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stsgooo · 4 months

Text

What Once Was.

✩࿐ summary: you had numerous problems, but resting at number one was geto suguru.

warning(s): lovers to enemies to lovers(?), self-indulgent on a nuclear level, reader is kinda obsessed with geto, unrequited requited love, cult leader geto things, semi-jealous fem!gojo, SMUT MDNI. wc; 13.8k

pairing(s): fem!geto/fem!reader, (slight, slight, slight) fem!gojo/fem!reader.

a/n: hello hello everyone!! first of all, i'd like to apologize for my month long absence from writing. i got covid and then i lost, like, all motivation for writing. but im back now so yipppeee! secondly, happy new year!! (23 days later) happy for this to be my first fic of 2024. anyway, i always see wacuoms art on here and twitter and fem!geto makes my brain go brrr SO i drummed up this silly thing based on that specific art piece. you should definitely check out their art bc it’s so beautiful and just AH!!

m.list ao3

ADMITTEDLY, YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH HER HAD NEVER BEEN… RIGHT, TO SAY THE LEAST.

Even in highschool, you’d clung to her like she was a life raft in the middle of the ocean, the only thing keeping you from floating away, the only thing keeping you from drowning. Neither of you had really acknowledged it back then. Much too focused on fighting curses and just fooling around to truly place any type of label on things. It was peaceful then. Both of you are untouched by the horrors that would come.

Then she had rushed off with Gojo on that Star Plasma Vessel mission, beaming and promising she’d be back before you knew it. Only to return with a bloodied chest and sunken eyes as she proclaimed the girl was dead.

Then she hadn’t returned from that mission. She killed 112 people, vanishing into thin air. Leaving Gojo (and you) to clean up the pieces of her sudden and brutal departure.

Back then, you’d only held contempt for her.

From the moment Yaga had pulled you aside during training with a fourth year, looking you in the eyes, and uttered read this, you felt rage. You felt a never ending, unsettled rage that sparked deep within your gut and dared to set aflame those around you.

Five days after departure. 112 dead. Village left in ruins. Home empty, but residuals indicate murder.

Geto Suguru. Sentenced to death.

Finality of her fate for the rest of time was printed on a piece of paper and passed around jujutsu society like wildfire. Always to be a defector. Always to be a murderer. Long forgotten was the girl who used to curl up against you, uttering her worries into your back. The girl who would shyly offer her help whenever you were particularly stumped. Gone was the girl who had offered something different and true to you. Now, a murderer.

A murderer. The girl who had always said death needed to be justified, that things needed reason, was the very same that killed 112 people and promised to kill more. A murderer.

You never quite got used to people associating everything horrible with her. The updates you’d hear as your school life came to an end. Whispers of her wrong doings just never matched with the face and person you had known.

It messed you up for a long time. Her betrayal. Your relationships slowly dwindled away as you fell reclusive. Faces that you used to greet daily, grew further away. Your graduation was met with little fanfare. In fact, you’d only received a voicemail from Shoko informing you that it was over and done while you were on a mission. You drowned all the negativity and the hatred down with work. Quickly assuming your role as a “powerful sorcerer”. A joke, in your books. You’d never been as powerful as the others. Never as useful.

Her defection made you feel selfish.

There was an extreme amount of anger and frustration that you took out on others when it was all pinned on her. Burned some bridges between you and few. Most notably, you and Gojo. Both of you had been pent up with the rage of the betrayal and things had been said. It was almost easy to leave her one and only. To take a job at Kyoto and completely leave Tokyo behind like a nasty stain on your favorite sweater.

What was once home and family, was nothing more than a horrible reminder of what once was.

Time moved on. Life took you different places and you met new people. You matured more and you worked towards trying to appear more stable.

But she always lingered in the back of your mind.

Gojo, when the both of you were still on speaking terms, had brazenly described her as a breath of fresh air. The last bit of blue spring. A beautiful luminous skyline that kept you captivated. Words all so flippant and nonchalant as if it were fact that couldn’t be contested or questioned.

You agreed.

But, at the same time, you’d seen her in a different light.

She’d always been the setting sun. Something that would go away, no matter how much you begged for its light to hold out a little longer. Something that would display the most beautiful things, showcase art that no other could obtain, then so ruthlessly take it away. No matter how much you reached out for it, it’d never been within your grasp. When you thought of sunsets, you thought of her.

When you saw certain hair ties displayed in shops, you thought of her.

When you lay alone in the middle of the bed, you thought of her— butting her way in, her long legs tangling with your own as she claimed you hogged all of it to keep her close.

When you saw, you thought of her. You saw a lot. You thought a lot.

Shamefully, you thought of her a lot, even after eight years.

At 24, you’re supposed to be better.

Everyone seemed to figure it all out. How to avoid the topic of her. How to move on so quickly. How to avoid talking about the sorcerer from their class, their school, their group that snapped and went on a spree. How to avoid giving updates when the higher-ups are a little desperate for someone to go out and find her, to finally put a stop to her.

Everyone but you.

Your avoidance, your loophole from thinking about her, was to simply diminish her to her. Nothing else. Nothing less, nothing more. Just her. No name. No face. Nothing.

She’d left you. She never said goodbye to you. She told Shoko and Gojo goodbye. Went out and found them. But not you. She didn’t want to see you. She didn’t feel the same as you did. All of the things you reminded yourself to keep you sane, from thinking about her with rose tinted glasses.

It was easier that way. You’d been doing good at it too. No longer your friend. No longer the girl you might’ve felt more for. No longer the strongest. No longer a sorcerer. Just her.

Well, until you received this mission.

The higher-ups had called you to Tokyo and you instantly knew it wouldn’t be anything good. Finding yourself in the middle of a dimly lit room, they offered not any ‘hi’s, ‘hello’s, or ‘good morning’s. They’d opened with, Gojo Satoru is no longer in the country and we have something of great importance to be dealt with.

Promising. Not at all threatening, right?

No way.

If they couldn’t even have Gojo Satoru present in the country for this, it was definitely something they didn’t want her finding out about. Something that she’d definitely hunt you down and kill you over if it was something insanely extreme.

Despite your inner reassurances, you knew it was something you wouldn’t like either.

Still, you couldn’t outright say no. You weren’t as strong, you weren’t as brilliant, or as cunning, or important as Gojo. You were just… you. A girl from a far off village who was lucky to be born like this, to be found when she had. To see what you could see. You’d always been plain.

You were in no place to decline.

What exactly do you want done? You had asked with trepidation, sensing something heavy in the air.

What they said next hadn’t ever crossed your mind.

One of Geto Suguru’s members has been seen scoping out the area where a Special Grade curse has been reported. We’re under the impression that she’ll be going to the area within the next two days to claim it. We’d like for you to take this chance and execute her.

The moment the name left the old man’s mouth, three years of your youth burst through your mind like a raid. Blissful times. Happier times. Before everything. When she used to tuck your hair behind your ear. When her eyes would be bright and jovial as you explained something childish to her. When she would utter your name against your skin and press the most delicate of kisses against you. When Suguru—

Your world crumbled the instant the name filled your mind.

You’d broken your streak. Of not saying her name.

It’s probably why you didn’t hesitate to agree. As her name repeated in your mind— Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. All the wonderful and beautiful things that accompanied a name as sweet as hers. Ignoring the fact that you, when the moment came and the day called for it, would never be able to harm her. Much less execute her. You agreed.

They appeared relieved. As they thanked you for your time, for your cooperation. They promised you that you would be doing the world a service.

You were not so convinced as you bowed, then took your leave. Instead, you couldn’t help the burst of unnerving giddiness that waved over you.

It wasn’t long after you got home that you received an email including files upon files of information you’d have to stuff in your mind before going to the location. Long droning essays on the curse residing in the area, the area itself, and the type of person that had been nervously traipsing around a specific building taking notes. It didn’t really interest you, nor did you really take any of it seriously. A single photo of the person staking out the area appeared to be a young man, red cheeks, and wide eyes. He looked no older than 20.

It was well into the night, your fourth cup of some bottle of alcohol that's been sitting on your shelf for years, when you opened a file and saw her.

The first thing that caught your eye was the photo at the top. The picture was shitty. Grainy and taken from a distance, as if the photographer was in the midst of a large crowd, barely tall enough to get something decent. But it was enough to make your body lock up and your eyes to take in every detail of her endlessly.

She was older, much like you, her hair much longer, now adorned in a half bun with a single bang sculpting the right side of her face— much like how it would rest in your teen years. It appeared that she still had her gauges in, possibly a larger size than the last you saw of her. New piercings appeared to adorn her face, just above her eyebrow and on her bottom lip, a single ring on the right. She was just so… her. If it weren’t for the large robes that seemed to swallow her whole, making her appear small and approachable, you would’ve convinced yourself it was still your Suguru.

You read over the information gathered about her carefully. With much more attention than you had given to the special grade and skittish curse user before her. The file was filled to the brim with things she’d been up to for the past eight years—there were gaps here and there about what she’d been doing exactly, but you got the jist that none of it was necessarily good.

Almost immediately after her defection, she’d taken over the Star Religious Group. Something that brought you pause. You’d heard that name uttered here and there when you were younger. Especially from Suguru herself. As she got that hollow look in her eyes, staring distantly, she’d told you that the applause was neverending. When you asked who, she said them. The group. It made you wonder what could possibly possess her to take over the group and create it into— well, more of a cult. The information about it was far and few. Mostly detailed information about it was Suguru’s punishment for those she believed weren’t exactly useful, they most likely ended up dead and disfigured.

It appeared that most of her followers were either men hoping for some type of attention from her, women who were the same and willing to do more, or those who truly believed in whatever deranged thing she was passing around. There was a quite a list of men that had crossed some figurative line and detailed torture they endured because of their crimes in Suguru’s eyes— you didn’t let it sway you as you, wholeheartedly, believed they probably deserved it.

Another section detailed that she had a subgroup called “The Family”.

You were ashamed to acknowledge the heavy feeling in your chest. As you read about the members that were known— a man from Africa, a woman from Hokkaido, a blonde man of unknown origins— two girls. It seemed that this was something that caught the attention of not only you, but the higher-ups too. There wasn’t much information, but they seemed desperate to find some weakness with the woman. These two seemed to be it.

13 years-old, have not attended any schools, unknown birth origins, unknown curse technique. It seemed that Suguru had done good in keeping them secret, despite them being semi-known within the people that mattered.

Your heart beats erratically against your chest, your tongue darting out to moisten your lips. It’d been so long since you saw her. Not even a glimpse at a picture. You wished… Hell fucking no. You’re not doing this again. You’re not falling down this rabbit hole again.

Still, your heart ached. She had time for this family. She could tell Shoko and Gojo goodbye. But she never sought you—

You closed the tab instantly once the thought entered your mind. Downed the rest of your cup and pressed your fingers against your eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. All that time since you saw her. The amount of time since you stuffered all those pictures into the back of your attic, telling yourself you were done. The higher-ups ruin it for a botched execution.

It was in that moment, that you promised to exorcize the curse before she could ever get there.

An easy in and out. A fool proof plan that you drummed up drunk off your ass, and trying not to think about the teenaged you who would scoff at you now. You imagined her, happier and awestruck by a girl with a dazzling smile and heart of gold, standing over you and asking how you could possibly end up like this. When you and that girl of gold had promised an eternity of fighting curses together. She would be disappointed. As you were.

You decided, for the teenage versions of yourselves, you wouldn’t kill her. No, it couldn’t be you. Instead, you’d give her a sign. You’d kill that curse and it’d be a clear cut you’re being watched. She’d take the hint.

There had been a reason Suguru, red faced and teary eyed, had banned you from making plans in high school.

You arrived at the abandoned complex at 7PM.

After a long day of traveling, you were almost emotional to see it. But you knew what it meant as you stepped through the door. Another exhaustive fight that would leave you passed out on the train and the higher-ups giving you a lashing for failing so badly.

Your steps were light as you judged the area. It seemed abandoned and you didn’t see or feel any disturbances. Everything seemed in order. You whistled softly as you walked through the halls, searching each moldy and deteriorated room with the interest of a grandfather. It didn’t appear that there was any curse lingering. You were almost convinced you had the wrong address when you felt it.

It was something you didn’t acknowledge at first. Just as you approached the last step of the 12th floor. You felt this weight lift off your shoulders and you sighed contentedly. In an instant, everything felt okay. Like you weren’t about to have a quarter life crisis once this was done and over with. You pushed some of your hair back and just let your eyes droop as if a soothing lullaby was egging you into slumber. Bliss.

A beat.

Bliss, you realized with a shudder, was the last thing you should be feeling.

You felt a tug behind you. Last second, you whirled around to meet the eyes of the curse.

It was plump and red, an array of eyes staring at you alone. It almost resembled a strawberry as it floated feet in front of you. But its touch was not delicate or sweet, landing a hard ruthless blow in your gut that sent you flying back. Straight through an opposite wall and into one of the many abandoned apartments.

For a moment, all you could do was stare up at the ceiling with your ears ringing and head aching. You asked yourself, what the fuck am I doing? You should’ve told them to fuck off. Told them that you were not going to get yourself mixed up with whatever fucked ass shit Suguru was doing. You were done. You should’ve been more assertive.

But you were a coward.

You cursed to yourself as you dragged a languid hand up to your face. Pulling back to stare at the blood coating your fingers with a heavy sigh. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, swaying in your spot as your head grew dizzy. It didn’t take you long for you to realize your RCT wasn’t working. In fact, you had little to no cursed energy at the moment. An odd sensation of emptiness filled you with anxiety and you were suddenly reminded of what you read right before you saw her picture last night.

Along with the feelings of bliss, this curse can drain cursed energy from the user. Proceed with caution.

Maybe their true plan was to kill you all along. Who would even care?

Shoko could be semi-shocked, maybe. You hadn’t talked to her in years and the shock would primarily be rooted in the ‘wow, I haven’t heard from her in years. That’s awfully sad.’ way. In the best case scenario, she could show off your liver to an awfully curious student who wanted to know what alcoholism does to the body.

Nanami, possibly the only person that you kept contact with (which was only texts on holidays and whenever you had a question about locations), would say it was a shame and move on as if it was a bad game of football he lost a bet on.

Utahime would only cry because death is sad. And she would prattle on about how she knew you and could have possibly done something, if only she had known the job they were sending you on. In true Utahime fashion.

And Gojo.

Well, Satoru would probably roll her eyes and say something along the lines of— Go figure she’d die because of her own ignorance. Then make a poorly timed joke about your demise that would only get protests out of some faux respect for you.

It wasn’t nice. Or entirely comforting. Nor did you bring tears to your eyes. It was just your reality. Something you had accepted the moment you’d walked away from those you’d known.

It was just reality.

The strawberry-like curse was about to break through, with you accepting your death wholeheartedly, the hole in the wall when a loud roar vibrated off the walls to the right of the corridor. Both you and the curse had no time to process anything when a flash of something pounced by. The strawberry-like curse was suddenly out of your view with a loud screech. You could hear it fight against something, making feeble noises as they seemed to struggle against one another, but you couldn’t see anything except for the sudden pink mist filling the air. A last ditch effort at defending itself. But the thing that attacked it didn’t seem to care as it continued to growl.

You dared to inch closer to the hole and peek out.

Over the strawberry-like curse, tearing it to shreds, was a cat-like curse. Big. Much bigger than the other curse and definitely bigger than you. Huge talons coated in purple goop, pointed black ears, pure white coat, with purple and black swirls all around its torso. It looked vicious and you were suddenly worried that this was the true curse Suguru was after. Much better than a horny strawberry curse. Much more powerful too.

“Shame, I really was going to use that.”

It’s been eight years, four months, 16 days, and 30 hours since you last heard her voice. The last you had heard of her was a week before Yaga told you of her defection. She’d shown up at your door, black hair loose from its usual prim and proper updo, she asked if she could come in. You accepted without hesitation. She laid with you silently before she asked a question you thought about often: Do you ever see yourself being something other than a sorcerer? Back then, you hadn’t thought about it before you told her no. You told her that you were happy to continue doing this— it was what you loved. She stared at you long and hard that night. Then uttered that you were right.

The next day, Haibara Yu was killed.

Bitterly, you realized it hadn’t changed at all. Still sweet, still thick like honey, a trap for you to stumble and get stuck in. To cherish until the moment you perished.

You felt sick to your stomach as you refused to look over at her. You hadn’t heard her approach. Didn’t even sense anything, but that definitely had to do with the curse’s mist. She managed to sneak inside and now she was only feet away from you. You could feel her gaze. You had always been able to tell when she was looking, when she was prying open your head and trying to take a peek. It always made you feel hot all over, a tightness in your abdomen and a burn against your cheeks.

Now, it makes you queasy. Makes you sweat and shiver, goosebumps littering your skin.

“You know, people usually say thank you after you save their life.” She continued on as if this wasn’t hard. As if it wasn’t you and it wasn’t her standing in this abandoned building while a curse— her curse— devoured another. “But I suppose you were never one for manners.”

Is your lack of manners all natural or do you have to work extra hard to be like this? Suguru used to tease you after you were particularly difficult on a mission. Bumping hips with you, hand brushing against yours, eyes half crescents as she smiled. Her. Her. Beautiful.

She had been everything.

She’d been the one you sought out when you were much too jumbled for anything or anyone else. Been the first you opened up to, spilling all your secrets and worries into her ear. Been the first to hear it all and to touch you delicately, to embrace you so tenderly that you believed you were everything horrible.

She had been love.

But that was before she became a mass murderer. Before she promised a world without non-sorcerers. Before she had left you in the dust without so much as a glance. Before everything. That was your reality now.

You clenched your jaw, head tilted down as you weighed your options.

The cat curse was in the way of the exit, still devouring the other in a ruthless onset of hunger. You wouldn’t be able to get through it without your cursed energy, which you could only just start to feel slowly returning. She was blocking the hallway that led to the fire escape. Probably a deliberate choice and she probably wanted to attack you with these lack of escape routes she’d given.

The only option was the window behind you.

To jump and free fall from the 12th floor, then book it, hoping to get away fast enough. Your only hope was that you landed and didn’t break anything.

Your foot shifted, getting prepared to book it, when she spoke again and, effectively, stopped you.

“I wasn’t going to come today, but one of my people said they saw you, and…. Well, I’ll admit, I was a tad curious.”

Your ears rang.

She had come… specifically for you? She wasn’t even going to get this shit, but you had been there, and she came?

A part of you dared to grow hopeful. A part of you that you’ve tried to push down and ignore for almost a decade. A part of you that was insane and thought insane things. Dreamt of things that could never be. It was the side that was absolutely obsessed with her. The side that just wanted to consume her whole and for you both to become one. One side that would something wish you were a curse that she could swallow and summon at will. Your mind was soaring with wild things. Crazy things.

You tried to focus on something else. Like the fact that she regarded this as a purely curious endeavor. Curiosity was an interesting choice of word. You could be curious about anything. Like the sun and the moon. Or a bug. This situation felt more like a bug. Like she was holding a magnifying glass and watching your movements, adding pressure to you, seeing what you could handle. Next, she’d hold out the glass to the sun and scorch you alive.

In your state, you’d probably thank her.

You could see her shift in the corner of your eye, she drew closer to you, and you could just barely make out the end of her robes.

“Are you not even going to look at me?” She dared to sound sad. To sound a little teasing.

You were convinced that if you looked at her, you’d be blinded. That you could never possibly look away again. That you’d plead and beg for things she’d never give you.

She sighed something heavy, “You’re angry.”

Angry? You wanted to say, instead clenching your hands at your sides, I’m downright murderous.

You’re angry you’re even here.

You’re angry that the higher-ups believed you could do this.

You’re angry that Gojo didn’t dare to even try.

You’re angry that you can pick out her soft fruity perfume as it fills the air.

You’re angry that your heart still beats wildly at her mere presence.

You’re so fucking angry that she can stand there and talk to you like it was nothing. That it hadn’t been eight years. That you hadn’t been forced to suffer alone without her.

Yeah, you’re angry.

Your eyes snapped away as the cat curse purred, making its way back down the hallway. You took a step back from the hole, fearful it’s pounce on you next. However, it kept walking, until it was by her side. You watched as it rubbed its face against her side, purring and mewling softly as she delicately ran her fingers through its fur. Her hands were bigger than you remember. Her long fingers carded through the fur gently, black painted nails a stark contrast to the white of the beast.

“I’m not going to fight you….” Yet, remained unspoken. It appeared to be completely up to you on whether or not you two would end up in a brawl. “I’m just here for a chat.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You spoke before you could think, before you could stop yourself.

She seemed to pause. Her hand froze momentarily in the fur, before it shakily began once more. “I knew you were angry.”

That only pissed you off more.

“Angry? Of course I’m angry! Here you are, after eight years, just popping in like it’s fucking nothing. Like this isn’t the cruelest thing you’ve ever done.” You retorted, your hands clenched tight at your sides as you deliberately stared at her tabi clad sandal covered feet. You couldn’t look her in the eye. You couldn’t see her face. It’d be over. You couldn’t.

She faltered once against, then seemed to take her chances, taking a step towards you. “I wanted to see you.”

Eight years too late. You thought.

You scoffed, jaw clenched, “Yeah, right, you didn’t want to see me eight years ago, why would you want to see me now?”

“Eight years ago—?”

“You went to everyone that mattered and said goodbye. You explained yourself to them and then you vanished. But there wasn’t a goddamn word for me?” You felt pent up anger and sadness from over the years conjured up once more. Nights you had spent curled up alone in bed after her defection, staring into the darkness, while the endless string of thoughts about your value and worth replayed in your head. It crushed you. The reality of it all. “Me? It told me exactly what I meant to you.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I cared about you much more than you ever cared about me. It was always you and Gojo, I just butt my way in.” You continued in an overflow of thoughts that you never dared to speak aloud. You figured, if this was the last time you saw each other, then you’d lay it all out. “I just wanted you to say something, but it made me open my eyes when you didn’t say a word. I learned my lesson.”

A beat.

“Really?” Her tone is flat, almost sarcastic as she regards you. “And what was that lesson?”

“Don’t assume your place in someone’s life.”

There was a prolonged silence between you both and you thought that she just might walk away. But you were pleasantly surprised when she chuckled. A deep and low sound that echoed off the walls and converged back on you. Goosebumps formed on your arms and there was a distinct shiver down your back.

