-ones besides those listed specifically on the card, no speaking to reporters before or after. The trust Y/N has gained would unknowingly make us the contraband of the party.”

After going through more specifics about the whole situation, Bucky finally raised the question eating away at his mind this whole time. “Whose wedding is it, anyway?”

You grinned that stupid little grin Steve always prepared himself for. It was the grin you would display whenever you were going to make a serious matter a joke, or brush something serious off your shoulder as if it didn’t bother you. The sarcastic grin he always wanted to wipe off your face as you defied orders.

“My lovely little sister’s.”

Rhodey stepped forward to take the invitation for personal inspection, “When is it?”

“A week from tomorrow,” you beamed. “Which means I got to get shopping for a wonderful little, red number!”

“Please, be more excited about this,” Steve groaned, sarcasm dripping off each syllable.

You flicked your right hand up and in position to flash your charming little middle finger at him, a river of fluffed ego and delight flowing to your cheeks as he huffed and left the room in a stumbled march.

“So…” Scott’s voice ripped through the awkward silence. “We’ve been secret drug smugglers this whole time?”

Please let me know what you think! I listened “The Archer” by Taylor Swift and I was like... yes, I see this, lmao. Tell me if you would like to be tagged in later updates! xxMoni

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beyondspaceandstars · 4 years ago

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 2

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst, mention of violence, slow burn Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist

You were sobbing. That’s all you knew as you started to come out of your daze. The realization that had hit you suddenly had made everything cloudy, unsure, scary.

There was someone next to you watching you crumble. Part of you expected it to be him as you turned your head, but no. He was still living on the television. Living in your head. Unreal and very real all at the same time.

The person in flesh beside you was just your coworker. The expression she wore was more terrified than worry. But you didn’t know what to do, so you just turned back to television.

The news was doing a special on him, on his history. Some of the things you had seen nearly much first-hard through those haunted memories. You felt like you were watching a highlight reel of your life. It felt so real and so far away. It was stunning. Utterly and completely stunning.

But as fast as everything hit you, the news moved on, unaware and unaffected. The report had come and gone. The pictures of him went, too.

Him.

Finally, you could take a deep breath as you were forced to come to terms with reality. People were still watching you. Not staring per se, but definitely observing and mumbling to their friends. You peeled your gaze away from them to face your overly worried coworker. You finally noticed the hands she had on your shoulders, trying to wrap you in comfort from your outburst.

When she saw you realizing she was there, she softly asked, “Are you okay?”

You hesitantly shook your head and as if some miracle, your boss came in to start their afternoon shift. Your coworker called out saying you weren’t feeling well and would be in the back for a bit. Your boss barely responded, too stunned at the situation he walked into but nevertheless waved you two away in silent permission.

She guided you to the back, holding your shoulders firmly as you sniffled and shuffled along. Your heart was heavy. Your mind was not doing any better.

Your coworker sat you down at the backroom table. You ran your hands through your hair, trying to soothe yourself. Your brain was an absolute mess. Seeing that picture, feeling him... It was him. It truly was. You thought it’d be harder having practically nothing to go off of but everything fell together like little puzzle pieces. The arm was the biggest clue. But then the eyes gave the saddest confirmation.

Was this how everyone felt? No one ever talked about it being this intense, this sudden. But, then again, no one had what you had. You had never witnessed someone actually seeing their soulmate for the first time but knew how others talked about the moment with such wonder. They were joyous, so grateful. Were you feeling that, too? You couldn’t tell beyond your pounding heart and shaky hands.

“What’s wrong?” Your coworker finally asked, leaning at the table across from you. “I mean… You don’t have to talk about it but...”

“It’s my soulmate,” you forced yourself to speak.

She placed her hand on her heart, concerned. “Did… Did something happen to them?”

You shook your head. “That was him.”

“Who?” She asked everything so cautiously. It almost scared you to say anymore.

“On the television,” you whispered. “The Winter Soldier. J-James I think it said.”

You thought your coworker was going to fall over. Her eyes grew wide, jaw slacking in pure shock. You couldn’t get yourself to meet her eyes.

