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ravengards-rogue · 7 months

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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 1 month

Text

Rough Waters

Frankie Morales x OFC (Elena) ||| Main Masterlist

Summary: While on family vacation, a young Frankie Morales and Elena meet by chance. They become inseparable during the trip. They part with promises to stay in touch, but life eventually gets in the way of that. Elena is haunted by thoughts of Frankie and wonders what ever happened to him. In a story of first loves and second chances, she gets her answers fourteen years later when they reconnect under less than perfect circumstances.

Word Count: 9.5k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, alcohol consumption, brief mention of parental death, brief mention of unplanned pregnancy, brief mention of mental health struggles, Frankie's mouth, Frankie's hands, Frankie's hair

Quote: "Why do I feel like you're telling me goodbye?"

People weave in and out of our lives, making and severing connections without a second thought. In most cases, their absence has no effect and the memory of them eventually fades. They turn into a forgotten name and blurry image. Other times, the impact of their absence is so profound that it changes your life trajectory. It carves out a piece of your soul and leaves you wandering, looking for the missing piece. The longer that piece is missing, the bigger the void grows. That void can never be filled and will leave you asking, “What if?” until your end.

This was never meant to be a love story, but it is a story about the love between two people. It’s a story about heartbreak and loss. A story about two souls on a journey to fill the void that the other left. It’s an unpredictable journey that leads into new beginnings and second chances.

It was near midnight as I sat on the balcony of a 14th floor suite at the Eastgate Palms Resort, drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels and listening to the hypnotic sound of the waves crashing against the shore. My fiancé slumbered in one of the two bedrooms, unaware of the turmoil raging inside me. My eyes were unblinking, watching the reflection of the moon and stars rippling in the water, remembering the last time I sat in this very spot fourteen years ago to the day. It was the last time I saw him. The one that I could never seem to let go. My “what if”.

We were still kids, both of us 16 and full of dreams. The first time I saw him was on the beach. I didn’t appreciate him then. I was more interested in his blonde haired, blue eyed best friend, Will, who had accompanied him on his family’s vacation. I tried my best to get Will’s attention, but he was more worried about pickup football games and surfing. Frankie, however, seemed to prefer lounging by the pool. We skirted around each other that first day. I insisted to my best friend, who was traveling with me and my family, that I wasn’t interested. He wasn’t my type I had said to her. It didn’t take long for that to change.

Our first night together, I was awake later than everyone else, just as I was every night. I had been sitting on this same balcony, enjoying the peaceful lulling sounds of the waves as I wrote in my journal when I heard the balcony door of the neighboring suite open. Frankie appeared, leaning against the railing and staring out at the dark ocean before him with a somber expression. I watched him for some time as he stood illuminated by waxing moonlight, taking in the outline of his shaggy curls and fit frame. His profile was unique with an aquiline nose and pouty lips. It probably wouldn’t have fit into the conventional definition of beautiful, but something about it was.

To this day, I can’t remember what the first words were that we said to each other. I wish I could. I do remember him laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his cheek dimpling as he came to lean against the railing closest to me. We talked until the first rays of sun appeared over the water. We talked about my writing, our plans for the future, our families - no topic was off the table. It was like we had been friends for ages. I remember the way he looked during the sunrise with his dark hair hanging down over his chocolate-colored baby cow eyes, patchy stubble on his jaw, his golden skin darkened from being at the pool. He was perfect and already owned a small piece of my heart.

As the week went on, we spent all of our free time together doing mundane things - lounging by the pool or on the beach, walking the pier or to the local gift shops. We were usually accompanied by our friends or older siblings. The nights, however, were ours. Every night after our families were asleep, we would both sneak out to our balconies to be together and always talked until the sun was visible on the horizon. During that time, I got to know Frankie very well. He was an old soul and a dreamer. He was caring and sweet. To me, he was perfect in every way.

On our last night together, we both stood leaning on our respective railings across from each other, no more than a foot apart. Our hearts were heavy knowing that I would be leaving the following day. Our heads stayed bent closely as we talked in hushed whispers, making promises to stay in touch. That was the night he gave me my first real kiss, his hands cupping my cheeks as he licked into my mouth. It was every teenage girl’s dream come true.

It was the days before social media and cell phones. Long-distance calls from a landline costed a small fortune. So, we settled for exchanging addresses, insisting that we would write to each other weekly. And we did. We wrote to each other for nearly two years. We shared our most intimate thoughts and feelings - things that we never told anyone else. We made plans for our future, when we were old enough to be together and have our own life. However, Frankie’s letters eventually started to come slower. Weeks and then months between each one, until they eventually stopped. My last letter was returned with a note indicating a new resident with no forwarding address. I was devastated but held out hope that I would still hear from him. I never did.

As the years went on, I tried to forget about him, but he was always in the recesses of my mind. I couldn’t help wondering about him from time to time. I tried looking him up on social media once that became a thing but had no luck. I even used all the resources at my disposal to try and locate him, but I came up with nothing. He was a ghost. Nothing but a memory. I hated not knowing what became of him. I knew it would be one of the many mysteries that would haunt my dreams until the day I died.

I was drawn from my thoughts by the familiar sound of a sliding door from his balcony. I knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop my heart from jumping into my throat for a brief moment. That was quickly remedied when a woman moved into view to stand in Frankie’s place, leaning on the railing, staring into the abyss. I briefly wondered what inner demons she was battling as I stood to go inside. I left the door open so I could listen to the sounds of the ocean as I laid down on the living room sofa, eventually drifting off to sleep. Frankie haunted my dreams that night, as he did most nights. However, this night they were so vivid, it was like I was 16 again and here with him. The sound of his voice rattled around in my brain, but it sounded off. Different. It left me questioning if I could even remember how he sounded anymore.

I eventually woke to the sound of seagulls and warm sunlight beaming down onto my face. I could faintly hear Chris, my fiancé, singing off key in the shower. I groaned, feeling groggy and hung over. He had insisted we take this trip to try and rekindle things between us, but so far, he was only pushing me further away. He chose the location because he thought it would make me happy. Citing that he remembered how fondly I had spoken of my memories here when I was younger. What he didn’t realize was those memories were because of Frankie. I had never told Chris about Frankie. I didn’t see the need since I never expected to see him again. Yet here we were. Frankie wasn’t in my life, but he was still hanging over it like a dark cloud. Being here was only making things worse, reminding me of how unhappy I was with the path I had chosen for myself.

With a sigh, I pulled myself up off the sofa and wandered into the bedroom. Chris was just coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, smiling as he gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

“I bet you slept real good on that tiny ass couch. Why didn’t you come to bed?”

I shook my head, “I just fell asleep listening to the waves. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe we spent our first night of vacation sleeping in separate rooms. Who does that?”

“I said I’m sorry. It wasn’t my goal. I told you, the sound helps me relax. I just dozed off.”

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around me, “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. I would like to spend some time with you though…like we used to.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes, “Don’t worry, we still have four more days. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He kissed me on the lips now, attempting to deepen it before I pulled away. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the same. Something was missing.

I gave him a tight smile as I moved to my bag to grab my toiletries before disappearing to the bathroom and locking the door.

We spent the day doing touristy stuff. It was something that I probably would have found pleasure in in another life, but today, it just felt empty. The only thing I could feel was a heavy weight on my chest. It got heavier every time Chris mentioned something about his plans for our future together. I was beginning to feel like I was on a spinning carnival ride that I couldn't get off of. It made me dizzy and nauseous. It was becoming more obvious to me that I was choosing the wrong path, but I feared I had gone too far and wouldn’t be able to find my way back.

The day had turned to night when we found ourselves waiting to be seated at a boardwalk restaurant. Chris was chattering away at my side, but I didn’t hear a word he was saying. My mind was distracted by thoughts of a young Frankie and I walking down a nearby footpath, laughing about something as he slipped his arm around me. I hadn’t remembered that moment until now. It’s funny how long-lost memories can be unexpectedly triggered by random experiences.

My attention was pulled back to the present day by a buzzer lighting up and vibrating in my hands, alerting us that our table was ready. As we stood, I turned to move toward the hostess stand and crashed into a broad frame. When my eyes locked with the familiar dark orbs in front of me, I couldn’t breathe. We stared at each other for a beat before I managed to stutter out, “I-I’m sorry… excuse me.”

I could feel the eyes of the beautiful blonde beside him boring into me. Clearly, she had noticed the odd exchange between us. Chris’s hand was on my elbow, leading me away toward our table none the wiser to the events unfolding before him. Frankie’s gaze was wide as he nodded curtly, his eyes flicking to Chris, then back to me. He forced a tight smile before turning away. An understanding seemed to pass between us in those short seconds. It couldn’t appear like we knew each other.

As I turned away, the room began to spin. I was feeling light headed and overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. I let out a stuttered breath as I sat down in my seat. I couldn’t believe this was happening. What were the chances?

After ordering, Chris took me further off guard, asking, “Have you decided on a date yet?”

I shook my head, “No, I haven’t.”

“Elena, it’s been two years. We should’ve figured that out by now.”

I sighed, “I know, I’ve just had a lot going on. You know work’s been keeping me crazy busy.”

He shook his head, “You know, I would like to be settled down and have kids by the time I’m thirty-five.”

I could feel my blood beginning to boil. This was my problem. He was building a life for me according to what he wanted. I felt like I had no say in it.

In my periphery, I could see Frankie and the blonde being seated at a table across the room. Our eyes briefly connected before I turned away. Chris was completely oblivious to any of it as he continued to drone on.

“I don’t want to be a sixty-year-old with teenagers, you know what I mean?”

I nodded, agreeing with him just to shut him up.

He gave me a hopeful smile, “Maybe you should just quit your job. You know you don’t actually have to work. I make more than enough…”

I scoffed, “I’m not having this conversation with you again. I happen to enjoy my job. I’m not gonna be a stay at home housewife.”

His brows furrowed, “You’ll have to eventually. I would prefer you be home with the kids.”

I wanted to punch him in his stupid face. He was never going to let this go.

I rubbed at the crease between my brows, “Can we just not talk about this right now? Please?”

Chris gave a disbelieving laugh as he shook his head. I chanced a glance in Frankie’s direction, really seeing him for the first time. He still had his shaggy hair, but it was tucked away under an old baseball cap. His lean frame had filled out some and appeared much broader than I remembered. There was something about the way he carried himself that seemed different. He was no longer the shy boy that I remember. He was alert, sad eyes constantly scanning the room. His posture appeared too formal for the setting, with an assertive air to him. He was still absolutely beautiful. Maybe even more so now with the way his shirt stretched across his thick arms and wide shoulders.

He glanced in my direction again, holding my gaze longer than he probably should have. From the way his chest was moving under his gray fitted t-shirt, I could tell his breathing was elevated. He looked like he was seeing a ghost.

“So when should we have that discussion? You can’t keep putting it off, you know?”

My eyes darted to Chris, “I’d rather not ruin our evening. Can you please just drop it?”

He puffed air out of his cheeks, then reached for his glass of wine, downing it in a couple of gulps. At this rate, he might pass out when we get back to the resort. I kind of hoped he would. I watched as the server came around and refilled his glass. I gave her a tight smile, “Leave the bottle, please.”

She hesitated but set it down between us. Chris was already working on the next round. I watched as he grabbed the bottle and topped his glass off. I needed to get away from him for a minute before I lost it.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

He held his glass up, like he was giving a toast then took another sip. I could already tell; the rest of this evening was certainly going to be fun.

I took my time in the bathroom, not wanting to return to my now hostile partner. Leaning against the sink, I took a moment to look at myself. I looked tired, run down, and miserable. There was no way I could keep doing this. I sighed, washed my hands, then pulled the door open. Frankie appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my hand and pulling me around a corner into a short hallway that was meant for staff.

I just stared at him. Tears pooled in my eyes as I struggled to speak. His hands rested on my shoulders as he gave me a disbelieving look, “Mi sol, it’s really you.” (My sun)

I shook my head, it hurt too much to hear that endearment, “Don’t call me that.”

I turned to walk away, suddenly overcome with anger, but he grabbed my hand to stop me.

“Elena, wait. Please. Give me a chance to explain.”

I rubbed at the ache forming between my brows before turning back to him. I wasn’t prepared for any of this. I definitely wasn’t prepared for his big brown eyes. They were the same, only aged, and were still having the same effect on me.

I had to look away, “I’ve gotta get back out there before he comes looking for me.”

Frankie’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he tried to meet my gaze, “Give me your number, please. I can’t lose you again. Just lemme explain everything.”

I could see the desperation in his sad eyes even though I was trying my best not to focus on them. The permanent crease between his brows deepened as he stood there silently pleading with me. How could I ever tell him no? Wasn’t this one of the things I wanted to know above all else?

I let out a controlled breath, “Ok, fine gimme your phone.”

He handed over his cell, “I’ll text you tonight… Do I need to worry about him seeing it?”

I shook my head as I typed in my contact info, “This is a google voice number. It doesn’t go directly to my phone. I have to log in to check it, so I may not get back to you right away.”

I gave him a tight-lipped smile, handing his phone back as I turned to walk away until he gently grabbed my wrist to stop me, “Hey, I am sorry. I-I’ve…missed you.”

For a brief moment I saw the old Frankie, shy and sweet. It made my heart ache for him. “I’ve missed you too. We’ll talk soon,” I said almost in a whisper.

I gave his hand a squeeze then turned to make my way back to the table. When I sat down, Chris was pushing pasta around on his plate, seemingly uninterested in eating now. He never stopped drinking the wine though. He looked at me with cold eyes, “What took you so long?”

I scoffed, “You’re really asking about my bathroom habits now? I’m sorry, I had to wait and then deal with some unexpected feminine issues. That takes a minute.”

He rolled his eyes, “Of course, that’s convenient.”

It was convenient because it was a lie. I just couldn’t deal with him tonight. I was still reeling from seeing Frankie on top of dealing with Chris’s asshole behavior. I wasn’t in a good place.

We ate in strained silence, staring daggers across the table at each other. That didn’t stop me from stealing the occasional glance in Frankie’s direction. There seemed to be an uncomfortable silence between him and his partner as well.

We returned to the resort after that. Chris disappeared to the bedroom with another bottle of wine. I could hear the tv click on from where I stood in the small kitchenette drinking from a glass of water. He already appeared to be intoxicated, so I silently hoped he would quickly pass out for the night.

With a sigh, I grabbed a bottle of liquor and walked out onto the balcony. I sat there lost in my thoughts for some time. I felt numb, but my mind was racing. I had so many questions and I wasn’t sure if I wanted the answers. Something told me that knowing would only make matters worse.

A quick glance at my phone told me it was nearing 11 PM. I wondered if Frankie had texted me yet. Part of me didn’t want to check and forget that I saw him out of fear that I would never hear from him. It now seemed almost easier to not know. However, the broken part of me was mentally huddled in a corner crying and begging for answers.

I let out a controlled breath, leaning forward in my seat with my elbows on my knees as I opened the internet browser on my phone. After navigating to the web address, I typed in my credentials, held my breath, then hit the login button. I didn’t have any messages. I huffed, “Figures.” I had a feeling I wouldn’t hear from him again.

I leaned back in the lounge chair and rubbed at my face, accepting the fact that I just needed to let Frankie go. At least I knew that he was alive and living his life. It wasn’t closure, but it was something.

After grabbing the bottle at my side and taking a sip, I glanced at my phone again. A little red notification now appeared indicating I had a message. Relief washed over me as I clicked to view it.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Frankie.

I quickly added his number to my contacts, and even took a moment to try and memorize it. My fingers hovered over the keys, unsure of what to say.

Me: Hey. I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.

Frankie: Never again, mi sol. Are you somewhere you can talk?

I now felt heat bloom in my chest at the familiar nickname he had given me all those years ago. It caused my heart rate to spike.

Me: Funny enough, I’m sitting in our favorite place…but yes, I’m alone. I can talk.

My attention was drawn away from my phone by the sound of the sliding door opening to the neighboring balcony. His balcony. I glanced up, expecting to see the woman again. Instead, I was met with the sight of a man with messy hair. I had to do a double take as he sat two beers down and came to lean on the nearest railing with that familiar smile on his face. I nearly dropped my phone once I realized it was him.

My brows furrowed as I stood, “Frankie? What are you…?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Tears pooled in my eyes as I stared at him in disbelief. He reached across the open space to grab my hand, taking it between his two large ones.

“I’ve been coming here every chance I could get, on a whim really…Hoping that you would turn up.”

I chuckled, “It might have been easier to look me up on Facebook.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I don’t use any of that. I try to stay under the radar these days…why did you finally come back?”

I chuckled, “Believe it or not, this wasn’t my idea. I did book the room though.”

He laughed quietly before turning more serious, “I’ve missed you. I did try to find you. I knew it was a long shot, but I went to your old address.”

I felt my heart clench with that news. I couldn’t believe it.

“What happened to you? Why did you ghost me?” I asked.

He sighed, “I joined the military. I didn’t know how to tell you...”

My face twisted in confusion, “Why did you think I wouldn’t have been able to handle that?

I watched as his tongue slid across his lower lip before his teeth sunk into it. He seemed to be weighing his words.

“I was being recruited to join special ops. I wasn’t going to at first, but then my parents were in an accident…they didn’t make it…”

I gave him a sympathetic look, now cradling his large hands between mine.

“Anyway, after that…I decided to take the offer. I didn’t really have anything left at home and I wasn’t in a good place, you know? And I knew I’d be doing some dangerous shit…I just didn’t wanna string you along and have you worry. I thought letting you go would be easier.”

I shook my head, “That’s ridiculous.”

He hung his head between his shoulders, “I know. I regret it…every day. Trust me.”

“Are you still on active duty?”

He pursed his lips, “I’m on reserve. That’ll be up in a couple months though, then I’m out. My body can’t take much more of it unfortunately.”

He looked disappointed, but I couldn’t help feeling relieved at the news. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being in danger.

I heard a noise behind me and stepped away from Frankie. He stealthily disappeared behind the wall that separated the two spaces. I watched as the curtain pulled back and the door slid open. Chris stuck his head out, peering at me with squinted eyes through the dark as he held onto the door frame for support. He was clearly very intoxicated by this point.

“You actually coming to bed tonight or not?” he slurred out from the doorway.

I sighed, “I’ll think about it. No need to wait up though…feel free to knock out at any time.”

He scoffed and mumbled something I couldn’t make out as he slammed the door shut and let the curtain fall back in place.

I puffed air out of my cheeks as I sagged back against the railing, rubbing at the tension forming in the back of my neck.

In a flash, Frankie was at my side again. “Rough night?” he asked.

I gave him a sad smile, “More like a rough year…maybe even two.”

“Yeah, I could sense some tension at your table.” His lips set into a line.

“He and I just want different things out of life. This trip was meant to fix it…but I think it's only making it more obvious that it’s not gonna work out.”

He offered me a beer, “You may need this more than me.”

I chuckled, moving to pick up my bottle from beside the lounger, “Thanks, but I’ve got Jack to keep me company in that regard.”

He took the lid off his bottle, “Ooof, that bad huh?”

I nodded, “Yeah, he’s uhh, he has the rest of our lives planned out with a specific timetable. I’m just not cool with that. There’s still a lot I wanna do…and he wants to settle down, get married, and start popping out kids. Four to be specific.”

Frankie took a drink, “That…fucking sucks.”

I nodded, “What about you and the blonde?”

He groaned, running his hand down his face, “I uhhh…”

He paused and shook his head, “We’ve been together almost three years, but I’ve been deployed through most of it.”

He took another drink, “Found out recently she’s pregnant…which definitely wasn’t planned. I was ready to end things until I found that out…and now we’re living together and I’m gettin’ married in a few months.”

He looked like a broken man with that revelation. I hated it for him and honestly, it broke me a little too. It was clear, he was never going to be mine.

“I’m not sure if I should say congratulations or not…”

He shrugged, “Yeah, me neither. It’s been hard with her. Now that I’ve been back for a bit it’s become painfully obvious that we’re not compatible. Yet, here we are.”

I leaned my bottle of Jack toward him, “You may need this more than me.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Fine. Suit yourself.” I took a long pull from the bottle, trying to settle my chaotic thoughts.

He laughed, “Damn girl, calm down with that.”

I shrugged, “It’s life these days.”

He shook his head, “This is not where I saw my life going.”

I leaned on the railing closer to him, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t lost contact?”

He took a long pull from his bottle now, eventually meeting my eyes, “Every damn day.”

A controlled breath passed through his pouty lips. His brows furrowed as he averted his gaze. “I fucked up. I fucked it up for us. It was supposed to be you. What we had…I’ve never been able to find that again...I constantly feel like a piece of something is missing and I’ve never been able to settle down because I couldn’t find it.”

My forehead pressed against his as I reached to rub my fingers through his shaggy curls, “I can relate…I’ve felt that way too.”

There was a low hum of energy passing between us. The same way it had all those years ago. I had never felt that with anyone else and it was absolutely killing me that we couldn’t explore it further. I briefly wondered if that hum was the universe’s way of telling us that our missing pieces had been found, but quickly dismissed the thought because it could never be.

Frankie’s eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the feel of my touch. I wanted to kiss him but knew I couldn’t. It would be wrong. I had to force myself to pull away from him. He looked dejected from the loss of my touch.

His eyes finally met mine, “So, whatta we do now?”

I sighed, “What can we do? I mean, we’re on our own paths now. We couldn’t be further apart.”

“Can we at least stay in touch this time? I’d like to check in with you every once in a while.” he asked.

I gave him a small smile, “You have my number.”

He snorted, “I have a google voice number. What’s that about anyway?”

I laughed, “I use it for work. I don’t want clients to have my actual cell number.”

He nodded, “That’s smart, actually. Maybe I should set that up too. Vic may lose her shit if she finds another woman’s number in my phone.”

“OOH, she’s one of those,” I said with a chuckle.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, she’s very jealous. She got upset because you bumped into me. She didn’t like the way you looked at me.”

I gave him a tight smile, “Well, to be fair…that probably was an odd exchange to anyone who saw it. I was taken off guard.”

We were interrupted by a sliding door again, except this time it was Frankie’s. I dipped behind the wall as Frankie had earlier. My stomach was in my throat as I listened to their exchange.

“Baby, why did you leave me? Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

“No, I couldn’t. Lemme finish my beer, and I’ll come back to bed. Ok?”

I could hear them kissing. I suddenly felt sick.