“You don’t change, do you?” Her voice is thick with amusement and something oddly unidentifiable mixed in there.

You’re unable to answer. Had you really remained the same after all these years?

Suddenly, you’re broken from your thoughts as warm and soft hands slip to either side of your face, pulling your head upwards and you finally make eye contact with her for the first time.

The light brown warm and welcoming, an old home that called to you now as you stared at her with wide eyes. The bags that had tainted her under eye those years ago were non-existent now. Instead, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes adorned her features. You were half tempted to reach out and trace them, take them into your memory.

A sickness fills your gut as you take her in completely.

The blurry picture some informant took didn’t do her justice. It didn’t capture the warmth of her eyes, or the spread of her lips, the charming nature of it all. She looks better, healthier, than she had when you last saw her. Cheeks are full when they used to be sunken, fingers and arms no longer boney as they once were, she filled her clothes now, surely. Your eyes take in the new piercings that litter her face now. Two on her bottom lip, three on both of the upper lobes of her eyes. Her hair was longer and appeared to be silk like, still tied up in a half up bun, it was almost too familiar. The only thing that was different was the sharp smirk on her lips and her clothes.

Heavy robes, almost that of a monk, that seemed to swallow her large frame whole. The only place that seemed to be strained was her upper breasts, cleavage peeking from the fabric. Something that would surely bring shame to other monks, but pleasure to you.

Your little mass murdering ex.

“Ah,” Suguru breathed, eyes brightening considerably when you seemed to completely take her in, “Long time no see.”

You wanted to keel over right there. To fall to the ground and have your soul float upwards into oblivion. You might just die happy.

“....Suguru…” Your hand shakily wraps around her wrist, clutching onto her tightly.

Her eyes are almost manic, staring down at you as her fingers gently stroke against your cheek. “You think I didn’t see you because I didn’t care about you? You’re an idiot.” Her words are slow and deliberate, a tone that you would use on a petulant child. The tips of her nails dug into your cheeks as she squeezed them together, jerking your forward. You’re so close that you feel her hot breath fan across your skin. So close you could smell the faint scent of the mints she’d pop whenever she’d absorb a curse. It was dangerous to be so close, to be so vulnerable and under her touch. But you couldn’t pull away now, not waiting all this time just to see her. “I did everything I did because I do care about you.”

Your mind draws blank as your hold on her slackens, “You do…?” You whisper, words jumbled by the press of your cheeks.

Her eyes bounce from your own to your puckered lips, something dark residing deep within her soft hued irises. “You calling me a liar?” She loomed over you now, your back straining to keep her in your line of sight.

“I don’t know you anymore, Suguru— it’s been eight years. You’ve killed people, innocent people.” You attempt to keep your voice concise and level. To be the voice of reason in this mind numbing situation. But you can tell by her expression that you didn’t help.

She looks unimpressed, maybe even disgusted, by your words. “Innocent? They’re all as innocent as the serpent tempting Eve.” She drew you even closer, your breasts pressing against her own, the soft flesh smashed between the both of you. Her manic expression only grows more feral as she stares down at you. “They all have blood on their hands and they’re allowed to walk around without knowing what they’ve done. The amount of sorcerers that’ll die just for them to remain ignorant. Never having to know the kids, the people, that their emotions have killed. Those monkeys—”

In an instant, you were glaring up at her, “I didn’t come here to talk about your insane fucking ideals, Suguru! Now, either talk like a normal sane person, or this is done.”

She faltered.

She had the gall to look caught off guard, before masking her expression with a kind grin. She pulled away from you, her nails leaving deep red crescents in your skin. It almost burned, but your heart beating against your ears (and between your legs), distracted you from the gentle pain.

Suguru tucked her hands into her sleeves, her eyes closing as she bowed respectfully. “I apologize. I can get rather carried away with my thoughts.” The sudden shift in tone and the air was almost whiplash. It was crazy to see how easily she could go from crazed excited rage to this respectable monk offering her sincere apologies. It made your head spin. “I don’t mean to anger you.”

You eyed her for a long moment. Watched the way she kept her position. She didn’t falter or twitch. Just remained bowed.

“Why are we here?”

“I assumed you were sent here to execute me.”

With the nail hit on the head, you tensed.

This only dragged a scoff from her, a twinge of bitter amusement there. “Rather foolish on their part— thinking you of all people would kill me.”

It felt like a jab on your abilities. It was definitely a jab on your abilities.

“I could.” You childishly retort.

Suguru’s pierced brow raises, a twinkle in her eye that you could identify from your teenage years, “You could? Really?” She repeated, and it sounded terribly incredulous. “You’ve just had your cursed technique— which you could barely do anything with the last time we saw each other, by the way— leached away by a curse. You’re horribly banged up. I don’t think you could throw a straight punch even if you wanted.”

“I could kill you, if I really wanted— but I don’t do shit just because someone says so.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Suguru laughed.

She laughed and laughed. She laughed loudly. Hard enough that her head was thrown back, eyes closed. Her chest heaved as her arms wrapped around her midriff. The sound was wheezy and sharp, would’ve been mocking if it weren’t for the familiarity of it.

A sound that you hadn’t realized you missed until this very moment.

It was a heavy realization. Just how much you missed Suguru.

The tiniest of things that you had taken for granted as a child. Her laughs, her smiles, the little twitch in her hands whenever she wanted to do something, but hesitated. It made you think about all the things you had missed that year. The frowns and the distance in her eyes— the amount of times you had asked what’s wrong and let her slip by with a simple nothing too important. There were many things you should’ve done in order to hold onto and cherish those little things you once loved dearly.

You resisted the overwhelming urge to cry as you clenched your jaw, swallowing down any of the tears. You wouldn’t do this. Not here. Not in front of her.

“You really haven’t changed,” Suguru said breathlessly, calming down from her laughing fit to address you once again. “It warms my heart— to see you untouched by time.”

Untouched.

Untouched?

You were, arguably, one of the most touched people by the slut of time. You had suffered and agonized every day for years. To say you were unchanged, untouched, it was almost like her spitting in your face.

“Then you don’t know me.” You flatly reply.

Her amused expression falters. “Hm?”

“These have been the worst eight years of my life. The amount of shit I’ve been through to even be talking to you now— it’s been insufferable. I have changed. A lot. I have changed in ways that I didn’t even know were possible and it’s been the worst experience.” There was a spark of rage in you as you reached out and pushed her back. She didn’t move to stop you, but she didn’t even stumble at your ‘attack’. She just stared and stared. “Just because you couldn’t, what— stop being angry? News flash, Suguru, we’re all pissed off at the world, but we can’t do anything about it!”

“You could,” Suguru said quietly after a moment’s pause, “Any of us could do something about it. There’s just no opportunity from that place. They restrict you, put you in a box.”

If anyone hadn’t changed, it was Suguru. Who appeared and sounded like she was just as self assured as she was eight years ago.

Instead of arguing over something you know neither of you would budge on, you turned towards the stairs.

Your swift exit would be the best option. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be passed between the both of you that would change the fact that Suguru was sentenced to death— and you were left behind. The realization made you sigh softly through your nose, dragging your feet as you walked away. She made no move to stop you, not even asking what you were doing, it seemed you both agreed—

“I didn’t seek you out because I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

Her words made you pause once again.

You faltered in your step and your eyes were unwavering as they peeked at her from over your shoulder. Her head was held high, face unmoved, but her eyes… her eyes carried something heavier.

“Huh..?” You uttered.

Suguru took a deep breath, “I knew that if I told you goodbye, you would’ve done something stupid, like try to convince me to come back or say that it was a mistake. O-Or you would’ve thought that you could’ve done something to stop me.” I still thought that. I still believe that. I still imagine myself finding you and dragging your stubborn ass back. “I didn’t say goodbye because I thought…. Well, I thought it was a mercy.”

“A mercy?” You frown heavily at her, “A mercy from what?”

“From heartbreak.”

There was a moment of silence between you two that you dragged on for three minutes.

A mercy from heartbreak.

It almost made you laugh. How absurd the notion was— that her not speaking a word to you somehow spared you from any pain. That you wouldn’t feel the effects of her sudden disappearance just because she didn’t speak to you. It was an optimistic view on it. It was too hopeful. It was selfish.

So you just sharply laughed.

The sound was so sudden that you were almost tempted to jump. As Suguru does, blinking at you to stare at you with vague curiosity. You hadn't expected it yourself. It wasn’t a planned action, nor did you have any opportunity to stop yourself. It just happened. As abruptly and sudden as this situation.

Suguru’s thin brow raised, “What’s so funny?”

“You,” Was the immediate reply as you recovered, taking deep breaths, “Just…. A mercy. You’ve always been so interesting, Suguru. Your concept of sparing me from all those nasty feelings is so..”

“So what?” Suguru’s voice is flat as she regards you, seemingly unamused by this sudden shift in mood from you.

You shoot her a look, “Naive.”

“Naive?”

“Terribly. The fact that you genuinely believe I would’ve rather not heard from you at all to save myself the heartbreak is naive, Suguru.”

Her nose scrunched. “I was sparing you—“

You scoffed, “Sparing me? What am I, some-some damsel in need of saving?”

“A conversation wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“All I wanted was you to say goodbye.”

“You would’ve been devastated—“

“I was devastated when you didn’t even see me!” You reached out and slapped her shoulder. She remained unmoved. Not surprising given her wide stature and statue-like physique. “Do you know what it was like, waiting for you to stumble around and tell me anything? To hear from Gojo or Shoko that you saw them but I wasn’t even worth it? I waited weeks— months for anything. I would’ve taken a card saying anything. Hell, you could’ve been like, surprise! I killed those people. See you never xoxo! And I would’ve taken it. I would’ve sucked it up and swallowed my pride. But you didn’t say a word, Suguru. Not a single thing. That’s what devastated me.”

Suguru blinked slowly, staring at you from over nose as she seemed to blankly contemplate her next words. “A conversation wouldn’t have changed my decision.” She repeated, except it was more firm.

You take in a shaky breath, “I know that.”

“No, you don’t. I can see that you don’t.” Suddenly, Suguru’s hand raised, hesitating, before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I honestly didn’t haven’t anything right to say to you. Anything that came to mind, it just… it wasn’t right. I wanted it to be right with you.”

You tried to ignore the erratic beat of your heart and the heat rising to your cheeks as you stared up at her. “I would’ve taken anything.”

“You deserved more than some empty words I would’ve given. you then.”

A part of you truly did wonder what she could have told you then to comfort you. A part of you knew that you probably would’ve tried to convince her to come with you. To try and make amends with a system she despised. Or maybe it would’ve been carnage and your rage would’ve gotten in the way. Maybe it was best that you two hadn’t talked then.

Still, that teen in you had wished desperately for her one last time.

“My conversation with Satoru… she told me to stay away from you,” Suguru continued when you didn’t speak, “She said that one of us would probably do something incredibly dumb.”

Your eyebrows shot upwards, “Like what?”

Suguru rolled her shoulder, a distant look in her eyes, “I don’t know. Something dumb.”

“We were never the smartest together.”

“I suppose.”

The conversation waned and you suddenly noticed that Suguru’s curse was gone along with the strawberry. Probably both fell away into the recesses of whatever deep dark pit they were all nestled in. Waiting to be coaxed out, waiting to obey and impress their master by any means necessary.

It almost reminded you of high school.

Your desperate attempts at catching her eye. Gaining attention from the angelic girl that sat two seats over. Pathetic battles you placed yourself smack dab in the middle to show off and impress her with your silly fighting style. You were so painfully obvious and embarrassing back then. As if you were one of her curses, bound and promised to serve her. Fight for her, live for her, breathe for her. A loyal dog. Gojo had called you that once.

Shamefully, you acknowledged that same sense of loyalty lingered in the air now.

Why else would you drag yourself to this place? Killing a curse before she could get it just to send a message? Why would you want to warn the psycho killer that inhabited the body of your first…something eight years after she completely abandoned you?

Loyalty and need.

Suguru, larger than life, had you even after all these years.

Eight years wasn’t nearly enough time to lay her memory to rest.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Suguru spoke once the silence dragged on for almost too long. Her hands were tucked into her large sleeves, a peaceful expression on her face with something prowling in the darkness of her eyes. “You can return and tell them I caught you off guard while you were attacking the curse. That I got the upper hand. It’s the easiest way to explain why we’ll depart largely unscathed.”

You tried to ignore the way her eyes trailed up and down your body, taking in the wounds scattering your skin. Instead, paying more attention to her words. Which were more kind than you expected.

“I’m sure they’ll ask you questions. Just act dumb, you were always good at that when we were in trouble.” Then she turned towards the stairs.

She was walking away from you again.

Her back turned. Long black tresses swaying across her back. Shoulders tight and straight. Respectable.

She was walking away from you again.

Suguru! You had called out softly that day. Much younger and much dumber than you were now. Her back had faced you then. You thought nothing of it. Despite how much you longed to stare at her face, you hadn’t doubted you’d see it again. I didn’t even hear you leave. Will I see you later?

Suguru had released something soft then, peeking over her shoulder at you, Later.

She had walked away from you.

She never came back.

She was walking away from you.

There was no coming back.

You just needed a moment longer. Just a little more time to drag out the various things you’d imagined in the eight years she’d been absent. To satisfy some sick twisted part of you that longed, that yearned, that held onto her memories so dearly. The delusional part of you that believed things could be the same in some distant universe.

She was walking away.

She’s not going to come back. She wasn’t even giving the illusion that you both would see each other again.

She was walking away.

What are you going to do? You can’t let her go. Not after you’d gotten a taste of the girls you once were. Not that you’d felt her and—

She’s walking away!!!

“They know about those kids.”

You’re not entirely sure why you said that specifically. Probably something to do with the fact that was the original warning you wanted to convey with this whole thing. It just kinda came out. There was no putting it back in.

However, watching Suguru’s back stiffen, rigid and almost unnatural, as she paused in her steps, you realized you wanted to put it back in.

“Excuse me?” Her voice was different. Flat and unwelcoming, hard and unforgiving. She moved her head to regard you with the words you’d just spoken. They were darker than before. Guarded.

You keep your expression carefully open, trying to convey that you weren’t threatening her, “There’s moles in your congregation. They’re watching you and your family. They’re trying to find your weakness and they’ve started to set their eyes on those girls.” You pushed out in one breath.

Suguru pauses for a long moment, jaw tweaking and lips pressed thinly, “And I assume you saw what they had?” Her tone was still cold, still stiff.

You nod, “Yes. It’s very small, very limited. But they have some type of knowledge.”

Suguru faced away once again, her arms at her side and hands clenching. “Goddammit.” She hissed under her breath.

“I just wanted to give you that, uh, warning, so…” You cleared your throat, awkwardly swaying your arm. “Be careful.”

Suguru didn’t look amused or entirely receptive to your words. She suddenly turned around and glared at you. “How much do they know?” She sounded a bit frantic under the firmness of her tone.

“Just that they’re young. That you’ve had them around for a while. But they don’t know their technique or really anything about them.”

“It’s still too much. They know too much.”

“I’m sorry.” You uttered, as if you were the one that had caused all of this.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, “For what?”

There were a lot of things. Many things that you felt responsible for. Primarily—

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough to stop it.”

Suguru’s complexion paled and she looked unbearably uncomfortable. “Stop what?”

“I never…There must’ve been something I could’ve done for you.”

Her expression grew firm and she released a heavy sigh. “I already told you, there isn’t anything that could’ve—”

“Deterred you from your path, I know. But—” Suguru let out an unbearable noise as if you were causing her great pain. Your own expression tightened up woefully. “But I still wished you were there. That-That you stayed and I could help.”

“You realize that I would’ve been miserable, right?”

“Was I really that bad at helping you?”

“No, I just…. No, you were the only thing keeping there until….”

Until it wasn’t enough. It lingered in the air and, for once, you realized that your apology was warranted. That your teenage self had tried to push down the despair with smiles and jokes. By lingering in her space, doing everything with her. Try to drag her from the recess of her mind.

It wasn’t helpful. Not when it really mattered. Not when it should’ve.

You weren’t there when she was hurt. You weren’t there when she was spiraling. And you were basically nonexistent.

“You and Satoru— you’ve always had your complexes. Whether you realize it or not.” Suguru continues on, eyes unwavering on your face. You’re suddenly hyper aware of the space and distance between you. Large and apparent. An obvious fissure separating you both from one another. “You wanted to save me. You still do. But you can’t.”

"Is it so bad that I just wanted you next to me?" You asked desperately, subconsciously inching forward.

"No, but it's bad that you still do." Suguru said honestly, a terrible thing flashing across her expression that was so vulnerable and so raw. It reminded you of days kinder and younger than you both now.

You scoff in reply, shaking your head and ignoring the flare of heat that covers your cheeks.

"You are loyal to a fault." She continues, eyeing you tenderly as she seemingly accepts her twisted perception in your life. "But it's misplaced. You have to accept that. I'm not coming back."

Your chest aches and your hands clench at your sides, nails creating crescents in your palms as you close your eyes. "Suguru—"

Suddenly, your hands are captured in a large embrace. Long fingers wrapped around your considerably smaller ones. Warm and tender, they had always been warmer than your hands. As if she were the sun and your the cold, desolate moon. Her fingers gently pried the unbearable grip you had on yourself and instead caressed her soft tips against the crescents marring the butt of your palms now.

You dared to drag your eyes upwards once again and meet her eyes. Her gaze is soft, unrelenting, and unbearably kind. Honey glazed eyes staring into your endless pits. Much too bright for the criminal. Something stares back at you. A pleading glint in there that you recognize from a days long passed. A call for the piece of you still holding on to a memory of her.

How am I, a lowly idiot, supposed to accept that you, an angelic figure, left me behind? When you look at me like that? You think, heart aching as you clasp onto her hands.

There's something twitching on your face and you're mortified to find it's a smile.

Suguru lets out a guttural sound, almost as if she'd been punched. "I can't do this." She utters between you both, but it's more directed to herself. Her eyes frantically skimming over your every feature. She seemingly absorbed something she found in your eyes. She spoke louder, "This is driving me crazy."

You blink lazily, "Huh?"

You have to tilt your head upwards to keep your gaze on her wavering face, crumbled and desperate. Her grip on your hands tightens as her tongue darts out to wet her plump lips. "I came here as a last send off to you."

Foolishly, you realize, you came for the same, "Me too."

"Would it be so wrong to..." You're suddenly jerked forward, pressed against her as the hunger in her eyes grows. One hand slides from your own and presses against your cheek, warm and welcoming. "Would it be bad for one last time?"

"No." Is your immediate answer.

"No, no, it wouldn't." She mutters, leaning forward, "I'm terribly greedy."

"You deserve to be."

Suguru lets out a breathless sound as both your lips meet.

It makes so much sense for Suguru to kiss the way she does— eager, but tender, excited. but careful. The soft press doesn't even attempt to hide how much she truly wanted this.

A feeling blossoms throughout your body as you capture her lips into your memory once again. Fuller and more experienced than those years ago, she moves gently as if to take this in carefully. Both of you slipping into one another as if two puzzle pieces newly found and a perfect match.

Suguru's kisses were much like her personality— rumbunctious, sweet, and calm. She kisses like she was breathing life into you. Like she was the representation of everything beautiful and good. All of it makes you snake your arms around her shoulders, around her neck, and pull her closer. Please, please, don't go away now. Don't leave me like this. You silently pleaded.

She obliged, her own hands snaking down your waist and resting over your tender flesh, fingers digging into your sides. Pressing you closer against her own body.

Suguru's lips are wet, and plump, and sweet, and you might just die right there. You were close enough that you could smell the sweet perfume clinging to her clothes much like you were.

Pressed against her, her fingers grabbing at you, lips warm and parting with wet clicks, heavy breaths in between. Her eyes watch you from heavy lids, a slight red hue brushed over her cheeks and bridge of her nose. It was like a desperate pull to continue, to not part until it was absolutely necessary.

There's something terribly serious and hungry in Suguru's gaze that makes your heart beat erratically and a ball in your gut tighten. Her lips twitched upwards. Then, she was pressing a wet kiss against your neck, pulling back only the slightest to speak,

"You're so beautiful." Another kiss, then nip.

You straighten, eyes falling closed as you release a small noise. A tingling wave of pleasure shot down your spine and into that needy place between your legs. An aching feeling filled with desperation making you reach out and twist your hands into her silk hair. Tugging as she needily licked and nipped at the pulse beating against her tongue.

You tried to remain calm. Tried focusing on the hot metal that was wrapped around her bottom lip. The way it had softly clicked against your teeth as she hungrily chased after your lips. Or the way they pressed against your skin now, smooth and a stark contrast to the mess that was Suguru's movements.

She trailed her lips from your collarbone, up, up, and up to your jaw where she nips it, running a soothing kiss against it once she was done. The noises that left you were embarrassing, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care much as she moved back to bring her lips against your own. Soft and tender. Speaking more than she could possibly convey with words.

Suddenly, you push forward, absorbing Suguru's shocked whimper with your erratic and feverish lips. The woman was clearly caught off guard by your sudden eagerness, but gave no complaint as you pushed her towards the floor. You possessively grab onto her thigh, the fabric of her robes pooling at the junction of her thigh and revealing the skin under it. Soft and warm, you squeeze and bring it to wrap around your waist as you lean over her. Her hands pressed against your cheeks and opened her mouth to allow you to desperately lap at the warmth. Frantic hands moving to gently open up her robes and expose her to you and you alone.

Your fingers reached between the heavy pooled fabric, basking in the way Suguru gasps against your lips at your touch. You lower and lower and—

The fabric is like silk.

Your eyes open, pulling away with a loud smack, you stare dumbfounded at the sight under you.

Suguru, whether specifically for this or just a daily occurrence (something that made you dizzy, wore a pink-ish purple set. Elaborate bra that was sheer, see through and proudly displaying her large breasts to you adorning two distinctly new piercings on each nipple. Lower, she wore stockings and a garter, wrapped around her middle thigh that was almost swallowed whole by the fat. The stockings made your brain fuzzy as you ran the tip of your finger against it. Electricity shooting all over your body as you dragged and dragged.

Her panties made your brain short circuit completely.