“Are- Are you sure?” It had taken her a moment to collect her words, making your heart sink.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I- You can’t mistake those nightmares-,”

“Nightmares?” She chuckled, hesitantly. “You mean dreams. Soulmates have dreams. They’re not supposed to be…”

You finally looked up at her, wearing the most burning expression. If looks could kill, you’d have sliced her up countless times by now. The tone of the room shifted as she found you were very serious. She got quiet again, taking in your position.

“They’re nightmares,” you assured her. “They’re a mirage of flashbacks from his...doings.”

“You just now realized this?”

You let out a weak chuckle. It sounded silly for sure. “I never saw much of him in the memories outside some distinctive features. If I had seen more I- I don’t remember it. I mean maybe I had guesses but seeing that photo and the name and the reports… It’s him.”

“My gosh, girl,” your coworker sighed, absolutely in disbelief. You weren’t doing much better yourself. “What are you going to do?”

You wanted to sob at the question. What were you going to do?

You leaned back in the chair, eyes focused on the ceiling as you tried to hold back the tears. “Maybe I need to move on.”

***

It wasn’t the craziest idea. Soulmates moved on from one another more frequently than people would like to mention. Just because you were paired didn’t mean it all worked out all the time. Stuff got fried and people changed. There could never be a perfect system but you never really personally knew of it to fail. The last time you had heard about soulmates moving past one another was decades ago. It still happened, you told yourself. And maybe your soulmate had even moved on. Maybe Bucky had too much to care about already.

But this wasn’t looking to be some easy getaway for you. It was proving impossible as you let your mind wander.

You pondered it all heavily as you sat at your computer doing some (slightly intense) internet search on your soulmate. You didn’t expect to find yourself deep in such work but you got curious, got restless at the thought of him. The news report kept flashing in your mind accompanied by bits and pieces of the nightmares.

You learned he went by Bucky and originally had his life set in the 40s. You couldn’t figure how he didn’t have a soulmate there. How his soulmate -- you -- ended up years and years away.

But that may have been too painful if he had had someone considering he was kidnapped during World War II and weaponized for decades, way before you were ever even a thought in your parents’ brain.

You continued to scroll through his military photos, finding yourself blushing at him in his uniform. He was quite the knockout, especially in the present day. Part of you wondered why you hadn’t recognized him before but you realized he was just… different. The eyes, the emotions, he actually looked full of life, real shining eyes and hope. Modern-day him was rigid, unsure, stoic. Not to mention the metal arm feature. That was who you were learning through the dreams but you certainly didn’t want it to be like that. If granted some chance by fate, you wanted all of him.

The more you searched, the more you learned, the less you felt like you could just get up and walk away. There was something in his face as you looked at the photos that made your soul ache. A connection was there, sure, and maybe you had to explore it. At the very least, he didn’t care. Then you could move on because that was possible, you reminded yourself. Rare, but possible.

As you went, you found he was the best friend of Steve Rogers. Captain America. after some thought, you decided that could hopefully be your start to this journey to him.

You just happened to see the particular super soldier nearly every other morning. The black coffee the shop served was a “real treat” he always said.

While having some place to begin, you couldn’t help but feel so weird it took you so long. Never had there ever been that connection, that feeling, when even around Steve. Never any inclination that his best friend was… supposedly the one for you.

This wondering was gonna eat you alive if you allowed it. You had to act. Something was lit inside you upon seeing him. It was as if the world told you to get it into gear. Enough wondering, enough fearing. You had to hit the ground running.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

join the taglist

taglist:

@reichelhache @bella-bear03 @rvgrsbrns

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #series #angst #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fic

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kannra21 · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, wanna cry over Junpin together 😭😭

Junpain is all I feel bestie. 😭

He's the first character in the series that got me right in the feels gal. His death was unpredictable bc of the OP video showing him happy with everyone but that was a big fat lie and Gege is the master of psychological manipulation who goes into a disassociative state and commits atrocities.

This is Junpei's amount of cursed energy made from his negative emotions. It's rly big and it makes me sad yk, bc he's such a good person and he didn't deserve to go through all this suffering. Gege said at one point that he wanted to show more of his good side but his fate was already decided from the begging and he ended up mostly depicting his troubled side.