“Don’t take too long. I need you,” she said with a suggestive tone.

My breathing spiked as I fought back tears. I couldn’t take this.

“I-I’ll be in shortly, OK? I need a few minutes.” His voice sounded strained. I’m sure this had to be uncomfortable knowing that I could hear their conversation.

I heard her huff loudly followed by the sound of the door closing. I took a deep breath, trying to pull it together before I faced him again. Once I was sure she was gone, I moved back over to the railing. Frankie dug the palm of his free hand into his eyes before he met my gaze.

“I’m sorry about that. She tends to be pushy and doesn't know how to handle my PTSD issues. She smothers me and gets frustrated when I don’t respond the way she expects.”

I grimaced, “You have PTSD?”

His eyes now looked vacant as he stared at me, “Yeah, I have trouble sleeping because of it. That seems to bother her for some reason.”

My heart hurt for him. I could only imagine the things he had seen. He turned to face the water, downing the last of his beer, then picked up the second bottle. He looked lost as he stared off into the darkness of the ocean. I would have given anything to be able to hug him, to settle the storm that was brewing inside of his mind. This was beginning to be too much.

He turned to me suddenly. His brows pinched together as he spoke, “We’re leaving tomorrow, so I guess this is all the time we’ll get together…but I’m glad we got this at least.”

I nodded, “Yeah, it’s nice to have some sort of closure. I worried that something had happened to you, and I would never know.”

He shook his head, “Why do I feel like you're telling me goodbye?”

I shrugged, “Aren’t I? It’s not like we can be friends, Frankie…” I shook my head as a tear slid down my cheek, “I don’t think I could…not now.”

He reached for me, pulling me as close as he could with the railing between us. He cupped my cheek as his forehead leaned against mine, “Te amo, mi sol. (I love you, my sun) Always have. Please don’t forget that.”

The tears were pouring out of me now. I couldn’t help it. He pulled away, placing both hands on my face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “Promise me you won’t forget.” I nodded. I couldn’t say the words back. It hurt too much to speak them aloud. He gave me a chaste kiss on the forehead. This was our goodbye. We both knew it, but neither of us wanted to say it.

He pulled away, “I need to get back in there…if I stay…I…” He shook his head from side to side, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know...It’s ok. Go,” I replied in a soft whisper.

I could see his eyes glistening in the moonlight as his broad form turned to go inside. In my heart, I knew this would be the last time I would see him. I felt like he had died as I sat down on the lounge chair. I stayed there and cried well into the early morning hours, mourning his loss and the life that we could have had together. At least I knew now, even if it hurt more.

Three Months Later

I was sitting in my car finishing up a call with a client. As I ended the call, I realized I had a message notification. When I switched to view the messages, Frankie’s name was bolded to show it was from him. I hadn’t heard from Frankie since that night on the balcony. I had been actively working to forget about him as I navigated all of the new major changes in my life. Part of me wanted to delete it without reading. Another part wondered if maybe his circumstances had changed too. My heart pounded in my ears at the thought. My thumb swiped left, then hovered over the delete button.

I sighed, “Fuck.”

I swiped right, then clicked the message to open it.

Frankie: I’m getting married next Wednesday. Please tell me I’m doing the right thing.

Something about the message pulled at my heart, but also pissed me off. I wasn’t going to be his excuse for an out. I couldn’t make that decision for him. I debated on a response, but in the end, I left him on read.

I couldn’t ignore it though. Actually, it was eating me alive inside to know he was getting married. I wished he hadn't told me when it was happening. I would have been better off not knowing the day. It would have been easier to forget not knowing the specifics.

As the week wore on, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed a change of scenery, so I called into work and requested the following week off. I needed to go back to our place and mourn properly, without Chris’s incessant buzzing in my ear this time. It was the only way to put Frankie behind me.

I spent Monday and Tuesday in his suite, crying like a fool and reading through all of his letters that I had saved in a shoebox. My intention was to burn them. To rid myself of the memories of him for good.

On those late nights, I sat on his balcony, allowing every memory I could recall to play through my mind as I stared off into the dark void of the ocean. It was torture, but I needed to get it all out of my system. I needed to get him out of my system.

On Wednesday, I sat staring at his last message, battling with myself about responding. Something told me if I said the words, he would end it all and be here in an instant, but I couldn’t do it. It would be wrong. It needed to be his decision, if there was even a decision to be made. I knew him. He was too damn honorable. He would go through with it no matter what because he had a responsibility to do so.

As the sun began to set over the rolling waves, I made my way down to the beach. I was all cried out by this point, but that didn’t make what I was about to do any less painful. I knew that if I got rid of his letters, what memories I had left of him would begin to fade over time and I could finally let him go. After starting a small fire, I sat staring at the flames, second guessing my choice.

A familiar baritone voice pulled me from my thoughts, “What are you doing?”

My eyes flicked up to the figure now standing before me, with shaggy hair that was messy and wind-blown. It was Frankie. I was shocked and confused, “W-Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be walking down the aisle?”

A sad smile formed on his lips as he sat down beside me. His eyes focused on the endless horizon that stretched in front of us, “We called it off.”

My breath hitched, I shouldn’t be excited about this, but I was. “Why?”

He sighed, “Well, at her doctor's appointment on Monday, they said she was further along than what I was led to believe…which means it’s not my kid. I was still on my last deployment. That’s why she’d been going to her appointments alone until I insisted. She knew the whole time.”

I gave him a sympathetic look, “Oh Frankie, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “I’m not. I was fucking miserable. She admitted she was cheating on me the whole time I was gone. I had a feeling something was going on, but I didn’t know what and had no proof... I decided to come here while I figured out my next steps.”

His eyes met mine, “Now the even bigger question is…why are you here?”

I laughed nervously, my eyes shifting to look anywhere but at him, “Saying my goodbyes to you.”

His eyes drifted to the box sitting in front of me, “Are those my letters?”

I nodded, “They are.”

He reached down, thumbing through them as he asked, “Were you gonna burn them?”

My brows furrowed, “I was. I needed to forget so I could move on.”

His lips set into a tight line as he nodded, “So, you here with your other half this time?”

I shook my head, squinting from the last rays of light that were shining into my eyes as I looked at him, “I no longer have another half. I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke it off about two months ago.”

He gave me a dimpled smile, leaning in closer as he pointed to the box, “How about you don’t burn my letters, and instead, let me fill up that empty space with yours.”

I gave him a disbelieving laugh, “My letters? You still have them?”

He smiled, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners, “Of course. I couldn’t let you go either, mi sol. They’re the only thing that’s stayed with me since I left Texas.”

His hand found its way to my cheek as he pressed his forehead to mine. The rush I felt from his touch was something that I knew I would never feel with anyone else. I’ve craved it every day since I’ve been without him. Knowing that we were both free to be together now only heightened the feeling.

He pulled away, “Where are you staying this time?”

I smiled, “Your suite.”

He snickered, “Ahh, so you’re the reason I couldn’t get it, huh?”

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I fought a smile and nodded.

“Well, sadly your suite wasn’t open either. I guess that’s what I get for booking at the absolute last minute. I got stuck one floor down,” he gave me his best pouty face.

I couldn’t help laughing at him, “If it means that much to you, I’d be happy to let you have your suite back.”

Frankie scooted closer and wrapped his arm around my back, allowing his hand to rest on my hip, “I only want it if it comes with you in it.”

My head lowered to lay on his shoulder, “That’s the only way it comes.”

We sat in silence for some time. Huddled in each other’s embrace, watching storm clouds roll in over the ocean. The waves became choppier the closer they got. The ocean seemed to mirror the nervousness I was suddenly feeling. Something that I had wanted for so long was finally possible and it scared the hell out of me. Part of me was questioning if this was even really happening. It seemed surreal.

Frankie shifted, kissing my forehead before mumbling against my hair, “We should probably get inside before we get rained on.”

I nodded, sitting up and reaching for the shoebox and placing the lid on top. Frankie stood, turning to pull me up with him. I watched as he kicked mounds of sand on top of the small fire to put it out. Then, he took my hand, I trailed behind as he led us into the resort.

Once we reached the lobby, he turned to me, “You’re sure you want me to stay with you?”

I gave him a shy smile and nodded. He almost looked relieved as his lips tugged upward, “Alright, I’m gonna go get my room sorted out and grab my stuff. I’ll be up shortly.”

I was in a daze as I walked over to the elevator, still not believing this was happening. After making my way to our suite, I closed the door, but didn’t latch it completely so Frankie could come in when he was ready. I decided to wait for him on the balcony, leaving the sliding door open so that he would know where I was.

In the distance, I could see the rain falling into the ocean. Something about it was comforting, almost like we were being cleansed of the unhappiness we had been living in - a renewal of sorts. It was like a new beginning was on the horizon. Thunder rolled quietly in the distance, masking the sound of Frankie’s bare footsteps as he approached me from behind. His arms snaked around my waist, causing me to sink back into him. His lips grazed against the shell of my ear, “How does it feel to be on this side of the railing?”

I smiled, “Better now that you’re here with me.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh against my cheek, just as his right arm released me. His hand moved to the back of my neck to gather my hair and pull it to the side as his lips left small kisses across the newly exposed skin. I could feel his touch all the way down to my fingertips and toes. It felt more amazing than I could have imagined.

His right arm reached back around my shoulders, his large hand resting just under my chin to tilt my face toward his. Being this close to him with nothing separating us had me vibrating as he nuzzled his nose against mine. I turned in his arms, closing the distance between us. Our lips tentatively explored each other at first. Frankie pulled me in tighter, deepening the kiss as my hand made its way upward to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. His tongue expertly explored mine as he moaned quietly into my mouth.

I was suddenly feeling every emotion all at once. I never thought this day would happen, didn't think it was even possible. It was almost overwhelming, causing tears to gather in my eyes as I held on to him like he was going to disappear into thin air. The tears spilled down my cheeks just as he pulled away. His eyes were full of emotion too, his hands moving to wipe away the moisture from my face. His forehead pressed against mine as he sighed almost in relief, “Is this real? Because I feel like I’m stuck in one of my dreams...”

I nodded, grabbing hold of his wrists as his hands cupped my cheeks, “I feel like I am too, but it’s real. We’re here…together.”

Frankie smiled against my lips, pulling me in for a chaste kiss just as the rain began falling around us. We stepped back further into the alcove of the balcony to avoid getting soaked, laughing as we took each other into a tight embrace. Our lips crashed together, both of us now needing more. It became urgent with an all-consuming passion as I pushed him toward the open door, peeling his shirt over his head as he stumbled backwards through the threshold.

Our clothes littered the floor of the suite from the living room to the bedroom. Our bodies broke apart along the way just long enough to remove the cumbersome fabrics, only to be drawn back together like two magnets. Once the back of my legs hit the bed, I sank down. Scooting up to the center as Frankie trailed behind me, placing kisses on whatever part of my skin was the closest.

As I settled into the plush bedding, his mouth met mine again. First, gently sucking my bottom lip before seeking entrance and massaging my tongue with his. We went on like that for some time, allowing our hands to explore each other’s body’s and grinding against one another. My body felt like it was on fire, skin prickling from his touch. It was unlike anything I had ever felt.

Frankie’s mouth began to move downward - caressing my neck, breasts, and stomach. He placed soft kisses and licks between whispering sweet words against my flesh.

“Mi sol.” Kiss. (My sun.)

“Mi vida.” Kiss. (My life)

“Mi todo.” Kiss. (My everything.)

“Never letting you go.” Kiss.

“Never again.” Kiss.

His words were like an electric current that ran straight to my core. His large calloused hands slid down the length of my body alternating between light touches and firm kneading of my skin, awakening something inside me that I had long thought dead.

By the time his lips reached the apex of my thighs, I was already coming undone. His tongue danced around the bundle of nerves, causing my muscles to tremble. My fingers reached down to twist in his messy hair as I arched up into him. He settled in, lifting my legs over his shoulders and gripping my hips, not holding back as his mouth worked me over. The stubble of his patchy beard brushed against my most sensitive areas, creating a new sensation that had me begging for more. Once his fingers joined in, I didn’t stand a chance. After a few curls against that special spongy spot, I was seeing stars. Falling over the edge and moaning out incoherent words.

After working me through it. I could feel him smiling against my thigh as he planted a few kisses there before standing and disappearing from my sight. I could hear him rummaging around through his bag before coming back to the bed and settling on his knees between my thighs. He tucked a small square packet between his teeth before stroking himself with one hand and rubbing at my thigh with the other. I watched his face as his eyes explored my body. They were blown black with his arousal. His messy curls hung down over his forehead, beginning to stick to the sweat forming on his brow.

I took this time to take in his form, his arms and chest flexed with his movements - emphasizing how defined they now were. His abs were less defined, but I could still see them tensing as his breathing picked up from the anticipation of what was to come. I also noticed the scars. Those were new. One near his upper right shoulder and another on his lower left abdomen. Something about them made my heart clench in my chest. I couldn’t look at them anymore, now shifting my eyes down further to watch as he slid the condom over his girthy length. His size was bigger than I expected, but I was ready for him.

I reached my arms out toward him, “Frankie, please…I can’t wait any longer. I need you.”

He smirked, “Un momento, mi sol. I wanna savor this sight… savor you. I’ve waited too long to rush this.” (One moment, my sun.)

His voice was lower than I had ever heard it, and his words only spurred my need. The ache that I now had for him was almost unbearable. I couldn’t wait.

“Frankie, I need to feel you… please.”

He leaned down, rubbing himself along my entrance. My hips had a mind of their own as they bucked against him, seeking more - needing more. He chuckled at my eagerness, now pushing in slowly. He hissed through his teeth once he was buried to the hilt, seeming to need a few seconds to compose himself. He leaned down, propping himself on his elbows as he began to move, thrusting slowly as he took my mouth with his. I wrapped my legs around his hips, meeting his thrusts, swallowing his moans.

His lips moved to my ear, “Fuck, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I took this from us.”

I held him tighter, “You didn’t take anything from us. We’re here now. It’s ok.”

His eyes met mine before he leaned down to nuzzle our noses together, “Never again.”

I pulled him into a searing kiss as the tension at my center began to build for a second time. The intimacy of the moment and the way the base of his length was rubbing against me sent me over the edge. I tensed around him as he increased the pace of his thrusts, groaning loudly into my neck as he fell over the edge with me.

He raised up to lean his head against mine, panting heavily as he spoke against my mouth, “I love you. Always have…”

I smiled, “I’ve always loved you too.”

A slow lingering kiss followed, before he finally pulled away. He reached between us to secure the condom as he pulled out with a quiet groan. I watched as he walked to the adjoining bathroom to dispose of it. He wasted no time, returning to join me under the duvet and pulling me against his chest.

We were quiet for a time, just enjoying the feel of being in each other’s arms. His right hand rubbed lightly up and down my spine as mine ran over his chest. My fingertips involuntarily moved to seek out the scar on his lower abdomen. His left hand captured my fingers and brought them to lay on his chest, where I could feel his heart beating away under my palm.

“It’s from a gunshot. So is the one on my shoulder,” he said in a somewhat detached voice. I hugged him a little tighter and tangled my leg with his.

“I was in the middle of a lot of bad shit when I was deployed…done a lot of bad shit. Mentally, it fucked me up for a while…but thoughts of finding you got me through it.”

My fingers moved to trace the bullseye tattoo on his left hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That was new too. I found something about it to be incredibly sexy.

“Do you have any more of these?” I asked.

He laughed quietly, “I do. I’m almost embarrassed to show it to you though.”

My head popped up to look at him as he smiled shyly at me.

“Why? Show me?”

He raised his left arm so that he could remove the watch he was wearing. After tossing the watch on the nightstand, he turned his wrist to face upward so I could see it. In a script small enough to be hidden by his watch band, were the words ‘All that separates us is time.’

My hand moved to my mouth as I gasped, “That’s from one of my letters...”

I pulled it closer so that I could give it a proper look, “Is…is that my handwriting too?”

He laughed, tightening his right arm back around me, “Yes, it is. It was my way of keeping you with me.”

I could feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes again. I had to fight them back as I leaned up to give him a lingering kiss to show my appreciation.

“So, where have you been all this time?” I asked after settling back down on his chest.

He leaned his head closer, lips brushing against my hair as he spoke, “When I wasn’t deployed, I was in Florida.”

I scoffed, “And here I was mostly looking in Texas.”

He squeezed me a little tighter, “I’m sorry.”

I chuckled, “Doesn’t matter…even if you had stayed there, I probably still would’ve had a hard time finding you. Did you know that the last name Morales is the 63rd most common last name in the United States? Don’t even get me started on how many of those have a first name of Francisco.”

He snorted, “You haven’t changed at all.”

I snickered, “No, in some ways I haven’t.”

My fingertips began to trace patterns in the freckles on his chest as his strummed through my hair.

“What did you end up doing, career wise?” he asked.

I smiled, knowing he wouldn’t be surprised, “I’m an editor at a major publishing house.”

He raised his head to look down at me, “No shit? Really?”

I nodded.

A wide smile spread across his face, “That…makes me happy and really proud. I know that was something you wanted.”

“What’re you doing now that you’re out of the military?” I asked.

He shrugged and laughed nervously, “I was working odd jobs while I tried to figure it out. Honestly, my life is a mess right now. I’ve no idea what I’m doing…and as of two days ago, I’m homeless. Everything I own is packed up in those two duffels. I also spent a good chunk of my savings on a kid that’s not even mine.”

I sighed, “Damn…that is a mess.”

I felt Frankie nod, “Yeah, but I’ve been in worse situations. It’ll all work out in the end. I’m sure of it.”

He shifted, scooting down to lay on his side to face me, “What about your writing though? I remember how important that was to you…I always loved when you would include bits of poetry with your letters. I mean your letters were poetry in and of themselves...”

I smiled, reaching up to rub my thumb over the bare heart-shaped patch in his beard, “I started a novel, but I haven’t been able to finish it.”

The creases between his brows deepened, “Why not?”

I watched my fingers brush through his messy curls, now noticing the smattering of gray strands throughout. My eyes shifted to his as I spoke, “Because I didn’t know the ending yet. I still wasn’t sure if it was a romance or a tale of star-crossed lovers that ended in tragedy.”

He smirked as his hand slid down my side and grasped my hip, “What about now?

My hand moved to cup his cheek, “I think it’s gonna be a romance about reconnecting with your first love and getting a second chance at a new beginning.”

Frankie smiled, snuggling in closer as he nuzzled his nose with mine. “Whatta we do now?”

I kissed him, breaking away with a shy smile to ask, “How do you feel about Massachusetts? I’ve got a king bed and a house that feels empty with only me in it.”

Frankie’s arms tightened around me, pulling my body flush against his. “That sounds like a new beginning to me.”

And it was.

👉Fun Fact: Why does Frankie call Elena “mi sol” (my sun)? The name ‘Elena’ is Greek in origin and means ‘shining light.’

A/N: Thank you for joining me on my very first and very random Frankie fic. I'm normally a Dieter girl, so this was a little different for me. I do hope you all enjoyed it. 💜😘

Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

👉 Not sure who out of my regulars are interested in Frankie, so feel free to ignore if you're not. We shall return to our regularly scheduled Dieter Bravo shenanigans after this.

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Credits: Shell divider courtesy of @kaitsawamura

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x ofc #oneshot #frankie morales fic rec #frankie morales one shot fic rec #tropeoff2024 #second chance at love

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alyrasturnz · 2 months

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please write an heart breaking matt angst fic, no happy ending. idk maybe she like dies of cancer or smth and he like watches as he loses her to her disease, idk but i love your work

ANYTHING

❐ summary » in a poignant tale of love and loss, matt cradles y/n in his arms during her final moments, his heart shattering as life slips away from her. consumed by grief, he attends her wake, where memories of their time together flood his mind, and he grapples with the profound emptiness left behind. this story delves into the depths of sorrow and the enduring bond of love, even in the face of death.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » death, heavy angst, mentions of a hospital, attending a wake

❐ a/n && w/c » i may or may not have shed a few tears writing this.. my macbook is a warrior for not killing itself due to water damage • 4.62k

as you lay in the sterile confines of the hospital bed, your once vibrant form now frail and diminished by the relentless disease, matt clasped your hand, attuned to the rhythmic cadence of your heartbeat and the delicate whisper of your breath.

his world had narrowed to the singular focus of your presence, eschewing all other thoughts and conversations. he yearned for the simplicity of past moments—those tranquil drives where he could surrender to sleep as you guided the car, the solace of resting his head on your lap in times of sorrow. yet, those cherished days had slipped away into the annals of memory.

the fan on the ceiling turned with a mechanical precision, reminiscent of a wheel spoke in perpetual motion. he longed for the impossible—to push the clutch and pull the choke, halting the relentless march of time, just to keep you by his side. leaning in close, his voice quivered with emotion, "do you remember our first road trip, y/n? the way your laughter filled the air when we lost our way?"

your smile was faint, yet your eyes held a distant, ethereal glow. "of course, matt. we ended up at that little diner with the best pie. i wish we could go back there."

matt's grip tightened on your hand, his knuckles whitening with the intensity of his emotion. "we will, y/n. in my dreams, we'll return to that place every night."

you closed your eyes, a solitary tear tracing a path down your cheek. "promise me, matt... promise me you'll continue to live, continue to dream."

"i promise," he whispered, his voice breaking. his eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his grip on your hand tightened as if anchoring himself to the moment. "but i don't know how to do it without you."

"you'll find a way," you murmured, your voice growing faint like a whisper carried by the wind. "just remember, i'm always with you, in every breath and every heartbeat."

matt forced a feeble smile, endeavoring to maintain a cheerful facade for you. he suppressed the torrent of emotions welling up inside, his eyes betraying the internal battle. he didn't want your final memory to be marred by the sight of his tears.

he yearned to believe you, he truly did. yet, doubt gnawed at him, eroding his confidence and casting a shadow over his heart. he couldn't fathom accomplishing anything in your absence.

your spiritual presence might linger, a whisper in the wind, but it would never suffice. who would be there to hold him during his panic attacks, to anchor him when the world felt like it was spinning out of control? who would be there to tenderly run their fingers through his hair as he wept on your lap, offering solace in the darkest moments? who would believe in him when he couldn't muster belief in himself, when his own faith wavered like a candle in the storm?

the void left behind would be too vast, too profound, for mere spiritual connection to fill.

matt's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, glistening like dew on the morning grass. he took a deep, shuddering breath, his shoulders trembling with the weight of his unspoken anguish. "i wish i could take your place, y/n. i wish i could bear this pain for you."

you shook your head gently, a soft, melancholic smile playing on your lips. "no, matt. this is my inevitable ending. but you've made it bearable. you've given me so much love and strength." your voice, though laden with sorrow, carried a note of gratitude that resonated deeply.

he kissed your forehead, his lips trembling with unspoken fears. "i don't want to let you go." the touch lingered, a tender yet desperate attempt to hold onto the fleeting moments that slipped through his grasp like grains of sand.

