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coolprettyleo · 2 months

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he said he'd love me for all time - connor bedard? ☆

wc: 3.1k

tw: heartbreak. sadness. drinking. partying. lying. angst. etc?

ryan leonard x ex oc

connor bedard x oc

death by a thousand cuts au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

to the average eye frankie hughes was having the time of her life.

the tabloids were calling the youngest hughes; the newest 'it girl' of nyc, who was seen partying every weekend with big names, modeling for huge brands, and being everyone's newest celebrity crush.

to all her friends and to her ex-boyfriend, it looked like she was totally fine from the breakup, even daring to say she was even benefiting from it a bit.

but that was far from the truth.

the girl had been moving through the world with a heartbroken ever since that windy night in dc, when her whole world turned upside down in what seemed to be in the blink of an eye. she had to learn to live with the fact she was just a chapter in ryan leonards life, while he was her whole book.

but the girl was a real tough kid, and she knew how to handle her shit and put on a facade. a facade for the world, her friends, her family, and even her ex-boyfriend. and she knew how to do it well. a little too well, which she knew was bound to bite her in the ass one day. she could show everyone lies, and she would continue to do that until she felt somewhat okay. she had been doing it since he left anyways.

the only sign of a broken heart she had shown was the fact she had gone slightly manic and dyed her hair blonde, but the brands and the public seemed to love it.

at least someone loved it.

right now was a moment where she had to look okay, more than ever.

she had flown to vegas to show support for her brothers for the NHL awards and was currently walking the red carpet alongside her family, with her head held high and a smile that looked like it was her birthday.

while on the inside she wanted to die. just before her family walked into the eyesight of the cameras, her father asked her a question that made her whole castle of lies want to crumble into mere pebbles.

"oh, frankie! I ran into a few of the usa boys yesterday; ryan's linemate was one of them; does that mean he's here, too? you should invite him to dinner later" her father asked, not knowing the alarms he had set off in his daughter's head.

it wasn't his fault; she knew they were bound to ask about ryan. they loved him, but how was she supposed to tell them she'd ruined one of the only good things about her life? she knew they already didn't have the best mindset about her new life, and this was only going to feed into the fire more.

"I wouldn't know, we broke up," she said awkwardly as they walked. they all halted and whipped their heads around to the youngest hughes.

"what? what happened?" her mother said in the most heartbroken tone she'd ever heard.

"we just, kind of... grew apart, i guess. it was mutual, so I'm fine" lie. if only they knew she begged him not to leave.

"are you okay?" luke said, studying her up and down. he knew that his sister was never one to lay her heart out like she had done for ryan, so she had to be hurting.

"no, yeah! totally! c'mon, let's keep going; tonight is not about me; it's about you guys!" she said with a smile as she reached up to pinch quinn and luke's cheeks. they looked at her, not knowing if she was trying to convince them or herself more. her family gave her a worried look before looking at each other as they followed behind her.

they walked through the carpet as frankie looked like she was having the time of her life, continuing to show lies. while on the inside, she was beyond miserable; she really had never felt such a hole in her heart like this.

the carpet soon ended, and they walked into the theater. she searched for the nearest bathroom, feeling a panic attack rising, needing to get away from the worried eyes of her family. She excused herself, searching for the nearest exit.

"did you know they broke up?" jack asked his mom as they took their seats.

"no, she hadn't said anything. she looks perfectly fine, even glowing," her mother said as they all nodded.

"she has to be hurting," luke said as they watched her talk to a girl with a glittering smile, showing lies.

___

she soon found the bathroom in a hallway, and she saw a guy standing outside of it. that guy being, no other than connor bedard. she would have to be living under a rock to not know who he was, he had been dominating the NHL this last season and wasn't in any way ugly either.

he was the perfect thing to get her mind off of ryan.

she hadn't been with anyone since they broke up, but she knew she had to get back out there if she ever wanted to get the hell out of the imaginary restaurant she was stuck in. she stayed there, and she had been there for weeks. she needed an out, and this was her chance.

"are you in line?" she asked a bit confused as the boy lifted his head up to look at her, eyes widening a bit not thinking to run into frankie hughes tonight.

"uhh, no. I- I'm waiting for my sister," he stuttered, a bit flustered as frankie smirked. she made him nervous, and that was a good sign.