They were completely see through. They left nothing to the imagination as slick seemed to collect into the fabric, vaguely making out the way her clit jumped and pulsed with her pants. You resisted the urge to cry as you spotted the Christina piercing resting just above her hood. Glittering along with her cunt, it presented itself like a beautiful jewel for a king— or, more appropriately a queen.

Awestruck, you reached out and ran your finger over her lips, listening to her whimper and watching as she clenched around nothing.

“You’re more gorgeous than I remember.” You mutter, tilting your head as you stroke her once again.

Suguru lets out a breathless laugh, eyebrows furrowed, “You callin’ me ugly, princess?” She whispered, sounding equally as teasing as she was drunk on whatever chemicals were running through her body now.

You snap your eyes to her, tense as you pause in your menstruation, “No, you’ve always been beautiful to me, Suguru— I-I just… You’re so…” Gorgeous? Amazing? Breathtaking? Show-stopping? There were too many words you could use to describe her now. Too many things running through your tiny mind in that moment to truly grasp one.

Suguru’s lips were upturned, “So…?”

You were much too distracted to care about continuing your previous statement. “I want to… Fuck—“ You jerked forward, feeling lightheaded as you licked your lips. “I really, really want to touch you.”

“What are you waiting for?”

You didn’t wait for much more before you were kissing her swollen lips again. Your arm stretched to pushed past her panties and to greedily press against her.

Eagerness overtakes you as you run your pointer and middle finger through her lips, grazing her hole, then bringing the slick back to her clit to roll a lazy circle over it— Suguru gasps softly. Lips parted and face scrunched as you press. You watch in awe as she closes her eyes, tilting her head back as your movements grow precise and smooth.

You were convinced you were touching a piece of heaven. Her cunt was as soft and delicate as the rest of her. The wetness collected their almost made it silk-like. A gentle place that you tainted by brushing her hole and grinding the butt of your palm against her aching clit.

"God, just—" Suguru growled, jaw clenched as you tease her hole again with shaking fingers. "I swear, if you don't just put them in m— ngh!"

Your two fingers pushed in and Suguru grinds against your palm as she moans. A prominent blush now dusting her cheeks. Almost like she was embarrassed.

"You're so sensitive," you say, breathless, "are you embarrassed, Suguru?"

Suguru manages to conjure up an annoyed look, that make you grin in response. So you're a bit mean, that wasn't anything new. But it felt so refreshing in this setting. The fact that she was under you now and looking so... so her. It made you dizzy and reminiscent.

"You know you're unfairly gorgeous." You start to gently thrust your fingers, listening to the squelch and feeling her tighten around you with a pant. "Even your pussy is gorgeous."

Suguru lets out something akin to a laugh, but is quickly masked by the breathless sigh she releases. "Are you going to talk all night or fuck me?"

You try to keep your head on straight as you smirk down at her. "I just want to take my time."

Suguru huffs, but continues to roll her hips to meet with your hand. It's almost too much. The way she squeezes around you and sucks you closer. The way she whimpers and moans, yet tries to keep that serious mask over her face. It all drives you insane. You wanted nothing more than to watch her come undone under you.

Much to both of your disappointment, you pull away from her.

"Don't tease me— c'mon." Suguru paws at your shirt (now rumpled and unbuttoned), whiny and desperate as she stares up at you. "We've waited so long."

Your heart almost shatters, swallowing a thick lump that forms in your throat— you didn't want to think about any of that. Any of the bad things that happened between now and then.

With a hazy mind, you tug Suguru's panties off, throwing them in an unknown direction. Your hands rest against her open thighs, basking in the way she drips onto the robes below her, glittering under the soft light leaking from the window down the hall.

"Well," Suguru starts, a grin on her lips, "go on."

Like all those years ago, you don't hesitate to obey her command.

You lean down and place a kiss just above the hood of her clit. Closing your eyes as she lets out a gentle noise, her fingers finding home in your hair and clenching. Then, you lick a stripe from her hole up to her clit, wrapping your lips around the enlarged bud.

"Oh!" Her tone falters into what sounds like a mewl.

You suck and nip, coarse tongue swirling against the aching twitching bundle of nerves. Slipping two fingers into your hole, you try to focus on the way she writhes and presses your head closer.

A hoarse moan bounces off the wall as Suguru's wall clench more erratically against your fingers. Closer and closer. You curl them upwards—

"I've missed you. I've missed you so damn bad." The curse user babbles, drunk off the feeling coursing throughout her body from that spot of plushy flesh your petting. Chasing after the nearing edge that made her tingle and whimper. "Never want to leave you— never want to miss you again."

You draw in a breath as you reach down and start to finger yourself as you pick up the pace with Suguru.

You ignore the buildup in your eyes, the undeniable build up of pent up emotions almost taking over. You clench your eyes closed, trying to not think of it all. Of how badly you had missed her— missed this. Your mind repeating the lonely nights where you had only ever wanted her beside you. The days that you wished it was instead you running amuck, leaving death in your wake, and her in Tokyo. Enjoying a cushy job with people who actually love her.

Maybe that was more tolerable than the truth.

Your mind was filled with her. Your senses, all of it— Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. It wasn't possible to think or feel anything that wasn't her.

Please, please, please, Suguru pleads from her place. Sobbing as she tugs your hair, grinding against your mouth.

Her thighs are glistening with her own juices and your spit. Covering your own face and skin as well as you desperately swirl your tongue against her as if it was singlehandedly keeping you alive. You lick a firm stripe across Suguru one more, making her cry out and arch her back. You feel yourself grow closer as she babbles on about how good you are and how much she's missed you.

"You're all I think about," she gasps and cries, "all I ever needed."

As you clenched around yourself, you moan around her. Suguru sharply gasps, then, suddenly, her walls are pulsing around your fingers and her clit is spasming against your tongue. You watch from your place as her face scrunches up with pure bliss, lips parted to release the prettiest sounds you've ever heard, faint blush dusting across her entire body.

Your close behind with your own earth shattering, white noise inducing orgasm. Your grip on her unrelenting and surely to leave some type of mark to remind her of you later.

When you slowly come down, you realize that Suguru has pulled you down to lay on top of her robe with her. Staring at you hazily, swollen glistening lips, and that beautiful glow on her face.

"You're crying," Suguru whispers, reaching up to brush away the salty tears with the pads of her thumbs. "Was it too much?"

You're not entirely sure exactly what it was. An assortment of things. Things that made your chest ache and the love you felt almost unbearable. How were you meant to tell someone you had just ate out, that was laying next to you, wiping away your tears, that you missed them? You missed her, but she wasn't even really gone yet.

"I don't...I don't want to lose you again, Suguru." You admitted in a breathless whisper, eyes unwavering as you stared at her sad expression— both of you knowing what would happen. "Please."

"I can't come back." She stated, shaking her head. "Not after everything. No one would want me back."

"I want you back— we want you back."

"Not the people that matter."

You couldn't deny the horrible pang that spread throughout your chest and into your bottomless stomach. Not the people that mattered. Not you. Never you. You weren't enough—

"Hey," Suguru's hold on your face was firm and she brought you back from your mind. "Even if I wanted to come back, the higher-ups wouldn't ever joke about it. I'd be executed. Like you're supposed to be doing."

You sniffle, "Whatever, who cares what they think, anyway?"

There was a prolonged silence as you both just laid with one another. Staring at the crumbling ceiling above you with contemplative frustration. She was right, the higher-ups wouldn't even think about it before ordering her execution to proceed. Then you'd have the guilt of her death weighing you down.

Maybe she was better off far away from you. Far away from the world she hated so badly. Happier in her own world, with the family she created. Two little girls and three randoms that somehow found their way in her inner circle. You wished you couldn't be jealous. Detest them for so easily staying in her life. But you were selfish. You were mean.

There was a reason Suguru left you behind, this you were sure of.

"I would've told you that I loved you."

You're broken from your thoughts when Suguru speaks. You snap your attention to her and find that she's got her attention solely on the ceiling above. A distant look in her eyes and a careful blankness to it all that makes you pause.

"Huh?" You hum back.

She moves her head to look at you, honestly and tenderly. "If I saw you when I left, I would've told you that I loved you. That's why I couldn't keep you around. I couldn't confine you to a cage, constantly looking over your shoulder because of me."

You sniffle, nodding. Much like you not begging for her to come back with you, she wouldn't beg for you to leave with her. "I understand."

Suguru stares for a moment longer before she's suddenly shoving your shoulder, sitting up. "You're disgusting, by the way. Fucking me on the floor of a nasty abandoned apartment building like some feral animal." She looked irritated, but you could hear the teasing in her tone and the slight twitch of her lips.

You push yourself to sit up, watching as she grabs her panties from a nearby pile, disgust on her features. "You weren't exactly complaining, if I recall correctly." You conjure up the energy to tease back.

Suguru's face screws up, then she throws her panties at you, grumbling as you snort in return. "Eight years and you act like a hormonal teen at the sight of me."

"I have my weaknesses."

"I'm a weakness?"

Suguru was joking but your face set and you nodded. "My one and only."

Her expression faltered. Suddenly somber as she extended a hand to you, pulling you up easily. "Not good to reveal your hand to the enemy, L/n." She uttered.

You raise an eyebrow, pressed against her front. "You're the enemy?"

Suguru snorted softly, pressing a kiss against your cheek. "Always have been. Now, let me get dressed." She shooed you off her robes.

You watch her with dying words on your lips. Instead, you just chose to cherish the moment for as long as you can.

"I heard you've had an interesting few weeks."

It was barely a day after you got home and submitted your report that you were confronted in your office in Kyoto.

She appeared in a flash, as she always had. A blur of white and black, an overwhelming stench of some cologne that she was either gifted or pulled off a shelf. Expensive. As always.

You jump. Eyes wide as you're met with her for the first time in three years. It almost makes you dizzy. Almost makes you mournful for what once was.

It's been years since you last saw Gojo Satoru. She was different, but you could pick apart exactly was the same. Taller, an array of piercings on both ears, hair stuck up in a mess of white tendrils defying gravity as the bandages wrapped around her eyes. Yet she still had that arrogant posture. That hip pop that always accompanied her. Arrogant.

But there were pieces of things familiar. A part of her was still that 17-year-old, standing in the doorway of your dorm, begging for answers about her best friend's defection. You could tell she was still in there. Part of her reaching out, childishly crying, pleading for something long gone by. You always knew she lingered.

You drag your eyes from her towards the pile of documents waiting for your attention on the desk. Something that you were just about to get to until the woman rudely interrupted.

"It's rude to burst into someone's office without calling first." You respond flatly.

Gojo didn't crack a smile, only kept her stance in the middle of the room, "I assume you didn't kill her. Obviously, she would've fought back. You'd be dead." She rambled to herself.

You huff, rubbing your forehead as you fall back into your chair, "Thanks."

"I thought you would've called me if you were ever assigned something like that. But I suppose you've never been the smartest."

"Like I have your number saved anymore?"

"Again, not the smartest."

You clench your jaw, her arrogant tone grating against the wrong gears within you. Gojo had always been too blunt, too blasé for your taste. Even as teens she had watched you from an upturned nose, scornful eyes scrutinizing your every move. It took you a long time before you ever went around her, let along considered her a friend. Her attitude and general disregard for most people was offputting.

You suppose that's something that happens when everyone treats you like a God.

Gojo falls into the chair across from you, long lanky leg crossed over the other, elbow rested on the back. If it weren't for the painfully straight line of her lips, you would've assumed she was at ease. But you knew better.

"I don't understand why they picked you of all people for executing her." The snark in her voice wasn't welcomed.

You draw in a deep breath, you just needed a bit of patience, "I'm sure you would've jumped at the opportunity if you were here."

"Mm, not really." Gojo tilts her head back and you can tell she's scrutinizing you from over her nose. "But, by the sound of things, you were the one jumping at the chance."

You tense and your fingers drum away on your desk top. An assortment of thoughts flush through your mind. Primarily, the things that you and Suguru had done before parting ways.

Hey! Suguru had called as you walked down the stairs, fingers found home around your arm and, effectively, made you stop to turn back. If you're ever in a bind and need me— or you realize what I did— there will always be a home for you with me. With my family.

You had faltered, eyes wide, before clearing your throat and offering a nod. I'll be sure to remember that. You had turned away and took a few more steps before looking back up at her with a small smile. You're not my enemy, Suguru. That's something I always knew.

You didn't linger on the shock that had overtook her face. Instead, leaving while you still could.

"You said in your report that you didn't see her nor did you sense any signs that she had ever been there." Gojo continues on, oblivious to the inner battle you're facing.

You lean back in your chair, sighing in vague annoyance. "Yes, I did."

"You're a liar."

The lack of hesitation and bluntness of the statement catches you off guard. Your eyes widen and you stiffen, staring at her blank disposition with confusion. Gojo was so unlike herself in this moment. So serious. So final.

It brought you great unease.

Gojo leans forward in her seat, grabbing a mini calendar from your desk to fiddle with it. "Want to know how I know?" You can't see her eyes but you can tell she looks to you for a genuine answer. You only stare back silently in return. "Her residuals are everywhere in that place. They're all twisted with your residuals. Like you were mingling."

You frown, that could easily be explained away, "Well—"

"You're covered in her." And this time, you knew that she was staring right at you.

You stare back blankly this time. Unable to find something smart or notable that could possibly explain what her Six Eyes are seeing. It was pointless. A futile thing that would only make her more frustrated than she seemingly already was.

So, you offered her the only thing you were sure of, your silence.

Gojo clenches her jaw, hunching over in her seat. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"How long have you been seeing her? Was this just a perfect chance for you both to explain away any residuals?" She sounded heated, tense and unnatural.

You always wished she would be her annoying regular self.

"Gojo, I don't know who you think you are, but it's been three years—"

"You're the one who cut us all off!" Gojo stood, pointing a long and accusatory finger at you. You only recall the few times she's ever been truly angry. A ball of rage that's been contained for much too long. Snapping into two pieces that overflowed with a rage of someone much younger. "You're the one who-who pulled away and then got angry because I was around! Then you up and vanished without a word to anyone. Fucked off to Kyoto, like what the hell even is this shit?"

You watch as she gestures wildly around the office with disgust and a loud scoff. A bitter part of you was almost happy to see the anger rolling off of her in waves. Another part of you couldn't imagine Gojo Satoru being this upset over you of all people. This had to be something else. She was mad—

Geto Suguru.

"I called Nanami—"

Gojo whirled around on you, "Not me! You didn't call me! You just left without a word and then I had to hear from Nanami about it like it was nothing."

"I didn't think you'd even want to talk to me with how things were left, Gojo! Can you blame me for just wanting to get away from that place?"

"Yes, I can! I most definitely can!"

You scoff, shaking your head as a familiar anger washed over you. "God, you're such a child."

"And, what, you've been running around behind the higher-ups backs, seeing Suguru all these years? Is that why you ran off? Because you thought I'd see her all over you and tell on you like some kid? Is that it? Is that why you left?"

Her incessant questions were driving you crazy. Alongside the misplaced anger, you were bound to throw something back at her. It was deserved. It was warranted.

"Satoru, you are so insufferable! I rushed off because I hated that school. I hated that I had to walk around and see Suguru but not actually see her! Not to mention you were the world's biggest bitch for a year after that! You acted like I was the goddamn bane of your existence and you wouldn't leave me alone!" You stood and matched her level. There was surely someone that could hear you two duking it out now. Laying things out for one another and, hopefully, leave each other for more years to come. "And, no, I hadn't seen Suguru for eight years before she showed up at that goddamn apartment complex! I was living a peaceful and non-annoying life until three days ago!"

There was a pause between you both.

You taking deep breaths as Gojo stands in the middle of your office awkwardly, stiffly. She almost looked like one of the students after you tried to deal out a punishment for whatever foolish thing they've done. The thought alone made you take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You're not entirely sure what to say to her now. Without the awkward air only growing—

"You were my friend. And you left."

You were all too aware how young Gojo suddenly sounded. Tender and all too sad to be a 24 year old woman standing before you.

A friend?

"You had Shoko." You easily countered.

"I wanted you."

The revelation made you shut up. Standing awkwardly behind your desk and staring at her with a scrunched face. Wanted you? She wanted you? There's no way that she truly meant it. It was just nostalgia making her speak. Making her lose sight of what actually happened in those years.

"I-I wanted you like a friend, by the way. None of that— um, not like gay or anything!" She suddenly stuttered and sounded terribly like herself compared to herself. "I just... you were... my friend. And... I didn't— I don't have many of those."

Her words were stilted and awkward again. Something that made you tilt your head at her. She didn't look away from you as you processed the words. You were her friend. One of her only friends. Then you left. Right after she lost her one and only best friend.

Suguru's defection made you cruel and selfish.

You press your lips together, "Well, I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything."

"Right," Gojo nods, crossing her arms over her chest. "A little late."

Your chest tightened. "I suppose so."

She stands there for a beat longer before a grin broke across her lips. "Well, you could make it up to me." Her tone was much too light and eager to be genuine or true. But you weren't about to ruin it by asking.

You hesitate in asking, "What?"

"Come get crepes with me!" She said, not allowing you to answer as she grabbed your hand. "Shoko ditched me for Utahime."

"Oh, so I'm backup?"

"No— Well, a bit. But this will be a great bonding moment." She turned her head towards you, dimples prominent. "You in?"

You stared for a long moment. Wondering what could possibly run through Gojo Satoru's mind. How she could so quickly change her emotions. To be so vehemently angry one moment and happy the next. But that had always been her. A ball of rage that could fight back at any moment and then resolve it with her smile and pretty eyes—

"C'mon, just one crepe, some talking, then you can ditch me again." She said it teasingly, but you could tell there was a hint of sadness. Desperation.

You snort softly. "Okay, Satoru."

Her cheeks dusted pink and she pulled you out the room. "Missed you calling me that!"

"Satoru? It's your name."

"Yeah, but Gojo makes it sound like you hate me."

"Well..."

"Hey!"

You and Satoru do not mention Geto Suguru that entire night. Or the night after that. Or the night after that.

It was probably for the best.

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bluemari23 · 5 months

Text

lemon tart | choi seungcheol

summary: a new cafe for a much needed date brings out tons of giggles and plenty of kisses

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: soulmate, soulmate au, fluff, established relationship

warnings: none really, mentions of an awful supervisor,

word count: .8k

masterlist

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“Right this way please.” The hostess began walking to the right, leading you and your soulmate to the table reserved for you both.

It was a long day coming, having had trouble trying to find the time between both of your jobs to have a much needed date. You worked at his company, but that still didn’t mean you always got to be with him.

Seungcheol had been having a lot of practices and rehearsals recently at the stadium, making sure everything was perfect for the first concert of their world tour coming up. It would be the first tour since covid, and him and his entire group were beyond excited and ready to perform and see their fans again.

When you get to the table, Seungcheol moves to your seat, pulling it out for you to sit in.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You grin up at him as he pushes your chair in, slightly tugging on your hair teasingly as he does so.

“You are most welcome, my dear.” He goes along with your playful attitude, his own grin prominent against his cheeks as he does a posh sort of accent. He sat down and you both ordered your drinks, ignoring the weird look from the hostess at your playful attitudes.

“Shua says they have really good lemonade here.” Cheol says offhandedly as you both read over the menu. Joshua had been to the small cafe before with his soulmate and recommended it to you because of your love of lemon. The cafe seemed to be known for their lemon treats and lemonade.

“We’ll have to try some then!” You exclaim, looking over all of the different lemon flavored treats.

In the end, you ordered a plate of little lemon cakes and tarts to share and he ordered a sandwich plate to share.

While you waited for your food, you both sipped a little on your drinks. The lemonade was sweet and a little tart, the perfect drink for the little date you had together.

“I think you should come on tour with us.” Cheol breaks the fun atmosphere with a serious suggestion. It had been on both of your minds lately that you should go on the world tour with them.

Neither of you wanted to be away from each other for long, but all the company policy on soulmates states is that you need at least a couple days every couple weeks to bond and keep the soulbond healthy. It didn’t specify anything about being allowed on tour with them.

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed to, Cheol.” You repeat the same thing every time this conversation comes up. You had pretty much given up on going with the boys. Your supervisor seemed to laugh every time you brought up the suggestion and refused to bring it up to any of his bosses.

“Well, what if I said I talked to your division head personally? I know that jerk of a supervisor won’t do anything.” He was right, your supervisor thought it was hilarious that you had a soulmate, finding you incapable of anything and thought your soulbond was a huge joke.

“I would ask you what he said?” Your voices pitches at the end of your sentence, confusion lingering in your tone as you raise an eyebrow at your soulmate.

You wait somewhat impatiently as your soulmate takes a sip of his lemonade, slowly breaking out into laughter as he catches the look of disbelief on your face at his teasing.

“Then, my lovely soulmate, I would tell you that we need to start packing suitcases for you.” Your eyes widen in shock, wondering how long your soulmate had kept this little surprise from you.

Ignoring everything around you, you surge forward and capture Cheol’s lips with your own, catching your older soulmate off guard. He was swift in his reflexes though, catching you and holding cupping your cheek with one hand as the other goes to steady you against him.

In your excitement you almost knock the lemonade out of his hand before he quickly placed it back on the table.

“Wow baby. If this is how you react to going on tour, I wonder how many kisses I get when I tell you we get to go to your home city.” Cheol’s guess would have been wrong either way, because you both lost count to how many excited kisses you placed on his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and his nose.

You hadn’t been to your home city in a couple of years, and it would be the first time for Seungcheol to go as your soulmate. You were beyond excited with your soulmate.

After pulling back and sitting back in your chair, your face was flushed and your lips were swollen. Not even the tartness of the lemon in your cake could make you lose the smile on your lips.

#choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #svt scoups #svt #scoups #scoups soulmate #soulmates #soulmate au #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen soulmate au #fluff #bluemari23

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tkwrites · 8 months

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Our Heroes Meet - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photos from Pinterest

Title: Our Heroes Meet

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Beginning: Quinn Hughes x Original female character

Warnings: None? First dates, first meetings, so many firsts.

Summary: When Quinn and Sarah meet, they’re pulled into each other's lives in a way neither one expected.

Word count: 4,300

Comments: This is the beginning snapshot of Quinn & Sarah.

I posted this earlier, and took it down less than 4 hours after. I felt that the ending, while cute, wasn’t true to character. After re-working it, here it is again.

It’s so cute and earnest and I just love it so much.