"you have to," you whispered, your voice barely audible, like a gentle breeze rustling through autumn leaves. "but i'll always be in your heart. and you'll be in mine." your words, though soft, carried the weight of eternity, binding your souls in an unbreakable bond.

as the final moments drew near, matt could feel the weight of the impending loss pressing down on his chest like a heavy shroud. he leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against yours, breathing in every last bit of your presence as if to etch it into his soul. "remember the stars we used to watch? they’ll remind me of you," he said softly, his voice a tender whisper that seemed to carry the weight of the cosmos.

you nodded weakly, your voice barely a whisper, like the rustle of leaves in the wind. "and the ocean waves... they'll carry my love to you," you murmured, each word imbued with a profound, timeless resonance, as if the very essence of your love was being woven into the fabric of the universe.

matt's tears finally spilled over, cascading down his cheeks like a river breaking its banks. "every sunset, every dawn, i'll think of you. you'll be my guiding light," he uttered, his voice trembling with the weight of an eternal promise, each syllable a beacon of unwavering devotion amidst the encroaching darkness.

"live for both of us," you said, your strength fading like the last embers of a dying fire. "find me, even in the smallest things," your voice a fragile thread weaving through the tapestry of existence, urging him to seek your essence in the subtle whispers of the world around him.

with a final, gentle squeeze of his hand, you closed your eyes, a serene expression settling upon your face like the calm after a storm. he watched as the monitor flatlined, the steady beeping giving way to an eerie, unending ring that seemed to echo through the corridors of eternity.

matt let his tears fall, each salty drop carrying the ancient essence of the ocean waves. with infinite tenderness, he planted soft kisses upon the lids of your eyes, the tears mingling with the kiss, creating a bittersweet symphony of love and loss that resonated through the very core of his being.

matt held you close, feeling the warmth slowly ebbing from your body, knowing that a part of you would forever remain with him—in every memory, every dream, and every heartbeat, a silent testament to a love that transcends the boundaries of life and death.

»--•--«

in the stillness of the night preceding your funeral, matt drifted into a dreamscape, finding himself by a tranquil river. the moon bestowed a silvery luminescence upon the water, and there you stood, casting stones across the surface. each stone danced upon the water, creating ripples that seemed to extend into the boundless reaches of eternity.

laughter intertwined with the night air as you both reminisced, weaving together the threads of past moments. the joy in your voices harmonized with the gentle murmur of the flowing river, crafting a symphony of memories and love. matt observed you, his heart swelling with a bittersweet happiness, savoring each precious second.

the dream felt so vivid, as though time itself had halted to permit this reunion. the stars above twinkled like whispered secrets between old friends, and the gentle breeze carried the fragrance of wildflowers, evoking memories of simpler times for matt. the river's song was a lullaby, both soothing and poignant, resonating with the profound depth of your bond.

but then, your expression softened, and you gazed at matt with a touch of melancholy. "i have to go," you murmured, your voice scarcely more than a whisper.

matt's heart tightened, and he extended his hand towards you, his eyes filled with a silent plea. "but i don't want to leave. i want to stay here with you," he uttered, his voice quivering with raw emotion.

you smiled gently, placing a tender hand on his cheek. "i'll always be with you, in every memory, every dream, and every heartbeat," you reassured him, your voice a soft caress against the night.

matt shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "it's not the same. i need you here, with me, in the real world. how am i supposed to go on without you?" he implored, his voice heavy with the weight of his sorrow.

you took his hands in yours, your touch warm and comforting. "matt, love is a bond that transcends the boundaries of time and space. even though i am not physically present, my love will perpetually guide and support you. you possess the strength to carry on, and you will find me in the subtle nuances of life—the rustle of leaves, the warmth of the sun, the whisper of the wind," you assured him, your words a soothing balm to his troubled heart.

matt's tears flowed freely now, but he nodded, attempting to find solace in your words. "i' miss you so fucking much. it's unbearable," he confessed, his voice choked with the raw ache of longing and sorrow.

you leaned in, your movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. your fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead before pressing a gentle kiss there, lingering just long enough to convey the depth of your feelings. "remember, matt, our love is like the river. it may change its course, but it never truly disappears. live your life fully, and i'll be there in every step you take."

as you began to fade, your form becoming a mere whisper of light and shadow, matt clung desperately to the memory of your touch, the soothing cadence of your voice, and the boundless depth of your love. "i promise i'll try. i'll carry you with me, always," he vowed, his words heavy with the weight of his unwavering devotion and the bittersweet ache of your absence.

with one last, lingering look, you vanished, your form dissolving into the ether, leaving matt standing by the river, the gentle murmur of the water echoing the warmth of your presence in his heart. the dream ended, but the love and the memories remained, like a steadfast beacon, guiding him through the uncharted darkness of his grief.

“matt! c’mon, we’ll be late for the wake,” nick exclaimed, bursting into the room with an urgency that shattered the silence. matt sat up immediately, his eyes red and tears streaming down his face, each drop a testament to his sorrow. nick’s face softened, the sharp edges of his concern melting into a tender understanding.

nick, too, had cried the night before, his emotions spilling over in the quiet hours. his eyes were dark and puffy, bearing the unmistakable marks of his grief and sleepless night.

“yeah- i’ll be there in a little bit,” matt said, his voice raspy, each word a struggle against the lump in his throat. nick's gaze involuntarily drifted to the unmade side of matt's bed—the side where you once slept, a silent testament to your absence.

“okay,” nick nodded softly, his movements gentle and deliberate as he walked out and quietly closed the door behind him, leaving the room steeped in a poignant silence.

»--•--«

in the dimly lit corner, matt sat in solitude alongside nick and chris, his head bowed in sorrow. the room was filled with a somber silence as mourners cast their eyes upon the casket, their hushed whispers weaving a tapestry of shared grief.

he had murmured a few words to your parents, their faces etched with the same deep sorrow. they were equally engulfed in the waves of devastation that swept through the room.

"um... i'm going to go say a few words," chris mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, as matt and nick gave silent nods of understanding.

chris rose slowly, making his way to your casket. as he gazed into it, tears immediately welled in his eyes, and he felt his throat tighten with the weight of unspoken words.

you didn't look that different at all. sure, there were slight changes since it had been a few days since you passed, but you looked serene. you looked as though you were merely sleeping, untouched by the passage of time.

a few tears streamed down his face, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he struggled to contain the torrent of emotions surging within him.

"i don't even know where to start," he whispered, his voice cracking. he took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to steady himself. "you were always there for me, no matter what. you listened to my rants, my fears, my dreams. even though you were matt's girlfriend, you treated me like a brother. you let me cry in your arms when i couldn't hold it together, and you comforted me through my worst nightmares."

he reached out and gently touched her hand, his fingers trembling with a delicate uncertainty. "i remember all the stupid things we did together, all the scars and wounds we collected. like this one," he said, his fingers tracing the scar on his arm. "we laughed so much, and every moment was worth it because you were by my side. i never opened up to anyone the way i did with you. you were my rock, my confidant, my best friend."

chris took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his sorrow. "i can't believe you're gone. the world feels so empty without you. you always knew how to make me smile, even on my darkest days. we shared so many memories, so many moments that i'll never forget. you were there for every high and every low."

he knelt down beside the casket, his tears falling freely now, each drop a testament to his grief. "i miss you so much, y/n. i don't know how to go on without you, but i'll try to be strong, just like you always were for me. you were my guiding light, my source of strength. even though you were matt's girlfriend, i miss you like you're my sister."

"when matt told me, i remember crying so hard," chris croaked, his voice trembling with the weight of his sorrow. "i even tried calling you, but then it hit me—you were gone. you were actually gone." his words hung in the air, each one a painful reminder of the finality of his loss.

chris placed a small, folded piece of paper inside the casket, a letter he had written for you. "i wrote this for you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "i hope you can read it wherever you are. it's all the things i never got to say, all the feelings i never got to share."

he stood up slowly, his legs feeling weak and unsteady. "goodbye, y/n. thank you for everything. i'll carry your memory with me always." with one last lingering look, he turned and walked away, his heart aching profoundly with the loss of his dearest friend.

nick walked up to him, his presence a quiet reassurance amidst the storm of emotions. chris, unable to hold back his sorrow, wrapped his arms around nick, burying his face into nick’s shoulder.

as the tears flowed freely, nick rubbed his back gently, his touch a soothing balm to chris's raw grief. in that moment, the embrace was more than just a physical comfort; it was a poignant reminder of how y/n had once let him cry in her arms, offering the same silent strength and unwavering support. the memory of y/n's compassion intertwined with nick's gesture, creating a circle of solace that enveloped chris in his time of need.

"i'm gonna say a few words to y/n too," nick said, his voice gentle yet resolute. chris nodded in silent understanding, slowly extricating himself from the embrace. as he walked away, his head hung low, the weight of his grief evident in every step. the air around them seemed to thicken with unspoken emotions, a silent testament to the depth of their shared loss.

nick stood by the casket, his heart shattered into a million pieces as he gazed at you. he took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to speak. "hey," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "i can't believe i'm standing here, talking to you like this. you were my best friend, my partner in all things crazy and fun." his voice wavered with emotion.

he looked down, his hand trembling as he touched the edge of the casket. "i brought you and matt together, and i don’t regret it at all. it was the best decision i ever made because then i got to know you even better, y/n. you were my rock, my confidant, my partner in all our crazy adventures.” his voice quivered with the weight of his emotions, each word a heartfelt tribute to the profound connection you had shared. the memories of your time together flooded his mind, a bittersweet reminder of the joy and camaraderie that had once filled your days.

tears streamed down his face as he continued, "we shared so much, from our music nights with face masks and fast food to our silly fashion shows and karaoke sessions. you always knew the right words to say, and your chest was my safe haven when i needed to cry. i’ll miss our movie marathons and the way you made everything better just by being you." his voice wavered with each word, a symphony of your shared moments echoing in his mind.

his voice cracked, and he took a deep breath. "i remember the time we stayed up all night talking about our dreams and fears. you always had this way of making me feel like everything would be okay. you were my light in the darkest of times, and i don’t know how to go on without you."

he placed a hand over his heart, feeling the weight of his grief. "thank you for everything, y/n. i’ll carry our memories with me forever. our bond over music, baking cookies that tasted like albums, and playing random video games will always be some of my favorite memories. you were always there for me, letting me cry on your chest when i felt down."

he took a shaky breath and continued, "do you remember that time we got lost on our way to the concert? we ended up at that little diner in the middle of nowhere, and you made friends with everyone there. you turned what could have been a disaster into one of the best nights of my life. that's just who you were, always finding the silver lining."

his hands clenched into fists as he tried to steady himself. "you were the best friend anyone could ever ask for. you taught me so much about love, patience, and kindness. you showed me that it's okay to be vulnerable, that it's okay to lean on others when you need to."

he took another deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "y'know, ever since you died, i would catch matt muttering some things under his breath, and whenever i'd ask him about it, he'd claim that a part of you was still in him. he'd say he could feel your presence, guiding him, comforting him in ways none of us could. it’s like you left a piece of your soul with him, a reminder of the love and bond you both shared."

he paused, wiping away a tear. "sometimes, when the house is quiet, i swear i can hear your laughter echoing through the halls. it's like you're still here, watching over us, making sure we're okay. matt and i, we talk about you all the time. we reminisce about the good times, the laughter, the joy you brought into our lives. it's our way of keeping your memory alive, of holding onto the love you gave us."

his voice grew stronger as he continued, "we've even started doing some of the things you loved, like baking those cookies that always tasted like albums. it's our way of feeling close to you, of honoring your memory. and every time we do, it's like you're right there with us, smiling, laughing, reminding us that love never truly dies."

he shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the warmth of the memories you shared. "thank you, y/n, for everything. for the love, the laughter, the lessons. you’ll always be a part of us, a part of our hearts. and though we miss you more than words can say, we know that you're still with us, in every beat of our hearts, in every breath we take."

he looked out the window, looking at the garden, as if searching for some sign of comfort. "i promise i'll try to live my life in a way that would make you proud. i'll keep our traditions alive, and i'll never forget the lessons you taught me. i love you, y/n, more than words can ever express.”

nick walked away and towards matt, his steps heavy with the burden of grief. “matt?” nick said, his voice cutting through the silence and snapping matt out of his trance.

“uh- yeah?” matt responded, his voice raspy and low, barely audible over the weight of the moment.

“you wanna say a few things to y/n?” nick asked, his voice gentle yet urging. matt looked towards your casket, biting his tongue and nodding, the gravity of the moment reflected in his eyes.

“yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. nick nodded in silent understanding and sat down, allowing matt to stand up and walk towards the casket, each step laden with unspoken words and heavy emotions.

“hey, angel,” matt murmured, standing by the casket, his heart weighed down and his eyes red from crying. “that hits a little harder now that you’re actually an angel, doesn't it?” he added, a bittersweet chuckle escaping his lips, mingling sorrow with a touch of fond remembrance.

“fuck, this is hard,” he muttered, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “the ride to the wake was so silent, y'know? nothing like the car rides we'd have whenever you were around. it's hard to believe, i know, but believe it or not; chris wasn't even yelling at nick and me for the aux. hell, he didn't even play anything. it was just quiet, filled with the soft sniffles of everyone missing you. it felt like the world had stopped turning for a moment, like everything just paused because you were gone."

he took a deep breath, his voice trembling with the weight of unspoken dreams. "i would've married you if you'd just stuck around. i dreamt of growing old with you, of us sitting on a porch somewhere, watching the sunset. we were supposed to have a lifetime together, not just these fleeting moments. you were supposed to be my forever, not just my now."

a tear rolled down his cheek as he continued, his voice heavy with nostalgia. "i remember all the memories we made, the funny things we did. like that time we got lost on our way to that concert and ended up having the best night just wandering around the city. or how you moved in with me because we couldn't stand being apart. we were the closest as close could be. we laughed so much, loved so deeply. i can still hear your laughter echoing in my mind."

he chuckled sadly, "your favorite artist just announced a new album release yesterday. i know it's gonna trend all over social media, but i don't think i can ever bring myself to listen to it. it'd be too much without you here. every song would be a reminder of what we had, of what we lost."

matt placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as if to capture the last essence of your presence. his voice, barely above a whisper, trembled with the weight of his sorrow. "you died with my lips against your skin. we were together until the end, but i wish we had more time. i wish i could hold you again, tell you how much i love you. i wish i could see you smile one more time. i love you, always."

he looked around the room, his eyes scanning the sea of faces—friends and family, each one etched with grief, mourning the loss of someone so dear. "we had so many plans, so many dreams," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "we talked about traveling the world, about starting a family. i can't believe you're gone. it feels like a bad dream that i can't wake up from, a cruel illusion that keeps me trapped in sorrow."

matt's voice broke as he continued, "i don't know how to move on without you. usually, i’d ask you; but now, i can’t. you were my everything, my rock. i feel so lost without you. but i promise, i'll keep your memory alive. i'll cherish every moment we had, every laugh, every tear. you were my soulmate, my twin flame. and even though you're gone, you'll always be a part of me."

he wiped his tears, his hands trembling as he tried to compose himself. "i love you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion, "more than words can ever convey. and i'll miss you every single day, with a longing that words cannot capture.”

as matt stood there, his mind wandered to the little things that had woven the fabric of their relationship into something extraordinary. "remember how you used to leave those little notes for me to find?" he murmured, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "i'd open my lunch at work, and there they'd be—sweet messages from you, each one a testament to your love. those notes always brightened my day, no matter how tough things got. they were like rays of sunshine piercing through the clouds of my worries."

he sighed, his heart aching with the weight of the memories. "we had our own language, our own way of understanding each other without even speaking. just a glance or a touch, and we knew what the other was thinking. it's like we were connected on a level that no one else could understand."

matt's voice grew softer, filled with sorrow. "i miss the way you used to sing in the shower, completely off-key but so full of joy. i miss the way you'd curl up next to me on the couch, your head on my shoulder as we watched our favorite shows. i miss the way you made me feel like the luckiest person in the world, just by being you."

he squeezed his eyes shut, surrendering to the torrent of emotions, allowing the tears to cascade freely. "i hope you're at peace now, in a place where there's no pain or suffering. i hope you're surrounded by love and light, and that you know how much you meant to all of us. you were the brightest star in our lives, and your light will never fade."

matt took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to go on. "i know i have to keep living, to find a way to move forward. but it's so hard without you. every day feels like a struggle, a battle just to get out of bed and face the world. but i promise, i'll keep fighting. i'll keep living for you, for the love we shared."

he placed a final kiss on your forehead, his voice filled with love and longing. "goodbye, my sweet angel. i'll carry you with me, always. until we meet again, in another life, in another time. i love you, forever and always."

taglist — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss @realuvrrr

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inkmonster21 · 14 days

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Can you please with a cherry on top write. (Au where Cornelia died after blue eyes birth) Where Caesar is thinking of having reader as his mate but Koba keeps saying she will hurt the colony and baby blue eyes so when blue eyes normally goes to reader during the day Caesar takes him to another female ape and reader is confused and hurt but doesn't say anything until blue eyes sneaks away to be with reader and then Caesar realises reader is perfect mother and mate material. Thank you. :)))))))

And I just don't Koba. 😒

Okay… this is my VERY FIRST time writing for Caesar. I think I like it… I hope you do!

Motherly Instincts

Caesar's grief was palpable as he mourned the loss of Cornelia, his mate, and the mother of his child. The pain of her passing was a heavy burden on his heart, and he struggled to come to terms with the void she had left behind. Though Blue Eyes brought joy to his life, the absence of his mate left a deep sense of sorrow and emptiness within him.

Your journey started soon after, with Maurice finding you abandoned and in dire straits, your life hanging in the balance. You were emaciated and weak, struggling to survive on your own. Maurice, filled with compassion and care, stepped in to rescue you, bringing you into their family and providing the love and nurturing you desperately needed.

Blue Eyes, took an immediate liking to you. With small, delicate hands, the infant would reach out, seemingly drawn to you. Your presence would bring a ray of light into the weary days, your smile able to brighten the darkest of moods. Your connection with Blue Eyes was instantaneous and deep, a bond that would only grow stronger as time passed.

One particular morning, Caesar sensed a subtle but profound shift in his heart. He stood watching Blue Eyes with you, witnessing the bond between you and his child. There was a tenderness in your interactions, an affinity that stirred within him. As he observed the two of you together, he felt a protective instinct flare up deep inside him, recognizing that your connection with Blue Eyes went beyond mere friendship.

Caesar observed you interacting with his son from his spot next to Maurice. He couldn't help but notice a small smile forming on his face as he watched the gentle way you handled Blue Eyes.

Maurice, perceptive as ever, noticed Caesar's expression and signed to his friend, "Human treats Blue Eyes well…. be good mother… and mate." There was a hint of playful teasing in his sign.

Caesar's response was nonchalant, signaling that he wasn't opposed to the idea at all. He had grown fond of you, engaging in personal conversations and even sharing meals together. The bond between the two of you had grown beyond mere acquaintance, and there was a sense of comfort and familiarity in your interactions. Caesar recognized the potential the idea held, a thought he couldn't dismiss.

Koba, on the other hand, had a completely different perspective on the matter. His attitude towards you was one of caution and wariness. He seemed to view you as an outsider, someone who didn't quite fit into their world. His distrust was evident in the way he observed your interactions with Blue Eyes and Caesar, a constant skepticism lurking behind his gaze.

Koba points down at you, a look of disdain in his eyes. He motions to you with a sense of accusation, his signs conveying his distrust. "Human...ruin...home..." he signs. The message is clear - Koba believes you are a threat, someone who will destroy their way of life. He warns of your potential to tear their home apart.

As Caesar continues to watch you, his heart is torn between two conflicting desires - the safety and stability of the colony, and his own happiness, a rare sentiment for him to consider. The decision he needed to make weighed heavily on his mind, as he grappled with the opposing forces pulling him in different directions.

You can't help but let out a laugh as Blue Eyes cling to you, refusing to let go. You try gently to peel his small hands away, attempting to tuck him into his nest for the night.

"You have to go to sleep," you tell him, a mix of sternness and affection in your voice. Blue Eyes, however, is stubborn, holding on to you with a strong grip, unwilling to give in to your attempts to make him rest.

Caesar enters his home quietly, catching you amid your struggle with Blue Eyes. A soft smile graces his lips as he observes the scene before him, and he speaks softly. "He likes you," he muses, his voice filled with gentle warmth. The sight of you trying to put the stubborn Blue Eyes to sleep seems to bring a touch of amusement to Caesar.

As soon as Blue Eyes notices Caesar, the youngster eagerly dashes towards his father, enveloping him in a loving embrace. You watch the heartwarming moment with a flutter in your heart, appreciating the undeniable bond between father and son. Caesar reciprocates the embrace, his strong yet gentle arms wrapping around Blue Eyes. It's evident in this interaction that Caesar is not only a great leader but also an incredible father, effortlessly balancing his responsibilities with affection and love towards his child.

Caesar hums softly as he picks up Blue Eyes, settling the young ape onto his hip. He turns his gaze towards you, his eyes filled with both tenderness and a hint of concern. “He gives you… trouble today?” he asks, referring to Blue Eyes’ stubborn refusal to go to sleep.

You shrug and let out a small laugh, explaining the situation. "He just doesn't want to go to sleep," you say. As you ruffle the soft fur on Blue Eyes' head, you add, "He's just being stubborn." Caesar nods, a mixture of affection and understanding in his eyes. He knows his son's stubborn nature all too well.

Blue Eyes, perched on Caesar's lap, glances at you and extends a small hand, signing a "stay." His request is simple and endearing as if he doesn't want you to leave.

Your heart swells as Blue Eyes looks at you, signing his small hands to ask you to stay, but you know you have to go back to your own sleeping space. "I have to go to my own nest, Blue," you tell him gently, a hint of regret in your voice.