What I like ab him is that he's rly thoughtful and smart. He sees the bigger picture and he's v relatable regarding his outlook on life. Sometimes ppl ain't shit and he has the full right to express his disappointment in society, those who wronged him and others who didn't do anything besides watching him from the back. He never asked for help and it seems like he never wanted to trouble his single mother which proves that he's a rly strong individual who can hold his own.

However, being strong sometimes doesn't solve all the problems. He should've talked to authorities instead of skipping school to avoid facing bad people. His mom was irresponsible as a parent but she still loved him deeply and cheered him on regardless of his career which is rare considering that most parents enforce the belief that education is the only route for success. It isn't the only route, however, I agree with Yaga when he says "Education is making people realize things." bc it makes you smarter and more difficult to manipulate which, unfortunately, happened to Junpei.

And MAPPA needed to slay extra hard on this one, thank you v much (no offense to other studios but MAPPA should just animate everything). 🤭

There are some other quotes that I liked, for instance-

"If there was a button that would make everyone I hate die, I probably wouldn't push it. But if there was a button that would make everyone who hated me die, I'd push it without hesitation."

"What's the point of indiscriminate salvation? Don't mistake the value of life! People pretend their emotions are everything, but the heart is just the metabolism of the soul. It's all a delusion! Don't restrict me with rules that are based on a delusion."

"People don't have hearts. They don't! Otherwise... That would mean people cursed me and my mom with those hearts! That would just be too much... I wouldn't know what is right or what is wrong anymore..."

He's got a good head on his shoulders but at the end of the day his overthinking prevailed, ultimately concluding his fate.

His apathy and Yuuji's jujutsu knowledge were the reasons why Yuuji managed to stop him bc Junpei's hatred wasn't as strong, he was just deeply disappointed by the world's injustice.

And like I said, everyone was probably expecting Yuuji to help him deal with his grief and make him join the Jujutsu High but things don't always work out the way we want them to and I think that this was Gege's way of depicting this awful state of uncertainty.

Because of that, I refuse to believe in saying "Life is what you make it." bc there are external factors responsible for all kinds of outcomes and we're not the only ones deciding our fate.

I agree with Megumi when he says "The only thing granted equally to all is an unfair reality." bc he doesn't feel bad for the lives he couldn't save, instead, he's grateful for all the things that he could do for others which is beautiful. It's a thankless job and they're faced with death every day but he can't stop feeling hopeful and I love Megumi for this. He's my fave.

Junpei gives me strong Cancer vibes and he likes horror movies which is cool bc it's also one of the things that makes him relatable to the audience. Some people might not perceive him that way but he's cool and I'm glad that Gege introduced him even if it lasted for 4 episodes. 😭

Besides, he'd look so hot. Imagine his scars healed, hair slicked back, wearing Jujutsu uniform, training his shikigami with Megumi and doing hand-to-hand exercises with Yuuji. Hanging with Nobara would boost his confidence but she'd also exploit him for bag carrying haha. Now that I'm thinking ab it, he'd probably resemble Yuuta with his hair back, what a coincidence (why is everyone so hot in this show??).

He'll be missed... 😔

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yoshino junpei #junpei #itadori yuuji #yuuji #fushiguro megumi #megumi #kugisaki nobara #nobara #jjk quotes #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk ep12

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 4 years ago

Text

Invisible String (Harry Styles x Reader)

(Soulmate AU)

A/N: Got inspired with this while listening to Taylor Swift’s Invisible string, hence the title. It took me a really long time to write this, hope you like it!

Warnings: none

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected by an invisible red thread, how would you find yours?

“Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I’ll pull him to me.”

“Honey, you know that’s not how it works, right?” My Mom leaned forward and placed her hand on my arm, she looked genuinely concerned for me.

“Mom, you got it easy. You were fifteen when you bumped into dad. Literally. And here I am, twenty-six and still don’t know who is my soulmate,” My voice rising slowly as I pushed her hand away from me, I was getting rather frustrated having the same conversations over and over again.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, your Grandma was thirty-five when she met your Grandpa and you know how happy they were. You'll find him," my mom tried to reassure me. Again. “Or her," tilting her head to the side, she added as an afterthought.

I almost wanted to roll my eyes, my Grandma was a very patient lady, unfortunately, she didn't pass down the trait to me.

I had been waiting for my soulmate ever since I turned five and sort of understood the concept. Invisible red strings. Fate. The one.