Thank you so much for all the support and love for these stories. I really can’t say it enough.

Our Heroes Meet

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

On a rare free afternoon with the prospect of the following day off as well, Quinn found himself wandering Stanley Park. He hadn’t really set out with the park in mind, but after being home for a few hours, playing an hour or so of Call of Duty with Jack and Luke before their pre-game naps, he needed to get out of the house. Long stretches at home alone didn’t suit him anymore after COVID, when he'd been contractually stuck inside anytime he wasn’t at the rink. It reminded him too much of those long, lonely days.

The Park was touristy, but he liked it. He liked the water, and all the trails, and there was always something new and interesting going on.

It began to drizzle as he wandered. Within minutes, as it so often did in Vancouver, the rain picked up, pounding into the pavement in sheets.

Cursing himself for not checking the weather before leaving his apartment, Quinn darted under the awning of the aquarium to keep from getting soaked to the skin. His first thought was to turn away and run back to his car. He didn’t need to be with big crowds of people, especially when everyone was rushing to get inside. On the other hand, he'd never been to the aquarium, and the thought of returning to his empty apartment made him squirm more than the thought of a crowd.

So, he bought a ticket and wandered into the building, keeping his distance from others, hat pulled low so less people would recognize him.

He was wandering the BC exhibit when he stumbled upon a pretty young woman speaking to a group of school aged children, explaining to them how octopus camouflage worked. He'd missed most of her talk, but she had several graphics attached to the tank. A little girl in the front was holding a plastic model of an octopus like it was the best gift she'd ever been given.

The woman's dark hair was pulled up into a bouncy, wavy ponytail. Something glinted in her ears, but she wore no other jewelry. She had a curvy figure, highlighted by the jeans and t-shirt she wore. She looked put together, but not overly so.

The thing that really made him pause was the light in her eyes when she talked. She was obviously passionate about her work and it was infectious to watch. She answered every child with the same thoughtfulness and enthusiasm. From deeper questions about how the changing environment was affecting marine life, to the little girl holding the model, who asked why octopus have eight arms.

“You know, we haven’t really figured out why eight is the magic number for them, but they use all of them, so I guess they got to eight and decided they were done.”

Quinn found himself chuckling while the kids giggled.

The classes wandered away, and she began cleaning up her display, putting models and diagrams into a bucket before easing the graphics off the tank glass.

Something pulled him to her as if he'd been hooked in the navel and reeled in. Maybe it was because Millsy had just been chirping him about being too quiet to get a girl. Maybe it was the longing he felt wandering the park alone. Maybe it was fate. Whatever it was, he couldn’t seem to talk himself out of it.

Standing there like a fool, he watched her work for a few heartbeats too long.

Quinn didn't like to talk to strangers if he could help it. It’s not that he was scared, necessarily, but he was quiet and often just didn't know how to break the ice. Talking to someone when he didn’t have a middle man to bridge that first interaction made him nervous.

“Can I ask you a question?” he finally said. Lame. Lame. Could he be any more fucking lame?

“Hi there,” she said with a bright, friendly smile that took him off guard with its forced cheerfulness. It was such a different look than she’d just been wearing that he found it unnerving that she could flip that quickly. “Where can I direct you?”

“Oh, no,” Quinn gestured at the place he’d been standing, “I missed part of your talk,” he said, feeling his cheeks begin to blaze. “I wondered if you could tell me more about their camouflage?”

The light that had been in her face came rushing back, as if someone had flipped a switch. She met his eyes and smiled. Something twisted in his stomach.

He was even a few inches taller than her. More boxes checked off his list.

“Sure, what would you like to know?”

Mostly, he wanted her to keep talking. Finally, his brain came up with something semi intelligent, “do they have all those colors in their skin and just bring them up to the surface when they want to?”

“Sort of. Their skin is full of chromatophores, which are basically specialized cells that have an elastic sac that’s filled with one of a few pigments, and as they expand and contract the muscles around those cells, more or less pigment is visible. Octopus, and other cephalopods have a nerve attached to every one of those cells, so they can change almost at will. Some scientists are trying to understand if they even need to think about changing, or if it’s just an autonomic nerve response.” She stopped abruptly, “I’m sorry, that’s probably more information than you were looking for. ”

“No, it’s really interesting,” he assured. “How do you know all this? Are you just in charge of the octopus tank?”

“I'm getting my masters degree at UBC in marine zoology. I do research with one of the octopus we have named Walter, so they ask me to do these talks while I’m here working on that.”

He laughed, “Walter? That's quite the name for a fish.”

“Right?” she agreed, resisting the urge to correct him that Walter was a cephalopod, not a fish. They were two very different categories of animals. “I didn't choose it, but it suits him. He's kind of a curmudgeonly old man sometimes.”

His phone buzzed, reminding him it was nearly time to eat lunch.

“Hey, I swear I don't usually do this,” he said, more for his own benefit as he silenced the vibration on his phone, “but do you want to grab some lunch?”

She glanced at her watch and he felt his face flame as the reality of what he’d just said sunk in. He'd asked her to lunch? While she was working? How out of touch was he? Not everyone worked in the morning for a few hours and basically had the rest of the day free.

“I have a break coming up at 1, but I'm giving another talk at 2:30, so we couldn't go very far,” she said apologetically, hoping it wouldn’t put him off.

Quinn felt like he'd won the lottery. He just wanted to keep talking to her. It didn't matter how far they went. For all he cared, they could go to the aquarium cafeteria. “That’s fine.”

A relieved smile spread over her lips.

Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. “So, I’ll meet you out front in twenty?” he suggested, gesturing vaguely to where he thought the front of the building was.

She nodded.

As Sarah headed backstage, Rick, one of the aquarium staff, saddled up beside her, waggling his eyebrows, “he was cute.”

She went to scoff and wave him away, but found that she couldn’t. Her mystery man was cute. Lovely brown eyes, a few inches in height on her (which if she was being honest, wasn’t all that difficult), dark hair along with a dark shadow of a beard on his jaw, and a prominent, interesting nose that was somehow distinctive and at home on his face all at once. On top of that, he came up to her, obviously interested in what she did, and that in itself was incredibly attractive.

He hadn’t even paused when she threw out her graduate degree, a kind of douche litmus test she’d devised to tell right away who would be too intimidated by her education and who would be cool with it.

“I know,” she said, a little surprised by her own sincerity.

“Did he get your number?”

“No.”

“Please tell me you got his. It’s the twenty-first century, girl. You don’t let a man like that pass you by.”

“He invited me to lunch,” she said, feeling that overwhelming sincerity wash over her again. It was a bold move on his part, making his intentions known right away. She wasn't sure she'd ever been asked out so quickly or decisively.

“Well, I guess that works,” Rick shrugged, as if to say it wasn’t the route he would have taken.

Twenty five minutes later, Sarah rushed to the front, dodging the local hall so she wouldn’t be pulled away to answer a question, which happened more often than she’d ever anticipated after taking this research position.

He was standing near the entrance, looking at his phone with a kind of studied practice. Like he was trying hard to seem absorbed in whatever he was looking at, but the set of his shoulders made him look like he was bracing himself.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, halting her progress, “I got stuck talking with my research supervisor.”

He smiled, finally lifting his head, “It’s cool. Glad you didn’t stand me up though.”

A relieved smile took over her face. “I’m Sarah by the way, I didn't get your name.”

“Quinn,” he said, extending his hand.

He’d forgotten to introduce himself. He'd been so caught up in keeping her talking that he forgot the most basic part of polite conversation. Internally, he rolled his eyes.

A small spark raced up her arm when their hands touched with the formal shake.

“So,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure of what else to do with them, “where do you wanna go?”

“Oh, I…” she paused, looking out to the park, “do you have a favorite place?”

“I'm not down this way much, so I don't really know.”

“Do you like bao?” she asked.

He just looked at her, so she continued, “they're like dumplings with different things inside. They're Asian. There's a great place just up the street I go to sometimes.”

“I've never had it, but sure?”

Leading the way, Sarah started out of the building in confident strides that spoke of someone who had little time to waste in getting from one point to another. The rain had let up to a light mist that would do little more than dew the grass.

“So… are you from Vancouver?’ she asked, glancing over at him. He kept pace with her easily.

“No, I'm kind of from all over, but mostly from Michigan.”

“Oh, cool. I'm from Nevada.”

“That's a long way for school.”

“Well, it's a bit hard to study the ocean there,” she teased, “being landlocked and all.”

He laughed. “So, you're a student and you do research, what else do you do?”

“I honestly don't have a whole lot more time. Grad school is kind of a joke that way. I hang out with my roommates,” she added, feeling incredibly lame. “What about you? What do you do?”

He cleared his throat. This conversation always went one of two ways. “I play hockey.”

“Like, for a job?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline.

“Yeah. For the Canucks.” He gestured around himself, acknowledging the city as a whole.

She looked at him, and he held his breath, hoping his gut reaction wasn’t about to be proven wrong.

"That must be a wild job.”

A sigh let go in Quinn's chest. “It is. I feel really lucky.”

“So you're what, 20?”

“I hope I look older than that!”

"Sorry," She laughed. "I'm so bad with age. Especially with dudes. The facial hair always throws me off, so I usually aim low.” she said, gesturing to his jaw.

He grinned at her and her heart did a pitter pattery little jig against her ribcage.

“In any case,” she said, flipping her hands, “aren't all the guys in the NHL really young? Like, you have to be drafted before you're 20 or something?”

“21, technically,” he said, looking very impressed. “Do you follow hockey?”

“Not really, but my roommate is obsessed with the Canucks, so I've picked up a few things."

Quinn hoped she was the good kind of obsessed.

“So how old are you then?”

“24. You?”

“Twenty-six.”

The guys were going to give him so much shit when they found out he took out another older woman.

He couldn’t help it. He liked older women. They were more likely to have their lives together in the way he did. It was easier to be himself - a little more serious and quiet than his peers - with older women, who seemed to appreciate those qualities more.

It seemed he was naturally drawn to someone older, even when his basic instincts took over.

After 10 minutes of walking, they were seated in a cozy little restaurant, and Sarah made sure he was facing the middle, where the chef was assembling the dumplings.

Quinn looked over the menu, feeling instantly overwhelmed. There were so many things he didn't know here. “What's good?” he asked, trying to calm his nerves.

Truly, what the hell was he doing? He felt so out of his element. He dated, but never like this. Usually via set up and occasionally from an app, but he always knew something about his date before they met in person.

This was all his least favorite parts of getting to know someone in a situation that felt too high-stakes. He wasn’t even sure why. Sarah was pretty. Not in the overly stunning instagram pretty way Jack usually favored, but more girl next door kind of pretty, in a way that made him interested to know her more, but he didn't feel intimidated or uncomfortable around her. Something about her tilted him off his axis enough to make him go out of his comfort zone enough to ask her to lunch. For the first time, he found himself thinking, this could really go somewhere, and that scared him shitless.

“Everything I've tried is good. You should at least try the rainbow dumplings. Then you can try all the flavors.”

He nodded and set the menu down.

“We could split an entree too?” She suggested, sensing his unease. “The dumplings aren't really a total meal.”

“Sure. You pick.”

“Anything you don't like? Any dietary things?”

Quinn shook his head, “no, I’m off tomorrow, so I’m not watching what I eat.”

They locked eyes over her menu, “do you have to do that a lot?”

He nodded, “it comes with the territory. Gotta stay in peak condition, you know?”

She didn’t, but she nodded anyway.

He took off his cap and nervously ran his hand through his hair before replacing it. His hair was thick and a little wavy, she saw. It made her like him even more.

After holding eye contact for a beat too long, she tore her eyes away to look at the menu again. “Do you mind if I do something a little weird?” she asked.

When she dared to meet his eyes again, he was looking at her like he was bracing for something that was going to ruin his whole reputation.

“I mean with ordering,” she said, laughing.

“Oh,” Quinn felt his whole body relax, “sure.”

“Were you worried I was going to ask for pictures of your feet or something?”

Laughter burst out of his mouth, splitting his face into a natural, easy smile that suited him. The childish scrunch to his nose coupled with the wide, sure-of-himself smile made him look somehow younger and older at the same time.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I’ve seen a lot of weird shit.”

“I can’t even imagine,” she said, laughing.

The waiter came up to the table then.

Sarah glanced at Quinn, a smile still playing on her lips.

“You order,” he said, feeling childish.

“We’ll have two orders of the rainbow dumplings, and whatever main dish you want to bring us.”

Quinn choked a little on the water he was drinking.

“Just no seafood.”

The waiter nodded, like this wasn’t an unusual request, “spice level?”

Sarah looked to Quinn for guidance.

“Mild,” he said.

“Mild, then.”

“No allergies?”

Sarah shook her head, and the waiter walked away.

“Do you do that a lot?” he asked.

“Sometimes. I have a friend who does it every time we go out. It’s a great way to try new things.”

“And no seafood?” he asked, “has your work turned you away from it?”

“No, not really, but I only get it if it’s sustainably sourced, and I didn’t want to have a whole conversation over who their seafood supplier is, and most waiters don't know that stuff anyway, so it’s just easier to say none.”

Their conversion slipped into a silence that wasn't completely uncomfortable.

“So,” she said, starting to fiddle with the things on the table, a soy sauce decanter and a square ceramic container with a tiny spoon in it. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” she paused, filtering through the questions that raced through her head, “what's your favorite movie?”

“Star Wars.”

“Which one?”

“I like all of the original trio, but probably The Empire Strikes Back most.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why?”

“Oh, I dated a guy a while ago who told me his favorite Star Wars movie was The Phantom Menace and I almost broke up with him on the spot.”

Quinn laughed.

“What's your favorite?”

“Oh, I have so many,” she said, “For Star Wars: A New Hope. Overall, it kind of depends on the day, but I have some go-to comfort movies, like any of the original Marvel movies, Lord of the Rings, and this chick flick called In Her Shoes I used to watch a lot with my mom.”

Feeling more and more like he really had won the lottery, Quinn smiled at her. It was strange to think a girl like this existed and had been existing in the same city as him for some time. A woman that was cute and curvy and had so many of the qualities he always said he was looking for. Passionate about what she was doing, didn't take herself too seriously, was a bit of a nerd like he was, but not too nerdy, didn’t want to date him for clout or money.

People in his life had often wondered if the list was too long to find in a real person. He'd started to wonder the same thing over the past few months. Part of it was that it felt easier to have a long list so he didn’t have to worry about looking for someone while he was so busy. He'd always figured he'd meet someone later on in his career or even after it was done. Then he would have the time to dedicate to dating and marriage.

Despite all that, here Sarah was, smiling at him over a lunch table like fate had just dropped her into his life.

Their food came and they continued talking. Sarah could tell he was a quiet guy, always taking time to think before he spoke. Despite that, she didn't feel like she was carrying the conversation. It was a pleasant surprise for a first date.

At one point, Quinn looked so lost at how to eat the dumplings that she took pity on him and gave him the instructional card from the table. “I was lost when I first came here, too,” she assured.

When they finished, and Quinn had shut down her offer to pay for half of the food, she glanced at her watch, surprised to find that it was already 2:05. Their conversation had been so consistent and comfortable, she hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “I’m sorry. I have to get back.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, standing and putting a cash tip on the table.

Sarah felt a little dizzy. Everything felt so sudden, like Karma had finally noticed all her pain and delivered her something good for a change. She’d gotten so used to slogging along, enjoying what she was doing, but not really looking forward to the future with any big hope or optimism. The sudden change had her reeling.

When they got back to the Aquarium, Quinn stopped at the entrance, tucking himself behind one of the pillars to provide a little more privacy.

“I, uh,” he found himself saying. How did you end a date with a woman you were beginning to feel might just be your soulmate?

“I had a really nice time,” she said.

“Yeah, me too.”

He leaned in, trying to gauge if she wanted to be kissed, or if a hug would put him too much in the friend-zone. His brothers probably would have chastised him for not going in for the kiss right away, but the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

They did a short, awkward dance, neither knowing what, exactly, to do. It struck Sarah as the most uncomfortable thing on their date thus far.

Finally, she took charge and wrapped her arms around his neck in an embrace.

Quinn sighed as he gathered her against him.

His willingness to wait for her to dictate the level of physicality they shared ticked another box on her list. She wouldn’t have minded kissing him, but the fact that he respected that boundary right off the bat had game show-winner bells ringing in her mind.

“I know you have to go, but can I get your number?” he asked, stepping back from the embrace, letting his left hand linger on her hip.

She giggled a little, thinking what a weird formality it was that he had to ask at this point. She gave him her number and he texted to make sure it was right. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, showing him.

“I’ll see you later?” she asked. looking up into his face. She wasn’t surprised to find the same hope she felt reflected back at her.

He glanced at her lips before meeting her eyes again, “yeah.”

Another glance at her watch had her stepping back from him. “I’m sorry, I’m late,” she said, turning away before turning back at the last second and brushing her lips over his cheek. “See you later.”

He watched her run down the hall before turning around and heading back home, feeling like he could stomach an evening alone with Sarah on his mind.

Later that night, studying in her room, Sarah finally pulled her phone from her backpack and typed out the message that had been pulling at her thoughts all day, making it impossible to really focus on anything else.

Some of her friends, she knew, would tell her she was putting too much out there too soon. Perhaps she was, but losing her mom had given her a fuck that attitude to many things - not expressing her true feelings being one of them. If it scared him off, that would tell her all she needed to know.

She hit send, hoping she wasn’t wrong.

Quinn was in his own apartment, not really paying attention to the Devils-Hurricanes game playing, mostly trying to figure out when it would be okay to text her. With the way everything had gone that day, he felt like any time would be the right time. The anxious part of his mind battled against that thought, worried about coming on too strong or seeming needy and messing things up.

He pulled his phone out, finally deciding that he should just say something.

It dinged in his hand, and her name flashed across his screen. Shocked, he dropped the phone and had to fish it out from under the couch before he could read her message.

Thank you for today. You were such a welcome surprise.

It was so heartfelt, he sat on the floor between the couch and coffee table for a while, re-reading their conversation.

This is Quinn.

Thank you for today. You were such a welcome surprise.

The embarrassingly earnest part of him wanted to tell her all he was feeling, but he knew it was too soon to tell her he thought they could go the distance. It was too soon for him to be voicing those things to himself. He didn’t really even know her. Yet.

Sarah watched his text bubble appear and disappear several times before she clicked off her screen, unable to watch.

Her heart was rioting in her chest. Yes, fuck that, but also if he proved her wrong, she knew she would be crying herself to sleep.

Finally - finally her phone buzzed. Hands shaking, she struggled to unlock it, eventually having to put her code in twice before it worked. His message slid onto the screen, and she released the breath she’d been holding.

I feel the same way. I can’t wait to see you again.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fan fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #Quinn & Sarah Snapshots #hockey fic #hockey romance #quinn hughes fanfiction

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

WIBTA if I called animal services on my parent's neighbours?

I want to begin this with saying neither me nor my parents get on with my parent's neighbours. My parents live in a rural area with about 6 acres of land. The field next door used to be just a large field however 6 years ago got brought by a middle age couple (50 and 65) and they built a house on it with the majority of the field still being used for their horses.

We never got on but for the most part just ignored each other until covid. During covid my parents started walking in the woods behind our house to get out of the house on a daily bases whereas before they would have gone travelling and walking other places. The new neighbours didn't like this. Both properties open directly onto foresty land however the easiest way to get to the main forest path is to walk along the fence that borders neighbours field. To cut a long story short there was a lot of shouting, signs and sticks blocking our way, harassment, and cameras to try and intimidate my parents not to walk behind their property. We got the police involved in the end and have a restraining order against the neighbours so they're not allowed to approach or talk to us within reason (obviously they can be in the field to tend to the horses etc)

I wanted to tell this to get the point that yeah parents and neighbours do not get on at all. Since the restraining order things have been peaceful however I did install a camera at the front of my parents property as we did have some damage that might have been neighbours but could have been anything else really. This was recommended by the police. My parents aren't good with tech so I take care of their phones/netflix and now having the camera connected to my phone so I get the alerts if someone walks by.

The neighbours recently got two puppies though they are now over a year old. They are GSP x Labs so working dogs that in my opinion would need a lot of exercise and enrichment. As I get the notifications for the camera I know what time the neighbour walks past with the dogs and it's every day down the same country road for 10 to 20 mins in the morning. To me it doesn't seem to be enough. I've also noticed since the dogs are growing up and getting stronger/not trained the neighbour seems to be struggling with them. My neighbour is 65 but not the fittest and this past week he's been taking one dog at a time for a 5 minute walk each.

Now all I have is the knowledge of the camera. They could be getting enrichment at home, let loose in the field with the horses to run but to me it just doesn't seem fair on the dogs. But since it's been peaceful for my parents I don't want to rock the boat and maybe cause the neighbours to retaliate. Even anon they probably would know who it is who called the animal services on them. But I also hate to see dogs not living their best life. I have no doubt they aren't getting mistreated and are well fed. I just don't think they are the right dogs for an middle age couple that do not leave the house except to get shopping and can barely give them a 10 minute walk. I don't even really agree with how they keep their horses either but again they're not mistreating them just keeping young horses in a field all day and not doing any training or anything at all with them. Just seems unfair.

Sorry for the long post, just been weighing on my mind.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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alltoowelltom · 2 years

Note

CAN U PLSSSS PLSSS PLS write a part 2 for who'd you rather ?

PLS

Who'd You Rather (part two)

tom holland x reader

summary: your first interview as a couple after your relationship was exposed on live tv

a/n: babes tysm for all the love on who'd you rather! i'm sorry if part 2 is kinda crappy cause i'm currently sick with covid but i really wanted to get back into the swing of writing so i hope you enjoy <3

part 1

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

November 2021

“Two minutes until you’re on,” calls a stagehand, poking their head around the dressing room door to make sure you’ve heard. Tom nods at the person, standing up from his seat and walking over to where you sit, having the finishing touches applied to your hair.

“Nervous?” he asks, taking note of your leg tapping on the ground anxiously.

You shrug, looking up at him.

“Yeah. Like, I’m happy we don’t have to hide it or sneak around anymore, but I’m scared of people’s opinions, you know? I just don’t want us to let anything get in the way of our relationship.” you explain, taking his hand as he helps you stand up and begin walking out to the side of the stage.