"hey, connor bedard right? I'm frankie," she said, outstretching her hand. the boy didn't think she knew who he was.

"yeah, I know who you are," he said with a small smile, meeting her handshake.

"you nervous for tonight?" she asked with a smile that seemed to put the buy in a daze.

"a little, but it's not the end of the world if I don't win," he said nervously, knowing he was up against her brother.

"good, you won't cry when luke wins then," she said jokingly with a wink as he chuckled.

"that bathroom smells horrible- oh my gosh! frankie hughes!" a blonde girl said as she noticed the youngest hughes. frankie smiled at he girl.

"you must be connor sister; hi, and does it really smell because I'll just hold it," she said with a smile as the girl looked astounded.

"hello! and yeah, it does- but I didn't like, stink it up or anything. it was like that already, like way before I walked in," she rambled but stopped once she noticed frankie and connor holding in a laugh, looking at each other.

"no, I get it. thanks for the heads up. i should get back to my seat, ill see you around connor" she said with eyes that made connor want to stumble. she was hot, and if he didn't know any better, she was flirting?

she bid them goodbye as madisen scolded herself for being so awkward. a trait both of the bedard siblings held.

"she's so cool," madisen said, shaking her head in aww.

"yeah, she is," he said with a small smile, not believing how the girl was so obviously flirting with him.

___

frankie returned to her seat with a heavy feeling in her heart as she sat between jack and quinn.

"I feel like I should be sitting left to jack," she told her family as quinn shook his head.

"stop it, you know that's your seat," her brother told her with a look, talking about the assigned seating they had made a couple years back, back when she actually played hockey.

she let it go, due to the fact she had nothing to say as she looked around the theater. there were many faces, big names in hockey surrounding them and maybe if she was twelve she'd be screaming but right now she could care less. her eyes focused on no other than connor.

he was cute. he had an aura that seemed like he was sure of himself, and that was a trait that made frankie want to gravitate to him. She used to love that trait in ryan.

stop thinking about him!

she told herself. the rest of the night, she spent it playing eye tag with connor. she felt his eyes on her, and he felt her eyes on him. She was sure she had him secured. but did she want to dive into that hole? part of her felt like she would be cheating on ryan, but she hadn't spoken to him since that night. she was allowed to move on, right?

she bit back the feeling as the she tried to enjoy the night. Luke had lost, but connor had won. ss he was walking up to the stage, his eyes found hers, and she playfully rolled her eyes and shook her head as she clapped.

"what the hell was that?" jack asked her leaning over luke.

"what was what?" she played dumb as her brothers looked at her funny.

"you know what," luke said as she just shook her head and smiled.

"I am single," she said with a shrug as they looked at her like she had three heads. choosing to drop it, knowing their sister had her own ways of moving on. they weren't going to question her, just give her a disgusted look as they got on with the night.

___

quinn ended up winning his award, and she got up to give him the biggest hug, beyond proud of him; she had grown closer to quinn when she moved. he always made sure to visit her and check in on her, and she couldn't thank him enough.

always making sure she had money and she had eaten. the first week she had left, he had sent her money, knowing she couldn't have that much saved up. he was really the most thoughtful one out of the hughes brothers, and she was happy to be a part of this moment for him.

the night went on, and they soon ended up in a bar celebrating quinn's win as the siblings took shot after shot, getting plastered as the night went on.

it seemed like the universe had been on her side because connor had walked into the very same bar a little later into the night. she turned to luke, knowing she had to make sure he was okay with what she was about to do.

"hey-"

"go for it," her brother said, shaking his head as she looked at him guiltily.

"you didn't even know what i was going to say" she said slightly smiling

"you didn't have to; you've been giving him those eyes all night. go be young and free," he said lightly, pushing her shoulder as she giggled.

"thanks luke. and, can i ask you something?" she told him

"shoot," he said, as jack and quinn joined the conversation.

"would it be shady to ryan? if I got with connor?" she asked, knowing they were guys and they'd probably know ryan's point of view. she never wanted to hurt anyone.

he hurt you though

"well, I mean, if you guys broke up, no. but like if you're still seeing each other on the low, that's a different story-" jack said

"we're not. I haven't heard from him since that night," she clarified as they nodded.