My parents sat me down one fine day and explained to me how two people that were meant to be together were connected by an invisible red thread tied to their little fingers.

All I asked them at the time was if the thread was invisible, how did people know it was red. They told me I'll find out in due time.

I still didn't know the answer to that.

But after my five-year-old brain had absorbed the newly received information, I got obsessed with finding my soulmate.

There was something incredibly reassuring about having someone only meant for you. But wrapped around it was the uncertainty of how and when and you will find them, or even if you'll find them.

After that day, I would constantly find myself reaching for my pinky finger, a calmness washing over me, a hope to find someone, and call them mine.

My friends and I spent hours discussing our soulmates, what they would look like, how would we meet them, and so on. Our parents would look at us and coo, mostly finding this adorable, reminding them of a time when they were young and probably did the same.

That's how things worked.

I was ten and had left my obsession behind. I still found comfort in my little finger during times of sadness and anger.

One night in the middle of June, after a big fight with my parents, I ran up to my room, plopped myself on the bed, and let loose all the emotions building up in me.

It was a few hours later when my breathing calmed down and the tears on my cheeks dried when my left hand reached for my pinky, and my fingers felt a soft textured thread reaching out from it.

My eyes widened as I looked down at my hands but found nothing, only my fingers wrapped around what seemed to be air, a few inches in front of my right hand's littlest finger.

I could not comprehend what had happened and chalked it up to delusions due to my tiredness.

The next morning I woke up, groggy, my hands automatically reached for the supposed string that I could feel the previous night and found that I could still touch it. "Maybe I am still tired," I convinced myself before sleeping for another few hours.

It was after spending a few days just feeling out the string that I realised I could touch the red string of fate.

My parents didn't believe so, they thought I was still a delusional kid with my head up in the clouds. They found it cute for a couple of days, happy that I was still interested in finding a soulmate, but then my constant attempts at convincing them that it was true got annoying for them.

No one seemed to believe me, and my friends thought I was lying for attention.

Nothing like this had ever happened. Fate worked mysteriously, fate worked behind the scenes. No one was supposed to know how, it just worked. I must be lying.

Since no one believed me, I found solace in my thread, in my soulmate. I tried pulling the string, hoping the one on the other side would reply, would pull it towards them as well. But nothing.

I guessed maybe they couldn't feel the string as well, just like everybody else. But my soulmate was not like everybody else. If I could touch the thread then they could as well, after all, our souls were connected. Maybe they just didn't want me.

I never stopped though, just like my pinky had become my safety blanket, I found a new comfort in pulling the thread, twisting it between my fingers, still praying that my other half could feel it, even if they didn't respond.

I would spend hours trying to follow the thread, but it seemed endless and at the time, my block was where my world ended. My soulmate was way out of my reach.

Three months later, in the middle of my English class, I felt it. A tug. I looked down, before realising I could not see it. I almost laughed at my stupidity, but it was clear as day, my soulmate had responded.

My head shook as a slow smile crept up my face and I couldn't stop the sigh leaving my mouth. My classmates probably worried about my sanity, shaking my head and smiling at nothing sitting in the centre of the classroom. But I didn't care.

Knowing that there indeed was someone on the other side was like finding a piece of land after a lifetime at sea. I didn't waste a second to reply and received a tug again. I smiled, he was here and he was here to stay.

It was the start of something new. Every time, one of us felt down or lonely or happy we would pull at our thread, we now had someone to share those moments with.

I didn't know if his family or friends knew about us, but it felt like our secret.

Over the years, we formed this new language between us. Sometimes, we would pull the thread at the same time, or wait for the other to respond but no one would. It was uncoordinated and messy, like two drunk people attempting to dance, but it was ours.

I was eighteen when I figured a way to enhance our communication. Morse code.

It was some random detective show that gave me the idea and it seemed perfect. I just didn't know how to communicate this to him.

It took me less than a month to learn morse code. After I was done learning, I tried pulling at the thread in a specific pattern ‘Hey Soulmate’.

He wouldn't understand the message, but I prayed he would realise what it was.

He did.

Somehow, my soulmate had lost the ability to disappoint me. I smiled at the thought.

It took weeks of incomprehensible back and forth between us for us to finally be able to understand each other. It was hard, but we achieved it.