He nods understandingly. “I know baby. But we talked about this, remember? We agreed to help each other not listen to anyone’s negative opinions. We love each other and that’s what matters. Or, at least, I love you.” he teases, poking your hip to try and get a smile out of you.

You laugh lightly, jerking away from his hand and rolling your eyes.

“I love you too, loser. Even if you did out our relationship on live television.”

“Me?” gasps Tom, pretending to be shocked. “I think you’ll find it was you who called. All I did was be a loving boyfriend and pick up the phone at three A.M. to make sure my girlfriend was alright.”

“I didn’t really have much of a choice, not unless I wanted to punt Ellen right into the audience to grab my phone back.”

Tom laughs silently, eyes crinkling as he grabs your hand, hearing Jimmy Fallon introduce you two.

“Now that would have gone viral.” he whispers, leading you out.

The first part of the interview goes smoothly, conversation flowing between you, Tom, and Jimmy about your upcoming movie. Just as you relax into your seat, subconsciously leaning into Tom’s side for comfort Jimmy clears his throat.

“Now, Y/N.” he says, hands resting on a large square card that’s face down on his desk. “We all know you had quite the exposing experience earlier this year when you accidentally outed your relationship on the Ellen show.”

You roll your eyes playfully as the audience cheers, remembering the viral clip of Tom’s groggy voice and your eyes frozen in shock that neither of you had been able to escape for weeks afterwards.

“Yep.” you say tightly. “That was a thing. That happened. To us.”

Jimmy laughs as he holds up the card, revealing the photo you and Tom had both posted at the end of May, confirming your relationship in hopes to calm the speculations. In the photo, you held your phone up in front of a large mirror, grinning while Tom wrapped his arm around you from behind, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck while your free hands joined up to form a heart shape.

“I promise we won’t dwell on this for too long.” continued Jimmy as you shifted slightly in your seat. “I just wanted to ask, since this is your first interview as a couple since confirming your relationship. We all saw Ellen try to set you two up, but how did you really end up together? Did Tom actually follow her instructions and call you up?”

Tom places his hand on your knee, silently telling you that it’s your decision on how to answer. You two had discussed this at great length before, Tom saying he really wouldn’t mind people knowing but you always pointing out that there was something so special about a private relationship, and mentioning you were scared of people giving their unsolicited opinions. Thirteen year olds on the internet can be viscous when you’re publicly dating their celebrity crush. You could give a generalised answer and dodge the question, and Jimmy being one of the more respectful interviewers would most likely pick up on your discomfort and move on gracefully. Or, you think, feeling Tom press a lightning quick peck to your hairline, you could be honest.

“Well,” you begin, reaching over to clasp Tom’s hand tightly in your own. “We were really good friends already, right? So we were staying in a hotel during the press tour in 2019.”

“Was this before or after you professed your love for him on the Ellen show?” cuts in Jimmy.

“Wha- I didn’t-” you stutter, covering your reddening face. “I did not profess my love!”

“Oh come on love,” says Tom cockily, puffing out his chest. “You couldn’t shut up about me, you thought I was double tasty.”

You roll your eyes.

“Do you two turkeys want to hear the rest of the story or not?”

Tom and Jimmy both nod, shrinking back into their seats like scolded toddlers.

“I suppose it was after I, ‘professed my love’, as you knuckleheads insist on putting it,” you say, using air quotes. “So as I was saying, we were staying in a hotel and there was this massive thunderstorm. When I say it was storming, I mean it was storming. The top floors of the hotel - which we were on - were shaking and rattling like crazy. It was like ten giant Shreks were farting all at once, the hotel was wobbling so much. I genuinely thought someone had come into my room and started shaking my bed every time there was a thunderclap. Now, I don’t particularly find much enjoyment in thunderstorms-”

“She’s terrified of them.” confirms Tom, thumb rubbing your hand comfortingly.

“So I was proper freaking out. Then to make things worse, some madman starts frantically banging on my door.”

“It was the bed shaker!” laughs Jimmy. “Got locked out.”

The audience laughs loudly along with you and Tom and you wipe a stray tear from under your eye.

“It wasn’t the bed shaker,” you laugh. “It was Tom. At two A.M. in the middle of a thunderstorm, practically breaking my door down and I swear to you, I was this close to shitting myself.” you cover your mouth suddenly. “Oops,” you say. “I can’t swear here, can I?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “We can bleep it out a few times, it’s okay.”

“Now, in my defence,” Tom stars, addressing the audience. “I had tried to call her twice just to make sure she was okay, you know, with the storm and everything, but because it was so loud she hadn’t heard and I got worried.” he pouts and you rub his arm comfortingly, allowing him to playfully rest his head on your shoulder. You clear your throat and continue, determined to get to the end of this story.

“So I open the door and there’s Tom in his PJs, hair sticking up in twenty different directions, holding snacks and a fluffy blanket. He said he’d just sit with me until the storm cleared up and then one thing led to another and…here we are, I guess.”

Tom nods, grinning as he wraps an arm around you, not really caring about the cameras and millions of viewers. All he wants to do right now is shower his girl in love as he basks in the memory of the night. your relationship changed. “Here we are,” he repeats.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

tysm for reading, u a real one <3 reblogs and comments are super appreciated !

tagging some people who asked for a part 2: @justasecretwriter @hllandvibbes @youcompletemesk @taetaebunni @siriuslysmoking @loxbbg

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland smau #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #nathan drake #peter parker

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thoseboysinblue · 1 year

Text

If the World was Ending

Christian Pulisic x reader

Your ex, Christian shows up unannounced hoping to find some comfort in you after facing some rough times.

Word count: 3800+

Warnings: Smut, fluff, swearing, angst

Requested: No

A/N: This was inspired by the song "If the World was Ending" by JP Saxe ft. Julia Michaels. It may be terrible and I'm not sure I like it, but here it is.

You are watching the match from the comfort of your home, your laptop resting in your lap as you attempted to get some work done as well. They were having a terrible season, and tonight their Champions League dreams had also ended. You are wearing an old Chelsea hoodie which belonged to a boy you once loved, and part of you still did. However, he now stood in the middle of the pitch, looking tired, defeat washing over his beautiful features.

You met Christian shortly after he signed for Chelsea, the American quickly stealing your heart. You moved in together when rumors of a lockdown due to Covid swirled, neither of you wanting to be alone for the indefinite future. Your romance had been somewhat of a whirlwind at the beginning, both so swept up in each other that you didn't really even know what was happening. However, after two years together, it all ended, fairly amicably, neither of you to blame, but it was evident you weren't meant to be together, so you split up.

You would be lying if you said you didn't still think about him, you lost count of the number of times you started to reach out to him, when things weren't going well for him at Chelsea, when he helped the US qualify for the World Cup, when he scored what ended up being the goal that pushed them out of the group stages and he subsequently got injured, and again when they had failed to make it to the next round after a heartbreaking loss to the Netherlands. The thought also crosses your mind tonight, but ultimately like those other times, you decide against it.

What you didn't know was that with each of those events in his life, as well as countless others, he wanted more than anything to call you, he spent hours searching through notifications for any sign of you, but never found it, and never found the courage within himself to make the first move.

When the two of you broke up, you had agreed to stay friends, and you did for a while. You still attended some events with him, made it to the occasional match, and continued supporting him from afar. On occasion, he also reached out to you, seeking a particular type of comfort only you seemed to be able to provide. But for the last year, you had no contact with him, both of you thinking it was for the best to let the other move on.

A knock at your door dragged you from your thoughts, it was late, very few people were on the guest list for your appartment, and an even smaller number knew the code to get up to your floor, thinking it must be a neighbor needing something, you open the door, surprised to see a completely broken brown haired, brown eyed boy standing in front of you.

"Oh" you whispered quietly, looking into those eyes you used to get lost in for hours on end. "Hey" he croaks out, "I'm sorry, I left the stadium, heading home, but somehow ended up here, I wasn't even sure you still lived here until I found out I was still on the list, I don't want to bother you, I shouldn't have come over, I know it's been a long time, I just," he rambled, looking down at his feet, his hand rubbing over the back of his neck, a clear sign to you that he was nervous.

"Christian, stop," you reach out to place your hand on his jaw, causing him to look back up at you and sigh, instinctively relaxing into your touch. "Come in, please" you whisper, moving to the side and allowing him entrance into your apartment, a place that was as nearly as familiar to him as his own home.

With the door closed behind him, you pull him into a tight embrace. His face burrying into your neck as he breathes in your scent, a scent he didn't realize he had missed so much until just now. One of your hands settles into his hair while the other gently rubs his back, two things that you'd done thousands of times before tonight.

Quiet sobs escape his lips as you feel a few tears fall against your neck. You pull way from him, tilting his head up and wiping the tears away with your thumbs. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips, "sorry," he mumbles "force of habit."

"It's ok," you whisper back, offering a reassuring smile which he doesn't reciprocate. "Would you like a beer or something?" you offer. "Tea would actually be nice," he says, his tone still very flat. He kicks off his shoes and follows you into the kitchen. You quickly grab the remote and turn off the post match coverage that was still playing, "sorry, force of habit" you smile reluctantly.

You fix tea for the both of you while he watches in silence, sliding his cup across the counter to him, you make your way over to the couch and sit down, him following close behind you. He takes a sip of the tea you'd made for him and his head falls back against the cushions, "some things never change" he sighs, "I've still never figured out how your tea is so much better than mine."

You stay quiet for a few more minutes, giving him time to hopefully settle in, "do you want to talk about tonight?" you ask him quietly. He shakes his head. "Ok, do you want to talk about anything?" you try again, still unsure why he showed up at your door, although, you have a pretty good idea of where this will end up. "Not really, it's all shit right now, so I wouldn't even know where to start," he says as he takes another sip of tea, "I shouldn't have just shown up here like this, I just didn't want to be alone, and you've always been the one person I could count on when it felt like the world was ending."

"Christian, I" you start but he stops you. "I know, y/n, I know we didn't work out for a reason, and I'm not here trying to sort through any of that, I can leave if you want me to. I know me showing up like this is probably the last thing you want or need."

"I don't want you to leave," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You know he needs you more than anything or he wouldn't be here, and you have never been able to deny him, a part of you still needing to be needed by him. You turned on a movie, something he'd probably seen a hundred times, understanding it's what would help him to unwind.

Quietly, you stand up, taking your now empty cups to the kitchen. Your eyes staying focused on him as you wash them, watching him sitting on your couch with his head leaned back against the cushions. He looks so broken, so fragile to you that it breaks your heart.

When the two of you broke up, there were no hard feelings really, you'd simply grown apart, both of you needing time to figure out who you were and what you really wanted out of life. You had been lonely of course, you'd lost your best friend, you had been really close with his family, especially his sister, and the guys you had become so accustomed to being around every day just vanished, but ultimately this gave you the time and space you needed to really work on yourself, and for that you were thankful.

But looking at him right now, you knew what he was here for, this had happened a few times after your breakup, he would show up, needing you, and you didn't have it in you to send him away. So you'd sleep together. It wasn't meaningless, how could it be meaningless with someone you'd once been in love with, but it was easy, comfortable, and there were no awkward morning after regrets. After the last time, you really thought you were both done with each other for good though, especially since it had been over a year with no contact whatsoever.

He'd come home with you that last night, a fit of jealousy taking over him when he thought you were out with someone else, not giving you time to explain that it was someone from work, whose wife also happened to be accompanying you. He had practically dragged you out of the club you were in, the two of you tumbling into the back of a taxi, barely able to keep your clothes on until you got into your apartment. He had fucked you on the counter you were now leaning against, saying he wanted to show you who you still belonged to, and to be fair, you did belong to him, part of you always would. The next morning, he placed a light kiss on your forehead and left, and you hadn't heard from him since.

It was then that he realized that his behavior was toxic, he knew you had both agreed that you weren't right for each other, but he also knew he didn't want anyone else to have you either. After that night, he was painfully aware that he needed to take the time to actually work on himself, figure out who he was as an individual before trying to find his way back to you.

And now here he is, clearly at his most vulnerable point, barely a shadow of the fun-loving, happy guy you knew. You know what he wants and needs from you, and even though you know it will quite possibly break your heart, you still love him enough to give him what he needs. Right now, what he needs is to forget everything that's going on, and maybe, just for the night, he needs to be able to remember what you once had.

You wander back to the couch, grazing your hand over the top of his head as you pass by, sitting down a plate of his favorite cookies on the coffee table before handing one to him, also taking one for yourself as you sit down close to him, tucking your knees under you. He hums at the taste, memories flooding his mind as his eyes flutter closed. "These have always been my favorite," he says his voice barely above a whisper, giving you the only hint of a smile you've seen since he's been here. "I know, I got the urge to make them earlier, now I guess I know why," you offer him a kind smile as he shifts to rest his hand over your legs.

Without realizing, your hand moves towards his arm, lightly tracing over the tattoos that you had once adored so much. Eventually, his own body betrays him and he turns to lay with his head in your lap. He cannot explain why he needs you as much as he does, but right now, he doesn't have the energy to fight it.

He's laying on his back, one arm draped over his stomach while you still trace soft shapes over it, your other hand finds it's way to his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, hoping to help ease his mind in whatever way you can. "You can talk to me you know, I do still care about everything that's going on with you, I know it's been a rough patch lately and I should've reached out to you, I just thought maybe you had someone else and I didn't want to interfere."

He shakes his head softly, "no, there's no one else," he whispers.

"What about you? Is there someone that's going to walk through that door and want to kick my ass?"

You shake your head and notice a flicker of a smile on his lips before he starts to tell you everything that's been going on. You listen as he let's everything out, only nodding quietly or offering him your support and reminding him that most of these things are well beyond his control. As he keeps talking you feel worse and worse for not reaching out to him, especially the last time he had gotten injured, you knew when you saw it happen he would be devastated that his excellent run of form was yet again ruined with an injury, but you still didn't have it in you to call him.

After he finishes talking, he seems lighter, like he just needed to get all of the thoughts of his head and spoken in front of someone he knew he could trust not to pass any kind of judgement. "Thank you for listening to me, I know I just unloaded a whole lot of shit on you," he says, his expression a bit softer. "It's fine, Chris, um, Christian, I promised you a long time ago I would always be here for whatever you need, and I don't plan on breaking that anytime soon," you sigh, your hand moving to caress the fine stubble on his jaw.

He leans up towards you, pressing a tentative kiss to your lips before pulling away to glance over your expression. He smiles slightly when you cup your other hand over the other side of his face and lean in to kiss him again.

He quickly changes positions, pulling you into his lap so that you are straddling him without ever breaking the kiss. He lets out a quiet moan as you deepen the kiss, dipping your tongue into his mouth as you roll your hips over him. His hands slip under your shirt and skim up and down your back. You both pull away from the kiss breathless as you stand up holding your hand out to him and leading him to your room.

Once inside your room he stops you, "y/n, you need to know this isn't why I came over here tonight."

"Oh, do you not want to?" you answer him, your eyes searching his features.

"No, of course I want to, it's just, I don't want you to think that's the only reason I'm here."

"Ok" you whisper, going up on your tiptoes to kiss him again. You tug at the hem of his shirt and he quickly breaks away from you to pull it over his head before he pulls your hoodie off of you, smirking when he finally realizes it's one of his, "I looked for that forever," he lets out a soft laugh. "Sorry" you grin at him. "No you're not, you forget I can tell when you're lying, y/n."

"You're right, I'm not sorry at all, it was one of my favorites, still is," you mutter against his lips as you both move towards the bed peeling off the rest of your clothes and leaving a trail on the floor.

You fall back onto the bed as crawls towards you, "that's a sight for sore eyes" he whispers as his eyes drag over your naked form. "You're still the prettiest girl I've ever seen" he smiles at you.

He settles between your legs, you can feel his hardened length pressing into your leg when he leans down to kiss you. His hand grazes over your breast as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers causing you to gasp. He slides his hand down your body, applying soft pressure over your clit as he dips two fingers into your entrance. Your breath hitches in your throat as your hips lift to meet his movements before he quickly withdraws his fingers and sucks on them, humming at the taste of you.

You reach between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his dick and lining it up with your entrance, "I need you, y/n" he whispers against your jaw, "I know, Chris, I need you too" you let out a faint moan as he pushes into you.

"Fuck" he breathes out dropping his head against your shoulder, "I'm gonna need just a second" he groans as he feels you clench around him when you nod, trailing your hands up and down his back.

He starts rocking his hips into you agonizingly slow. "You feel so good, Christian, oh fuck" you moan, knowing he loves being praised. "Shit, y/n, you feel amazing baby, I didn't think I could ever forget what you feel like, but I swear it's better than I remember," he pants out, your heart fluttering at the use of the pet name he always called you.

He picks up the pace, thrusting into you deeper as his cock pounds into your g-spot over and over as he hitches your leg up higher over his waist. "This isn't going to last as long as I want it to," he grunts out, slowing his pace and sliding his fingers down to rub circles over your clit. "You gonna be able to cum for me baby?" he asks noticing the way you throw your head back against the pillows. "Yes" you moan out, "keep going, just like that, Chris, I'm close."

You clench around him as your orgasm approaches, his movements becoming sloppy, hips faltering as he is holding off as long as he can. "Come on, y/n, cum for me," he whispers into your ear as your eyes roll back in your head and your back arches off of the bed. As your orgasm hits you, you let out a loud moan of his name. He stills inside of you when he cums, your name falling from his lips with a whimper before he collapses on top of you.

"Jesus" he breathes out as you nod, your fingers scratching at the back of his neck while you both work to steady your breathing.

He rolls over to your side, pulling you in for a kiss before you head to the bathroom to clean up. When you return, he's pulled his boxers back on and is waiting for you with the covers pulled back. He tosses you his T-shirt and you pull it over your head before climbing into bed next to him.

He drags you closer to him, not happy with the space you left between the two of you. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the familiar sound of his heartbeat as he scratches your back.

"Y/N" he says quietly, his voice a bit shaky, "I know, Christian, I know" you breathe out, pressing a kiss to his chest as he presses one to the top of your head, "let's just go to sleep, we can talk in the morning."

The next morning you wake up and pull on a pair of shorts under Christian's t-shirt before making your way to the kitchen. As you are finishing up a stack of pancakes, Christian wanders in, shirtless with his joggers hanging loosely around his hips.

"Hi" he says, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing you softly on the neck. Your posture goes rigid under his touch. This is different from the past few times you've been together, this feels more like it did when you were dating and you are not quite sure what to think.

"Sorry, y/n, I didn't mean to, I just thought," he drops his hand from your waist and moves around to the other side of the counter, an unmistakable sadness in his eyes.

"It's ok, I just wasn't expecting you to be so friendly this morning" you say as you slide a plate of pancakes over to him.

"That's my fault," he glances up at you, "the other times, since we broke up, I was unfair to you, I realized that after the last time, that's why I didn't come back, I knew I had to get myself in a better spot first."

"Shit, that's good" he practically moans as he takes a bite of his pancakes causing you to let out a giggle.

"What?" he says looking up at you, swiping some syrup from his lip with his tongue. "I don't know if I should be offended that that's the loudest I've ever heard you moan" you chuckle.

He lets out laugh, "these are really good, but they are nothing compared to you," he winks at you.

"Easy, lover boy, you can lay off the charm school tactics," you grin at him, "do you have training or something to get to?"

"No, we've got the day off" he shrugs, "but I'll be out of your hair after breakfast."

"Chris, that's not what I meant, you can stay as long as you would like, I was just asking to make small talk."

"You've never been good at small talk, y/n" he chuckles taking another bite of his food.

"Yeah, well, neither have you," you smirk back at him.

"Listen, I'm just going to come out and say what I need to say to you," he says sitting down his fork and reaching out to place his hand over yours.

"I know we ended things because we weren't right for each other, but I can't help but wonder if it was just that those versions of us weren't right for each other, but maybe the people we are now are meant to be together. I've spent the last year or so working on myself, figuring out who I am. I've also had some really high highs and really low lows, and the only person I wanted to share any of that with was you. It's ok if you say no, but I just needed to tell you. Again, I'm sorry for just showing up, but you were on my mind when I left the stadium and I didn't even realize I was driving here until I saw your building, but I miss you and I miss what we had and I..."

You move to stand between his legs, cupping his face in your hands as you lean down to kiss him softly, "I've missed you too," you whisper against his lips, "so much, Christian, but are you sure it's not just because this is easy and comfortable? I don't want you to miss out on something greater because your settling for what's familiar."

"Y/N, I'm not settling for you, I'm saying I'm choosing you, you are the person I'd face the end of the world with if I knew it was coming, that's not settling," he says as he stands up, wrapping his arms around your waist, "please, please give me another shot to prove it to you."

"Ok" you whisper as you wrap your hands around the back of his neck.

"Ok?" he raises an eyebrow at you as you nod.

"I still love you, you know, that's never changed."

"I still love you too, Christian," you smile at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss.

Taglist:

@chelseagirl98 @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona @tall-tanned-tattoo

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic imagine

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months

Text

Underground Empire: Henry Farrell and Abraham Newman's must-read account of "How America Weaponized the World Economy."

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

At the end of Henry Farrell and Abraham Newman's new book Underground Empire, they cite the work of John Lewis Gaddis, "preeminent historian of the Cold War," who dubbed that perilous period "The Long Peace":

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250840554/undergroundempire

Despite several harrowing near-misses, neither of the two hair-trigger, nuclear-tipped arsenals were ever loosed. When the Cold War ended, the world breathed a sigh of relief and set about refashioning itself, braiding together economic and social interdependencies that were supposed to make future war unthinkable. Nations that depend on one another couldn't afford to go to war, because they couldn't hurt the other without hurting themselves.

The standard account of the Cold War's "Long Peace" is that the game theorists who invented Mutually Assured Destruction set up a game where "the only way to win was not to play" (to quote the Matthew Broderick documentary War Games). The interdependency strategy of the post-Cold War, neoliberal, "flat" world was built on the same fundamentals: make war more costly than peace, victory worse than the status quo, and war would be over – if we wanted it.

But Gaddis has a different idea. Any effect Mutually Assured Destruction had on keeping fingers from pushing the buttons was downstream of a much more important factor: independence. For the most part, the US and the USSR had nonintersecting spheres of influence. Each of these spheres was self-sufficient. That meant that they didn't compete with one another for the use of the same resource or territory, and neither could put the other in check by seizing some asset they both relied on. The exceptions to this – proxy wars in Latin America and Southeast Asia – were the disastrous exceptions that proved the rule.