Caesar's words come out swiftly, his mouth moving quickly before his mind catches up. His eyes widen slightly as he realizes what he's just said, a sense of surprise and mild embarrassment evident in his expression. "You could... stay," he repeats, his voice laced with a mixture of uncertainty and unexpected invitation.

Silence hangs in the air as Caesar's words linger. It's a moment of realization for both you and Caesar, as the weight of the unexpected invitation settles in. The usually composed ape king seems momentarily caught off guard by his suggestion, his gaze locked on you, awaiting your response.

As Caesar's words hang in the air, your eyes widen in surprise. You grapple with the question of his intentions - did he truly want you to stay, or was he simply trying to appease his son? It's difficult to hide the fact that your own feelings for Caesar have begun to bloom, a secret that's becoming harder to keep hidden. The tension between you and Caesar is palpable, waiting for your response to his unexpected invitation.

Silence once again blankets the space between you and Caesar, the air thick with anticipation. The usually composed ape king keeps his gaze fixed on you, his eyes searching your face for any hint of how you are feeling about his proposal. He appears to be silently pleading, hoping you'll accept his invitation.

“If you want.” Caesar's eyes flicker with a mix of relief and anticipation at your response. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, a sense of hope and a hint of vulnerability in his expression. It's clear that Caesar is silently yearning for you to stay, his desire evident in the way he watches you.

Blue Eyes, seemingly sensing your decision, crawls into your lap and snuggles against you, seeking the comfort of your embrace. The young ape's gesture is sweet and poignant as if expressing his approval of your decision to stay. Caesar watches the interaction, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You glance down at Blue Eyes, who is now comfortably snuggled in your lap. A smile graces your lips as you gently speak to him, asking, "Now you ready?" The young ape responds with a soft, satisfied murmur, appearing more relaxed and sleepy now that you've agreed to stay.

You move to the back, cradling Blue Eyes gently in your arms. You hold him close, snuggling with him until he finally drifts off to sleep, his little body relaxing and his hold on you loosening. The sight is heartwarming, as Blue Eyes finds comfort and security in your presence, his sleepy form at peace in his nest.

You press a gentle kiss to Blue Eyes' forehead, a tender gesture of affection. As you slowly move to exit the nest, a sense of satisfaction fills your chest. The sight of the young ape sleeping peacefully brings a smile to your face, a sense of accomplishment in having helped soothe him to sleep.

As you step back into the firelight, your mind is abuzz with thoughts, contemplating the significance of your decision to stay. Caesar remains seated by the fire, waiting for your arrival with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. The air between you seems to crackle with tension, the weight of the moment palpable.

The moment is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Koba, his ominous shadow casting a presence in the doorway. He stands there, silhouetted in the darkness, his figure a stark contrast against the flickering firelight. His presence is unexpected, adding an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.

Koba's gaze settles on you, his eyes filled with a cold suspicion that has lingered since the very beginning. The sight of you in Caesar's personal space, in his nest, seems to heighten his distrust. It's clear from the way he looks at you that Koba is more convinced than ever that you are a threat, a danger to their community.

You can't help but feel small and vulnerable under the intense glare of Koba's gaze. His suspicions and wariness towards you are palpable, and it's clear that his presence at this moment is not a simple coincidence. His eyes follow your every movement as if silently judging your every action.

Caesar, aware of the tension in the air, rises to his feet, addressing Koba directly. "What is it… Koba?" he asks, his voice calm yet firm. Caesar's stance is one of composure, but there's an edge to his words, a subtle warning to the other ape.

The moment hangs in the air, a triangle of tension forming between you, Koba, and Caesar. The ape king waits for Koba's response, his gaze fixated on the other ape's face, his body language displaying a mixture of authority and caution.

Sensing the mounting tension, you take the initiative to stand, intending to leave the situation. "Um, Caesar," you say, your voice somewhat shaky. "I will just see you tomorrow." You make a move to exit, but before you go, you turn to Caesar and bid him a soft, "Goodnight." The atmosphere is thick with an uneasy energy as you navigate past the two apes, attempting to distance yourself from the intense exchange.

As you leave, Koba's gaze follows you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hostility and disdain. The sight of you descending back to your home, your status lower than his, seems to only fuel his suspicions and dislike towards you.

Koba, his voice dripping with venomous suspicion, questions Caesar, "Why…human here? In...Caesar...home?" His words are laced with distrust, suggesting that he can't fathom why you're in Caesar's personal space. Kobo doesn't trust your presence in the ape king's home.

Caesar's response is firm and straightforward, yet tinged with a hint of protectiveness. "Blue Eyes wanted her... here," he repeats. Despite the simplicity of the answer, there's no denying the protective tone in his voice. Caesar's decision to allow you to stay is rooted in his son's comfort and desire for your presence.

Koba's scoff carries a hint of ridicule as if the idea of Blue Eyes being the sole reason for your presence seems unlikely to him. He poses a question. "Blue Eyes... or Caesar?" The implication is clear - Koba suspects that Caesar's desires, rather than just his son's need, are at play in your presence.

Caesar averts his gaze from his friend, Koba. Despite the challenges Koba presents, his loyalty and contributions to Caesar cannot be denied. The ape king seems caught between his trust in Koba and his feelings regarding your presence. The dilemma is evident in his expression.

Caesar's voice takes on a persuasive tone as he defends your presence, "She is helpful... with Blue Eyes. She cares... for us." There's a hint of determination in his words, a conviction that your presence has been beneficial for his son and the community as a whole. His argument suggests that your role in caring for Blue Eyes is a valid reason for your accommodation in his home.

Koba's scoff becomes louder and more pointed, his words taking on a harsher tone. "She will... kill. us all... all... humans do!" The ape's distrust and skepticism towards your kind are evident in his statement. He strongly believes that humans, like you, pose a threat that cannot be ignored. The weight of his fear and suspicion hangs heavily in the air.

Koba presses on, his tone growing more intense, "You wait... too long... and Blue Eyes... will be... gone... be... her fault." His statement takes on a sinister quality as if he sees your presence as a ticking time bomb for the safety and well-being of the younger apes. Koba's belief in your destructive nature is clear, and he seems convinced that you pose a significant risk to the ape community.

Koba's words hit a nerve in Caesar, igniting a spark of fear within him. The king of the apes, although hopeful for humanity, has had more negative experiences with humans than positive ones. The stark reality of this imbalance weighs heavily on Caesar's mind, and Koba's warning only serves to further deepen the ape king's doubts and reservations.

As Caesar ponders Koba's words, a wave of uncertainty washes over him. Perhaps Koba does have a point, and your presence could be detrimental to the colony or even to himself. Doubts begin to cloud Caesar's mind, casting a shadow over his previous conviction to keep you near.

Early in the morning, you approach Caesar's dwelling, making your presence known before entering. You knock gently on the threshold, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The moment feels significant, as you prepare to enter Caesar's private space and be closer to the ape king.

You greet Caesar with a warm smile as you spot him basking in the sun while gazing out over his land. "Good morning," you say, your voice soft yet cheerful. The sight of Caesar in this moment, seemingly at peace amidst the beauty of nature, evokes a sense of calm and awe within you.

You notice Caesar's silent nod in response, but there are no words exchanged. You instinctively glance around for Blue Eyes, your eyes searching for the young ape's presence. However, his absence catches your attention, leaving you curious about his whereabouts.

You ask the question that lingers on your mind, "Where's Blue Eyes?" Your voice carries a hint of concern, as you wonder about the young ape’s whereabouts. Caesar continues to gaze out at the landscape before replying, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Caesar's response answers your question, "With Ginger… With other young." There's a tinge of melancholy in his voice, and he doesn't turn to face you. The mention of Blue Eyes spending time with the other young apes and Ginger stirs an unexpected pang in your heart.

“Oh, okay.” You approach Caesar, attempting to engage him in conversation or perhaps suggesting an outing, but Caesar's response is curt. "No... very busy," he says, shaking his head. The firmness in his tone and the lack of eye contact suggest that he's preoccupied and not particularly interested in conversation or spending time together at the moment.

Caesar moves past you without another word, his footsteps echoing with a sense of firmness. The sudden departure leaves you standing alone, baffled by his aloof behavior. You're left with a mixture of emotions - confusion, disappointment, and perhaps a hint of hurt at the abrupt end of your attempt at connecting with him.

As days pass, you notice that Blue Eyes is consistently sent with any female ape except for you. This repeated pattern doesn’t escape your notice, and a feeling of unease starts to take hold. It becomes clear that there’s a deliberate effort to keep you apart from Caesar's son, and the reason behind it remains a mystery. The thought that something might be wrong gnaws at you, and you can’t shake the sense that there's more to this situation than meets the eye.

You try to think of any possible reason for the sudden distance. Did you do something wrong? Were you disrespectful in some way? No matter how hard you wrack your brain, you can’t come up with an answer. The lack of explanations and the persistent sense of exclusion leave you feeling confused and frustrated.

Caesar walks by you once again, his eyes avoiding direct contact. There's a sense of detachment in his demeanor as if he can't bring himself to acknowledge your presence. The indifference in his gaze is palpable, leaving you feeling invisible in his world.

At dinner, Blue Eyes attempts to make his way towards you, Koba intervenes, quickly stopping the young ape. "Dangerous," Koba hisses, his finger pointing in your direction. Caesar observes the scene, seeing the confusion in his son's eyes and the clear desire to approach you. Blue Eyes' longing to find comfort in your presence is evident, and the situation tugs at Caesar's heartstrings.

As you discreetly excuse yourself from the gathering, Caesar's eyes follow your movements, noticing your early departure. He's aware of your absence, even if he doesn't express any reaction outwardly. Caesar watches as his son, Blue Eyes, follows your path, sneaking off in your direction. The young ape's determination to find you is evident and Caesar can't help but observe the connection between you two.

Caesar rises to his feet, his attention now fully on following after you and Blue Eyes. His instincts kick in as he realizes the need to keep an eye on the young ape and the dynamic between you two.

Caesar continues to watch as you both approach your humble dwelling, situated at the very bottom of the colony. The location is not lost on him, as the desolate and cold surroundings stand out starkly compared to the rest of the colony. The physical distance from him adds another layer to the complexity of the situation.

Caesar wants you closer to him, not just physically but emotionally as well. The realization of this desire adds an extra layer to Caesar's complex feelings towards you.

Blue Eyes, feeling the effects of being separated from you, clings to you desperately, hooting and crying in distress. It's clear that the little monkey is overwhelmed by the situation, and the physical separation from you has taken its toll. The young ape seeks comfort and reassurance in your presence.

You regard Blue Eyes with a soft smile, but sadness lurks within your heart. "You're not supposed to be here, Blue," you gently remind him, your voice filled with a mix of concern and warmth. It's clear that you understand the complexity of the situation, and the fact that the young ape shouldn't be at your dwelling alone adds an extra layer of worry to your expression.

A deep voice pierces the air as Caesar steps into your home, the dimly lit surroundings casting an air of mystery. He speaks with a hint of regret, his words carrying the weight of his realization. "seems... I have been foolish," Caesar admits, his voice filled with a mixture of introspection and remorse.

As you look up at Caesar, a mix of confusion and surprise shows on your face. The sudden appearance of the ape king in your home after the distant treatment of the past several days puzzles you. With Blue Eyes in your arms, you explain, "He came to me." There's a hint of defense in your words as if you feel the need to justify the situation.

Caesar responds with a soft smile, his demeanor slightly softening. His words carry a tone of understanding, "I know." There's a subtle admission in his acknowledgment, suggesting that he knew all along about his son's actions.

Caesar takes a step closer, his movements deliberate and somewhat intense. The distance between you both shrinks as he moves closer, his gaze fixed on you.

The air seems to thicken with tension as Caesar comes closer, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. His presence is both authoritative and intriguing, and you can't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. In the dimly lit space, the power dynamic between you and the ape king is palpable.

Caesar's voice breaks the silence as he regards the sight of Blue Eyes clinging to you. His words carry a hint of resignation and understanding. "He needs you," Caesar murmurs, his gaze fixed on the young ape's desperate hold on you. He's acknowledged the bond between you and his son, and the depth of Blue Eyes' attachment to you.

Caesar's expression falters, and it's clear that there's more he wants to say. His eyes remain fixed on you and the child, a mix of emotions playing across his features. There's a conflict within him, a struggle between his thoughts and his words.

Caesar's voice is soft and hesitant as he utters his words, "I... need you." The statement hangs in the air, filled with vulnerability and a hint of uncertainty. It's a confession that seems difficult for him to vocalize, suggesting that his dependence on you runs deeper than he anticipated.

Caesar's hand moves gently to cup your face, his palm warm against your skin. His gaze locks with yours, and the intensity of his eyes pierces through the dim lighting. There's a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a hint of raw emotion that betrays the stoic ape king's usual demeanor.

Caesar moves closer, his head descending to meet yours. In the intimate space, your foreheads touch, and the connection between you two becomes electric. The touch is filled with a potent mix of passion and vulnerability as if he can no longer resist the pull between you two.

Caesar's voice is firm yet gentle as he speaks, his words carrying a sense of finality. "You will stay... with us... from now on," he says, his head still pressed against yours. There's a subtle possessiveness in his tone as if he's claiming you for himself and his son.

The realization of being a family with Caesar and Blue Eyes settles upon you, a powerful notion that fills your heart with a mixture of joy and responsibility. The idea of the three of you together as a unified unit strengthens the connection between you all, forging an unbreakable bond built on love and loyalty.

#planet of the apes x reader #caesar x human reader #caesar x reader #caesar pota #pota caesar #caesar planet of the apes #pota x reader #planet of the apes

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mononijikayu · 4 months

Text

“all that i am, when i’m around you” — gojo satoru.

Satoru blushes at the fact that he was so bold to do that. He groaned to himself, his hands on his head. He purses his lips. But it felt good. It felt good to make you flustered. It felt good to make you feel a deep sense of contentment, just being with you. Just being silly around you. These moments, these small, everyday interactions, were what made his life with you so special. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic changes—it was about the quiet, simple moments that you shared together. Gojo Satoru felt that he was all he was, when he was around you.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, family, comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, mention of breastfeeding, mention of postpartum effects, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: all that i am by mirdjo

NOTE: i was gone for a while and i still haven't written, sorry about that. i recently lost my dog and i really couldn't do anything. but today is the jjk chapter drop, so i decided to write something. this was comforting to write, because gojo satoru is a comfort. i'm doing a bit better now. we will be back on schedule soon enough!!! i hope you enjoy this little drable!!! i love you!!! <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

IT WAS TAKING TIME TO ADJUST TO BEING MARRIED. But being married to you wasn’t so bad, or at least that’s what Gojo Satoru thinks. He looks at you as you hum that tune from the radio — preparing breakfast for both of you and the kids.

He had just gotten home from a mission, but you were waiting for him to come home. That was new for him. That someone was up all night worrying about him. Usually, he and Suguru went on missions together. But there wasn’t anyone waiting for him to come back, to greet him happily like you did.

Everything has been a whirlwind of changes and emotions. One that he hadn’t expected about this. Surprisingly, you both got along well as a married couple. You didn’t act romantically, of course. There’s…there’s none of that yet. But you both cared for each other a lot, acted like a married couple would. Satoru was surprised. It was like everything fit into place now.

The dynamic between you had shifted in subtle yet significant ways, reshaping the very foundation of your relationship. These past few months had been a period of profound transformation for both of you, discovering what could be between you now.

He was sure that slowly but surely, it was still sinking in — you took his name, you were in his house, you wore his ring. You were more in his and your life now. You were more part of his life now than ever before. You weren’t his senpai anymore, and he wasn’t your kouhai either. You were now his wife and he was your husband.

For a while, Gojo Satoru found himself in an unfamiliar territory, uncertain of what to call you. It wasn't just a matter of addressing you by your name; it was about finding the right words to encapsulate the depth of your relationship. In the past, you were his senpai, the one he looked up to with admiration and respect. Then, you became his partner, someone he leaned on for support and guidance. But now, as husband and wife, the dynamics had shifted in ways he hadn't anticipated.

He hesitated to simply call you by your first name, as if it didn't quite capture the magnitude of your connection. You were still very much not in love. It was too hard to be casual with you. It wasn’t like it was a joke like he did when he was still your kouhai. It was real now. It was very much something that was a gap he had to think about for a long while.

Calling you "wife" felt too formal, too distant for the woman who shared his hopes, dreams, and fears. It may have been an arranged marriage, but it wasn’t as if he wasn’t an instigator. He was a willing participant, because he was fond of you. He wasn’t going to be calling you that.

Using "dear" sounded too old-fashioned, something his and your mother called your own fathers when they first married years and years ago. And "love" seemed too casual for the depth of emotion he felt for you. He wasn’t in love with you, yet. One day, maybe. But until then, he had to be able to give a name for you.

One day, Satoru approached you with a hesitant expression, his usual confidence tinged with uncertainty. "Hey, um... I've been thinking," he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You looked up from your book, sensing his unease. "What's on your mind, Satoru?"

He shifted nervously, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "It's about... what to call you, now… now that you aren’t my senpai," he admitted, his cheeks tinted with a faint blush. His eyes flickered with uncertainty as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "It's just... I know this is really different. But it’s not easy to just call you by your name or just make up one. So I wanted to ask you about what you’re comfortable with."

You watched him with a soft smile, sensing his discomfort and wanting to ease his worries. "Satoru, you don’t really have to ask me. We’re married now," you reassured him, your voice gentle and reassuring.

But he couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty, the weight of tradition and habit still lingering in his mind. "I know, I know," he murmured, his gaze shifting to the ground. "But it's just... I want to make sure I'm doing this right. I want it to feel... natural."

Your heart softened at his vulnerability, your own affection for him swelling within your chest. "Satoru, there's no right or wrong way to do this," you said, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "We're in this together, remember? It's okay to feel unsure sometimes. But just know that you can call me whatever feels comfortable to you."

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "Anything?"

You nodded, a warm smile playing on your lips. "Anything."

With a sigh of relief, Satoru felt the weight of uncertainty lift from his shoulders. "Okay then," he said, a newfound determination in his voice. "I think... I think I'll stick with trying to…trying to get used to your name. For now. If that's alright with you."

Your smile widened, a surge of warmth flooding your heart. "It's more than alright, Satoru." you replied, your voice filled with love and understanding.

He liked the way you said his name.

But he can tell, slowly but surely.

You liked how he said yours too.

In that time, as Satoru endeavored to commit your name to memory as effortlessly as breathing, he found himself grappling with the concept of you being an intrinsic part of his home. The idea of you being his home. It was a notion that seemed foreign at first, given his long-standing familiarity with solitude and transience.

From a young age, Satoru had grown accustomed to living in isolation, even within the vast expanse of the Gojo clan manor. As the heir to the Gojo clan, he had resided in his own wing of the estate, separated from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But even within his private quarters, he never lingered in one room for long.

The ever-present threat of assassination, a constant worry for his mother following the fate of his father, prompted her to frequently alter the layout and appearance of his living space. Rooms were rearranged, furnishings were swapped out, and on particularly paranoid days, Satoru found himself relocated to entirely different chambers. As a result, he never had the opportunity to truly imprint the features of any particular room in his memory.

Even during his time in the Jujutsu High dormitories, Satoru had maintained a sense of detachment from his surroundings. Though he had his own room, he seldom spent enough time there to form any meaningful connection to it.

With missions keeping him and Suguru occupied for days on end, and the few precious hours of rest often spent in Suguru's company, Satoru's dorm room remained as pristine and impersonal as the day he first set foot in it. Like the Gojo manor, it was a space devoid of personal significance, a transient waypoint in his journey through life.

It wasn't until he met Suguru and Shoko, and ultimately you, that Satoru began to understand the true meaning of belonging. Through your presence, he discovered a sense of stability and security that had eluded him for so long.

With you, he found a home—a place where he could be himself without fear or reservation, where memories were made and cherished, and where the bonds of love and friendship flourished. And as he reflected on the journey that had brought him to this moment, Satoru realized that he had finally found something worth remembering, something worth holding onto with all his heart.

Satoru often found himself lost in thought, reflecting on how different things were now. He loved how peaceful it had been just being around you. Even the little mundane details brought a sense of joy he hadn't anticipated.

Living together meant he saw you more than ever before, and since you weren’t going on missions nowadays, he found himself awakened to each and every day beside you, learning all these bright new facets of your personalities to light.

He noticed how you scrunch your nose when you were thinking too hard, a cute quirk that made him smile. Your bright eyes narrowed often when you focused on things, a look of intense concentration that made you look both serious and endearing.

You made a funny face when you realized something he had pointed out, a mix of surprise and amusement that was always delightful to witness. And then there was the way you smiled into your cup of coffee if it tasted good, a small but genuine expression of contentment that made his heart swell.

One morning, as he watched you prepare breakfast, he couldn’t help but just stare. You had a peculiar way of eating your breakfast. You put jam on your bread, humming quietly, and add your eggs, bacon, and the other side of the bread. You looked so happy to eat it, grinning at how delicious it tastes for you.

The kids were already out for the day, and they would be here all day because they’re in school and there were still their after school activities. In truth, Satoru was too exhausted to get up from the bed, he did back to back missions after all. But you kept urging him to get up and eat breakfast with you. His stomach would hurt if he didn’t tell him. He can shower and sleep after.

He didn’t know if he was just too tired or if he was just out of his mind. But he felt warm inside. Just watching you eat happily. That you would make him this delicious meal. That you would push him to take care of himself. That you would take care of him.

"You know, you have these little habits that are just... adorable."

You turned to him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "All of a sudden?”

“Why not? I think it’s true.”

“Oh really? How so?"

He leaned against his own chair, a playful grin on his face. "Y’know, I don’t think you know this but you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking too hard. Or how your eyes narrow when you’re focused. And that face you make when you realize something new—it’s priceless. Just know, you ate that sandwich and started nodding because you think it’s delicious.”

You looked at him flustered, eyes fluttering. "I didn’t know you paid so much attention to me, Satoru. That’s….so detailed.”

"How could I not?" he replied, leaning forward toward you. "I see you everyday. It was meant to be me learning something new about you every day.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, and you turned back to the stove, stirring the eggs. "You’re making me self-conscious now."

"Don’t be." he said softly, smiling at you gently. "I love these little things about you. They make you... you. And I like that, y’know?”