I realised two things from our exchanges.

One- My soulmate was a dork, his dad jokes were endless and two- I loved every second of it.

He would start pulling at the string in the middle of the night and I had to grab the notepad and pencil from my bedside table and decipher his messages half-asleep. And It would end up being some lame knock-knock joke.

You bet I laughed every time.

Which always led me to wonder what it would be like to actually be with him. How would he be as a partner? Would he hold my hand walking down the street? Would he kiss me in front of his friends? What nickname would he give me or would he give me any at all?

I spent most of my time talking to Harry, whose name I had learnt in one of our earliest full conversations.

My parents let it slide, believing it to be some teenage issues. My friends were lucky enough to have found their own soulmates at a young enough age and were too busy being in love.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked him one night.

I kept staring at the neon stars on my ceiling. Trying to conjure his face in my mind as I waited for his response, but didn't feel the now familiar tug that carried his replies.

It seemed like hours before my little finger was finally pulled at. With my notepad and pencil at the ready, I was prepared to write. “A musician”.

The corners of my mouth were pulled upwards and I imagined a young faceless man with a guitar in his hand performing in a stadium for thousands of people.

A laugh left me when I pictured him ending his concert with a final joke. People would groan at him but laugh nonetheless. They would love him too.

My mind then wandered to a future where he was performing at the Madison Square Garden, people screaming I love you from the audience. A huge smile gracing his lips. He would then came home late at night after the concert and lay down on the bed next to me. He would wrap his arm around my sleeping form and whisper I love you in my ear and I would respond with a sleepy mmph. He would smile down at me and eventually fall asleep too.

I looked down at the thread which was still pulling but all I could catch was a question mark. I cursed myself for not paying attention and asked him to repeat his question.

“What about you, Lovie?"

I stilled. Lovie? A nickname. So he was a nickname kinda guy.

I almost forgot to reply to him. But then instantly hit him back with a “Journalist”.

My pinky was pulled again, “Maybe that is how we will cross paths”.

I liked the thought.

"Owww," my right hand was pulled harshly when I stood up to submit my English assignment, causing me to fall forward. I was confused for a few seconds, trying to piece what caused it, but found nothing.

I looked around as everyone was laughing at my clumsiness, still dazed, I stood up and placed my essay on my teacher's table who looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her lips parted to whisper "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head and returned to my seat, head down and my thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. Before it clicked, Harry. I couldn't believe he made me fall down on purpose, or maybe it was an accident.

“Sorry”

I shook my head at my clumsy partner and focused on my teacher who had started talking about something else already.

I wasn't going to let the incident go that soon. During our next conversation, instead of sending him a reply, I held onto the soft, invisible thread tightly and yanked it towards me.

Not getting a reply soon after, I started worrying I had actually hurt him. Panic flowed through me, this was an insane idea, why would I do that? What if he was driving? What if he was at a height?

“Owww”

I admit I laughed, the incident wasn't hilarious enough to call for that level of laughter, but I did.

All my panic had immediately flown out of me. I loved it; before he pulled his end of the string again and made me fall down.

Thus, welcomed a new addition to our language.

We would yank our strings during mid-conversations, making the other fall down wherever they were. Did injury turn us on? We never tried to guess.

Moving to college was harder than I thought, I didn't know if I was moving closer to Him or farther away.

I considered asking him where he lived, but shook the thought away, we had promised not to reveal to each other any of our identifiable qualities except for our first names. We wanted to leave some things up to the true mastermind, Fate.

Going to New York University was my dream. Receiving my acceptance letter was an emotional moment for me, it took my Mom like an hour to calm me down enough to actually read the letter.

So, physically being here, standing in my dorm room was another level of excitement. I was ready to bedazzle the world with my writing.

"Ouch," someone came rushing into me from the back. I turned around to look at the person who bumped into me, only to find a five-foot-something, brown-haired girl standing in front of me, rubbing her forehead.

"Hi."

"Hello, you must be the roommate. I'm Olivia, what about you?" Her eyes held a curious gaze, as she extended her right hand towards me.

"Y/n," I placed my hand in hers and shook it lightly, having a good feeling about her.

"Y/n, brace yourself, we're gonna be best friends for a really long time."

I knew it.