But the past forty years rejected this theory. From Thomas Friedman's "World Is Flat" to Fukyama's "End of History," the modern road to peace is paved with networks whose nodes can be found in every country. These networks – shipping routes, money-clearing systems, supply chains, the internet itself – weave together nearly every nation on Earth into a single web of interdependencies that make war impossible.

War, you may have noticed, has become very, very possible. Even countries with their own McDonald's franchises are willing to take up arms against one another.

That's where Farrell and Newman's book comes in. The two political scientists tell the story of how these global networks were built through accidents of history, mostly by American corporations and/or the American state. The web was built by accident, but the spider at its center was always the USA.

At various junctures since the Cold War, American presidents, spies and military leaders have noticed this web and tugged at it. A tariff here, a sanction there, then an embargo. The NSA turns the internet into a surveillance grid and a weapon of war. The SWIFT system is turned into a way to project American political goals around the world – first by blocking transactions for things the US government disfavors, then to cut off access for people who do business with people who do things that the US wants stopped.

Networks tend to centralization, to hubs. These central points are efficient, but (as we learned during the covid lockdown) brittle. One factory fails and an entire category of goods can no longer be made – anywhere. When it comes to global resiliency, these bottlenecks are are a bug; but when it comes to US foreign policy, these chokepoints are a feature.

Farrell and Newman skillfully weave a tale of individuals, powers, circumstances and forces, showing how the rise and rise of world-is-flat rah-rah globalism created a series of irresistable opportunities for "weaponized interdependence." Some players of the game wield these weapons like a scalpel; others (like Trump) use them like a club.

This is a chronicle of the dawning realization – among US power-players and their foreign adversaries, particularly in China – that the US lured its trading partners into entrusting it with financial clearing, IP enforcement, fiber landings, and other chokepoints, on the grounds that American wouldn't risk the wealth these systems generated by turning them into engines of coercion.

But then, of course, that's exactly what America did, from the War on Terror to economic sanctions on Iran, from seizing Argentinian reserves to freezing Russia's cash. Sometimes, the US did this for reasons that I sympathize with, other times, for reasons I am aghast at. But they did it, and did it, and did it.

America's adversaries (and frenemies, like the EU) have tried to build alternative "underground empires" to offset the risk of having their interdependencies weaponized (or to escape from an ongoing situation). But therein lies a conundrum: world-is-flat-ism has ended the age of indepedence. Countries really do need each other – for energy, materials, and finished goods. Independence is a long way off.

To create new interdependency networks, it's not enough for countries to agree that they don't trust America as neutral maintainer of their strategic chokepoints. They also have to agree to trust one of their own to operate those chokepoints. Lots of countries have come to mistrust US dollar-clearing and the SWIFT system – but few are willing to allow, say, China to run an alternative system that carries out settlements in Renminbi. The EU might be able to suck in some "friendly" countries for a Euro-clearing system, but would China trust them? How about Iran?

Farrell and Newman make a good case that US's position at the center of the web is a historical accident, and possibly a one-off, contingent on the ascendant post-Cold War ideology that said that markets and the interdependencies they create would neutralize the threat of handing a rival nation that much power.

Which leaves us in a world of interdependency in conflict. If Gaddis is right and the Long Peace was the result of independence, then this bodes very ill. The only thing worse than a world where no one can depend on anyone is a world where we must depend on entities that are hostile to us, and vice-versa. That way lies a widening gyre of conflict that felt eerily palpable as world events unfolded while I read this excellent, incisive book.

Political science, done right, has the power to reframe your whole understanding of events around you. Farrell and Newman set out a compelling thesis, defend it well, and tell a fascinating tale. And when they finish, they leave you with a way to make sense of things that seem senseless and terrible. This may not make those things less terrible, but at least they're comprehensible.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/10/weaponized-interdependence/#the-other-swifties

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #henry farrell #undergound empire #chokepoints #swift #weaponized interdependency #books #reviews #gift guide #political science #new cold war #surveillance #ip #soft power #abraham newman

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lost-in-lamentation · 8 months

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I'm really sorry if this isn't something usually written or slightly difficult to write, but I was thinking about how the brothers or any of the others would react to a MC who always wears a mask ? Like, they only ever take it off when their by themself and even then they still feel odd without it. So their immediate instinct when going out is to grab their mask !

It can be for any reason ! Body dysmorphia or just general shyness, anything

I deal with this myself, and I often get a lot of weird looks for wearing it since covid is less common now. I just have one preference !

-The MC needing a lot of reassurance and comfort before taking it off [ and even then or after a bit, they need to put it back on ]

To them it may feel like protection and security, so they rely on it a lot !

I'm really sorry if this is too long or hard to read, I'm not used to making requests (╥﹏╥)

a/n: hi anon! i totally get where you're coming from, you're not alone here. and no need for sorry! i'm glad you were so specific with the request, and i hope you find some comfort here! (´ω｀)

see end for more notes.

content: asmodeus and satan are curious as to why you never go out without your face mask. the reasons differ for each brother, please read the warnings before proceeding.

warnings: extreme body dysmorphia, panic attacks (asmodeus); shyness, appearance insecurity (satan).

comfort. satan, asmodeus x gen!reader (you/your). separate.

═ ˎˊ˗

satan.

for satan to be called confused was an understatement. he was beyond baffled that every time you agreed to an outing with him, you grabbed a mask each time from the box that sat atop your desk. if he was going to be honest, he never understood why you refused to go anywhere without one. after a long period of observation, satan realised the only places he saw you without a mask on was in your own room, or at the dining table. the very idea that you hid yourself away sparked his interest, which in return lead to a new period of research. much to his dismay, personal reasons would never show themselves in textbooks. instead, he decided to tackle the source (you) instead.

satan found you in the library, of course, mask on, flipping through the notes you had made during class earlier in the day. with a nod, he slid into the seat across from you, setting his novel down and propping his chin up against his palm. the way your eyes widened slightly didn't go unnoticed by him. neither did the way you pinched your mask and brought it higher up the bridge of your nose. behind the covering, you grimaced to yourself before clearing your throat awkwardly.

"is something the matter?" you asked softly, placing your notes onto the desk.

satan tapped his index finger just underneath his jawline. "why do you wear it everywhere?"

"... come again?"

"the mask," he said plainly. "don't you get tired of wearing it everywhere? i've read that some humans even complain because it gets hard to breathe."

you made a quiet sound of acknowledgement. "i just like wearing it."

"you're not a very good liar, MC."

a defeated sigh escaped past your lips. "promise not to tell?" after a nod from the demon, you steeled yourself to explain. "it's kind of dumb, honestly. i just get really shy when i don't have it on." at your words, satan sat himself upright, keeping his gaze trained on yours. "having it on makes it easier to talk to everyone. i'm not super good-looking, you know? so... i feel a bit more confident when i'm wearing it."

satan once again found himself far beyond confused. baffled, yes. perhaps, even dumbfounded might actually be the word he was looking for in this situation. his mouth parted slightly, and his hand slowly reached out to you, stopping at the side of your face. "you can practice talking without it on with me," he spoke in a tone that he reserved solely for you. "may i?"

you blinked at him rapidly, eyes darting around the room before landing on his. swallowing nervously, you finally nodded, your shoulders tensing when satan unhooked the mask from behind your ear. when it fell away from your face, you snapped your head to the side, feeling the heat run up your cheeks and turn into a blush. "would you look at that," satan purred.

"what?"

"you're actually very attractive."

"satan! you can't just say that!" your face felt like it was on fire. flustered, you scrambled to loop the mask around your ear once more, but the blush on your cheeks had already spread down to your neck. there was a beat of silence, and then a cough from you as you shifted in your seat to face anywhere but satan. "but, if you're willing," you whispered, shooting him a a smile from behind the mask, "i'd like to take you up on that offer."

knowledge was a wonderful thing. satan could never get enough of it. but when compared to the feeling he got when you relied on him, satan would rank knowledge as second. if satan could eventually have you get comfortable enough to go around without the mask, he'd see more of that smile he's craved since the first time he saw it.

═ ˎˊ˗

asmodeus.

"MC!!" the voice echoed throughout the hallways directly into the classroom you were studying in. you turned your head towards the doorway to see the fifth born practically skip inside, coming to a stop in front of your seat. "i didn't get to show you the new lip tint i got this morning!"

you released a sigh, letting your pen fall from your fingers. "asmo, can this wait until we get home?"

"nonsense! it's the best time of day to try it out. come on!" you couldn't help thinking that all you wanted was to be left alone to do your homework, but all your thoughts came to a halt when asmodeus broke your one rule. within seconds, your mask had come off and was only hanging off one ear. unwillingly, you shrieked and pushed yourself away from the demon, his words falling on deaf ears as you fumbled to put your mask back on. with tears in your eyes, you burst out of the classroom, all your belongings forgotten as you tried to return to your only safe space; your room.

as you returned to your room, the fear and disgust overtook you all at once. you slammed your door with a cry, fingers digging into your scalp as your back collided against the wall. in the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your reflection. the hand mirror that had been so carefully placed on your desk showed you the mess that you were. disheveled and erratic, you stared at yourself, the mask doing nothing to hide what you were. in a daze, you grabbed it from the desk and threw it against the wall, watching as it shattered into pieces. you felt your knees give out from underneath soon after, and you crashed to floor in a heap. it felt like hours had passed before a hand tentatively came to rub your back soothingly.

you scrambled away from the touch, chest heaving as you tried to clear your vision. when you did, you saw the fifth born again, this time wearing a regretful expression. "MC, it's me. i..." his voice trailed away as he looked at you. "i cleaned up the broken mirror for you," he whispered. "and... i'm sorry."

your hands trembled at your sides, balled tightly into fists. "sorry for what?" the question sounded more like an interrogation, but you couldn't be bothered to watch your tone.

asmodeus looked at you sadly, his expression crestfallen. "i knew you didn't like having your mask off, but... i never expected you to freak out like that either."

"oh, so you're just calling me a freak now?!"

"no- that's not what i mean!" he inhaled sharply, internally scolding himself for not being the best with words. "let me rephrase," asmodeus began softly, his thumbs twiddling nervously. "i'm sorry for taking your mask off. i didn't know that it would affect you that much."

at the sight you of starting to relax, asmodeus felt the tension in his shoulders begin to slip away. you glanced at where the shards of the mirror should have been. "... i see myself in the mirror, and i see something i don't want to be," you admitted. it took every effort for asmodeus to not interrupt with a shallow sounding comment. "i wear a mask so that i don't have to see myself. so that no one else has to see me."

carefully, asmodeus shuffled closer to you, settling himself a few feet away. "i have some experience with that," he confessed to you. relief bubbled inside his chest when he saw you turn to make eye contact with him. "becoming a demon wasn't easy," he continued on, a bitter look gracing his face. "but maybe it'll help me help you with this. what do you say?"

"i don't know if i'm ready for that." you replied hesitantly, staring at the floor instead of him now. "but when i am ready, will you still be willing to help me?"

the smile on his face managed to lift your mood too. "i'll always be ready to help you," he promised, holding a hand out with only his pinky extended. you mirrored his gesture from where you sat, curling your pinky around thin air. asmodeus wasn't sitting close by, but you could feel his sincerity from miles away.

a/n: i was gonna have three chars originally but.. i kinda liked how these two went and couldn't think of a good situation for the third. anon i hope this finds you well!

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan #obey me satan x you #obey me satan x mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmo x mc #aris writes 🐈‍⬛#obey me comfort

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fluffykitty149 · 10 months

Text

Shout out to @itskimchifriedrice for surviving a car accident and covid. A fic for your trying times.

Damian never really liked looking in the mirror. Her mother used to say that she’d grow up to be as handsome as her father. If only that weren’t the case. She felt trapped. She tried focusing on the benefits, being perceived as a man, it brought her some power over others. She pitied her cousin who was limited to her sparring partner/rival.

“Would you rather been born a boy?” Damian asked one day after a spar. It had ended on a good note, Damian having won again. But grandfather wasn’t there to issue any punishments.

Mara looks at her cousin confused, brows furrowed. “Would you have preferred to be a girl?” She asks in rebuttal.

Despite being so young Damian schools her features as stoic. “No.” She answers, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue, “but I won’t deny that Grandfather has some issues with gender.”

Mara sneers “So you admit you only have a claim to the throne because of your gender.”

“If that were true your father would have been named successor.” Damian bites back angrily. “My mother may not have an official chance at the throne but she was titled the main heiress as a result of her capabilities.”

In a fit of rage, Mara attempts to attack Damian but she easily deflects the strikes and pins her to the ground. “Don’t forget,” Damian says panting “You have yet to ever beat me in a sparring match,”

“Better to be wise than to be a brute.” Mara spits back.

Damian strikes her shoulder and gets up. “I also have higher test scores than you.” she retorts rather proudly.

“Then what was the point of this!?” Mara screams in rage.

Damian tenses and it’s enough for Mara to shove her off. Exhaling, Damian responds “I don’t see why one’s gender should hold so much value.”

Mara rolls her shoulders “Grandfather is centuries old. Figures he’d still have some old traditions weighing him down. If you truly care on this matter then change the league when you inherit it” she responds leaving in a huff.

Damian stands in thought and leaves the room after that.

***

Damian idolized her mother. She was everything she wanted to be. Ruthless, cunning, beautiful. The last one felt so far out of reach. On nights when both Talia and Damian were free and neither were too tired they would sit together eating sweets and drinking tea, sharing their days together. It was this particular night when Damian asked “Mother, would you resent me if I was a girl?”

Talia looked at Damian in surprise. “Of course not my love, who taught you such nonsense?” She asks examining Damian’s face.

Damian looks away embarrassed, “What if, what if I wanted to be a girl? Would you resent me then?”

Talia almost appears shocked but she schools her features. “How do you feel being perceived as a boy?” she asks curiously.

Damian shrugs, “I understand it has its benefits. I can take claim to the Leauge because of it. But the thought of growing into a man’s body, it’s… unsettling.” The burden Damian has been feeling all her life has finally been released but now she was terrified of the results.

“I see,” Talia remains stoic drinking her tea. “How much longer would you be willing to endure it, my love?”

Damian looks up in confusion “As long as needed.” she says quickly. “Why?”

Talia thrums against the glass of her tiny cup. “I can make no promises on your current predicament, but if you are able to hold out long enough to hone your talents, I don’t see why you couldn’t challenge your grandfather for the throne.”

Damian gasps in shock. To go against her grandfather would be a most heinous crime, but if it was her ticket to freedom… “very well. I understand.” Damian nods.

Talia “Then it’s settled.” she says taking a final drink of her tea. “Best of luck habibti.”

It had only been moments since the revelation and her mother was already using the proper terms for a girl. A small smile graced Damian’s lips as she finished her tea.

#damian wayne #talia al ghul #mara al ghul #ras al ghul #trans fem damian wayne

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manuchyy · 2 years

Note

cheong-san with a gf who always stays calms and acts like a pillar of support for everyone during the apocalypse but ends up breaking down when it gets too much but luckily she has cheong-san to help her! (ahh i saw requests were open and i’ve never requested before so i hope i did this right LOL)

a CHEONG-SAN X FEMALE READER fanfic

Genre: soft romance, horror with fluff and comfort.

Warnings: mentions of death, gore and dark, suicidal thoughts. A few cuss words too.

Synopsis: you were always thoughtful and caring, never thinking twice before putting others above yourself. This didn't change after the outbreak, it only pushed your actions over the limit. It's only a matter of time before the consequences arrive.

Author’s Note: I AM SO SORRY! I deeply apologize for the HUGE delay this story and many others had. I had lost motivation and my mental health went down the drain after I got covid, The stress I felt whenever I tried writing was terrible and I needed more time away from stuff. I’m slowly coming back and noting many ideas for future stories. And I am so sorry if the ending of this story seems lazy or just cheesy...I am so sorry :( It’s been months without writing. I hope this story was what you had in mind though, again a huge apology for the delay. I hope you are doing okay dear anon! Much love <3

You could no longer recall for how long you've been trapped in the school, and neither could your classmates remember when it all began. At first, it had been all about survival and playing the waiting game for rescue, counting the days for it's arrival. The sounds of helicopters who flew by had brought hope, a glimpse of that small chattered hope was all they had. But they never came. The sound of planes and sightings of soldiers had brought strength to keep going, to wait. But they never came. Slowly, that loop of false hope took it's toll on your former classmates upon realizing you all had been forgotten, left behind. Left to die.

While at some point most gave up, you stood your ground and worked hard to adapt to everything that happened around you. The outbreak, the infected, survival. Your efforts not only gave the group emotional support, but provided them with security, supplies and a warmth that was lost since day one.

Although you were never an athlete, never fit in the category of an athlete and never had what it took to be one, you still had focused short workout sessions that lasted from 5-10 minutes, working on your strength and stamina in hopes of being more of a support when facing against the infected. You had also come up with ways to fight back using furniture and materials around the school to the group's advantage, hoping it would make it easier to deal with the infected when the time came. You had done practically everything in your power to help.

But with every passing day, it became clear the road ahead all of you wouldn't be easy to cope with. Upon loosing friends and family, you had watched the same happen to your fellow companions and your feelings were thrown into a deep pit of helplessness. You could feel fear and doubt clawing at you. Loss wasn't something you could fix, wasn't something you could reverse and bring it back. No, you watched it and took it in. You had accepted, accepted that this perhaps was what would happen to all of you one day. You had watched your friends cry upon seeing their loved ones turned into homicidal infected, with only rage driven instincts lingering in their now empty minds. You couldn't help them.

You knew that giving into frustration and letting that pit of dark, insane driven thoughts take over you would only worsen the already sensitive situation. That small spark of hope you brought to all of them was all they had to hold on to, and that couldn't be destroyed. You couldn't worsen things between you and the others, especially Cheong-San.

Cheong-San had shown a lot of support towards your ideas and workout sessions, being of great help with some of them even. He stood constantly by your side, assisted and protected you while on high alert for anything that could bring you harm. Even though you had his company, he liked to silently watch and listen. Almost as if he were a ghost, observing you from the shadows. Cheong-San loved how willing you were to survive and to implement that same energy into your fellow companions, supporting them even when you were brought down. However, he was well aware that was one of your facades to strengthen others and not you. You were risking your life so others could survive.

Despite seeing right through your actions, Cheong-San stood quiet and didn't protest against what you've done. He couldn't. You had given your best to get where you were now, as well as the group. They all needed that support, that positivity only you had. Cheong-San acknowledged that destroying it would most likely get everyone killed. You included. He had asked you multiple times if you were okay and keeping yourself just as healthy, but you had dismissed him time after time.

You weren't dumb, you could understand and appreciate he was worried and you knew he wanted to help but you would never in a million years let him risk himself like you were doing. You'd put him above the others and yourself if need be, you'd make sure he survived even if you had to be left behind. Cheong-San was everything to you, your only source of happiness and you would be lying if you said you weren't grateful for the things he'd done for you. He'd done a lot, more than necessary even. Now it was your time to fill in that spot, to repay him somehow.

...

The day had gone by rather quickly, forcing you and the group of survivors to take some refuge and rest in the comfort provided by what used to be a classroom, tiding it up and making sure it was secure enough for the night. It had been a rough day, rougher than any other and that was being generous.

While your classmates drifted off to sleep, you had stayed awake to work on one of your many plans on how to get out of there as soon as the sun rised, and as you hadn't slept properly in a long time you thought it wasn't a big deal to stay awake again. Every classroom was temporary, it had to be, otherwise you'd have infected coming in from every side. You learnt the hard way that they will follow their rabid instincts to go after uninfected people, searching and ravaging every corner to find them after a long period of time. And they bring in friends, they are never alone.

With a small piece of paper and a pencil, you worked smoothly in your plan, drawing and writing every idea you had into the blank spaces. You were standing, your left hand serving as support on the table while the other held the pencil loosely. The classroom was dark and the only source of light came from outside, the night's natural light shinning right through the small gap in the window and right into your paper. The table was placed next to the window and you could have a better view of what your school had become, of what it's former students had become. You shot them glances while you worked, the silent snores of your classmates and the usual moans and grunts from the infected outside serving as the only source of sound to keep you sane enough. The sight didn't bother you anymore, nor did the sounds. Or so you thought.

You were so concentrated in your plan you failed to notice the tall figure approaching from behind you, hand were felt on your hips and it was enough to startle you for a brief moment, until the touch was recognized and you relaxed. The touch was gentle and smooth, a touch you so learned to appreciate and love. As you turn around, you are met with Cheong-San's tired expression, already telling you that he hadn't slept ever since you all had arrived to the classroom.

''Cheong-San, why aren't you sleeping?'' You questioned, keeping your voice low as to not disturb your sleeping classmates and quickly shifting your attention back to the paper in front of you.

''I could ask you the same thing...'' Cheong-San mumbled, making you pause your writing momentarily to look up at him again. He sighed, knowing exactly where this was going.

''Cheong-San-''

''No, stop-''

You finally raise your voice, shooting him a glare. ''Cheong-San, please.''

You hated raising your voice at him, especially when there are others around. But you couldn't and wouldn't have this conversation, it was complicated and you had something else to focus on, the arguments you both had usually lasted for an hour or two. This wasn't the time.

''I don't want to talk about this now, not again. I-I know you worry about me but please just let me work on this and I promise I'll go to sleep, okay? We need this right now, they need this. Please.'' You implored, a frown making itself present on your face and all those pent up emotions catching up to the recent events.

''And what about you? You've been working on...these plans and-and preparations for far too long. You don't even take care of yourself do you? You barely talk to me now too...'' He sighed, removing his hands from your hips and crossing his arms ''Do you have any idea how I feel?''

You paused. He just pulled that card, and you were furious.

‘‘Excuse me?’‘ You began, blinking in shock at his question. ‘’I- I don’t have any idea how you feel?! Why do you think I’m doing all of this? For myself? I’m doing this so you can all fucking survive, so I can protect you! I don’t want you or the others to end up like my damn parents, can you understand that? Especially YOU! I fucking love you and- and- I care about you so damn much and I want to protect you, you’ve done that to me so many times I want to repay you!’’