"were they like, sworn enemies or best friends?" quinn asked

"not that I know of," she said, thinking back to whether they ever interacted. she was sure they hadn't.

"then go for it little sis," jack said with a wink

"yeah, but don't string bedard around either," quinn said with a scolding look.

he was right. she was more than sure connor didn't need someone to play with his feelings. but he was busy, maybe he was just looking for a hookup. he went first overall; he'd had to have his fair share of one-night stands. right?

"she's young; this is her time to make stupid decisions-" jack tried to reason as she zoned out.

"if she's not over leonard, then it's just going to blow up in her face-" quinn said, arguing over luke with jack. if only quinn knew she'd never get over him. the love of her life turned into the loss of her life, and she'd continue to long for him forever. She just had to learn to live alongside that grief.

"okay! thanks for the advice guys. I'll catch you guys later," she said, walking away from her brothers, who watched as she walked up to connor and immediately caught sight of his reddened cheeks.

"she's going to break the poor guy's heart," quinn said with a guilty look as jack and luke snickered a bit evily. maybe he was a bit salty about the loss.

___

frankie woke up to a pounding headache.

she felt like she had drank more than her body weight the night before, and was suffering the consequences of those tequila shots right about now.

she sat up, only to realize she was in nothing but a loose t-shirt that did not belong to her. only now, looking around to realize she was not in her hotel room.

oh god, what did you do frankie

"hey, you're up," connor said, opening the door in nothing but a towel. he had the body made of a god, and only now did frankie remember the events of the night before where she had done body shots, those very same abs she was obviously ogling at.

"what the hell," she asked, looking around for her phone to see about a million texts coming from her family and friends, wondering where the hell she went.

"here, I thought you might have a hangover," connor nervously said as he handed her some tylenols. she drank them before trying to remember if she slept with him last night.

"did we..."

"i think we did. i kind of blacked out, you kept feeding me shots and I was trying to impress you so I ended up the most plastered I had ever been" he told her honestly as she felt like a bitch. of course, she was a bad influence on this saint of a boy. of fucking course.

"oh my gosh. i'm so sorry-" she said shaking her head

"it's okay, frankie. my life is way too serious most of the time. nights like last night remind me that I'm only eighteen. I had a lot of fun last night from what I remember," he said with a light smile as she reciprocated.

he was cute. he was handsome. and he was nice. he was way too good for frankie to go and taint, and she knew that.

"I should get back to my family before they send out an amber alert or something," she said as she stood up and looked for her underwear and dress from last night.

she lifted the sheets and searched, only to turn around and see connor standing with them in his hand with a cheeky smile.

she embarrassingly grabbed them as she got her heels and walked to the door and turned back to the young hockey player, knowing she'd have to tell him this was a one-time thing.

as she turned and saw the hopeful look on his face and his light smile she couldn't bear to tell him. he was cute, and yes, maybe it was selfish to use him to get over ryan but she wasn't no saint, and maybe if she got to know connor a little bit better, it could blossom into something more.

"I'll text you," she told him as she opened the door into the hallway.

"maybe i'll text you first," he said with a smile as he brushed the hair out of her face. she couldn't help herself and leaned into a passionate kiss. wrapping her arms around his neck as she brought him down with her. She soon pulled away and waved goodbye to him, leaving the boy standing in basically shambles as he felt something he'd never felt before. he was falling, and he was falling hard.

it seemed like the universe wanted her to suffer the embarrassment because as she looked up, she made eye contact with no other than wide eye will smith and zeev buim standing there with their mouths agape.

"hey guys," she said as she cringed. they were probably going to run and tell ryan. part of her felt like shit about that, but the other part of her hoped he knew.

they did nothing but look at each other before looking back at her with furrowed eyebrows.

"how could you do that to ryan?" will said, looking at her disgustingly.

"I didn't do anything to him," she said, crossing her arms at the two boys, wondering why the hell they were so mad. she was single.

"yeah? what the hell would you call that? you're cheating on him with bedard? really?" will said. only then did frankie realize he didn't tell them. he didn't even tell will that he had broken up with her. had he told anyone? everyone still thought they were together?

"i'm not cheating, will-" she said shaking her head

"bullshit," he said, cutting her off, that action making frankie want to literally rip his head off. he wasn't even letting her talk.