During my time at NYU, Olivia really did become my best friend, she introduced me to her soulmate, Ashley, who was somehow an even bigger bundle of joy than Liv. I didn't know that was possible.

"Who're those guys?"

"Hmm?"

"In your poster, I have always wanted to ask you that," I pointed at the big poster Liv had stuck on her wall in our first year.

She looked at me, her brows raised up to her forehead and her mouth agape, "You don't know One Direction?"

"I mean, I have heard of them. Are they any good?" I remembered my friends back home making me listen to a song of theirs, "What makes you beautiful', it was catchy but I never dug deeper into them. I didn't even know why.

"Only the best," her mouth was set into a hard line, but her forehead was covered in creases as though she was thinking deeply about something.

"Come on, I'll show you their songs. I don’t why we’ve never done this before.”

This commenced a whole night of one direction albums, music videos, their documentary, and their recent concert film. She even called Ashley to our room, which began an intense lesson on the fandom ships, theories, and dramas. It was a busy night.

By the next day, I was more knowledgable about one direction than I had ever intended to be. I didn't it mind it though, I got to further learn the inner makings of my best friend.

I had to admit, I was a little partial towards Harry Styles, his name had become a personal favourite of mine. Plus, he was cute.

I also noticed how clumsy he was on stage. Constantly falling down, mid-performances. It was hilarious. Olivia told me that's just how he was. Goofy, dorky, always telling lame jokes.

“Do you know one direction?”

I waited for his reply, this one took longer than our previous ongoing conversation. I didn't like it when he replied late.

“Yes.”

“Olivia introduced me to them.”

“Who do you like the best?”

I didn't even have to think about it at all, “Harry styles.”

I hoped he was smiling, where ever he was.

“Really? Not my personal favourite.”

That idiot. My face was hurting from smiling so much. I wondered how I would even be in this guy's presence without physically hurting my cheeks.

But I knew I wouldn't mind it, as long as I could be with him.

“Who do you like then?”

“You.”

I had never known how successful my dream of becoming a journalist could be. All I knew of back then was my talent for writing and my passion to make my voice heard. And it was all I had ever needed.

Rolling Stone was a magazine only a few could say they were not familiar with. And even fewer who wrote for it.

I was one lucky girl, who worked through countless unpaid internships before finally landing a job at this prestigious place. I had written quite a few articles under the politics section of the magazine.

I kept up with Harry over the years, at this point I knew basically everything about him, except for what he did for a living, where he lived, and who he was. But I loved him. And I waited for him, even if did get tiring at times.

Everywhere I went, it felt like everyone had found their soulmates except for me. I was the one girl standing alone in the middle of a dance floor during a couple's song.

All these years he still seemed none the closer to me.

We still found joy in tripping each other during random hours of the day though; Falling for him was the highlight of my day.

"Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I'll pull him to me."

I had a rocky relationship with my parents, they had never believed in me, too busy in their own love story to pay attention to their only daughter. I couldn't hold it against them though if you had something as beautiful as they did, why would you focus on anything else.

I sigh in bitterness as my Mom rambled on about how she met my Dad. Although I had heard the story a billion times, it still made me smile. Then, reminded me how I didn't have that.

My phone started vibrating next to me, I looked at it to find it was my boss calling me. I tilted my head upwards, trying to recall if I had informed her of my visit to my parents' house. I had.

Confused, I picked up the phone, "Y/N, you need to come to the office now. We need you to take over the article Rob Sheffield was supposed to write," my boss's commanding voice instantly hits my ears, making me flinch backwards.

"Wait, what?"

"Rob had an urgent business to attend to and you are the only replacement available." Her voice carried her usual urgency.

"But Rob is a music journalist, I write politics." Her words were rushing past me and it was getting harder for me to keep up.

"Obviously I know that, but as I said you are the only replacement available, everyone else is already working on their pieces. Come to the office and get your assignment. Now." When I was told my boss did not joke around, they were not kidding.

As soon as she hung up, I started packing up my stuff. I explained to my Mom about the situation, her shoulders slumped, I knew she really wanted to spend more time with me, but she sighed, nodding her head in understanding.

Walking into the Rolling Stone's office every day still brought me back to my first day here. When I was a twenty-three-year-old naive girl, with a heart full of determination and a head full of ideas.