At this point you were crying, the sniffles could be heard all across the classroom and your classmates stared in shock at the scene taking place in the corner. They woke up with your yells, you hadn’t noticed how loud you’ve gotten as you ranted. Cheong-San stood still in front of you, his eyes were wide and they had a hint of sadness in them. Had you been hiding all of these feelings from him?

‘‘I-I’m sorry, I can’t- I can’t-’‘ You broke down crying and Cheong-San was quick to catch you in his arms, holding you tightly. ‘‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’‘

The warm embrace Cheong-San held made you feel at home, made you feel safe. It was a hold you never wanted to loose, a hold you wanted to cherish forever. Cheong-San understood that and never wasted any time on giving you that, he wanted you to smile and tell him your problems. He knew that this time would come and hoped he would be able to make you change your mind, but the outcome clearly didn’t turn out as expected. He had been hesitant at first, silently watching you from his resting spot in one of the corners, but seeing you awake to work on the plans again made his heart clench in guilt. Your classmates had gone back to sleep after a while seeing as Cheong-San had it under control, not that them interfering would make things any better. It was something between the both of you only.

Cheong-San’s emotions were all over the place, his thoughts scrambled to get proper words out of his mouth without hurting you any further but it seemed so hard. Your mind was way too overwhelmed, he was worried that whatever he tried to say would make it worse, he was insecure. Cheong-San then opted to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, telling you he understood. And he did, he really did. He made sure his hold was tight so you could focus on that only, focus on the embrace.

The hug and sweet words seemed to work as your body relaxed under his touch after a few minutes, your sniffles could still be heard but you weren’t crying anymore. That dark pit of emotions you felt was no longer there, the uncertainty that had clawed at you was gone, the feeling of helplessness was gone. All you could think about was the hold that reminded you of old times, when things were more simple. At some point, Cheong-San pulled away from the hug and looked into your watery eyes. He smiled at you, and that smile was enough to let you know you weren’t alone.

No words had to be said, that smile was the source of your strength, the source of your happiness that you seemed to have lost long ago. The source of your hope.

The source of your survival.

#lee cheongsan x reader #cheong san #cheong-san x reader #all of us are dead x reader #all of us are dead #all of us are dead fanfic #lee cheong san #all of us are dead request #cheongsan x reader #aouad x reader #x reader #aouad fanfic #fanfic request #female reader #aouad fluff #aouad request

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typewriting101 · 6 months

Text

snowy season.

pairings: levi ackerman x y/n

warnings: mention of disownment

word count: 20k (maybe more haha)

genre: fanfic romance

⟶ summary: what happens when everyone leaves for the holiday season, but you have nobody… but neither does captain levi?

an: hey everyone! i ended up with covid so i had time to make this little levi piece. he’s my safe place. i want nothing more in this world but him :,) so enjoy a snowy day with him !! ⛄️

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the snowy season was always your favorite. there was something about the cold, bundling up under layers, wind hitting your face as you walk with a group of friends. it was almost a life reset,

until it wasn’t.

then you lost your friends, your family, all due to their ideals and how they hated yours. why couldn’t they love you because you joined the scouts? it was your choice. but to all of them you were nothing but wasted tax dollars to a useless cause.

but that’s not how you saw it.

you left so others could have that walk with their friends and so little kids could still build a snowman. so people could live.

but now it’s snowy season, and here you are,

alone.

it was early morning, the snow falling gracefully. you finally decided to get out of bed in your scout dorm and look out the window. in your heart you still appreciated everything, but there’s more weight on your heart when you let a soft smile at the elegant scene out your window. you decided maybe you should go for a morning walk like you used to do with your best friend armin. but he was in shiganshina for the holidays.

along with the rest of the 104th squad.

the only people who stayed on base besides the high staff like Captians and the Commander were the few stragglers who had no family or didn’t want to leave for the weekend.

still in your room, you pulled on your entire scout uniform, boots and hooded cape. you were off duty, but this life is what you knew and you’d continue today like any other day.

you stepped into the hallway of the castle, pausing quickly as the old floors creaked. the large clock rang quietly signaling it was four in the morning. you let out a sigh, knowing it was officially the day before your holiday.

you quietly went down the steps and made your way outside. it was very cold, and you felt your nose go pink very quickly. you decided nonetheless to walk the grounds in a large circle.

as you walked you felt a bit lighter, but nowhere close to where you should be. as you made your way in a full circle you stopped in your tracks because someone was at the door.

captain levi stood, also in full gear, his hood up causing his bangs to lightly feather his eyes. he simply stared at you, your cheeks as red as your nose, your fingertips without gloves.

he approached you without a word and you weren’t sure what to say either. he whipped out his black gloves from his pocket and gently took your hand, to put them on for you.

“i thought you would’ve left.” he said as he rolled the gloves on your cold fingers.

“oh, i don’t really have anybody, sir. it’s just me.”

he grabbed your other hand without a word and put the gloves on your other hand. he put your hands in a clapping position and lifted them up to his mouth, letting out a warm breath of air, letting your fingers finally feel warmth.

“yeah, me either.”

he puffed air onto your fingers one more time, holding them tight so the heat wouldn’t escape.

“thank you, sir.” was all you could say. levi ackerman, humanities strongest, was your long time secret love. everything about him made you love the world a little more, even after all you went through. you never dared to speak word of it, but this gesture reminded yourself how much.

“we aren’t on duty until monday. i’d rather not hear my work name, y/n.” he looked at your footprints going in a circle, and before you could apologize he followed them, “were you walking?”

you blinked at his suddenness and followed him, “yes. i… well to be honest i love this weather. it helps me think and so does walking, so i decided to do both.”

he stopped to look at you, the way that made your skin crawl. he was a captain for a reason. he had this look like he see your thoughts and feelings, and it scared you because you didn’t want him to find out how you felt about him.

he suddenly stuck his arm out to you. shocked, you hesitated and then took it. it’s normal for a captain and a soldier to take a walk together… right?

“who did you lose?” the captain said after a long silence.

your heart dropped, “what?”

“i can tell a thing or two, being raised in the underground. who did you lose when the wall fell?”

your sighed, “to be honest, i was one of the lucky ones who didn’t lose anyone that day.”

he stopped walking and turned to you as the wind kicked up a bit, knocking his hood down, “but you said you were spending this weekend alone?”

“yes…” you brushed your hair out of your face, some anxiety picking up making you want to walk again. “it’s honestly embarrassing as to why but—“

you went to walk away and his hands grabbed your shoulders pulling you right back to where you were, in front of him. but you noticed it was a little bit closer.

“i’ve lost people in more way than i can count.” he said trying to open a conversation door, talking quieter than his previous words.

you noticed his hands were still on you and you tried not to think about it as you spoke, “unfortunately… nobody wanted me.” you began looking at the floor now. your shoes were covered in snow, you could make out a pretty snowflake on the right one.

“keep going.” he said quietly.

you looked up and he seemed so patient. just looking at you. it was like the perfect picture and you hated yourself for it, but tears filled your eyes. how come he can look at you like this but your family can’t? your hometown friends? how come the only person who can is your captain who you loved so much?

“they decided to disown me if i joined the scouts. i told them my heart and soul was to the cause. and they told me i was nothing but wasted tax dollars and i never heard from them again. i know they are all gathered tonight, it’s embarrassing because how do i go from being the glue to a family to shunted into the dark?”

he didn’t say anything and you felt him examine your fragile state.

“they don’t deserve you.”

your eyes widened and you looked up at him. he still had on that blank stone face, but he grabbed you softly by the elbow and led you back inside the castle all the way into the dining hall with a large fireplace. he stay you down and lit a fire, which you thanked him for but received no response. he walked away leaving you wonder until he came back with two mugs of black tea.

“thank you.” you said kindly.

“they don’t deserve you, y/n. i mean it.”

you could’ve choked on your tea, but kept yourself together. you thought you both had moved on from the conversation but he had been thinking about it this whole time apparently.

“levi,” causing his face to turn pink for only a second until he drank a sip of tea. “you don’t have to say that, it’s okay.”

“you’re my best soldier, and probably the best person here. you’ve taken blows you damn shouldn’t have for other cadets, you take more hours and put in more effort than others at your level, and you still take time for people to feel welcomed. so no it’s not okay, i don’t like my soldiers being talked about like that.”

he took a sip of his tea as if he didn’t say a thing, leaving you speechless. “wow… thank you. i didn’t realize how much that bothered me until you pointed all these things out about myself.”

you both looked at the fire in a comfortable silence until you finished off your warm drinks. he stood up and took your mug.

“you’re appreciated here, especially by me. don’t think otherwise. you at least have one person who would bend themselves goddamn backwards for you. okay?”

you smiled and quickly wiped a tear, hoping he wouldn’t see, but of course he did.

“i hope you know the same, levi.”

he looked at you with that look again, blinked, and walked away to get rid of your mugs. the clock rang, and the remaining scouts entered the dining hall for breakfast.

you stayed where you were on the bench by the fire, feeling his ghost next to you, holding your hands and puffing hot air into them with a smile on your face, not knowing the captain was cleaning the dishes replaying the same thing.

maybe the snowy season won’t be so bad this year.

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a/n: okay so lmk how this is bc again i have covid i hope it’s in character enough omg HAHAH, i didn’t tag anyone bc i wasn’t sure how i felt ab it, so pls leave a comment below !

#fanfic #fanfiction #romance #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman x abused! reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #shifting #holiday #sad #alone #fluff #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #levi fanfiction #Spotify

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padfootagain · 1 year

Text

The Last Chance (III)

Chapter 3 : Loving

Here is the third and last part of my short series for Ben, that I’ve written based on a request for my Comeback Event! The trope requested was ‘wrong time to right time’.

Alright I am referring here to one of Ben’s cover and you can actually find it on youtube, I have checked (and it’s so pretty nzlnfinfeoii); and I’m also using his acoustic video for 11:11 (you know, the one with the piano and the pretty sunset…). Just so you know, you can listen to these on youtube, if you want to.

Also, did I cry at 1am writing this ending? Absolutely, get the tissues ready!

I hope you like this last part! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warning: angst… with a happy ending 😉 And this time, it really is a fluffy ending! Also, mentions of Covid and quarantine.

Summary: you and Ben have been caught in a game of hide and seek for decades now; always loving each other at the wrong time in your lives. Can this finally be the right moment for the two of you?

Word count: 7821

You check the news again, but it’s the same thing everywhere…

Your holidays might get way longer than you intended them to be.

“So, you’re sure you can’t come back?”

Your boss’s voice comes through your phone distorted and more high-pitched than it really is. She sounds worried more than annoyed.

“Yeah, all flights going out of the US are cancelled.”

“Damn… bloody virus… Do you want us to handle anything for you here? A pet? A plant? An annoying parent?”

“No, I’m all good, thank you,” you laugh. “My mom is taking care of my plants already. I’ll be fine. I’ll try to come back as soon as I can, I’m sure the embassy will come up with a plan in the coming weeks.”

“Okay, well… be careful while you’re there. Do you have somewhere to stay? You can’t stay at the hotel for too long.”

“I haven’t found out where I’m going to stay for now, but… I’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

“Alright. Well… if you could take a few notes for a future article, it would be great. Like ‘our journalist’s experience of Covid from the US’. Or… ‘stuck with the virus in LA.’ Oh that one sounds good…”

You laugh at your boss, promising to keep her updated and to take notes for an article, and you heave a sigh.

You’re stuck here. The new restrictions for Covid mean that you can’t get a flight to London. Not for the next two more weeks, at least.

You have no idea what to do… For now, you can pay for the hotel room, but if this lasts for longer that these two weeks, then you’ll have to find another place to live.

What are you going to do?

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and Ben’s name appear on the screen. You can’t refrain a small smile.

You’ve been friends for years now, ever since he travelled back to LA from London that spring, when you met again in this bookshop. You can’t say that he’s your closest friend, but you keep in touch. You call each other at least once a month, and whenever he comes to see his family, you manage to spend some time together. Besides… he’s still your best friend, in a way. Sure, he’s not the one you talk to the most, but he’s undoubtedly the person you trust the most on this earth. You would be lying if you pretended that you didn’t come to LA for your three-weeks long vacation for him.

You accept the incoming call, a smile on your lips.

“Hi, Ben!”

“Hey! Huh… how are you?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Good… I was calling you because I saw on the news that all flights towards the UK are cancelled. Is your plane cancelled as well?”

“Yep! New restrictions for Covid, so… I’m stuck here for now.”

“Shit! I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve warned everyone at home, and my boss has decided that my little adventure in LA will make a great article. So, it could be worse, really.”

He chuckles.

“I’m not surprised about your boss, for a reason.”

“Me neither.”

“But… can’t they plan something for people living in the UK to go home?”

“For now, nothing. I’ve contacted the embassy: they’ve announced that it will take at least a couple of weeks to organize something to get us all home.”

“I see. Do you have a place to stay?”

“Well, so far, I can pay for the hotel. If it takes longer than two weeks, it might get tricky, but we’ll see…”

“Don’t be silly!” he interrupts you. “You’re not going to stay at a hotel and pay for a room when I live here.”

“That’s… what I’ve been doing for the past three weeks…”

“Yes, because you said you didn’t want to bother me, and these were your vacations, so I get it that you didn’t want to have me around 24/7,” he interrupts you again, and you can hear in his tone that he’s rolling his eyes. “But now it’s different. What if it takes longer than that? No, you should come over. I have a guest room, you’ll be comfortable, and you won’t empty your bank account because of this mess. Come on, say yes.”

You heave a sigh, but can’t find any argument against him.

“Alright, I’ll come over.”

“Good, I’ll be at your hotel in an hour, I’ll pick you up.”

“I can take the bus…”

“Y/N. Stop it.”

“But…”

“You’re so annoying, always refusing people’s help…”

He’s mumbling, and you can hear that he is annoyed, in a tender way. It makes you smile fondly.

“Alright, I’ll wait for my chauffeur, then.”

“Perfect, see you.”

Ben ends the call and puts down his phone on his piano. You’re coming over…

You’re… you’re staying, actually.

He grabs a paper and a pen and starts a list.

Groceries

Vacuum

Bed

Dinner

Did he forget something? He doesn’t think so.

He’s got to clean up the apartment (that is already spotless), change the sheets of your bed (which are already perfectly clean), he needs to go buy some groceries (even though his fridge is full, but he doesn’t have any of the biscuits you like, and if you’re staying for a while, you’ll probably need some tampons or pads, and he’s seen in your apartment the brand you usually use, so he knows what to get for you), and he needs to buy dinner before picking you up (he tries to think of something fancy but he reckons a pizza will be perfect).

He frowns when his phone buzzes on his piano, and picks it up again to check the text he’s just received.

Monica.

He ignores the message, and crosses his apartment to change the sheets of your bed.

He broke up with her three weeks before, but he doesn’t blame her for being a little clingy, for trying to get him back. But there’s no use.

Three weeks before, that was when you knocked on his front door as a surprise, with a pack of beers and a pizza and his favourite jaffa cakes. That was when you spent the evening laughing, and rambling about your lives, until you both fell asleep while watching some crappy TV. That was when he woke up with you in his arms, cuddled up into his side. That was when he spent over half an hour just… staring at you. Studying your features. Trying to remember every detail about you.

And it was ridiculous because your lives were different, ridiculously so. Still, he wanted to kiss you that morning. He wanted to hold you tight, and to never let go again.

How could he be with Monica after that?

He heaves a sigh at the thought. He shouldn’t be feeling like that. The two of you are friends, and it’s better this way. Still… he’s nervous at the thought of you coming here and staying over.

He heaves another sigh as he throws the sheets in the washing machine. He’s being ridiculous. Absolutely, completely, irrevocably ridiculous.

Still, he double-checks that he’s put an extra blanket on your bed, because he knows how cold you get in the first hours of the morning.

Maybe you’re a little drunk. Maybe… maybe you’re very drunk at this point.

You don’t mind though, Ben has seen you in a worse shape than this. He’s seen you with a stomach flu, he’s seen you drunk enough to throw up for hours, he’s held your hair while you were sick, he’s kissed your burning forehead when you had fever, he’s helped you undress and shower when you were too weak to stand…

You’re not worried about misbehaving, about being silly. Not with him. And especially not now, when he’s slowly moving beyond the state of tipsiness. He’s particularly goofy tonight, being his usual hilarious self, and you love it. Every second of it. His ridiculous funny faces and his weird voices and his stupid jokes. You love everything about it. Your sides are painful after so much laughing, and you can’t remember the last time you were this merry.

It feels good. It feels peaceful and safe. He makes you forget about the pandemic, about you being stuck here instead of being with your family in London; he makes you forget about how worried you are about your parents, and your friends; he makes you forget about your job, about your boss and her stupid article.

As you look at him standing up to get more crisps, you can’t help but let your gaze travel across his frame. You just can’t. He’s too handsome for that, and you are too drunk.

Your gaze travels across his living room as you wait for him, and lingers on his piano. You’re happy he’s finally been learning how to play. You know he’s always wanted to. You’re happy for him. You’re happy about his career, about this life he has built for himself; a life that clearly suits him.

You don’t wait for him to sit down by your side again to speak to him, and you ask the question that’s on the tip of your tongue as soon as you hear him turning off the light of the kitchen.

“Can you play something for me?”

He raises up an eyebrow, looking at you questioningly before putting down the plate of crisps on the coffee table.

“Play? Play what?”

“The piano, of course.”

“Yeah, I got that, thank you,” he rolls his eyes. “I mean… why do you want me to play all of a sudden?”

“Because… I’ve seen you play the drums, I’ve watched you sing, you’ve played the guitar for me too… but never the piano.”

He chuckles, looking at you as if you’re a little mad, but he ends up shrugging anyway.

“If you want to, sure.”

“YES!”

You jump to your feet, almost falling in your inebriated state, and you rush to sit before the piano, scooting over to leave enough space for Ben to sit by your side.

He explodes with laughter at your silly behaviour.

“What can you play?” you ask him, being serious again.

Your words are a little slurred because of the red wine you’ve been drinking during the evening. He finds it charming.

He thinks about what he could play for a moment.

“I’ve been learning some Bowie…”

He’s interrupted by your gasp.

“Oh dear… can you play Space Oddity? I remember… you used to sing this song to me all the time when we were in College. I loved it.”

“You did?”

“Of course! Your voice is beautiful!”

He chuckles, blushing fiercely.

“Alright, I can give it a try. But don’t laugh at my musical skills! I’m still learning the piano.”

“I know nothing about music, I am not the one who is going to criticize you in any way.”

He gives you a tender smile as he takes a seat by your side.

You are so close like this, shoulder against shoulder. His heart is skipping beats, and jumping every time you move against him.

“Alright… give me a second.”

He plays a few notes to get ready, before clearing his throat. He’s blushing hard, and it’s adorable. You rest your head on his shoulder as he starts playing the song.

You close your eyes when he starts singing, his voice deep and soft and warm…

You hope he doesn’t notice too much the way you reach to hold on the aim of his black t-shirt, but you need something to hold onto. It’s a little too overwhelming for you to handle on your own.

You smile, listening closely. And it’s perfect. It always is with him…

When his voice finally dies out in a soft humming, you don’t want it to be over. The last note of the piano wanes, shushed down as it spreads through the room, bumps into the furniture and the walls. You breathe deeply his scent, something of wood and spices, and you love it. It’s warm and welcoming, just like him.

You’re surprised when he leans down to drop a kiss on your head, but you don’t complain. You smile instead.

“So… how bad was it?” he jokes.

“It was beautiful, as usual.”

He chuckles, and you tighten your hold on his t-shirt while a happy smile spreads across your lips.

“Not too disappointed by your private performance? You know these don’t come cheap, right?”

“Hmm… well, I’m sure I’ll repay that debt, one day.”

He kisses your hair again, and you snuggle closer to him, until he reaches out to wrap his arm around you, pulling you to him.

He’s got butterflies in his stomach like he hasn’t felt for years. His heart is pounding and yet he feels at peace like this, holding you close, his lips against your hair, breathing in deeply the smell of cherries from your shampoo.

He hasn’t felt this way in years. In fact… he reckons he hasn’t felt this way since London…

“Why do you not work more on your music?”

You look up at him with a questioning look, but he shrugs.

“I do. I’ve learnt the piano.”

“Yes, but… you’ve always wanted to write songs, to play your own music… why do you not do it? It’s not as if you lacked the talent for it.”

“I don’t think I’m that good,” he chuckles, but you’re having none of it.

“Now, that’s bullshit. And you know it. You’re just scared, don’t hide behind excuses.”

You’ve always been more direct than usual when you’re drunk. He likes it. He needs to hear things like that, every now and then.

“I don’t know, I just… I love acting. I don’t want music to be my main career. But… you’re right, I want to give it more space in my life.”

“Then, give it more space. I mean… we’re stuck here. You can’t work anyway, so… might as well use your free time to do something you’ve always wanted to do.”

His smile grows fonder.

“I love how blunt you are when you’re drunk. It’s annoying. You’re always right.”

“I’m always right when I’m sober too!”

He laughs at you, running a hand through your hair.

“And what should I do then? About music?”

You shrug.

“Write songs.”

“I’ve always done that.”

“Snippets, yes, but… I don’t know. Just… compose. Make your own music.”

“What should I write about?”

“About… whatever you want to express, but can’t say in any other way. Isn’t that what art is supposed to be about? Telling stories and sharing feelings that you can’t just… say out loud? You need the artifice of music, of poetry, of fantasy worlds, of colours… or you can’t let it out at all.”

You give him a smile, as if you had just told him something random about the weather, instead of something that echoes within his soul more than you can ever imagine…

“I really love this stupid freckle under your eye,” you blurt out, your voice almost a whisper.

“Really?” he asks with a teasing smile.

“Hmm… it’s lovely. You’re lovely…”

You heave a sigh.

“My head is spinning a bit.”

“You should go to bed.”

“In a minute…”

He looks at you as your eyes close again, as you settle more comfortably in his arms.

You’re beautiful. You always are but… the thought settles in his mind in a painful way now.

It kills him, really. It kills him the way he still wants you…

“Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you okay? Do you want me to help you go to bed?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re sure, darling?”

He feels that you’re tensing against him, but you don’t move away. He bites his tongue.

What an idiot… everything was going so well… he had to open his big mouth…

“You can’t call me that anymore,” you tell him, but your voice is not angry, nor annoyed. You’re just presenting a fact.