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "And what about you, Satoru? What little things do you have that I should be noticing?"

He chuckled at you, standing up and walking towards you. He pats your head, your face turning redder. "I’m not sure. Maybe you’ll have to pay more attention and find out."

"......I will." you promised, turning your head slightly to meet his eyes. You were too shy now. His grin grew wider. "I’ll make it my mission to do well for you."

He smiled, his lips brushing against your cheek. "I look forward to it."

“S-satoru, you can’t just do that!”

He laughed. “Love you too!”

“T-that….. Satoru! You're a pain in the ass!"

"But I'm your pain in the ass!"

These moments, these small, everyday interactions, were what made his life with you so special. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic changes—it was about the quiet, simple moments that you shared together. Gojo Satoru felt that he was all he was, when he was around you.

In those moments, he realized that being married to you was more than he had ever expected. It was about finding joy in the mundane, discovering new facets of each other every day, and building a life together that was filled with love, laughter, and understanding. There were moments of tender domesticity that felt almost surreal—sharing morning coffee, debating over grocery lists, and falling into a routine that was uniquely yours.

As Satoru sat at the kitchen table, you poured him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Here you go, Satoru." you said, sliding the mug across the table towards him. "Time for you to join the coffee club."

He eyed the dark liquid with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "I'm not sure about this," he admitted, reaching out to tentatively lift the mug to his lips.

"You won't know until you try, y’know?" you teased, nudging him gently. “Go on! One sip!”

As Satoru tentatively raised the cup to his lips, anticipation mingled with apprehension. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted up to meet his nose, promising a bold and robust flavor experience. But as the bitter liquid touched his tongue, his features contorted into a grimace of pure disbelief. It was as if he had just bitten into a particularly sour lemon, his taste buds recoiling in shock at the unexpected assault.

The sight of Satoru's reaction was too much for Megumi to handle. From his position on the sidelines, he burst into laughter, unable to contain his amusement at his friend's expense. His laughter echoed through the kitchen, a joyful symphony of mirth that filled the room with infectious energy.

Despite the discomfort of the bitter taste lingering on his palate, Satoru couldn't help but chuckle along with Megumi's infectious laughter. There was something undeniably humorous about the situation, and he found himself unable to suppress a smile even as he struggled to come to terms with the unfamiliar flavor of the coffee.

Tsumiki, the epitome of kindness and compassion, didn't hesitate for a moment as she witnessed Satoru's struggle with the bitter coffee. With a swift and determined motion, she sprang into action, her nurturing instincts kicking into high gear.

"Here, let me help, Satoru–san!" she exclaimed, her voice gentle but firm as she reached for the container of sugar and the carton of cream nestled in the fridge. With practiced efficiency, she poured a generous spoonful of sugar into the mug, followed by a liberal splash of cream, expertly balancing the flavors to create a more palatable concoction.

As she stirred the sugar and cream into the coffee, a look of focused concentration settled on her features. It was clear that she took her role as caretaker seriously, determined to ease Satoru's discomfort and ensure his enjoyment of the beverage.

With a final stir, Tsumiki presented the transformed coffee to Satoru with a warm smile, her eyes shining with genuine concern and compassion. "Here you go, Satoru–san," she said softly, offering him the mug. "I hope this makes it more to your liking."

Satoru accepted the mug with gratitude, his heart warmed by Tsumiki's kindness and thoughtfulness. As he took a cautious sip of the now sweetened and cream-enriched coffee, he found himself pleasantly surprised by the transformation. The bitter edge had been softened, replaced by a creamy sweetness that danced across his taste buds with newfound delight.

"Thank you, Tsumiki," he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "You're a lifesaver."

Tsumiki's smile widened at his words, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. "It's my pleasure, Satoru–san," she replied, her gaze warm and earnest. "I'm always here to help."

He looks at you. “This is my only cup of coffee for the rest of my life.”

You chuckled at Satoru's expression, reaching out to pat his hand sympathetically. "Looks like coffee isn't for everyone," you said, trying to stifle your laughter.

Satoru nodded in agreement, his lips still puckered from the bitter taste. "I think I'll stick to hot cocoa." he said, setting the mug aside with a grimace. “This is awful!”

You laughed. “Well, I’ll make you good sweet ones, ‘toru.”

You took care of him in ways that went beyond what he had ever imagined. It was in the little things: the way you left notes for him to find, the meals you cooked together, the quiet support you offered without needing to be asked. It made him feel like a bashful boy all over again, experiencing a kind of affection and attention that was both exhilarating and humbling.

Being married, being husband and wife — this is not easy. His own mother was surprised that someone as young as him would consider it now. It was true that he had uncles that could marry you. Save you from the Zenin, the name was enough. But Satoru couldn’t admit to you then when you asked him that it was because you were you. You were all he had, now that Suguru had left him. And he couldn’t lose you too. He didn’t want to.

Satoru sat across from his mother, the weight of her words heavy in the air. "You're too young to be thinking about marriage, Satoru." she said, her tone tinged with concern. "You have your whole life ahead of you. There's no need to rush into anything."

He bit his lip, feeling the weight of her words like a physical blow. "I know, Mother." he replied, his voice strained with emotion. "But it's not that simple."

His mother raised an eyebrow, her expression questioning. "What do you mean?"

Satoru hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words. "I... I can't just leave her unprotected. Not when the Zenin is planning to marry her to Naoya….he’s gonna hurt her." he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "She needs someone to look after her, to keep her safe."

His mother's eyes softened with understanding as she reached out to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Satoru, you don't have to bear that burden alone," she said gently. "You have uncles who would gladly take on that responsibility. Maybe even your cousins. You don't have to sacrifice your own happiness for hers."

But Satoru shook his head, determination shining in his cerulean eyes. "It has to be me, Mother," he insisted. "I can't let anyone else take that responsibility. I have to be the one to marry her, to care for her. No one….”

His mother sighed, realizing the depth of his conviction. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself too, Satoru," she said, her voice tinged with concern. "Marriage is a partnership, and you can't neglect your own well-being in the process."

Satoru nodded, his resolve unwavering. "I promise, Mother," he said, a steely determination in his voice. "I'll take care of her, and I'll take care of myself. We'll make it work together. I know we will."

And as he left his mother's side, the weight of her words still echoing in his mind, Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of determination settle in his heart. He would do whatever it took to keep you safe and happy, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness in the process. Because for him, there was no greater priority than ensuring your well-being, no matter the cost.

Because he knew that you would take care of him.

And you would make sure he would be safe too.

You were just that kind of person to Gojo Satoru.

As Satoru sat on the couch, watching you move about the room, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. What would the future look like for the two of you? The thought filled him with a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. There was so much more beyond the friendship that had been the bedrock of your relationship.

He imagined a future filled with shared dreams and challenges, laughter and tears, triumphs and setbacks. He saw you both growing together, learning from each other, and building a life that was rich and full. The thought of children crossed his mind—a family that was an extension of the love you shared.

Satoru smiled to himself, feeling a warmth spread through him. This was just the beginning, a new adventure that you were embarking on together. And whatever the future held, he knew that with you by his side, it would be extraordinary.

"Hey, you should start pouring your hot cocoa, Satoru," you told him, pointing the spatula towards the boiling pot. "It’ll get too soggy if you let it overboil!"

"Coming, coming," he mumbled, snapping back to reality as he stood up from the couch.

He moved to the stove, reaching for the pot of cocoa. As he poured the steaming liquid into his mug, he couldn’t help but smile at how natural this all felt. You, bustling around the kitchen, humming softly; him, doing his part to help with breakfast. It was a far cry from the life he once knew, filled with endless missions and solitary nights.

Satoru watched as you deftly flipped pancakes, your movements sure and practiced. "You know," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, "I could get used to this. Waking up to you, having breakfast together. For the rest of my life. It’s... nice."

You glanced over at him, a twinkle in your eye. "Just nice?"

"Okay, more than nice," he admitted, leaning against the counter. "It’s... comforting. Makes me feel like I’ve finally found where I belong."

You paused, setting down the spatula and turning to face him fully. "You do belong here, Satoru. With me. With us."

He felt a lump in his throat, emotions welling up that he hadn’t expected. "I know. And it means more to me than I can say."

You smiled, stepping closer to him. "You don’t have to say it. I can see it. And I feel the same way."

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m glad we have this. Us. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything."

"Neither would I," you said softly, leaning into his touch. "We’re a team, Satoru. And we’ll get through everything together."

He nodded, pulling you into a gentle hug. "Yeah, we will. And I promise to keep doing my best to be the husband you deserve."

You hugged him back, your arms wrapping around him tightly. "You already are, Satoru. More than you know."

As you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Satoru felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known was possible. This was his life now—filled with love, warmth, and the simple joys of being with you. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, he knew he could face them as long as you were by his side.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your lilac eyes. "You know," he began, his voice softer now, "I never thought I’d have this. A home, a family. I always figured I’d be alone, just me against the world."

You cupped his cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing against his skin. "You don’t have to be alone anymore, Satoru. We’re in this together."

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. "I know. And it scares me sometimes, how much I need this. Need you."

You smiled gently. "Needing someone isn’t a weakness. It’s what makes us human. It’s what makes us stronger."

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. "You’re right. And I’m grateful every day that I have you. That we have this life together."

You kissed his forehead, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. "Me too. We’re building something beautiful, Satoru. One day at a time."

He nodded, a sense of determination settling in his chest. "One day at a time," he echoed. "And I promise, I’ll be here for every single one."

You smiled, feeling the depth of his commitment and love. "And I’ll be here too, Satoru. Always."

As you both turned back to the breakfast preparations, the sense of shared purpose between you felt stronger than ever. The rhythmic clatter of utensils against pots and pans, the fragrant aroma of coffee wafting through the air—each moment seemed infused with a quiet but palpable sense of contentment.

In the simplicity of your daily routine, Satoru found himself feeling his heart beat just a little bit faster. There was a sense of profound happiness that he couldn’t quite explain, a feeling that bubbled up from deep within his chest and spilled over into every fiber of his being. It was a feeling that defied rational explanation, transcending words and logic to manifest as a pure, unadulterated sense of joy.

It was never going to be easy to explain, Satoru realized, nor did he feel the need to try. Some things were simply beyond words, existing in a realm of emotion and intuition that defied rational analysis. But it was okay—it was more than okay, in fact. For Satoru, the unpredictable nature of life was a source of excitement rather than anxiety, a reminder that every twist and turn held the potential for new discoveries and adventures.

And through it all, you were there by his side, holding his hand through every challenge and triumph. As long as you were there, he knew that nothing would ever be truly insurmountable. With your unwavering support and boundless love, Satoru felt invincible, ready to face whatever the world threw his way.

As he watched you move gracefully about the kitchen, a sense of gratitude washed over him, filling his heart to the brim. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting familiarity of home and the warmth of your presence, Satoru knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be. And with you by his side, he was ready to embrace whatever the future held, secure in the knowledge that together, you could conquer anything that came your way.

Satoru took the pot of cocoa off the stove and poured it into two mugs, handing one to you. "To us. May we be happy together." he said, raising his mug.

"To us," you replied, clinking your mug against his. You smiled at the last bit. “May we be happy.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your home and the promise of your future together, you both knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey—one filled with love, laughter, and the simple, everyday joys of being with each other.

All that he is when he's around you.

That's all he wants to be in this life.

And you would say the same thing to him.

But he didn't have to hear you say it to him.

Your eyes tell him so much more than he needs.

epilogue

Gojo Satoru stood in his cluttered office at Jujutsu High, sighing softly. There was a baby carrier strapped to his chest with a gurgling Gojo Satoshi nestled inside. The little one wasn’t really feeling his dear beloved father’s stress. But Satoru couldn’t expect much of his little dawn. He liked laughing, being stressed free and his mama. As Satoru moved around the room, he couldn’t help but stand still. There was little place to move.

His cerulean eyes scanned the room, which looked like a tornado had swept through. Papers, books, and miscellaneous items were scattered everywhere. This was his first year of teaching in Jujutsu High and immediately, everything was already a mess. He didn’t expect it to be this way this quickly. Satoru was good at keeping things clean most of the time. But these days, balancing fatherhood and balancing husbandry and jujutsu — he really didn’t have the time to clean.

Satoru didn’t teach methodically, like Utahime. But he still needed a basis for what he was teaching. So he had scrolls upon scrolls he borrowed from Gojo manor and even Mikoto manor. Along with books that Yaga–sensei would be looking for by now. He wasn’t just teaching things from his gut–feeling. That would get more unnecessary yapping from the higher ups than he already was getting. Plus, you’d end up yelling at him for that. Kids were at stake after all.

He didn’t know why he decided to do this today, if he was being honest. It was really not the time. You weren’t in town right now, you went back to Kyoto for a few days at your mother’s request. Nobuhiko was going to have his first teaching class in Kyoto Jujutsu tech too. And there was the issue of a barrier somehow being down in Kyoto. You had to deal with that. Satoru didn’t want to see you off. But well, you really had no excuse now that you were off duty.

"Megumi, Tsumiki, help me out here," he said, trying to sound authoritative but mostly just sounding tired. "Your mother is out of town, and I can't stay at home moping around."

“Gen–san’s not our mother.” Megumi rolled his eyes, picking up some of the books.

“Well she’s all you have, and I’m lonely without her. So stand your butt and help me clean this up.” Satoru touts, as he starts to roll up the scrolls. Satoshi giggled watching his father roll it up. Satoru grinned. “You like it, huh? Yeah, the sound is fun, isn’t it?”

Megumi sighs, crossing his arms to his chest. “We could be playing some video games right now. It’s a Sunday too.”

“Oh cheer up, Megumi! I’m buying us ice cream once we’re done, hm?”

Tsumiki, ever the peacemaker, smiled as she cleared up some paper into the box. "Cheer up, Megumi! This is fun. You never know what we might find in Satoru–san’s office.”

“More trash?” He waves around a newspaper that was out of date and puts it in the box.

“Something interesting, like….like this!” Tsumiki pulls out a book on the types of cheesecake.

“See, ‘miki has the right idea, ‘gumi~”

Megumi sighed, shaking his head. “This is hopeless.”

As they began sorting through the mess, Satoru slumped into his chair, cradling Satoshi gently. The baby giggled, tugging at Satoru's sunglasses with his tiny, curious fingers. Each time Satoru gently pried them away, Satoshi’s giggles only grew louder, echoing through the cluttered office.

"Hey, don't mess with the shades, kiddo. They're part of my charm," Satoru murmured, his usual bravado softened by the affectionate way he spoke to his son. He placed a playful kiss on Satoshi’s forehead, making the baby squeal in delight. “We don’t want to make mama panic about a new pair having to be bought, you know?”

Satoshi didn’t seem to understand, as he kept giggling. Satoru couldn’t help but grin at how mischievous his little dawn is. “My baby is such a mischievous little one, hm? I’ll have to get you your own pair, shouldn’t I? So you and papa can match the look and be cool together, hm? Ah, that would be so cute~”

Megumi sighed as he opened yet another drawer filled with random items. "What is all this junk?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of disbelief at the sheer volume of clutter.

Satoru waved a dismissive hand, barely glancing at the drawer’s contents. "Important stuff," he replied vaguely, focusing more on adjusting Satoshi in the carrier. "Probably."

“You can’t just say probably!” Megumi retorted back.

“Oh, it’s going to be fine~”

Tsumiki, more patient and methodical in her approach, carefully sifted through a stack of papers. Suddenly, she paused, her eyes catching on something unexpected. "Hey, what's this?" she asked, pulling out a stack of neatly folded letters tied with a red ribbon.

Tsumiki untied the ribbon and picked up one of the letters. She unraveled it and began reading aloud.

"'My dearest darling, love of my life, the apple of my eye. This mission sucks. I really hate being here. I really wish I could just make the higher ups eat shit. But the sooner I finish, the faster I’ll come home. You take care, hm? Eat well. Make sure Megumi still isn’t upset about the white wolf costume. We’ll get him the black one next year. Make sure Tsumiki doesn’t forget to pick up her new ballet shoes. I miss you more with each passing day. Your absence makes the world feel gray and lifeless. I count the days until I can hold you again. Love your one and only husband that loves you in this entire world, Satoru.'"

Megumi's face twisted in discomfort. "Seriously? You wrote that? I thought there were phones by this point.”

“Writing love letters is nice, you know!” Tsumiki says, smiling as she looks tenderly at the letters. “It just shows that Satoru–san loves Gen–san! You’re such a romantic, Satoru-san!”

Satoru flushed, his face red as he was adjusting Satoshi in the carrier. "’miki’s right! And those were private! And yes, I wrote that. So what? You've never seen a husband that loves his wife, huh?”

Tsumiki giggled, continuing to read. "'PS. Your smile is the light that guides me through the darkness. I can't wait to see it again and bask in its warmth. Forever yours, Satoru.'"

Megumi groaned. "I can't believe this. You're like a love-struck teenager.”

"Hey, I was pretty young then. And nothing wrong about it. It's called being romantic," Satoru defended himself, trying to sound dignified despite his red face. "’sides…..She liked it. And she wrote back, let me be clear! Her words are just as sappy.”

Megumi shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. "I don't need to hear this."

Tsumiki, still amused, looked at another letter. "There are so many of these. How did you have time to write all of them?"

Satoru shrugged as he also took some of the letters in hand. "I have my ways. Plus, when you're away on missions, you have a lot of time to think about what's important. I liked being home, I like being with my wife and you guys. So, that’s what’s in here.”

Megumi didn’t want to admit it. But he was very glad that Satoru wrote about them. He sighed and instead muttered under his breath. "I thought you were supposed to be the strongest sorcerer, not the sappiest."

Satoru gave a dramatic sigh. "One can be both, Megumi. One can be both. With a wife like mine? You’d be multi-tasking it all.”

As they continued to sort through the mess, little Satoshi started fussing. Satoru bounced him gently, cooing softly. "It's okay, little guy. Daddy's just getting roasted by your big brother."

“It’s well deserved slander.”

“Don’t listen to your big brother, Satoshi. Love is always winning!”

Tsumiki smiled warmly. "It's sweet, Satoru–san. Really. It's nice to see this side of you."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." Satoru replied with a smirk, taking the letter and waving it around. "This is only for my wife and you guys. Keep it zipped. I have a reputation to maintain."

Megumi rolled his eyes again, but there was a small, reluctant smile on his face. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, sappy pants.”

“Hey, that’s not a good insult!”

As the day went on, they managed to make a dent in the clutter, uncovering more hidden gems of Satoru's sentimental side along the way. Despite the teasing and the awkwardness, there was a sense of tenderness that filled the room.

Satoru looked around at his students—his family—and felt a warmth in his chest that rivaled any love letter he had ever written. Even with the chaos, the mess, and the relentless teasing, this was his life. And he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Alright, team," he said, standing up with Satoshi still strapped to his chest. He was giggling as he held his father’s finger. "Let's wrap this up. Who's up for some ice cream?"

Tsumiki and Megumi exchanged glances, then nodded.

"Fine," Megumi said with a sigh. "But you're paying."

Satoru grinned. "Deal. And hey, thanks for helping out today. It means a lot."

As they left the office, Tsumiki couldn't resist one last tease. "You know, Satoru–san, you should write another letter. Something like, 'Today, I survived my kids reading my love letters. Love, the strongest—and sappiest—sorcerer.'"

Satoru laughed, ruffling her hair. "Maybe I will, Tsumiki. Maybe I will."

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jerzwriter · 2 years

Text

OK to the heartless demons who have asked why the “baby girl” scene in The Last of Us has destroyed me. (I’m being cheeky about heartless demons, but seriously, I’m flummoxed over this.)

This is the first time in Ellie’s life that she has someone who truly loves her. Someone who cares enough to risk their own life, they will gladly kill to protect her. And not because she is the potential golden child who holds the cure to the cordyceps infection, but because they LOVE HER. She means that much to them. They know that being forced to endure life without her would be a torture they’re not willing to accept.

The look in her eyes when David told her she has no father… the pain was palpable (God bless Bella Ramsey). We know she’s terrified of ending up alone. We know that everyone she has ever cared for has left her one way or another. She’s been alone her whole life and it’s the one thing she does not want to be.

She loves Joel, and he is one-hundred percent her father figure, but they’re both so guarded in protection of themselves. The pain and loss each has endured too profound to allow them to be vulnerable. But where Ellie has built an outer-layer to protect herself, Joel has built a fortress and fortified that fucker so no one can get in. We’ve been watching their defenses fall each week, but the last two episodes has shown us just how much they’re willing to do to save the other.

David’s sadistic words and demonic actions have put poor Ellie through living hell. Then she emerges into a cold, unfamiliar wilderness… alone. She’s lost and traumatized. This BADASS girl is as close to broken as we have ever seen her. Then, Joel appears, and until she realizes it is him, she is horrified.

Now, the look in Joel’s eyes (God bless Pedro Pascal). The horror, the pain, the guilt that he couldn’t protect her. Seeing her broken breaks him, but the relief at finding her. The man is overwhelmed, but instead of retreating, he gives in. He holds her, comforts her, he lets the feelings wash over him and she feels SAFE.

“It’s OK, baby girl. I got you.”

She’s loved and protected for the first time in her life. Joel has not uttered the words baby girl, nor experienced that level of affection since he lost Sarah twenty years before. He has surrendered. He loves her. She has surrendered, she’s accepting his love. Then, both wounded in every way, they stumble off to face the unknown together.

HOW ISN’T EVERYONE IN THE FETAL POSITION BAWLING? I should have had my therapist on speed dial.

#the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller #ellie williams #joel and ellie #joel and sarah #episode 8 #i am shooketh #pedro pascal #bella ramsey

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jeankluv · 7 months

Text

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

🪷 Gojo Satoru

Short txt

Gojo your new hope

Ice skater reader & hockey player Gojo

Dad Gojo

Sugar baby Gojo

Reincarnation

One Shots

Happy Birthday my love

Dancing in the moon [nsfw]

╰┈➤ ❝ You were the crown princess of the kingdom and he was your knight. What would you do with those feelings you both had.❞

tags: angst, royalty, fluff, +18, smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f), no use of y/n, character death no happy ending

Let me be the strong one

The prophecy

╰┈➤ ❝ Gojo Satoru knew he was the strongest, he perfectly knew. But that didn’t mean he didn’t cry and that night while everyone still preparing to fight Sukuna, he cried. He cried because he felt completely alone and only seen as a weapon. ❞

tags: angst, canon universe, manga spoilers, Gojo centric, lyrics, fluff, mutual feeling, no use of y/n, Gojo thinks reader hates him, open up for a second part.