The elevator doors opened and my eyes fell upon the old Rolling Stone covers hung from the wall, they looked like gold records in a music studio. I walked down the lobby to the reception and asked Ally if my boss was available.

I knocked at her door, patiently waiting for her to invite me in. Three years later and I was still deathly afraid of her.

"Y/n, you are going to interview Harry Styles. You'll leave for LA tomorrow morning, and meet him first thing after landing, hang out with him a couple days, get to know him, this is going to be the cover story. I know music is not your department but right now I really don't have any other option. Do your research all day today, we'll publish the article in next month's issue. It better be good." She clicked her fingers, pointing them at me and then shooed me away from the entrance of her cabin.

"Harry Styles huh," I walked towards my desk remembering all the late-night dance parties I had with Liv and Ashley during college, blasting all of One direction's hits, discussing fan theories and whatnot.

The familiar pull nay yank brought me back to the present, on my office floor, with my colleagues watching over the all too familiar scene.

A smile graced my lips, at this point I had lost the ability to feel shame. I sat down on my desk and pulled at my thread.

“You will pay for this.”

“I am ready when you are, Lovie.”

How was our relationship ever going to work if I was ready to melt any time he called me that.

I knew he was waiting for me to trip him, but I didn't. I would get him when he wouldn't expect it. Not today sir, not today.

I went to start researching on Harry Styles and preparing my questions for tomorrow. A groan escaped my lips as I slammed my forehead on the table, this was not enough time.

Harry Styles was a multi-millionaire, platinum record selling artist with millions of fans. He was portrayed to be this womaniser, who played with people's hearts. But, the first thing I learnt about him during my research was of his kind heart.

I surfed through countless videos of his interactions with fans, clips from his concerts, conversations with paparazzi and not once did I find him in a bad mood or as someone less than the absolute model of perfection. Everybody had bad days, well everyone but Mr.Styles apparently.

As someone only writing about the people in power; the politicians, the stark deviance from my usual subjects was a well-welcomed change.

He was a part of various charities, always preaching about love and kindness. Honestly, I was a little jealous of how lucky his soulmate was, to have someone like him.

After reading possibly everything I could about Harry, I started working on the questions I would ask him. I was determined to know how he managed to be the way he was. How he remained calm even after constantly being harassed by fans and paps alike; How after all these years, he still didn't let the fame get to his head.

I woke up the next morning feeling weird tingles in my stomach, I wasn't able to determine if it was good or bad. I went about my usual routine trying to ignore the tingly feeling. I read through my questions again, I had formed a sort of admiration for Harry (the singer) and I wasn't going to embarrass myself when it mattered the most.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time, feeling good with the outfit I went for- a tan, high-waisted lace-up jumpsuit. My confident outfit seemed like compensation for the nerves running through my body.

My mind wandered to my soulmate for a second, wondering what he must be up to right now. I looked up at myself in the mirror again and saw the smile on my face. Only for you, partner. I shook my head, picked up my suitcase and left for the airport.

The last thing I wanted to do after a six-hour flight was to meet an international celebrity, but I shrugged, a job was a job.

The deli we were supposed to meet at was a quaint place, the two ladies working there were incredibly sweet. They greeted me with the widest smiles and escorted me to a semi-secluded corner when I told them about the purpose of my visit. They doted about Harry, who I concluded was a regular here, calling him 'my love'.

Harry hadn't arrived yet and I was starving, the fragrance of different foods in the deli wafted to my nose, serving as a constant reminder of my hunger. The ladies whose names I had learnt to be Gloria and Raisa noticed my condition and offered to bring me a sandwich, but I declined the offer, not wanting to order before Harry's arrival, considering it to be a bit rude.

But, ever the saviour Harry entered the deli soon after, I admit I released a long breath in relief, I would finally get to order.

Harry's presence was like a force of nature, no one could escape it. I stood up from my seat, without thinking twice as if something compelled me to honour it. I couldn't pry my eyes away from him, and I didn't want to. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Every step of his brought him closer to me, the weird tingles I had been feeling all morning intensified, crawling up to every part of my body. I wanted something, anything to help me ground myself.

My hands frantically searched around for my thread, and as soon as my fingers made contact with the string of fate, the familiar calm washed over me.