“I know, sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not your darling anymore.”

He hates it, the way your words hurt him. They’re so painful… even if they’re true. Maybe because they are true, actually…

“I know. I’m sorry, don’t be mad…”

“I’m not mad. But… you can’t call me that anymore. You should call your girlfriend that, Monica.”

“We broke up, remember?”

“I know. Did you call her that too?”

But he shakes his head. He’s a little drunk, it’s the only reason why these words are passing the barrier of his lips. He’s blushing profusely, but you can’t see it, your eyes are still closed.

It’s quiet in the apartment, it’s late already. No one outside, no car, nothing. It’s silent, until Ben speaks again.

“No, I didn’t call her that.”

“Why? How did you call her?”

“I don’t know… I didn’t feel like calling her that, that’s all.”

“But it’s your favourite pet name.”

“I know. That’s why it’s still yours.”

You open your eyes, but don’t look at him. You’re a little too scared for that.

“If things were different… if we didn’t live so far apart… do you think we could…”

“I don’t know, Ben,” you interrupt him.

It’s too painful to think about this…

He nods.

“Sometimes… sometimes I really wish things were different between us,” he admits in a shaky whisper. “I wish… stars would finally align for us or something.”

“Me too.”

A sad smile appears on his lips, and he closes his eyes, head thrown back to withhold his tears.

“But?”

“But… our lives are too different. And we can’t let ourselves act the way we did in London, not anymore. We’re friends now, we can’t be anything more than that.”

“Why must our lives never match?” he asks in a whisper. “Why do we keep on drifting apart?”

You look up at him, and he finally meets your eyes once more.

“It’s like your music, Ben. We’re prioritizing stuff. We’re not making enough room for us. It wouldn’t work, not right now…”

“I would make room for you.”

You know he means it, but you shake your head.

“It wouldn’t work. I can’t come to live here.”

“Who said anything about that?”

“You’re not going to move back to London, are you?”

“Things have changed in fourteen years. We have zoom now, and facetime, and we don’t have to pay a fortune for a phone call in a foreign country anymore…”

“Ben… stop it.”

He grows silent again, and you hate how sad he looks.

“There’s no use. We’ve moved on. That’s why we didn’t talk to each other for ten years, so we could get over each other. You have your life, and I have mine, and we’re friends, and that’s enough.”

He nods, forcing a smile to his lips. He is good at hiding how his heart is breaking.

Because you’ve moved on, that’s what you’re saying. You’ve fallen out of love... And he hasn’t.

Now more than ever, it strikes him how much he still loves you. How, if he truly faces his feelings, he has never stopped loving you. Even after your breakup. Even during these ten years you spent as strangers. Even when he loved other women. You were still there, somewhere, in his heart.

But you’ve moved on, and he hasn’t. And it’s breaking his heart, but it’s okay. He’ll manage. He’s been managing for fourteen years.

You look at the clock, rubbing your eyes to chase away your fatigue. You smile.

“11:11! We should make a wish!”

“A wish?”

“Yeah! You’ve never done that? If you look at the clock randomly, and it’s 11:11, you must make a wish.”

He chuckles.

“That’s funny.”

“Alright, close your eyes, make a wish!”

He looks at you as you close your eyes, and he chuckles again before doing the same.

And his wish is for you…

He can hardly wait as he looks for you in the crowd. The airport is busy, full of tourists, families reuniting, friends parting. He’s got a black cap on to avoid being recognized in such a dense crowd. He goes on his tiptoes to try and spot you as travellers flood the hall, pulling their suitcases behind them or pushing their trolley. His heart is beating so fast, he’s excited to see you…

Since the pandemic, you’ve grown much closer as friends. Instead of calling each other every month, you started calling each other once a week, and then every day. Maybe it was because you had lived together for several weeks, it was strange to be completely apart for too long after that.

He isn’t complaining though. He loves it, actually, being close to you again.

He knows it’s not romantic, by any mean. He hasn’t forgotten your words from that night. You’ve moved on. You don’t feel like this anymore, but he does. He hates to admit it, but he does have feelings for you that go well beyond friendship. It’s alright though, he’s not complaining. You’re here, it’s all that matters.

He spots you easily, he always does. No matter if you’re in an empty room or in a crowd, he always finds you easily, as if his eyes are trained to recognize your silhouette. It’s almost a sixth sense.

He grins as you spot him too and wave at him. You look gorgeous, as always.

You rush through the crowd and into his arms, making him laugh as he holds you tightly against him.

“It’s so good to see you!” you squeal in excitement.

“I’m happy to see you too. I’ve missed you.”

You finally walk out of his embrace, locking your elbow with his as you head towards the exit, you pulling your suitcase and Ben carrying your heavy bag. You haven’t walked out of the airport that you’re already chatting merrily, catching up on lost time.

It’s easy. To be around you, to look at you laughing. It’s easy to talk to you, to make you giggle in an adorable way, to get lost in your eyes.

He recognizes the feelings easily, he felt the same sixteen years ago…

“So, what have you planned for my vacations, mister?” you ask, a bright grin glued on your face as you climb in his car and fasten your seatbelt.

“Well, first we’re going to my place to drop all your stuff, as you’ve decided to bring your entire apartment with you,” he playfully answers, teasing you and making you roll your eyes and scoff. “And then… I thought that we could either relax at my place, watch a movie or just talk for a while; or we can go to the beach.”

“I have to admit that after that long flight, relaxing on your very comfortable couch sounds wonderful.”

“A relaxed afternoon it is, then. But tell me everything! You came here for work, what is it all about?”

You smile, but don’t dare answer yet. You don’t want to tell him until you’re certain about this, that it’s all going to work out. You still have an interview scheduled next week. It will define whether or not you get a job here, in LA.

It would mean moving to the US, in this busy town…

…next to him.

But you’re not sure yet. First, you need to nail this interview of yours. Then, you need to talk about it with him. Because you don’t think he feels like that anymore. You do though. It has never really stopped. Despite your boyfriends, despite the distance, despite the years spent completely apart not even on speaking terms… you still feel this way. The same way you felt sixteen years ago.

As you watch him drive through the large roads of LA, with his dark sunglasses, and the happy crinkles at the corners of his eyes showing more than usual because of the way he’s smiling… you wish the two of you could give it a try.

You set your gaze on the cars before you again while Ben starts asking you questions about your flight, your family, your job. You’ll see how all this turns out. For now, you’re here, and that’s enough.

Ben’s been on the phone for a while, and you’re getting worried. You hope it’s nothing too serious, and nothing that will require from him to fly away.

He’ll be busy tonight shooting a music video for his first EP. You’re so proud of him for finally releasing his own songs into the world, and you can’t wait for the album to be released. You wonder if this phone call is linked to this project of his.

You’re a little frustrated with it though, because so far, Ben has always refused to let you listen to any of the songs he’s written for the album. You don’t understand why. You’ve never been anything but supportive of this project, so why hide? Does he not trust you enough?

You give him a smile as you see him entering again the coffee shop where you’ve been drinking some tea and eating a delicious cheesecake. But your smile disappears when you read worry, almost panic even, written all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him as he sits down at your table once more.

He heaves a frustrated sigh.

“I was supposed to film a video tonight, you remember?”

“Of course, for your song.”

“Well, my cameraman… and the whole team, actually… are stuck somewhere in Ohio, and they won’t have time to come here before their next job on a movie. I don’t know how I’m going to film this…”

He runs a hand through his hair, and you reach across the table to hold his fingers in yours in a supportive gesture.

“Don’t you know anyone who could replace them here, in LA?” you ask him, trying to sound optimistic.

“No… No one who’s available, at least. Or not before a couple of months… I mean, if there isn’t any other solution, then I’ll have to wait. But I wanted to get all this filming done before I have to start working on another movie.”

He heaves another sigh, his gaze drifting away to settle on the busy street that hurries forward on the other side of the window.

“This was the acoustic version of the song, right? Like… not the big production one…” you ask him, thinking hard.

“Yeah, it’s just… we just need to get the piano up a hill, and then I perform the song on the piano and the video should be done in only one shot.”

“Do you know already what you want it to look like and where you want to do it?”

“Yes, of course, everything is planned.”

“Then… why can’t we do it?”

He frowns at you.

“What?”

“You and me! I’m not a professional, but didn’t you say that you wanted something personal for these acoustic videos? I can film you while you’re singing.”

“No. I mean… that’s very kind Y/N, but… that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? I’m not stupid, if you show me how to use your camera, I can do it.”

“I’m not doubting your skills nor your intelligence. I just… look, it’s silly, I’ll just wait until I have another opportunity, that’s all.”

But he can see that you’re annoyed now. He doesn’t really get why though. He’s the one with a problem, not you.

“Never mind all that. What were we talking about again?”

But you lean forward, your forearms resting on the table, and by the look on your face, Ben already knows he’s not going to like the question you’re about to ask.

“Ben… can I ask you something? And I would really appreciate it if you gave me an earnest answer.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Do you think us shooting this video together is a bad idea because you want a professional to do it, or because you don’t want me to listen to your songs?”

You see him clenching his jaw as he looks down at his cup of tea, and you don’t need to hear his answer.

“Why do you not want me to listen to your songs? I’m sure they’re amazing.”

But he shakes his head.

“I’m not ready for you to listen to them.”

“Why not? It’s just me…”

“I know, but… They’re… very personal and I… I don’t want you to listen to them for now. I’m not ready.”

You nod your head, clearly disappointed, but he’s grateful that you don’t insist.

“I’m sorry, but I have a few phone calls to make. Do you mind if we leave?” he asks after a rather long silence; one that is not as comfortable as it usually feels whenever it settles between the two of you.

“No, of course not. Let’s go.”

He apologizes again for hurrying home, and you don’t have the heart to insist on paying your share when he wants to invite you. He feels bad enough already, you reckon.

The drive to his flat is quiet, you can practically hear Ben’s brain working at full speed as he looks for a solution. When you arrive, you leave him alone and settle in the guest room with a book. He’s got work to do, it’s alright. You hesitate for a moment to go outside for a walk on your own, but you reckon that he might feel terrible if no one can help him, and he might need you here. So, instead, you stay inside and wait.

It's already the middle of the afternoon when Ben knocks on your door, and you invite him in.

“So? Did you find anyone to help?”

He shakes his head and sits down on the edge of your bed. You put away your book and sit up, cross-legged, next to him. He seems so disappointed, it breaks your hurt.

You rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“So… what are you going to do?”

“Well… no one is available before at least three months, and I’ll be working again in three months, which means that everything will be way more complicated. I don’t know… I just want to get all this over with while I have time to do this properly, without thinking about a role.”

“Of course, I get that.”

“So… I reckon I don’t really have a choice.”

He turns to you, and his voice is surprisingly shy when he speaks again.

“Do you mind if we do this together, then?”

You offer him a bright smile.

“Of course not! I would be happy to help. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He wants to tell you then, why he hasn’t let you listen to his album yet. He wants to tell you everything, what his songs are truly about but… he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Maybe… maybe you won’t even notice if you listen to the song. There aren’t that many details… maybe you won’t understand…

So, he says nothing, merely gives you a smile, and opens his arms to give you hug.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re the best.”

You grin, rushing into his embrace; and as he closes his arms upon you, he holds you a little too tight.

You’re tired after carrying all this equipment all the way up this hill, but you regret nothing. The spot Ben has chosen for this video is breathtaking. You admire it while he finishes to set everything up behind you.

The sun has started to set, sinking behind the hill on the other side of the valley. LA stretches at your feet while the sky begins to be painted in gold. It’s quiet, surprisingly so. No cars, no voices, no shouts. Just the wind and the random interruption of a bird chirping.

“This place is amazing, Ben,” you grin, your eyes still lost on the beautiful view.

You hear him chuckling behind you.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favourite spots. It’s quiet up here. And the view isn’t too bad.”

Eventually, you shake yourself out of your reverie, and turn towards Ben again.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

He explains to you the shots he wants, where you should walk to get them. He shows you how to use his very expensive camera, and after a few tries, you know enough to shoot the short video. You help Ben setting up his computer and his microphone, using a pile of your own books so the microphone is positioned right before Ben’s lips. He tries a few times to record his voice, then the piano, and seems quickly satisfied.

He's nervous, you can tell.

“I reckon we can get several takes before it’s too dark to film. What do you think?” you ask him, trying to reassure him.

He nods, giving you a warm smile.

“Yeah… I’d say we have about forty minutes.”

“So, you can fuck up ten times at least before we give up for tonight. You’ll be just fine.”

He laughs at that, and he’s grateful for it. He knows you’re trying to help him calm down. You’re simply not aware that he’s not stressed about the sun setting too fast at all, or about messing up the song. He’s worried about the fact that you’re going to listen to him…

You get ready, and give him a thumbs up as well as a bright grin.

“Whenever you’re ready, superstar!”

He chuckles at your teasing, shakes his head a little. He takes a couple of deep breaths, plays a few notes to get ready. But then, he starts recording, and playing…

He doesn’t look at you as his fingers travel across the piano, as he starts to sing in a quiet, gentle tone. Voice deep and warm and reassuring, as always. He tries to ignore your presence, to forget that you’re standing there, a few feet away, that you’re listening to him sing this song about… about you…

But he can’t. How could he? How could he act as if the woman he wrote this song about is not standing right in front of him, listening to the deepest secrets of his heart?

But then again, maybe it’s for the better. Because now more than ever, after spending a whole week living with you, it hurts too much to be merely your friend. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He reckons that there wasn’t a minute in the nineteen years you’ve known each other when he wanted to be anything but your boyfriend.

But then again, life works almost haphazardly sometimes, and if he believed in signs, then perhaps he could have believed that you, being there to listen to his song now, was a sign. A sign that things have to change, and he hopes they will change for the better…

His voice is shakier than he wants it to be. He can hear, after the second line, that he’s going to struggle to go through the whole song without being too emotional. He’s not even certain he’ll be able to sing the complete song. But he doesn’t care. Now, that he has started to confess it all, he needs to let it all out.

Meanwhile, you start moving with the camera, and at first, you’re focused on your task, trying not to shake too much. But then… you’re also listening to the song. And if a smile appears on your features at the beginning, it quickly fades. Your movements slow down as Ben sings the first verse…

Because… because it sounds very strange… The story he tells, it’s strangely familiar.

Is it late?

Eleven minutes past eleven

It’s both always and never our time

Nothing to regret

The rest just might be heaven

You’re always but never really mine

You’re the one who told him about this silly wish to make at 11:11. And your paths keep on crossing but you’re never really together and…

But no, no… it’s just your head and your silly heart imagining things. No, it’s nothing like that. He must be talking about somebody else, or maybe he’s not even talking about anyone at all. Maybe he just made up a love song from nothing.

But then… why does he seem so upset as he keeps on singing, his voice trembling through the chorus, his eyes still closed.

You stopped my heart from fifty feet

It pumped and sang and skipped a beat

And when I sleep my soul you’ll keep

I wish for you to be happy

I wish for you to be free

I wish for you to be fearless

That’s wishes one, two and three

But then, if this is not about you then… why these echoes to your past? You recognize the words he spoke to you so long ago; it’s easy for you, they are engraved into your brain at this point. How could you ever forget them? He’s putting them elegantly, into verses, but these are the same words he told you that rainy afternoon in your dorm, and in London too…

You’ve stopped moving altogether, and you stare at him now, forgetting all about your duties with this stupid camera…

And I won’t wish to be yours

Or for you to be mine

But I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

He feels your stare upon him, and he knows that you’re standing still now, frozen. He can see you, even with his eyes down. He has lifted his eyelids, he looks at his hands, or at least he tries to, because he wants so badly to look at you… But he resists. If he does, he won’t be able to sing the end of the song, and he knows it.

Is it warm?

Clouds but the sun’s in the sky

Rises over mine but sets with you

When it’s dark I’ll try not to ask you why

Or what you’ll do

You stopped my heart from fifty feet

It pumped and sang and skipped a beat

And when I sleep my soul you’ll keep

I wish for you to be happy

I wish for you to be free

I wish for you to be fearless

That’s wishes one, two and three

And I won’t wish to be yours

Or for you to be mine

But I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

He can’t take it, the way you stare at him. At last, he looks up. And his hands freeze on the keyboard, right in between two notes, and his voice disappears from his tightening throat.

You’re staring so intensely at him…

You know. You’ve understood everything. It’s too late now…

… damn, he’s fucked up again.

But slowly, very slowly… you start shaking your head.

“Don’t stop,” you let out a shaky breath, he barely hears you at all. “Please, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“Y/N…”

“Please, finish the song. Please, Ben…”

He nods, struggling to swallow back the lump in his throat. He takes a deep breath, plays again the last notes of the chorus to get some momentum, and he resumes his singing, his voice a little hoarse as he tries not to cry.

If one day the stars align

You feel ready to be mine

I hope you’ll find the strength to come

With trumpet, pipes and drum

You stopped my heart from fifty feet

It pumped and sang and skipped a beat

And when I sleep my soul you’ll keep

He can’t look away anymore. He just can’t. He struggles a little to play when he’s so emotional, and staring at you, and busy being terrified of what your reaction will be once he has stopped singing… But it’s alright. His voice is rough with emotion, a little shaky, but you don’t seem to mind. You just stare at him, with more and more tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t let any teardrop fall. Instead, you’re suspended to his words.

And his voice finishes to break with the next two verses…

And I won’t wish to be yours

Or for you to be mine

He gives you a smile, filled with tenderness and sadness and withheld pain. It takes him a couple of seconds to be able to let out any sound, but you’re patient, and you wait for him to finish his song.

But I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

Yes, I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

Oh, I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

Silence. After his piano and his voice filling up the air, it feels strange to hear nothing at all. Solely distant sounds of wind and birds.

And you don’t say a thing. Instead, you put the camera down right next to the piano, and you walk around the instrument to sit next to Ben. He doesn’t look at you anymore, he doesn’t move. He can barely breathe at all. He’s terrified that if he does so, you’ll run away and disappear for good.

So, he tries to remain motionless instead. Maybe then, even time could stop…

“Your song… it’s about us, isn’t it?” you ask him, your voice a little hoarse but surprisingly steady considering how your heart is pounding, how much your throat has tightened, how hard it is to withhold your tears… “It’s about me, right?”

He doesn’t have the strength to speak, so he nods instead. He looks almost guilty.

“I see… That’s why you didn’t want me to listen to it.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but Ben nods anyway.

He clears his throat, tries to find his voice back.

“You… are you mad at me?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“Because… I wrote a song about you and… because… because it says pretty clearly how I feel about you. And I’m not sure you like the way I feel about you.”

Finally, he turns to you. His eyes are completely black, his face bathed in golden light. The small pendant that falls on his chest catches some sunlight as he moves and it flashes like gold in the summer sun.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“Everything, really. But especially because… Now, I don’t reckon we’ll be able to remain friends.”

“No… no, I guess you’re right. We can’t stay friends.”

He nods, and even if he quickly brushes it away, you see the tear that starts rolling down his cheek. He sniffs, looking away again.

“Right…”

“I’m moving to LA.”

He stares at you again, his lips parting in shock. You just… you’ve just blurted that out, out of the blue and… What…?

“What?”

“I… I had an interview yesterday for a job in a small newspaper in California. For a very small town, about half an hour away from LA. I got the job. I got the answer this morning and… I knew you were stressed because of this music video, so I wanted to wait this weekend to tell you. But I… I’m moving to LA. I start next month.”

“But… what about London? What about your job there, and your family, and your friends, you… you were happy there… I thought it was what you wanted.”

“It was. For a long time, it really was. But then again… do you remember the conversation we had that night, when I was drunk? I mean… of course you do, you talk about it in your song… Anyway, that night, I told you we had to prioritize things that are the most important to us. And I’m tired of not prioritizing you. So…”

“This is more than prioritizing though…”

“No, it isn’t. When we were younger, I chose my career instead of you. And I can’t say that I regret it because I had no idea about who I was and what I wanted to do with my life. And I needed to go to Dublin, and to move to London again… I needed that. But I’m not twenty-three anymore. And I’ve figured things out. And you’re not twenty-four anymore with too many dreams and a career to build, you already have one now. So… maybe… maybe we could force our lives not to drift apart this time. What do you say?”

But instead of answering, he merely crashes his lips to yours, hands flying up to hold your face, and you melt against him as he kisses you with all the love and passion he’s been holding back for years. You hold him tight when you finally detach your lips from his.

“I love you,” he breathes against your ear. “I’ve always loved you. Even when we were apart, even during this decade when I had no news… I never got over you. It was always you. Ever since that afternoon at the cinema watching my favourite rom-com when you let me kiss you in the dark… it has always been you.”

You can’t stop your tears anymore, but it’s okay. They’re happy ones.

“I love you too,” you whisper against the skin of his neck. “I’ve never stopped loving you either.”

“I’ll make it work. I promise, I’ll make it work.”

“Well, don’t expect me to do all the work!” you joke despite your voice being wet with tears. “I expect daily videocalls whenever you’re away. And an awful lot of cuddles when you come back. And you’ll pay for my tickets so I can come see you, because journalist really doesn’t pay that well when you work for small, unknown newspapers…”

He laughs, tightening his hold on you, if it is even possible to do so.

“Deal. That’s a deal.”

“I don’t want to hide this…”

“You’ll hate it if you’re pulled in the public eye with me.”

“I don’t care. I didn’t wait sixteen bloody years to be your secret lover. Fuck off!”

You both laugh, and he nods his head.

“Alright, whatever you want. As long as you can be mine, we’ll do whatever you want.”

“I thought you wouldn’t wish to be mine or for me to be yours…” you tease, making him chuckle.

“Well… that was before I knew you were still madly in love with me.”

“Madly? Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“You’re moving to the other side of the world to be with me, I reckon that’s something only someone madly in love would do.”

“You might have a point.”

“I won’t let you go this time. I promise. I won’t lose you again, darling.”

You pull away just enough to look at him.

“Good. Cause I don’t want to leave ever again, love.”

You exchange a grin, before exchanging kisses…

And when you finally stand up and pack your things, the sun is long gone, and it’s almost fully night already. You’ll have to come back tomorrow to film this music video of his, but you don’t care.

You’ve got the rest of your lives left, after all…

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes series #ben barnes fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #series

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