Sweet boy [nsfw]

╰┈➤ ❝ You refused to spend your 33rd birthday alone after having been divorced for 4 months and who would have told you that going to a bar to spend your 33rd birthday would make you meet an attractive 25-year-old young man? ❞

tags: p in the v, older woman x younger man, sub Gojo, sugar baby Gojo, sugar mommy reader, smut, oral sex (f), ridding, age difference

You are my dad - Gojo & Megumi

╰┈➤ ❝ Megumi finally finds the courage to tell Gojo how he views him❞

tags: canon fix it, spoilers chapter 268, Megumi centric & pov, dadjo, Gojo and Megumi father-son dynamic, angst a bit, happy ending, everyone lives

loml

╰┈➤ ❝ You read the last letter Satoru left behind, where he expressed all his love and the wishes he had.❞

tags: heavy angst, character death, manga spoilers, canon universe, no happy ending

Series

Birdie

╰┈➤ ❝ While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths.

Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you. ❞

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

status: on going

But daddy I love him [nsfw] (mini serie)

╰┈➤ ❝ If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair. ❞

tags: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n.

status: completed

🐉 Geto Suguru

One shots

I love you, it’s ruining my life

╰┈➤ ❝ You stood besides Geto for over a decade but despite loving him so much, it was ruining your life. ❞

Series

The forgotten boy

╰┈➤ ❝ He made a deal with the devil, over 1,000 years ago. Just for the sake of his loved ones but the deal came with a condition. Everyone he met from that moment on, would forget about his existence within minutes, and will be like that for the rest of the eternity

Like that Geto Suguru lived for 1,000 years, being forgotten by everyone he met, not being remembered by anyone and being alone.

"You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”❞

tags: angst, fluff, fantasy au, different lifetimes, dual pov, use of y/n, fem!character, modern settings but also past settings, eventual smut, destiny, characters death (in the flashbacks), blood [more tags in the future]

🎀 Iori Utahime

One shots

I told you so [nsfw]

╰┈➤ ❝ You and Utahime had a fleeting love affair when you were young, but tired of Utahime not being brave enough to admit your love or show it in public, you decided to leave. 10 years later you meet again and seeing her again only confirms that you are still in love with her. ❞

tags: +18, angst, explicit smut content, oral sex, scissoring, mentions of gojohime(?), mentions of arranged marriages, mentions of satosugu, happy ending, no use of y/n, all characters are in their late 20s early 30s

A fairy song [nsfw]

╰┈➤ ❝ On one of your hunting days, a melodious voice guides you through the forest until you come across the beautiful presence of a fairy with big hazel eyes and black hair. ❞

tags: +18, angst, injuries, Utahime is a fairy, reader is a human, scars, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut, oral sex (f), cuddles, nipple play

🐯🐶Itafushi

When the cherry blossoms bloom

╰┈➤ ❝ Tsumiki once told Megumi that if he was able to catch a cherry blossom petal he could make a wish and it would come true.

“Please wake up Itadori…” He said against his closed fist. “Come back to me…” ❞

tags: Megumi centric fic, fluff Itafushi, post canon, canon fix, manga spoilers, Gojo-Megumi father son duo, everyone lives (except tsumiki I’m so sorry princess), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, two teens starting to fall in love with each other

#materialist #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x reader

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space-matt · 14 days

Text

Against time

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: many moments, laughter and 'I love you,' but is time on their side?

request: no

author’s note: hello there! I got the inspiration while listening to the song mentioned in the story, I hope you can appreciate it :)

tell me what you think!♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

The city of Los Angeles sprawled out before us, its lights shimmering like a sea of stars dancing on the rain-soaked streets, casting an otherworldly glow.

It was Friday night, and the traffic moved at a snail's pace as I gazed out the window, enveloped in my own thoughts.

Chris was at the wheel, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, his expression grave. Despite his serious demeanor, I could sense the underlying concern in his eyes. We had been inseparable over the past year, but something had changed in recent months.

The easy laughter had disappeared, our late-night phone calls had dwindled, and the deep, meaningful conversations under the starlit sky seemed like a distant memory. Now, everything felt uncertain.

The tender melody of "Time is Not On Our Side" by The Vamps filled the room, its bittersweet notes weaving through the air.

As the lyrics washed over me, a profound sense of melancholy settled in my chest. It felt as though the song was speaking directly to the fleeting nature of my relationship with Chris.

Time was slipping through our fingers, and I couldn't shake the feeling of irretrievable loss.

"Chris," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. He tore his gaze from the road, his expression etched with concern as he looked at me.

"What's the matter?" he inquired, his voice gently carrying a hint of weariness.

I hesitated, the weight of my unspoken thoughts pressing down on me. After a moment, I mustered the courage to voice the question that had been haunting me for weeks. "Do you ever get the sense that we're running out of time?"

Chris gazed at you, his expression heavy with emotion. "Yeah" he murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "I feel it every single day."

His words landed like a blow, confirming that the feeling wasn't just in your mind. He was experiencing it too.

"I always imagined we'd have more time" Chris confessed, his voice steady but weighted with feeling.

"More time to savor life, to discover new things, to navigate our path. But time keeps slipping away from us."

His words resonated deeply, echoing the truth you both struggled to confront. The whirlwind of obligations and responsibilities had taken its toll, gradually driving a wedge between you, even when you were physically together.

"Remember our time in Boston?" Chris interjected, breaking the heavy silence that enveloped you. "It was winter, bitterly cold outside. We cocooned ourselves under the covers for hours, losing ourselves in movies as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist."

You nodded, a wistful smile dancing on your lips. It was a treasured memory, a time when everything seemed to align perfectly. Time stood still, and you were simply two souls in love, unencumbered by worries or doubts.

But now? It felt like a distant dream.

"I don't know what changed" Chris confessed, his voice quivering with emotion. "But I miss that time. I miss you."

His words pierced through your heart. You longed to express the same sentiment, to convey how much you missed him even when he was right there beside you.

Yet, the words seemed to choke in your throat. There was an ocean of unspoken feelings between the two of you, and time never seemed sufficient to confront them.

"I don't want to lose you" Chris interjected suddenly, his tone tinged with urgency. "I can't fathom my life without you, but..."

"But what?" you murmured, anxiety quickening your heartbeat.

"But time isn't on our side." He turned to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with anguish. "We're being pulled in different directions by so many things, and it seems that every time we attempt to mend things, something else drives us apart."

The myriad of emotions reflecting in his eyes left you feeling overwhelmed, as if the world was crumbling around you, and all your opportunities were slipping away with the passage of uncontrollable time.

"What do you want to do?" Chris questioned, his voice tinged with desperation.

You were at a loss for words. Undoubtedly, you loved him. However, love no longer seemed to be enough. The burden of time, the weight of expectations, and the harsh truth that life waits for no one all crowded your thoughts.

"I don't know" you finally confessed, the strain evident in your voice. "I don't want to lose you either, but it feels like we're helpless against all of this. Time... it's slipping through our fingers, and I don't know how to halt it."

Chris peered out of the window, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “There’s a part of me that just wants to escape from all of this, to abandon everything with you and leave the world behind. But I know we can’t do that.”

The notion of running away together and starting anew, leaving everything behind, had always lingered in the depths of your minds. However, both of you understood that it was merely a figment of imagination. Reality was far more intricate.

You let out a deep sigh and locked eyes with him. "Do you think there’s still a chance for us?"

Chris didn’t respond immediately. A prolonged silence enveloped the room, interrupted only by the gentle melody playing in the background.

Eventually, he turned to you, and in his eyes, there was a glimmer of something that had been absent for a while. "Yes" he murmured softly. "But we both have to desire it. We have to figure out a way to halt time—or at least not let it govern us."

Those words, despite their simplicity, ignited a faint glimmer of hope within you. Perhaps not all was lost. Maybe, if both of you truly exerted effort, you could salvage what you once had. Maybe you could still defy time, at least for the two of you.

"If we both believe in it, we can make it" you responded, clasping his hand.

Chris nodded, and even though you were aware that the path ahead would be arduous, in that moment, with your intertwined hands and the world outside continuing its motion, you sensed that, at least for now, time was finally on your side.

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

Taglist: @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @bernardsbendystraws @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @ivysturnss @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @c00ch13destroyer

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #space matt #ff #fluff #driving #car #los angeles #love story #Spotify

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corrodedbisexual · 3 months

Text

Helping hands (& nails)

Steddie | T | ~5.3k | AO3 link

Written for @steddie-week Day 2: hands

Featuring: Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Homoerotic Wound Care, Flirting, First Kiss, Inexperienced Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Confident Bisexual Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, POV Steve Harrington

“You literally want me to scratch your back.” Steve groans. “Yes. Definitely, do that. Please.” “Hmm, I love it when they beg.” Steve freezes, speechless for a second. His face suddenly feels several degrees warmer. “Oh my god, shit, sorry, that was—” Eddie begins mumbling awkwardly, moving away, and Steve won’t have it. “Dude, you mind not flirting with me while I’m suffering here?”

It’s a little over a week since Vecna got defeated, and Steve’s got an uninvited guest at his house.

Uninvited is not the same as unwelcome, obviously. Frankly, Steve’s glad to have some company. Really glad. Although technically, Eddie Munson is still supposed to be on bed rest.

Doctor’s orders were two weeks; the demobats got the guy pretty roughed up, taking several juicy bites out of his torso before they all went down along with their master. He got patched up pretty quickly, but his overall weakened state from massive blood loss, the doctors’ concerns of infection and possible Upside Down creature-related consequences, and that annoying little matter of clearing him of the ridiculous murder charges all kept Eddie on a government-sealed floor of the hospital for a whole week, with no visitors allowed.

It’s no wonder that when he was finally discharged to go home, he lasted three whole days before showing up on Steve’s doorstep, unceremoniously inviting himself in and complaining about being so bored he was about to start clawing at the walls of his bedroom.

And, well… It’s Steve’s day off anyway, and his entire planned entertainment for the day was a potential lunch phone call from Robin to gossip and complain about how impossible Kieth is to survive a shift with.

Plus, at least it’s better if Eddie hangs out at his place instead of going out somewhere and doing something stupid that would get him to pop his stitches. Like climbing a tree. Steve hasn’t known Eddie for long, but in a way, he’s known enough to suspect something like that might happen.

But the best part is, Eddie Munson turns out to be really good company. For the first few minutes after the guy arrived, Steve’s a bit worried it would be quiet and awkward; after all, what did they have in common besides the whole Upside Down trauma (definitely not a fun conversation topic)? But the idea that it could be quiet with Eddie around turns out to be absolutely laughable. The guy keeps chatting about anything and everything, from how annoying it is to keep track of all the meds he’s supposed to take to random gossip from the trailer park. He’s vibrant and chaotic, and has a dry deadpan sense of humor that Steve finds himself genuinely laughing at; and pretty soon, he starts wondering if him and Eddie could actually be friends back in high school if the whole ridiculous system of social circles didn’t exist.

Halfway through some other half-finished thought, Eddie suddenly asks, “You hungry? I’m kinda starving, Wayne’s getting groceries tonight and the only option I had for breakfast was, I shit you not, a fucking box of Honeycombs, and honestly? I’d rather eat a demobat. Well, if it was cooked, maybe. Hey, d’you think roasted demobats could be a thing?”

He keeps rambling as he walks, with Steve trailing behind him, grinning and shaking his head because… well, damn. This guy sure is something else. Maybe exactly the kinda something Steve didn’t even know he needed in his life. Honestly, he’d probably say the same thing about Robin last year. Is this some profound universal balance thing? Out of something horrible must come something really good?

Read on AO3 | Divider credit

#steddieweek2024 #steddie #steddie fic #fanfic #misha-bawlins fanfic

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lxmelle · 2 months

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Geto Complex / Suguru Complex

Reposting from my Twt 😅 I need to stop blabbing in different places.

Out of the numerous things Gojo could have developed a complex about (like almost dying, feeling alienated/sheltered, etc.), it was that he “couldn’t stop” Geto from defecting.

This is interesting. He did not blame Geto or anyone / anything else. We know he was a “resigned person” who could accept things rationally / objectively, but Geto’s defection really hit him harder than anything ever did in his entire life.

While he could accept his departure & even the necessity of his death, Gojo carried this relationship in the pocket of his heart like the one & only treasured photograph within a precious locket. Geto’s pain was his own. He guarded it very, very well. In fact I’d even call him a bit of a guard dog where he just didn’t let anyone into that space. At all.

This is also why I respect him as a teacher. Some lines you just don’t cross professionally. His students were his students. The relationship chart thankfully depicts that too. It doesn’t cheapen the quality of their student-mentor relationship: it strengthens it. Gojo would never lay his hands on the youth that he was determined to protect, after all.

He took onboard a lot from Geto. These boundaries and respect were birthed from the things he experienced with Geto. But! Some things were just natural to Gojo.

As much as he said he hated righteousness and the expectations that came along with the burden of “the strong” - Gojo actually practice it. From a young age, going on missions and doing what was loosely expected of him, within the parameters of the jujutsu tradition. He just… didn’t imbue it with too much emotion - because, again, Geto was the subjective (compassionate and emotional / philosophical) type and Gojo was the objective (rational and pragmatic / straightforward) type.

It seems aligned with his character shown in HI where Gojo took on the “blame” when things went wrong too, shielding Geto when he apologised & made plans to proceed with their mission (this is how they balanced each other out when their relationship was healthy) - staying focused and generally being reliable, dependable, and offering an aura of security to Geto.

The subtle undercurrent that likely facilitated the Geto complex was that, young Gojo had this attitude where he also readily accepted that “things are just mine if I want”. He was powerful. Never experienced insecurity or poverty. He was a genius. He never had close relationships, so he never knew loss. He never particularly wanted anything and people came and went easily. Nobody really mattered.

But nobody could hold a candle to Geto Suguru. Gojo didn’t realise that there were some things that he needed to look after.

So with this attitude he didn’t imagine he needed to treasure Geto after enlightening, so I think he realised that too late. He didn’t realise he was thinking arrogantly. He just had no idea he took anything for granted. He was born to just be strong. Everyone treated him that way.

Except: Geto Suguru.

That’s why he had a Geto complex... he blamed himself (like always) but it was a painful lesson he experienced for the first time -

To want something he cannot have.

To want to save someone who didn’t want to be saved.

To want to be with someone who didn’t want him to come along.

To love someone who did not want to be loved.

To learn something only for it to be too late.

To be strong, yet, not strong enough.

So what else could Gojo Satoru do with his love, but to love and respect Geto from afar, living in a way that would make Geto proud…

Isn’t that profound?

To let someone change you so much because that is all that is left of them- so he treasured him like that...

And perhaps, also important, is that Gojo recognised that what he had received (and was receiving even when being left behind) was love.

So, really… the pure love between them was also undeniably shared.

If Gojo had a Geto complex, I’m certain Geto had a Gojo complex of some kind where he never forgave himself, wore the kesa with his best friend’s name on it & brainwashed himself with “love to the strong” & “weak & foolish deserve to be punished by death” (these were the wall scrolls in jjk 0).

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boobi-boy · 2 months

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HOT TAKE. As a society, we are conditioned to hate final seasons. This is fair. We were all betrayed by Game of Thrones and Supernatural and whatnot. As someone who has never watched these (I have only heard generalised complaints about them), let me (drunkenly) yap about the Umbrella Academy s4.

I'm gonna try and keep this vaguely organised.

Luther

I was an adamant Luther hater back in season one and two, I will admit, meeting his actor at Comic Con in 2021 did colour my opinion a little bit, but I loved him in season three. I mean, his romance with Sloane always felt a little rushed to me, but it was certainly sweet, and their wedding was a nice tie in to the "we only see each other at weddings and funerals" thing.

Pros;

In season four, I loved him. He's optimistic about life and goes to great lengths to brighten the moods of people around him, which is the kind of person he lacked all his life. He's being the person he always needed and I love that for him.

The implication that he's pushing aside his festering feelings of dissatisfaction for his life to be there for other people is so moving, and also I love those moments where him and Allison get to just be normal siblings, showing that he's moved on from that toxic era of his life.

His fight scenes are epic and he's all round a good character this season. I understand people's disdain for being sidelined, along with his grief for Sloane, but there are a certain two factors that should be taken into consideration here. The first being that, by s4e1, its been six years since he lost her. He has probably processed that grief and moved on by now, despite how profound the loss. Obviously he still thinks about her, which is why he occasionally brings her up, but it's been a long time. Additionally, he's semi-sidelined because his character arc was pretty well rounded by the end of s3. He's moved on from Allison and was on a trajectory for a healthier life. Its tragic that he lost Sloane, but good that he continued trying to be happy.

Cons;

I do wish his relationship with Ben had been more developed this season. To me, I think the implication is that he's hanging on to Sparrow Ben as a brother (in-law) because he's the closest remaining connection to the Sparrow Academy, therefore Sloane.

Why is he living in the decrepit Sparrow Academy house? Why? Literally why??? This needed more explanation.

Diego

My mother hates him. I lowkey love him. In season two, his character plus his saviour complex was explored so fucking well. I loved him then. I think his character in season three is a decent testament to how boring 'settling down' can be.

Pros;

He reacts very well to everything that happens. That's the best way I could explain it. The realisation that sometimes life is just normal. Its a sweet plotline and I enjoyed it

I loved his relationship with Luther, his visit to the CIA and the fun approach to his power this season.

His final words to Lila, that he knew she didn't mean to hurt him, were so mature and a brilliant way of rounding off his character with a sense of satisfaction and finality. I loved it so much. In that moment, before everything, he was her husband, and that was beautiful.

Cons;

I have very few. I think his depiction as a mailman is silly. I just wish it had been a different job.

Also I wish he'd spoken more Punjabi because I'm pretty sure (correct me if I'm wrong) he learnt that to converse with Lila and her family in their native language, despite Lila's family speaking English.

Why was he immature enough to fight with Five over his wife when the literal world was ending? Not very consistent with his character development but I still liked that scene. Honestly, that was obviously written in as a segue to Five going back to the subway so I guess it did have to be there it just felt a bit weird.

Allison

Oh dear God. Allison Hargreeves, what happened to you? I loved her so much in seasons one and two. Season three Allison ruined everything ever forever. Not through bad writing. Through very good and despicably devastating writing. She has lost so much and she coped with it so badly that she altered all of time to avoid her grief. The evillest girlboss of all time.

Pros;

CLAIRE! Claire Bear. I love you. Thank you season four for giving us Claire and Claire/Allison bonding time.

Also the fact that she's coping with her being a terrible human being by babysitting Klaus for five years (which she is obviously very spiteful about) is very well written.

I like the return of Allison badassery when she shows up and literally busts a man's balls.

I like how she ends the show being physically vulnerable and now Klaus is taking care of her now. That was cute.

Also I love that she's being held accountable for her actions and it makes her a slightly better person! That was fun.

I like that we learn that without her power she was a B-list actor at best.

Cons;

What the fuck were her powers this season? I know they got janky marigold but why is she literally just telekinetic now????

Why didn't they tell us why Ray walked out? She literally altered time to get him back. Like, I know Allison has fucked up every relationship she's ever had but PLEASE tell us what happened.

Also fuck you for what you did to Klaus.

Klaus.

Oh, Klaus Hargreeves, the man that you were. Season one. TRAGIC. I loved it. Season two, the exact same commentary. Season three, I loved him so much, he keeps being my FAVOURITE and also the idea that the drugs and trauma thwarted the full potential of his powers, but the drugs was the only thing that could keep him sane because of his trauma and his powers was so cool. Well done for beginning to overcome your rampant daddy issues Klaus. Season four. He is still my favourite.

Pros;

Having him sell his body in the weirdest way possible was amazing. I love to see it.

The moment between him and Claire where she knew exactly what was happening and he just repeats 'it's too late' and swears at her. Beautifully devastating.

Him getting buried alive was so fucking fitting I can't properly explain it I just love it.

His final line, and the third-to-final line of dialogue in the whole shows being 'I just wanna say, I love you guys, but you're all assholes' sums up perfectly. And it just had to be him that said that. He can never escape his nihilism and I love him for it. Its who he is.

Learning that the 'real' Klaus is a total germophobe was fun.

Cons;

Give my man more screen time. I beg. I am on my knees begging. Please Mr Blackman. Please Mr Way. Give the love of my life more screen time.

I wish Dave had been mentioned once or twice. Dave is forever a part of Klaus. Why didn't he try to contact him when he got his powers back? Why has he forgotten him? If Luther gets a Sloane mention then Klaus should have gotten a Dave mention. I guess Netflix hates the queers unless they're from Heartstopper (/j)

Five

Five is my mother's favourite and she was vomming this season because of you-know-what. The poor woman. She still loves him though, So did I. Five defines The Umbrella Academy. He spent two seasons wearing the uniform, he got the first f-bomb, he was responsible for SO much exposition. All in all, he is quintessential to the aesthetic, plot, and entire existence of the series. Did season four give him justice?

Pros;

I love Five being a CIA agent. This is so him.

Jerome is a funny name for him.

He doesn't ever stop being himself and I love that.

I like how blunt he is about the fact they all have to end their existence. He understands existentialism and his place in the universe more than his siblings (and most people ever) can fathom. It had to be him to deliver that news and he does it so well.

Cons;

The elephant in the room. Him and Lila. I see it. I see the vision. Yes. If two people spend seven years with only each other for company, suspended in time, they will probably develop a romantic relationship. That doesn't make me like it. It is in character for him to lie to Lila (or withhold information from her)about knowing the way home. I just hated every second of it. I thought they were going to steer clear of Five romantic relationships because of how weird his ageing is. He's mentally more than twenty years older than Lila and physically more than ten years younger than her. It is gross. I hate it. It was a reasonable plot choice Honestly, their relationship remaining strictly platonic would have been less realistic than what happened but when has this show ever been realistic? I will say, it makes sense for Five to revert to old coping mechanisms (I am referring to Delores) in a time like this, it's just that this time he had a real person to enact them with. In times of utter distress, Five is a romanticist, so at least his character is consistent.

Why didn't they let him wear a suit that fits him? That was not nice.