Maybe in my frantic state, I pulled the string too hard. I winced, almost closing my eyes as Harry's expression changed into one of panic, his eyes widening as he fell forward. I worried about my Harry as well, realising how hard I must have pulled the thread.

Oh.

OH.

I rushed towards Harry, helping him up. When my hand touched his bicep, a warmth started flooding through my veins, locking eyes with him, I knew he was experiencing the same thing as well.

We both looked down towards our hands and a red string was seen connecting our pinkies. We met each other's eyes again.

"Hi," he gave me a toothy grin. I could die a thousand times for his smile.

"Hello," his eyes, a little sunken, were the most beautiful green I had ever seen, I could spend a lifetime getting lost in them.

"Well since I've already fallen for you, how abou' we go out to eat something. Oh wait, we're already here." His chest was out, and his eyes gleamed at his statement, he was weirdly proud of his jokes.

My entire body shook, I didn't know if I was laughing at his ‘Pick up line' or the situation. I was standing in front of my soulmate, whom I've pined after all my life, only for him to turn out to be Harry fucking Styles.

His brows furrowed in concern as I continued laughing, even he realised his joke was not funny enough to prompt this big of a guffaw.

I took a step back, my hands reaching up to rest on the sides of my face, tears were streaming down my face from laughing too much. Harry's contorted face making me laugh louder. I could not stop.

He reached out his hands and wrapped them around mine. I noted how big his hands were compared to mine, warmer too. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded my head, taking deep breaths to calm myself. When I seemed to have a hold on my laugh, another round burst from me. I started shaking again.

At this point, Harry had given up on me and started laughing as well. We were garnering unneeded attention but we couldn't stop. I noticed from the corner of my eyes, Gloria and Raisa were hovering around us protectively, not letting anyone come near us. Angels.

After several minutes or hours, we stopped for good. And even though my stomach was hurting like a bitch, my smile couldn't have been wider.

"So, it's you huh," I started, bringing Harry to my table, "My soulmate heh." My palms were getting sweaty, I tried to subtly wipe them on my pants.

He sat across me, reaching out and grabbing my hands in his again. I changed our hand positions, interlocking my fingers with his. The red string between us lengthening and shortening constantly, conforming to our movements.

He nodded, a smile ever-present on his face. He released a small breath, his shoulders slumped slightly, "I've dreamed of this moment for years. It's good to finally meet you, Lovie."

A weird gurgle-like sound left my mouth. My eyes widened as I covered my mouth, horrified and embarrassed at the same time.

He just looked amused, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me what the fuck was that.

"It's just, it keeps hitting me that this moment is real. That you are here in front of me and you are the Harry Styles-" my eyes continued to dart down to the striking red colour of the thread I was so accustomed to not seeing "-But like you are also just Harry, who I've known all my life."

"I get tha', I do," he nodded fervently, "All my life, I pictured a faceless girl when I imagined a life with you. Now everything seems complete, like the final piece of the puzzle has been placed and I can see my life as a whole picture and I see you with me," he then shrugged his shoulders, wanting to be seen nonchalant.

Hearing him reflect on everything that I've been feeling as well, brought tears in my eyes. He noticed my eyes getting glassy,

"Was it too much too soon?" His fingers were slightly tapping on the table, he kept looking down at our joined hands and biting his lips. My eyes fell to his lips, I hadn't noticed how pink they were.

"No, no, not at all," my hold on his hands tightened as I shook my head, trying to ease his nerves as well.

I went silent for a minute, not sure if I should continue before starting to tap a pattern on the table. One I hoped he would get without having to write it down.

“I love you.”

If the smile on his face were to say anything, it was that he got it. Of course, he would.

Our fingers started to tingle, pulling our attention towards them as we watched the red string starting to disappear.

When it seemed to be fully gone, I traced my hand around the table, checking if I could still feel it, I couldn't. It had really gone away.

I knew this would happen, but it didn't make saying goodbye any easier. Harry brought our hands together again, catching my attention again, "I don't need the string any more, I have you in my arms now." He rested his forehead on mine, breathing slowly.

He then brought my hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. Causing a soft gasp to leave my lips. I swear he would kill me one day.

"I love you too, Lovie."

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