"he broke up with me about a month ago," she said as they looked at her confusingly.

"are you serious?" zeev asked as will seemed to go speechless. he couldn't believe it.

"yeah. so don't try to tell me shit, when you know nothing," she said teary-eyed as she walked past the two boys. not before bumping her shoulder straight into will. he was an asshole. he had no right to accuse her of cheating.

she wiped her tears before walking into her shared hotel room with her family, knowing she had to handle her shit and fake it till she made it. she couldn't let them see how destroyed her heart had become.

"ahh, the walk of shame," jack said, shaking his head with a teasing smirk as she flipped him off and flopped on the couch.

"not a good night, I'm guessing," quinn said with a grimace.

"it was fine," she said with a huff as she stared off into the ceiling. not being able to stop thinking about ryan. she felt guilty.

"you didn't do anything wrong if that's what you're thinking," Luke said, knowing his littlest sister.

"I know," she said, rising up and walking to her room. closing her door and finally letting her tears fall freely. she was miserable, but at least no one knew.

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey fic #ryan leonard #bc hockey #will smith hockey #frankie x ryan #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #ryan leonard x reader #ryan leonard imagine #connor bedard #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard x oc #hughes brothers #hughes

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faeriekit · 6 months

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Out on a Limb

phic phight prompt is from @bibliophilea

warnings for: lighthearted body horror, limb loss, limb...uh...movin' around

*~💚💚💚~*

When Danny said he could lend a hand, he didn't quite mean like this.

“UH,” said Tucker.

“UH,” said Danny.

Both of them watched his disembodied hand flop around on the shop class floor. It was kind of like watching a dead fish die, but…worse. Since. You know. It was Danny’s hand.

“I’m telling Mr. Richards,” Tucker declared, voice high and loud—and it took two tries to cover Tucker’s mouth his hand, because Danny had automatically reached out with his right but that was on the floor, and—look! It was fine! It was fine and no one needed to know!

“Tucker you can’t tell anyone,” Danny hissed, immediately, unable to draw Tucker closer to threaten him and silence him simultaneously so Danny might have been a little more under stress than usual. “Tucker, my hand’s not bleeding. Just…just put it back on!”

“What do you mean, put it back on?!” Tucker hissed, looking like he was about to cry. Danny felt so bad but also that was his hand! “Danny, what do you mean?!”

“It’ll work!” Danny lied as quietly as he could, casting wary glances around the shop. So far no one was looking at them, even though their table saw had gone quiet. Everyone else was carefully cutting wooden planks, as oblivious as they could be in their giant orange earmuffs. And, so maybe Danny wasn’t sure if this would work! But! They had to try! “Just stick it on!”

“You want me to touch your decapitated hand?!”

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” a voice asked from behind their assigned shop station.

Tucker and Danny froze.

Mr. Richards, an old man who taught shop class and wore exclusively plaid flannel, raised a grey eyebrow.

“…No,” Danny and Tucker lied simultaneously, if perhaps a little offbeat from each other. Danny quickly hid his remarkably raw stump behind his back.

The other eyebrow rose. “In that case, shall we get back to the task at hand? Those planks won’t size themselves, you know.”

Danny and Tucker mumbled something suitably contrite. Tucker wasn’t able to tear his too-wide eyes away from the flopping, writhing, finger-curling hand on the dirty shop floor—

And Danny ‘casually’ dropped a flat shop pencil onto the floor, giving Tucker the excuse to go get the thing. Tucker ducked down without a word.

Mr. Richards crossed his arms. Clicked his tongue. “I thought you of all kids would know to be careful in a workroom, Fenton. It’ll pay to be more careful; you never know if a machine will take something off while you’re not paying attention.”

“Yessir,” Danny squeaked, and shoved down the terrified laughter clawing away at his insides. It was only hysteria.

Something cold and wet slapped itself onto Danny’s stump. Danny flinched.

“Do you have your planks ready?”

Danny swallowed. Tucker stood, looking only slightly more traumatized than he had been when the hand first decided to make its grand departure from the rest of Danny’s body. “…Uh huh.”

“Good. Load them up onto the table for me, then. Show me your guide lines.”