Ben

Sparrow Ben is a sexy cunt. I love how much of a knob he is. All the time. This season was a slay for him. We heart assimilation allegories for love and obsession.

Pros;

I repeat - I love the assimilation metaphor. He didn't get to go with grace. I've seen people criticising that he got no meaningful death scene but that's the point. His meaningful death was stolen from him because of his unhealthy obsession with Jennifer and how deeply in love with her he was. It's a commentary of how toxic and co-dependant relationships will destroy a person. I love it.

I love the scene where him and Jennifer are sat either side of the wall watching the same movie. That was so fucking cute.

Cons;

The CGI for his powers was shit. He looked like the squid version of She-Hulk.

Why have the Umbrellas just adopted him into his family? That was weird.

Victor

I have always loved him. Best trans representation I've ever seen. Autism coded. The amount of times I said 'His powers are just autism sensory overload' or 'his powers are just anger issues' has probably burned the phrase into my mother's mind.

Pros;

I like that he was a manwhore in Canada.

I love him having control over his powers this season. We support self control my man.

I love how adamant he is to save Ben. All this man has ever wanted was to save someone. And he never could. So he sacrificed himself to save the world.

Cons;

I was not here for the fit this season. The boots. The jean jacket. Not a serve. I am sorry.

He was kinda cringe and irrelevant this season I'm not gonna lie.

Lila

Thank you Lila for being what I picture when I hear Golden Brown. It makes me happy.

Pros;

A devoted mother. We love her. I also love that her character involves her children but she's more than that. But she still sacrifices everything for them. "Make sure to read to Gracie every night! And don't let the twins fight!" absolutely destroyed me.

I don't know what it is but her fit ate this season.

Her final words being 'Fuck you!' was fun.

Cons;

Her 'LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME' personality got annoying after about four episodes. Not even in s4, just in general.

I wish her backstory had been more addressed this season. It was just completely ignored. Sad.

The Plot.

Pros;

If this show is anything, it is self aware. It makes fun of itself for just doing the apocalypse four times. I love it.

The tragic ending. Too many shows have happy endings these days. I need my bittersweet tragedy and the Umbrella Academy delivered. It actually made me bawl because these characters meant so fucking much to me.

I always said that Klaus's story couldn't end without him dying. I also felt like Five dying would work. Now I think that if one of them goes, they all have to. They were born at the same time and they died that way too. It explains WHY they keep ending the world. Their very existence is apocalyptic. They are a collective incarnation of the apocalypse and that just rounds off the show in such a meaningful way.

I know people hate the 'one true timeline' thing and the 'they all die' thing and feel like its a copout, but its so beautiful to me. They were the problem the whole time. They can't just find some creative and resourceful way out of it this time. This is the end. That's WHY the SONG in the TRAILER WAS 'THE END' by My Chemical Romance!!!!!!!!!!!

Cons;

The plot holes like why does Luther getting his powers back give him his monkey body back when the life-saving surgery that he didn't need in this timeline didn't happen???

Along with many other plot holes that have already been pointed out within this post and by other people a million times so I won't go through the tedium of doing what has already been done.

Special mentions!

The Gene & Jean dance scene! The show knew they couldn't get away with making the Umbrellas dance again but they needed an obligatory Umbrella Academy dance scene and they ATE IT UP.

The song they danced to was also a banger, which segues nicely into my next mention which is the SOUNDTRACK. It SLAPS. Muse! Bloodhound Gang! Cher! ALL IN ONE SHOW. The Umbrella Academy's soundtrack has always been amazing and season four is not any different.

The closing line "On the eighth of august 2024" etc. DESTROYED ME.

THE USE OF 'I THINK WE'RE ALONE NOW' KILLED ME.

THE POST CREDITS WITH THE MARIGOLD FLOWERS AAAAGHHH.

ALL THE SIDE CHARACTERS UGH.

Also, the production photos from across the years in the credits. I loved them so fucking much.

They kept handling Victor's trans storyline well, not pretending he was never a girl and including him in flashbacks. Idk I liked it.

Diego naming his daughter after his mother is so sweet.

Random criticism though - the casting for the teen versions of the Umbrellas was ATROCIOUS. Klaus somehow looked five years old and in his mid forties at the same time.

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mopopshop · 3 months

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ooh can i request stewie being with reader since her freshman year at uconn and stewie finally proposing like year two as a pro

Be Mine? (Breanna Stewart x OC)

Not very dialogue heavy but i kinda ate the proposal speech 😝🤞🏾

———

You remember the first time you saw her on campus at UConn. Stewie, was a force on the court and quickly became one of the most talked-about freshmen in college basketball. But to you, she was just Breanna, the girl who stole your heart with her shy gummy smile.

From late-night study sessions to cheering her on from the stands, your college years together were filled with memories you’d cherish forever. You watched as she grew, not just as a player, but as a person. Each victory, every milestone, you were there by her side, sharing in the triumphs and comforting her through the losses.

After graduation, as Breanna embarked on her journey in the WNBA, you supported her unconditionally, despite the challenges of a long-distance relationship.

“Fuck, I miss you so much, babe” she’d say during your nightly phone calls. “I wish you were here with me.”

“I miss you too, but you gotta keep working at this, okay?” you’d assure her. “We’ll see each other soon.”

The nights you spent apart only made your reunions sweeter, and each visit to see her play was a reminder of how far she had come.

Two years into her professional career, Breanna had established herself as one of the league’s brightest stars. You had moved to be closer to her, finding a job that allowed you to be near the love of your life. The transition was difficult at times, but being with Breanna made everything worth it.

One evening, after winning one of the biggest games in her career, Breanna suggested a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant, instead of celebrating with her team.

You didn’t think much of it, considering it was a place you frequented often. But there was something in her eyes that night, a mix of excitement that you couldn’t quite place.

“You seem different tonight,” you teased as you sipped your wine. “You okay babe?”

She laughed, a bit nervously. “Maybe. I just… I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“Oh? About what?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“About us. About our future,” she says, taking a deep breath and grabbing your hand. “Laila, from the moment I first saw you on campus, I knew there was something special about you. You’ve been with me through every high and low, every victory and defeat. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst, and through it all, you’ve loved me unconditionally.”

She pauses, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “When I think about everything we’ve been through—the late-night study sessions, the endless practices, the long-distance calls—I realize that you’ve always been my anchor, my constant. Your support has given me strength and your love has given me purpose.”

Breanna takes another deep breath, her grip on your hand tightening. “Laila, you are my rock, my best friend, and my soulmate. I can’t imagine my life without you. Every moment we’ve shared has brought us to this point, and I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box, opening it to reveal a stunning ring that sparkles in the candlelight. “Laila… will you marry me?”

Tears fill your eyes as you take in the sincerity and love in her expression. Overwhelmed with emotion, you nod, whispering, “Holy shit yes, Bre. A thousand times, yes.”

As she slips the ring onto your finger, you feel a profound sense of joy and certainty. The entire restaurant fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. You lean in for a tender kiss, knowing that everything will be okay with Breanna by your side.

———

#women’s basketball #ncaa #ncaa women’s basketball #wnba #wlw #uconn wbb #breanna stewart #new york liberty #breanna stewart blurb

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cheynovak · 1 month

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The Road to Clarity - part 2

Summary: Y/N is a photographer, loving her job in New York. During a shoot she worked with her now boyfriend, Tom. They soon started dating. Now three years later her life takes a turn and when she flies out to Texas, she meets Jensen, a rancher with a teenage daughter Samantha.

Warnings: English is not my first language

Words: 3800

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

The next morning, Y/N returned to her usual spot at the café, ready to dive into editing the photos she had taken at the event. She set up her laptop at a cozy corner table, the soft hum of the café providing a comforting backdrop as she reviewed the images. Jensen’s pictures were her focus, and she couldn’t help but smile at the moments she had captured—particularly the ones where he was laughing and enjoying the day.

As she worked, Tessa, the café owner, brought over a fresh cup of coffee. She placed it on Y/N’s table with a warm smile. “Thought you might need a refill,” Tessa said cheerfully.

“Thanks, Tessa,” Y/N replied, looking up and taking a grateful sip. “It’s just what I needed.”

Tessa’s gaze drifted to the photos on Y/N’s screen, and she raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in her voice. “That’s quite a handsome bachelor you’ve got there in your photos. Caught my eye, that one.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Bachelor? I thought he was married. Samantha mentioned her mom in passing, and I just assumed…” Tessa’s expression grew more somber as she leaned against the counter. “Well, that’s where the story gets a bit tragic. Jensen isn’t actually married. He lost his wife a long time ago.”

Y/N looked up, her interest piqued. “I had no idea. What happened?”

Tessa sighed, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sympathy and sadness. “It was a cold winter night, several years ago. Jensen’s wife, Jennifer, was a city girl who moved to Texas after graduation. She and Jensen were the talk of the town—everyone admired them, looked up to them. They seemed to have everything.”

She paused, taking a breath as if gathering her thoughts. “One night, they had a fight. No one knows exactly what it was about. But it was a terrible storm that night. Jennifer left the house, and in the middle of the storm, she lost control of her car and hit a tree. She didn’t survive.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the tragic story. “That must have been incredibly hard for them.” Tessa nodded, her expression full of empathy. “Jensen has blamed himself ever since. He was devastated, and it was a long time before anyone saw him smile again. He’s never dated anyone since then. He’s just been focused on his work and raising Samantha, she was only 5 years old at the time.”

Y/N absorbed the weight of Tessa’s words, feeling a deep sense of understanding and sadness for Jensen. It was clear that his loss had left a profound mark on him, shaping the way he lived his life since then.

“It’s understandable,” Y/N said softly, more to herself than to Tessa. “I can see why he might keep to himself after something like that.”

Tessa gave a sympathetic smile. “He’s a good man, and he’s done his best for Samantha. It’s just that people around here know him as the man who lost his way but never lost his heart.”

Y/N thought about the warmth and charm Jensen had shown at the event, the way he interacted with everyone despite his apparent pain. It made her appreciate him even more, seeing the depth of his character and the strength it must have taken to carry on after such a devastating loss.

“Thank you for telling me,” Y/N said, looking back at the photos. “It makes the smile in the pictures speak even more.” Tessa nodded, “That it does.”

Y/N strolled through the town square, her thoughts still lingering on the photos she’d been editing. The square was bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, the gentle hustle and bustle of the town creating a pleasant, comforting atmosphere. She was lost in her own reflections when she spotted Jensen jogging toward her, his tall frame moving with a purposeful stride.

As he reached her, he took off his cowboy hat, running a hand through his light brown hair with a nervous gesture. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight tension in his posture, an unfamiliar nervousness that seemed at odds with the confident, easygoing man she had seen at the fairground.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jensen said, his voice a bit hesitant. “I was hoping I could ask you for a favour.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curious. “Sure, what’s up?

Jensen took a deep breath, his eyes shifting between her and the ground. “Well, Samantha’s birthday is coming up next week, and she’s been talking a lot about wanting to be more fashionable. She’s mentioned wanting jewelry, but I have no idea where to start. I was hoping you could help me with shopping for something she’d really like.”

Y/N was taken aback by the request, surprised that Jensen was reaching out for help with something so personal. “Me? Help with shopping for Samantha’s birthday gift?”

“Yeah,” Jensen said, looking a bit relieved that she wasn’t outright rejecting the idea. “I know it sounds strange, but she’s been talking about it non-stop, and I want to get her something she’ll actually like. I just want it to be something cool and meaningful for her. I figured you’d be the perfect person to help me pick something out.”

Y/N nodded slowly, still processing the unexpected request. “Okay, I can help with that. I’m guessing she’s been talking about jewellery?”

Jensen nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, she’s always going on about not having any jewelry. She’s mentioned wanting to start a collection, but I think she’d be thrilled with just one nice piece. Something that she’d think is really special.”

Y/N smiled, touched by the thoughtfulness of Jensen’s request. “I’d be happy to help. It sounds like a great idea. Do you have any particular type of jewellery in mind, or are you open to suggestions?”

“I’m open to anything,” Jensen admitted, looking both grateful and slightly overwhelmed. “I just want it to be something that makes her happy. If you have any ideas or if you know what’s trending, that would be really helpful.”

Y/N nodded, feeling more confident about the task now that she had a clearer idea of what Jensen was looking for. “Alright, let’s plan a time to go shopping. I’m sure we can find something that fits her style and that she’ll love.”

Jensen’s face lit up with relief and gratitude. “Thank you so much, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Samantha means the world to me, and I want to make her birthday special.”

Y/N and Jensen strolled through the bustling mall, the air filled with the hum of activity and the scent of coffee and shopping bags. Despite the lively atmosphere, Jensen seemed noticeably out of his element, his usually confident demeanour replaced by a mix of nervousness and determination. As they passed through stores, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the glances from women around the mall who seemed to take a second look at Jensen. He, however, seemed completely oblivious to the attention.

They made their way into a jewellery store, and Jensen’s unease became more apparent as he surveyed the vast array of options. His brow furrowed slightly, and he wiped his forehead as if trying to keep his composure. Y/N could tell he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices.

Jensen picked up a delicate necklace with a small bumblebee pendant, holding it up for Y/N to see. “What do you think of this one?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Y/N examined the necklace, admiring its unique charm. “It’s cute, but does Samantha like bumblebees or has she mentioned anything about them?”

Jensen’s lips curved into a smirk, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Not exactly. She talks about your style a lot. Says she loves how you dress and how you always manage to find cool things. So, I figured if it’s something you might like, she might too.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by his comment. “Me? She’s been talking about my style?”

Jensen nodded, his smirk widening. “Yeah, she’s always going on about how she wants to have the ‘city girl’ vibe or rizz or something.” Y/N felt a rush of warmth at the compliment, a mix of flattery and surprise. “Well, that’s very flattering. I’ll definitely keep that in mind. But Samantha’s style might be different from mine.”

Jensen shrugged, looking a bit more relaxed. Y/N smiled, “Alright, let’s look for something that blends both her interests and style. We want to get her something she’ll love and that will suit her personality.”

They continued to browse through the store, Y/N guiding Jensen through the options and offering suggestions based on what she knew about Samantha’s preferences. Jensen’s nervousness began to fade as he engaged in the process, his focus shifting from his initial anxiety to the task at hand. They talked about various pieces, evaluating them based on their appeal and potential fit with Samantha’s taste.

Eventually, Y/N spotted a beautiful bracelet that seemed to strike the right balance. It was elegant and versatile, with a subtle design that felt both fashionable and timeless. She showed it to Jensen, who looked at it thoughtfully.

“What do you think?” Y/N asked, holding it up for him to see. “This might be a great choice.”

Jensen studied the bracelet, his expression thoughtful. “I think you’re right.

As they stepped out of the jewellery store, Jensen looked visibly relieved and grateful. “Thanks so much for your help, Y/N. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Y/N said with a warm smile. “I’m glad we found something you think Samantha will love.”

Jensen’s face lit up with a friendly grin. “How about we grab a coffee? It’s on me. I owe you for all the help.”

“That sounds great,” Y/N agreed, and they headed back to Tessa’s café.

The familiar comfort of the café was welcoming as they settled into a cozy corner table. Tessa greeted them with a smile and quickly set up a fresh pot of coffee for them. Jensen poured two cups and handed one to Y/N before sitting down across from her.

“So, tell me more about your life back in the Big Apple,” Jensen said, leaning forward with genuine interest. “I’m curious to know what it was like.”

Y/N took a sip of her coffee, reflecting on her past life. “Well, I was a photographer in New York. I had a pretty well-established career, lots of bookings, and a range of different projects. It was a whirlwind of fashion shoots, events, and portraits. I loved it, but it was also a bit overwhelming at times.”

Jensen listened intently, nodding along. “It sounds like you had quite the busy life. And what brought you here? Just a change of scenery?”

Y/N paused, considering how much to share. “Yeah, you could say that. I was in a serious relationship, and things didn’t work out. I needed a break, some time to rethink my life and what I wanted. So, I came here for a change of pace and to clear my head.”

Jensen’s expression softened with empathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. Breakups are never easy.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, managing a small smile. “It was a tough time, but it was also a chance to re-evaluate what really mattered to me.”

Jensen took a sip of his coffee, his green eyes meeting hers with curiosity. “Do you have any kids?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I don’t. With my career being so demanding, I never really thought about starting a family. I was always focused on my work, and it just never felt like the right time.”

Jensen looked thoughtful. “It must have been quite a balancing act. I can imagine how a career like that might make it challenging to think about starting a family.”

“Exactly,” Y/N agreed. “It was always about the next project, the next shoot. I guess I just never made space for that part of my life.”

Jensen nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “It sounds like you were really dedicated to your work. “I get that.” he said looking sad at his cup, Jen used to complain when I got home after dark covered in dirt. Jensen’s gaze softened as he took another sip of coffee, turning the conversation. “I’m glad you found your way here, Sammy likes you.”

Their conversation continued, flowing naturally as they shared stories and experiences. Y/N found herself enjoying Jensen’s company more than she had anticipated. He was thoughtful, engaging, and genuinely interested in her life and experiences.

As they finished their coffee and prepared to leave, Y/N felt a renewed sense of connection with Jensen. The day had been filled with unexpected moments and new insights, and she was grateful for the opportunity to get to know him better.

As Y/N prepared to leave the café, she decided to give Jensen her number. She wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to him with a friendly smile. “No pressure,” she said, “but in case you find yourself in any more girl trouble or just need someone to talk to, feel free to reach out.”

Jensen looked at the number, a grateful smile spreading across his face. “Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that.”

They exchanged a warm goodbye, Tessa walked over to her, “Did I just saw Jensen having a date for the first time in over ten years?” Y/N laughed it off explaining the situation. “Yeah, that man is hooked, that was a date.” she said, turning away before Y/N could protest.

Y/N headed back to her cabin, feeling a pleasant sense of anticipation about the day. As she settled in for the evening, she found herself reflecting on their conversation and the unexpected connection she’d felt.

That evening, as she was unwinding at her rented cabin, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jensen. She opened it and read:

“Thanks again for the afternoon. I’d really like for you to join Samantha’s birthday party next Saturday. It would mean a lot to us if you could come.”

Y/N’s heart warmed at the invitation. It was clear that Jensen valued her presence and appreciated her help. She typed a quick response:

“I’d love to join the party! Thanks for inviting me, Jensen. Looking forward to it.”

Fast forward to the party

The day of Samantha’s birthday party arrived, and Y/N drove to Jensen’s property, excited to see how the celebration would unfold. As she approached, she was struck by the picturesque setting: the party was set up amidst the meadows, with tables and decorations blending seamlessly with the natural beauty of the surroundings. It was a charming and serene location, perfect for a birthday celebration.

Y/N spotted Jensen, who looked as composed and handsome as ever in a crisp shirt and jeans. He was chatting with a few guests, clearly taking on the role of gracious host. Samantha, on the other hand, seemed a bit off. Her smile appeared forced, and she was standing a little apart from the crowd, her eyes scanning the guests with a hint of discomfort.

As soon as Samantha noticed Y/N, her face lit up, and she hurried over, giving her a warm hug. “Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it!”

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Y/N replied, hugging her back. “But you don’t seem too happy. What’s wrong?”

Samantha’s smile faltered slightly. “Well, dad invited a girl from my school who… wasn’t very nice to me. She’s the one who used to bully me for helping out on the ranch. It’s just a bit awkward.”

Y/N’s heart ached for Samantha. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk to him about it?” Samantha shook her head, looking uncertain. “I don’t want to cause a scene, she used to be my friend once a long time ago. I know how much work he put into it, he just doesn’t get me. I just wished he asked my boyfriend instead.”

Y/N gave her a reassuring smile. “Let me see if I can help. Sometimes a distraction is all we need.”

She approached Jensen, who was busy mingling with the guests. “Hey, Jensen,” Y/N said softly, “I think it might be a good time to start handing out the presents. It could help shift the focus away from the awkwardness.”

Jensen looked momentarily puzzled but nodded, catching on. “Sure, that’s a good idea.”

He signaled to the guests, and soon everyone gathered around the table where the gifts were arranged. Jensen took Samantha’s hand and led her to the center, his face beaming with pride.

“Alright, Samantha,” Jensen began, “it’s time for presents. I hope you like them.”

He started by giving her the gift from himself, carefully unwrapping it to reveal the beautiful bracelet. The room fell silent as Samantha’s eyes widened in delight. The bracelet shimmered in the sunlight, a perfect blend of elegance and charm.

Jensen said, glancing over his shoulder at Y/N. “I had a little help picking it out. I hope you love it.” Samantha’s face lit up with genuine joy, and she hugged Jensen tightly. The bully and other guests looked on, and Y/N noticed a few envious glances toward the bracelet. It was clear that the piece was both beautiful and highly coveted.

The mood began to shift as the guests admired the gift, and the focus of the party shifted to the celebration rather than any discomfort. Samantha seemed to relax, her earlier tension melting away as she revelled in the attention and the thoughtful gift.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and night fell, the party took on a magical quality. The yellow string lights that had been hung around the meadow twinkled softly, casting a warm, enchanting glow over the scene. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and the gentle hum of music, creating a cozy, festive ambiance.

Y/N had stayed behind to help with the post-party cleanup and, of course, to capture more memories through her camera lens. She moved gracefully among the guests, snapping photos of candid moments and the beautiful setting. Her camera captured the interplay of light and shadow, the way the evening sky framed the scene in its tranquil embrace.

As she looked around, her eyes were drawn to Jensen and Samantha, who were dancing together in the midst of the yellow lights. They moved with an easy grace, their smiles bright and full of genuine happiness. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how much they seemed to mirror each other in that moment. Their smiles, the way they laughed together, and even the way they held each other—there was a striking resemblance.

As they danced, Jensen looked at Samantha with a deep affection that spoke volumes about their bond. Samantha, in turn, seemed to radiate joy and comfort, her earlier discomfort forgotten. The way Jensen guided her gently across the dance floor was tender and protective, a testament to their close relationship.

Y/N took several photos, capturing the warmth and love between them. The images would later serve as a reminder of this special night and the connection they all shared. She also noticed the subtle ways Samantha must resembled her mother —her smile, the curve of her eyes, and the way she moved with a natural grace. It was clear that despite the years and the challenges, Samantha carried a piece of her mother’s spirit with her.

As the music played on, Y/N felt a deep sense of contentment. The evening had been a success, and she was grateful for the chance to be part of such a meaningful occasion. She watched the dance, feeling a mixture of admiration and fondness for the way Jensen and Samantha had come together in celebration.