Danny lifted and laid the planks with a shaking hand. Mr. Richards’ expression indicated how little he thought of that.

“Both hands.”

…Danny lifted a hand onto the board.

Mr. Richards stared. Tucker chewed on his lip.

…Danny lifted a second, twitching hand onto the board—hey, his hand?? Was back on?? Thank God for Tucker Foley.

But his hand was definitely not okay; even with the machine on, Danny had to jerk his writhing hand away from the serrated blade more than once. It looked, uh, bad. His hand looked bad. Grey. Taut. Kind of like it was seizing, or, you know…dying of blood loss.

“Fenton…” His shop teacher stared. “...Go to the nurse’s office.”

Tucker grinned with all his teeth, and grabbed Danny’s good hand before Danny could say anything in one way or another. “Great! I’ll walk him. Come on, Danny—if you’re not feeling well, we should go!”

Any excuse was a good excuse. “Yeah, oops. Sorry.” Danny didn’t stop making excuses for himself just in case, even as Tucker veritably shoved him through the shop class door. “Didn’t even notice I was getting muscle spasms; I should probably go get medication for it—“

Neither of them stopped moving until the door was slammed shut behind them.

Danny stared down at his writhing, if…properly attached hand. He tried to stretch his fingers.

The only wriggled worse. It felt like trying to attack worms his hands…only. You know. His worms were the hands. Or. Uh. His hands were the worms.

…Danny needed some water and 600 mg. ibuprofen. Stat.

“I,” Tucker started. And then he stopped. “I am never trusting your intangibility ever again.”

Danny stared at his self-possessed, wriggling hand. “Yeah, probably,” he agreed faintly.

#danny phantom #phic phight 2024 #phic phight #tucker foley #danny fenton #tw body horror #tw dismemberment #'I'm not a doctor but wtf'- Tucker #faer fic

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sordidmusings · 11 months

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Thirsty Thursday with Lucky Brat Buggy

Summary: Buggy plays a game of Fuck Around and Find Out that he isn't actually ready for. Luckily for him, he fails upwards yet again - when he can't take the repercussions, you soothe him with the declaration he's been dying to hear

A/N: I just wanna break Buggy and then put him back together again. Also, my kink is finding out love is reciprocated during sex so this happened 🤡 This was one of the attempts at a part of Switching Up Roles that went in a wildly different direction than I wanted for that request. I liked where it was headed though, so I rewrote it and made it its own thing

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms), NSFW, both are mentioned as switches but this has sub!Buggy and dom!reader, dirty talk, p in v, beggy Buggy, creampie, claiming/possessive sex, brief brat taming, healing insecurity with Pussy Power

Enjoy, my beloved freaks ~(=ↀωↀ=)~

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy is being a brat. Not just his usual teasing and toying that’s a part of his charm. No, he’d decided that he wants to try being a brat where the ��b” is for “bitch” and he’s bringing it into the bedroom. He’s telling you that you’re “too slow” or he’ll “never cum like this”. It’s pissing you off even though you know it’s all lies and you know that that’s exactly what he wants. It’s easy to see his game because all those insults come out between satisfied moans and his body (that’s totally not going to cum) is sparking at your touch like a live wire. It’s easy to see because it’s been your game to play for him before too. Unlike him, however, you’re good at keeping your head enough to know when he wants you to back off. He’s even had the gall to try out demanding things from you, when he was the one who’s been asking you to be in charge through this mood of his.

At first this obvious game of his was cute, but recently he’s acting like he wants you to snap, even though he knows hard-domming pushes your comfort zone. Buggy would never want to actually cross a boundary with you, but he was certainly dodging the non-verbal warnings you’ve been putting up to tell him he’s sprinting towards one right now. You’re usually good at taming him, proven by the absolute wreck he is right now, but somehow he’s still saying snide shit to push your buttons. When he puts in the effort to taunt, “Can’t do any better?” with a self-satisfied smirk, you decide you’re done.

“Fine. You do the work,” you order, voice stiff and angry. You flip off of him and onto your back and Buggy follows only half a breath behind. His movements are fumbling and desperate as he reclaims his spot between your thighs and immediately pushes back in. He shudders from the relief of being back inside you. He looks at you with wide and nervous eyes, clearly not expecting this to be his punishment. His arms shake as he holds himself up over you and his hips make slow, deep grinds into you, punctuated by the little shakes that keep running through his body. The panic of losing control of the situation he created, while also being forced to perform in that circumstance, has finally broken that stubborn streak. And, oh, does he fold so beautifully under the stress.

“Please. Please, please, need you to do it. Need you to make me feel good - you make me feel so goooood.” Buggy can’t control his voice, one moment it was a breathy grumble and the next a whining sob. His hands clench and unclench in the sheets beside your head as if they are stuck in the motion of pawing at your skin, but he’s too timid to put his hands back on you.

“Oh, baby, you can’t do it yourself?” you coo condescendingly, placing your hands on his cheeks to help center his gaze on yours. It works for one blissful second, where you get to witness how hazy those gorgeous sea green eyes are, before he shuts them and leans his face into one hand. Buggy turns and peppers it in eager, pleading kisses. Tingles shoot from your palm where you feel his stubble and his hot puffs of breath.

“No. No. Need you,” he gasps between ongoing kisses. Your other hand trailing back to thread in his hair distracts him for a second before he’s back to his insistent kissing, huffing, grinding, trembling. The hand in his hair becomes a tight fist, stilling only his kissing and directing his attention back to your face. His hips only become more insistent.

“And do you deserve to be fucked, my sweet little toy?” You prod. Even though your tone is light and teasing, all his movements come to a stop. You don’t even think he’s breathing anymore. His eyes become a kind of tearful you aren’t fond of and he begins to curl in on himself. You act quickly.

“Ah ah ah, sweet thing,” you breathe out. The words go to him in the gentlest tone you’ve ever gifted to anyone. Your hands are back on those warm, stubbly cheeks. “It’s okay, sweet star, you’re okay. If you can’t answer, I’ll answer for you.”

You flip the both of you over again smoothly, the hand you’d used to tug his hair now cradling the back of his head. Buggy loosens up a little, feeling safe and guarded underneath you. You get up on hands and knees and crawl forwards, leading him backwards up the bed, until his upper body is cushioned amongst the pillows piled against the headboard. Settling back on his lap, you begin grinding gently on his cock. Instead of taking it back in, you keep it hugged tight between his stomach and your cunt, where it slides between your sopping lips and rubs at your clit. You’re happy to see that even with the lowered intensity in touch, Buggy is still filled with pleasure and tingling, unable to slow his breath.

“You belong in my bed, getting fucked by me,” you tell him sternly. Buggy nods along like the good boy he is. “You’re the only one I let in my cunt.” He can’t hold in his whimper. Your smooth grinding continues, but now he can’t handle being denied that promise of being inside you.

“Please,” he begs, pressing his hips upward in the only way he can think to let you know what he wants. One hand leaves his face to move behind you and tease over his sensitive balls. Your next grind forward lines his head up at your entrance, one skilled finger props his cock steady, and you slide back on the whole length of his cock, dragging your clit along his happy trail as you go, all without breaking the pace of your hips. Buggy moans loud and sinks deeper into the pillows in relief.

Your hand moves back to his face again and begins brushing away all the stray hairs clinging to his sweaty, spitty, teary face to join the mess of blue sweeping out around him. The tenderness of it has more whimpers breaking out of Buggy, while he turns to follow your touch.

“Only you can make me feel good,” you promise him, starting to add more weight to your movements. “Only wanna see your pretty face. Only your body and that perfect cock feel so good to touch, make me cum so hard.” You clench around him to emphasize your words, earning a warbly “-hah- fuh-s’good”.

Between admiring the details of his face and aiming the fat head of his cock to prod from g-spot to cervix, you start to get distracted. All the details your body is receiving - the contrast between the texture of sheets and Buggy’s burning skin, the scratch of short nails appearing and disappearing as he gropes your thighs and hips and stomach, the musk of sex mingling with the ambience of blown out candles, aging maps, and wet wood - all of it is flooding your brain and making each sensation better, making everything feel so much. Another sweet plea from Buggy recenters you.