As the party continued into the night, Y/N took the opportunity to use her analog camera, capturing the evening in a different, nostalgic way. She carefully adjusted the settings and clicked away, hoping that someday she would get the chance to use the darkroom Samantha’s mother had once used. The thought of developing these photos in that special place added an extra layer of meaning to her work.

Once the last of the guests had departed, Y/N found herself in the kitchen, tidying up and doing the dishes. The kitchen window offered a view of the porch, where Samantha and Jeffrey were sitting together. The sight was heartwarming: Samantha, her cheeks flushed with happiness, leaned close to Jeffrey, her earlier discomfort completely forgotten. They were chatting and laughing, clearly enjoying each other's company as they relaxed in the soft glow of the porch lights.

Jensen walked in behind Y/N, his footsteps soft against the floor. He observed the young couple through the window with a smile. “Inviting Jeffrey was a nice touch,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Y/N turned to him, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, let Samantha think it was your idea. It’ll make her even happier.”

Jensen chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Alright, I’ll let her believe that. She’s had a great time tonight, and seeing her so happy means a lot.”

Y/N continued to wash the dishes, the clinking of plates providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation. “You know, this has been a really special night. It’s clear how much you care about Samantha, and that’s really touching.”

Jensen’s expression softened, and he leaned against the counter, his gaze steady and appreciative. “Thank you for helping us, helping her.”

Y/N looked up, meeting his eyes. There was something tender and sincere in his gaze as he leaned in slightly, his eyes moving between her face and her lips. The atmosphere between them felt charged with a quiet intensity.

Suddenly, a high-pitched laugh broke the moment. They both turned toward the window, where Jeffrey was playfully chasing Samantha through the fields. Samantha’s laughter echoed across the meadow, her joy evident as she darted away from Jeffrey. The scene was lighthearted and filled with warmth, a stark contrast to the intimate moment Y/N and Jensen had been sharing.

When Y/N turned back to Jensen, she found him standing close behind her. His presence was both comforting and magnetic. He leaned in and whispered softly into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “I want to show you something. Follow me.”

-------

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chernabogs · 5 months

Note

ames you are COOKING (or should i say, planting???lol) SO HARD with the flower language prompts, 😭💖💞💖💞✨✨am really out here sobbing and crying over them like im watering these flowers with my Tears lol

so here i am requesting for these prompts: rosemary, begonia, pink camellia, dark crimson rose, purple hyacinth, blue salvia, zinnia

i picked these based on your initial tag about Maleficia and zinnia flower,,,, I SEE THE VISION so im requesting it now lol but also picked on prompts that reminded of Meleanor and Malleus,,, 😭i think therapy bills should be forwarded to Draconias instead, istg all they ever do is be in grief and loss /lh😭

if its too many, please feel free to choose whichever prompt you like and take your time in writing !! ☺️💞🌹✨✨

Ohhh I did my best here I promise LMAOOO. I tied in some easter eggs with other works i've done (namely Monody, Stasis, and Labours Gained). I hope you enjoy my absolute monstrous dump about Maleficia, whom I will die on a hill for tyvm

EMPTY CHAIRS

Inc: Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, Lilia, Malleus (whole gang wow) WC: 4.2k :))) Warnings: Just some death, but I swear it ends on a happy note this time. Flowers: Begonia (How ghosts help the living live a little), Pink Camellia (Where I notice your absence the most), Dark Crimson Rose (The grave I visit everyday), Purple Hyacinth (The worst pain of my whole life and how it healed… multiple times) , Zinnia (The seats at the table and how they eventually became empty… multiple times) Summary: Moments where Maleficia was convinced her family was cursed, and a few times she truly wished this to not be the case.

A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

Their family may be cursed.

For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of such a matter in her mind. It had first passed briefly with the death of her father—the second monarch to take over after the initial uprising—and the subsequent death of her mother a few weeks later. No one was surprised when she went. Her grief for the loss of her love had been so profound that it had flooded Briar Nation, drowning both cattle and crops in her dismay. Maleficia had postponed her own coronation as the cleanup occurred. It felt ill-boding to be crowned while bodies were floating down the mountain pass.

The thought had returned once more when her husband vanished at sea, leaving her with a newborn hatchling on her own. Her love had been a strong headed man with adventure burning in his blood—it had been what drew her to him to begin with. That, and he was the only ex-sailor she knew who was bold enough to try and hold her for ransom. Wiping the deck with him had captured his heart—and the fact that he had been a dragon settled the Senate to a degree. But the sea is a fickle mistress, and although her love had skill and he had drive, even the most knowledgeable of sailors can never predict its next move.

She had not flooded Briar Nation like her mother had, and she had held herself together before her people, although the empty space in her bed and at the dinner table deepened the wound nightly. It was in the quiet moments alone when it was just her and Meleanor that she felt his absence the strongest.

In the beginning she loathed him for leaving her. Whenever she cradled their daughter as the hatchling shrieked and protested, blowing flame, and biting for flesh, she loathed him. Whenever she dealt with the Senate or another disaster befalling the Nation, she loathed him.

But when Meleanor learned to fly, learned to run, and shifted into her two-legged form for the first time, the hatred began to fade. Because although he had vanished into the mists on a voyage destined to fail, he had left her with the greatest treasure she could ever have—and for that alone she could hold no ill will.

Perhaps this sentimentality is why when Meleanor dragged a thin, sickly-looking bat into the halls of Black Scale, Maleficia heard her out.

“Please let him stay!” The princess had asked, green eyes wide as she grasped her mother’s skirts. “Please, mother!”

The other child had shrunk behind Meleanor, but shadows could not hide the burning defiance in the boy's eyes—a gaze of confrontation, and one that nothing truly innocent should hold. This is why she lacked the heart to say no. She quietly hoped that Lilia, as she would name him, would be the one to slay whatever reaper was following them—that the burning anger she had seen would ignite a fire that would cleanse the family of its suffocating misery.

With the presence of Meleanor, Lilia, and eventually Levan, the silent table Maleficia had sat at for so long soon became a place of raucous conversation again. Although she found herself scolding the three children more than once (especially Levan for his non-subtle attempts at discarding food), the lingering warmth she would feel as she gazed at the trio made her confident that this family curse was on the bend.

Naturally, it didn’t last.

The first time she heard of the Silver Owls, Meleanor was 200 years old and more focused on warding off suitors than an unmarked ship. Maleficia had allowed her daughter to indulge by instead consulting with an advisor alone in the dark of her office. The concern lingering in the advisor's words would grow to haunt her.

“Perhaps it is temporary?” She posited, trying her best to remain optimistic on the matter. Plenty of people came and went from Cape Sunrise. A single unmarked ship with a few scraggly sailor’s was not something she felt the need to stress over. The advisor seemed doubtful on the matter.

“But they have tools. Items designed to dig up our soil,” they had insisted, but Maleficia dismissed the concerns with a wave and a blase response.

“Let them try. They will not be able to break the first layer of our land.”

___________________________________

The first one to leave the table had been Levan. There were many soldiers and nobles who vanished before he did but, selfishly, he was the first one that Maleficia really felt the absence of. Levan had grown up from a non-confrontational child to her son-in-law, a general of the princess and a father to the future heir. His compassion had not faded despite the years of war that now tore the Nation apart. Maleficia knew this by the way she came across him one night, cradling his egg so gently while murmuring against its shell.

When he had noticed her, he had not corrected himself; if anything, he held the egg even closer. They had not exchanged too many words that night, but she sat next to him on the bench in the gardens, the silence speaking volume of her support to his decisions.

“You will return.” It was not a question—it was a demand. Her voice held the authority of a queen who had seen many, many losses in her long life. Levan had remained silent for a moment longer as his lips brushed against the shell of her grandson's egg.

“Always,” was the promise he made, and the last words Maleficia heard from him. When they didn’t receive notice for several days after he left, the conclusion was drawn that he was either dead, or the closest one could be to it. Meleanor held herself well in lieu of this information, as had Maleficia.

But the empty seat felt an ill omen.

___________________________________

The next one to leave the table had been Meleanor. When she was younger, she used to rest her head on Maleficia’s lap as her mother had fixed her hair. She would ramble on about her day and what she got up to with the two boys in the nonsensical fashion that many children do. Maleficia had listened with amusement, although her mind had always been half-focused on what she needed to do for her meetings the next day.

The regret of not giving Meleanor her full, undivided attention sunk in deep when she felt her daughter’s magic cut off. The bond in their family was intrinsically woven to allow them to get a sense of whether the other members were still alive. If asked, Maleficia might say it’s something of a dragon trait. Most of the time it served to be a blessing to allow her to know her family is alive and well.

When it cut off mid-emergency meeting, the abruptness had been so profound that she nearly collapsed then and there. Her breath had hitched, her words stuttering to a stop as she stared wide-eyed at the Senate members surrounding her. At first, she hoped it was simply a fluke—a disruption in the magic—until she didn’t feel it return and the horrible, tar-like panic of a mother when her child goes missing welled up in her heart. She was tearing out of the room before any of the Senate members even had a chance to speak, screaming for her guards and her soldiers to tell her what was going on at Wild Rose.

Her daughter, who spent her childhood running through the forests and laughing in the face of suitors. Her daughter, whose hair she would braid and then re-braid again when the girl somehow got burs in it. Her daughter, who was set to become a mother herself and experience all the precious moments Maleficia had.

Her daughter, whose body wasn’t even recovered at the end of it all.

___________________________________

The final one to leave the table was Lilia. In wake of the princesses passing, Malleus’ egg was put in the cradle tower, and Maleficia was designated to spirit him into hatching. She felt the faint connection of their magic from within the thick shell that guarded his body. His warmth, the subtle movements he made; they were all indicators that he was still alive and well despite his tumultuous arrival.

But Maleficia didn’t know if he would oblige. Hatchlings often needed the love of both parents to be shepherded forward—and Maleficia, now over eight hundred years old, already felt the strain of her magic from the conflicts going on in her Nation. There was no doubt that she held love for her grandson—but a lingering fear that her love wouldn’t be enough burned in her mind. This is what made her turn to Lilia, to send him on his quest around the world to try and find an additional means to bring the young prince forward.

For the first few decades, it worked well. Maleficia held the egg on a nightly basis and poured as much of her love and magic into it as she could. The egg consumed it all in a greedy fashion, demanding more every time she returned to the tower. One would think that Malleus was starving within by the way he pulled, and tore, and ripped at her powers to fuel his own development.

Then he ceased feeding. She recalls the first night it happened; everything had been going well, until the connection was suddenly severed, and the green glow within the egg dulled back into a faint tint of color. Maleficia had initially dismissed it as a one-off event. Until it happened again, and again, and again.

There’s a curious sense of panic that fills someone when they do everything they can to no avail. The panic she felt came in the form of a privatized breakdown in the tower. For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of a curse in her mind. Now, she was beginning to consider that it was not her family who was cursed, but rather just herself.

First it came for her father, and her mother shortly after. Then, when it grew hungry again, it ate through her husband and that of her daughters. Then it came for Meleanor herself, and now whatever reaper followed them was looming over her shoulder as she held Malleus’ egg and begged him to take something.

Pleas fell from the lips of a monarch as she rocked the egg, stroked its shell so softly, whispering to just eat a little more, just take a little more. But the egg had remained as cold and aloof as it had for several nights now. Her desperation mounted in an order to Baul to summon Lilia back—to slay whatever reaper was following them before it pried the last of her bloodline from her hands.

Her hopes of his role as the vanquisher of death came in an explosive hatching that she was informed of after it occurred. When she requested for Lilia to be brought to Black Scale to be reinstated in his role in his efforts, the Senate had then informed her that Lilia Vanrouge would never step foot in the capital again.

And so, in a span of mere moments, the final seat was emptied—and Maleficia found herself alone once more.

___________________________________

Grandchildren are the best reminders of the beauty and innocence of childhood.

When Malleus was first brought to her after he hatched, she didn’t want to touch him. The purple hue of his stomach and the way his green gaze darted around, drinking in the new world he emerged to, reminded her so much of Meleanor that she wanted to laugh at the cruel irony. The hurt that smouldered in her heart ignited back into a flame that found her turning a cold shoulder to the hatchling.

“Go clean him. He has amniotic fluid all over.” She remembers ordering, voice deceptively calm for the turmoil happening within. The wet nurse that was hired obliged as the hatchling shrieked and protested the frequently changing environment around him. His cries made Maleficia clench her jaw tighter as she stared resolutely at the battle plans drawn before her, her hands gripping the table enough to turn her knuckles white.

A few times she went to him in the beginning. The encounters lasted only as long as Maleficia could tolerate seeing how similar he looked to Meleanor before she would depart and leave him in the care of his wet nurse once more. Guilt fought with anger in her heart about the circumstances that she found herself in and her inability to overcome them. She could feel the ghost of her daughter chastising her in the corner for being so cowardly in her approach.

The breakthrough arrived when Malleus became ill. Grieves—a fever-like condition that affected fae children in particular—resulted in Maleficia sitting with her grandson one night as the exhausted wet nurse was excused for a long overdue break. She held him on her lap in the dark as his small form fought his fever, whispering how the stars that looked down from above were the eyes of the people who loved him, keeping him safe in this world. Her voice had cracked as she spoke, and it was only when a small whine left him did she realize she was hugging him tight to her body.

“I am so sorry,” she had choked out, unsure if the apology was for the hold she had or the neglect she had given so far. “Please forgive me.”

Malleus had twisted in her arms, small wings fluttering before he settled himself down and began to doze. He had already forgotten what upset him to begin with. She wished it would always be that way—but she knew that was nothing but a vague hope.

She loathed Meleanor for leaving. Whenever she cradled Malleus as the hatchling threw his tantrums, blowing flame, and biting for flesh as all children seem to do, she loathed her. Whenever she dealt with another part of the war or signed another treaty alone, she loathed her.

But when Malleus scrambled onto her lap mid-Senate meeting, chased after courtiers, and flew for the first time (admittedly, into a flock of pigeons), Maleficia loved her. Because although like her father she had vanished in an ill-fated decision, she had left a small reminder that she was never truly gone. Maleficia could comfort Malleus, could see the ghost of his mother in his clever little eyes, and for that alone she could hold no ill will.

Meleanor’s death had proved to be far worse than anything else—but her gift of the small dragon in her lap felt like the first steps towards recovery again. So, she had kissed between his horns that night and promised to herself that she would do all that she could to give him a future free of the misery that plagued their family thus far.

___________________________________

In the aftermath, she spent time with him whenever she could. Via dinners, via having him sit in on meetings, via walks in the gardens—whenever she could, she would be there. However, despite her newfound presence changing some things for the better, she remained unable to quell the curiosity that burned in her grandson's mind.

She found him in the mausoleum once. He was standing on the toes of his mother with his small hand touching her stone-carved face. Maleficia had not been to the mausoleum since the boy hatched so many years ago. The raw memories still stirred in her heart and seeing him look up at his mother with such a gaze of innocent adoration did nothing but unsettle her more.

When he noticed her, his face had lit up into a smile as he hopped back down and pointed up to one of the other statues. “This is grandfather?”

Maleficia’s gaze slid to where he was pointing. A strong jaw, a dangerous glint in stone-etched eyes, and a faint smirk painted the picture of the man she had once loved and held so dearly many years ago. Maleficia nodded. Malleus, taking this as encouragement, then ran back to the other statue he had been touching with his small hands.

“And this is mother?”

Again, Maleficia nodded. The painful similarities between Malleus and his mother were more apparent when they were side to side. If Maleficia were to squint, she could mistake Malleus as a younger Meleanor: the same horns, same hair length, even the same streak of mischief that got both into so much trouble.

Malleus had hummed thoughtfully before stepping down again. “Do you miss them?”

A deceptively innocent question. Of course she missed them. All she had left of her family was one grandson and three empty coffins: a husband at sea, a daughter in the hands of humans, and a son-in-law somewhere in the moors. “I do,” she offered back. “I miss them greatly.”

Malleus had asked her why, then. Children like him were filled with innocence and wonder about the world. He had no knowledge of the bodies that were lost, or the tragedies that had predicated his birth. Her reply did nothing but fuel an unease in the boy, for moments after she offered it, he ran back to her and threw his small arms around her waist.

When he hugged her, he clung with a ferocity that was baffling for his size. Her hands rested on his head and stroked his hair soothingly as she had done with Meleanor many times before she guided him away from the tombs and the memory of family he never met.

She should visit them more often now.

___________________________________

She rediscovers that there’s a privilege in watching someone grow. Lilia’s gradual return into their lives helps ease the stress of raising a child again in her older age, which is partially why she turns a blind eye every time Malleus slips out of the palace to visit the man. She’s honoured to observe in a more passive manner the way her grandson changes and grows as a person. She watches him go from spiteful towards humans to more amiable with the arrival of Lilia’s adopted son. As he grows before her eyes, she begins to see less of Meleanor and Levan in his features and more of just Malleus—the quiet, albeit arrogant, boy that was hers.

Time goes by faster as she ages alongside him. One moment he’s clinging to her skirts, and the next he’s off to NRC, and then finally, 178 years have passed like the blink of an eye. She used to bemoan how slow time was—and now she wishes it to ease off a bit.

She’s sitting in the gazebo in the gardens for reprieve, a novel in hand as the screaming of insects choruses a song for her amusement. The aroma of flowers surrounds her and for a moment she feels utter peace in the world. The summer is ending and there are no celebrations or events to concern herself with. For the first time in what feels like eons, Maleficia Draconia can breathe.

The sound of someone approaching puts a pause in this.

She lowers her book to peer over at whoever is coming, hoping silently it isn’t an advisor or a courtier seeking out an audience on the sly. Fortunately, the sight of two horns and a scowling face turning the corner nullifies this as she turns back to her book.

“Finally decided to see the sun?” She muses as she hears him stepping onto the gazebo platform. She waits for his response, but only comes to feel surprised when Malleus kneels by where she sits and does something that he hasn’t done in a long time now—he places his head in her lap. At his age, his body is too tall now to really kneel efficiently at her side, but by the gods does the boy try as he hits his head right down. Her hand comes up on instinct to brush strands of his dark hair behind his ear as he looks over the gardens, his shoulders tense with stress.

They’re silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of screaming insects from beyond before Malleus speaks.

“The gardens look atrocious.”

Maleficia raises an eyebrow as she lowers her book to look at where he’s staring. Her hand continues to stroke his head soothingly as she huffs a soft laugh. “Our groundskeepers are going for a more ‘untamed’ look this season.”

“I have counted twenty-six thistles in the minute I have been here.” Malleus shoots back as his hand comes to rest by his face. “It’s late in the season. They might be growing lazy.”

“Nonsense. You know how hard working they are. You spent ample amounts of time with them when you were younger.” She fails to hide the smile teasing on her lips with this comment. Malleus’ temper tantrums had landed him in more than enough problems in his youth. Problems which were often rectified by a gentle lesson of how hard it is to fix up his messes—garden destruction included.

Malleus deigns her with a unprincely snort in response. They fall back into a warm silence as she keeps her hand on his head and returns her attention to her book. She knows that something is on his mind, but she retains her silence both to give him an opportunity to speak, and to enjoy the moment that they’re having. In the privacy of the garden, they can get away with this rare display of familial affection.

She feels him sigh as his eyes flutter close before he speaks up. “Do you ever feel… unease?”

“Unease?” She hums quietly as she turns a page. “On many occasions I have, yes. Unease tends to go hand in hand with some of the things I have dealt with.”

She knows he doesn’t mean in the sense of his royal duties. Malleus is an unusually quiet and introverted boy—but she had noticed him being more so the past week as summer began to inch towards its end. He opens his eyes and sighs again before withdrawing to sit back on his knees.

Maleficia wisely closes her book and sets it down before affixing him with as stern of a look as she can muster without chuckling. “Sighing and moping in the corners does little to aid me in providing advice.”

Malleus’ gaze goes upwards to stare at the ceiling of the gazebo before his expression drops to a pout. “I am feeling reluctant to return to NRC.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Maleficia quietly reaches her hand out to brush his bangs back from his forehead, revealing the scale pattern beneath. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut at the gesture as his pout remains present.

“Three years have passed now, and I have yet to feel included in the school environment. Spending my days with those I already know from here hardly feels like an efficient use of time.” His jaw clenches. “Every effort I make to form any sort of connection to others feels like it’s a pointless endeavour at this rate.”

“Malleus, you must be patient with these things. It takes time for people to warm up to the likes of us. You must simply continue being yourself, and the right people will make the effort to get to know you. I understand it may seem upsetting right now, but you must simply keep trying your best.” A faint smile touches her lips despite the worry gnawing at her heart. She wishes she could do more, but she also understands that these are things he must figure out himself. “You’re going to this school to gain new experiences and see the world beyond our little Valley without the Senate looming over you. Things will work out in the end.”

Malleus’ body seems to relax at her words as he opens his eyes again. His expression eases to his usual neutral look as he nods slightly. “... yes, I suppose you are correct.”

“I often am.” She pinches his cheek lightly, causing the scowl to immediately return to his face as he jerks to avoid her grasp, making her laugh in turn. “Besides, are you not excited to see Lilia, Silver, and Sebek more often again? Well. More often than you do already.”

A pointed look has him averting her gaze as she picks her book up again. His demeanour reminds her of Meleanor, but the similarities no longer ache when she considers them. This was Malleus—her grandson, not his mother, nor his father—and she was eager to see the person he was still destined to become. “Now, you should be packing, should you not? We don’t need the crisis we had last year where we were all hunting down books for you last minute.”

Malleus groans softly before rising to his feet and brushing his pants off. He presses a brief kiss to her forehead, coaxing another smile from her lips before he pulls away.

“Yes, grandmother,” he grumbles with all the moodiness of an embarrassed teenage boy, and Maleficia can’t help but feel happiness at seeing it. Cursed or not, she will continue to enjoy these moments of joy as long as she may have them.

#twst #twst fanfiction #maleficia draconia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #meleanor draconia #levan draconia #40 min spent on deciding a header alone #'hey amy she hasnt even been in the game yet' and?#listen maleficia may be 0% in-game but she is 100% in my brain thank u #obviously some flexibility with the facts here idk who malleus' grandpa is or what maleficias thoughts were during malleus' upbringing #but AAAAAAA listen... her.#lian i hope i did u proud i even made it a happy ending LMAO

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