Your hips start to bounce and each impact pulls the feeling of being stretched open on Buggy’s thick cock all the way to press through your hips, making your bones feel like they're being spread wider. “Gods, your cock is so good, makes me so full,” you moan, making Buggy throb with the need to cum. He scrunches his eyes closed and throws his head back to reel himself in. You take advantage of the opening and begin sucking more red marks on his throat. He trembles at the wet stripe you lick up his neck. You spend a moment nibbling his ear before trailing kissing along his sharp jaw. When you reach his open mouth, you capture him in a ravenous kiss.

The way you kiss him is greedy and possessive, full of tongue and teeth, and Buggy matches you with eagerness and fervor. He happily lets you steal every breath from his lungs. Both of you get lost in the mirrored sloppy heat between your open mouths and clapping hips. Neither of you can grab enough of the other, you gripping at soft hair and bobbing throat and him holding onto working muscle and bouncing skin.

When you take a short moment to pull only an inch away, you growl at him, “You think anyone else is good enough to kiss me?” Your lips are immediately back on his, but he manages to sneak out many weak “no”s between your working mouths.

“You’re mine, love,” you say, leaving no room for questions. “You’re my love, my sweet man.” Buggy’s head spins from your words, and the insatiable tone of your voice. He feels high from being desired and possessed by you.

“Again,” Buggy sobs. He doesn’t think he’d make it if that was the only time he gets to hear you say it.

You pull his hands from your thighs to entwine your fingers and press them into the pillows beside his head. Staring into his eyes, you repeat, “You’re my love.”

“More,” he whines and you’d never heard him so needy. It goes straight to your head and your cunt and you’re not gonna last.

“You’re mine-” your body starts to give so you cave over him and let all your words and breath right into his ear. Buggy’s cock is pulsing so heavily in you and you’re amazed he hasn’t cum yet and the way your walls have swollen to make every contour and vein on him pull at you have you losing control of your own voice, each exhale gaining a note of a moan. “-mine and I love you and I -hah- you’re mine, love. Mine, mine, mine-”

Buggy had been desperate to hear you say those words to him from the moment he met you and they have him cumming harder than he has in his entire life. He yelps and grabs your hands so hard it should probably hurt but you can’t feel it; your brain is too full of the feeling of his cum boiling you from the inside out and the sounds of him beginning to chant, “love you, love you, love you” in a broken voice, and you finally cum.

Your orgasm has you looking as pathetic as Buggy with how you shake and gasp out keening moans. For a moment, your mind whites out and you’re not sure if you’re completely numb or feeling everything at once. When a tiny bit of your mind returns, you realize you’re still clenching in strong waves, sparking lights through your skin, and your muscles burn with bliss and you’ve never cum this long and it just won’t stop. Buggy is just as lost below you and he’s sure that he’s run out of anything left to give you but his balls still pound and his cock still twitches and his nerves are so loud they almost ache but he’d scream if something switched the feeling off. Instinct allows both of you little grinds of your hips that help you stay trapped in these roiling waves of pleasure until you can’t handle any more.

The moment you can think again, you’re checking in on Buggy. You cup his face so you can examine and admire him. For a moment you think he’s passed out, but he turns to lean into your hand. You spend a few minutes just breathing together while you caress his face and hair. Buggy studies the feeling of your breaths guiding him, your body weight sheltering him, and your fingertips treasuring him to hoard them away in his memory forever.

When Buggy manages to crack his eyes open, the first thing he does is say, “you love me.” He breathes it out with joyous disbelief, the kind only achieved at the other side of a chase you never thought would end with a catch. You take in his face - flushed pink, covered in tear tracks and smeared makeup, sharpened by his jaw and cheeks and stubble, softened by his hair and lashes and expression - and you’re sure that you’ve never said or heard anything more true. You cover that messy, wonderful face in many, many kisses, making sure quite a few land on your favorite nose in the world, and finish with a long, chaste kiss on his lips.

You smile sweetly and Buggy is positive he’s never seen anything he likes more and that he’d do anything to see it forever.

“Yes,” you promise. “I love you.”

#buggy x reader #buggy smut #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #buggy the clown #thirst hours #one piece #my writing #opla buggy #gn reader #afab reader #thirsty thursday #x reader

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 month

Text

Back for More

Written for @steddieangstyaugust - days 9 (Upside Down) and 11 (Temporary Character Death). They just happened to merge and I didn't stop them.

It was eerily quiet in the Upside Down. The rustling of demobat wings had died down, black tendrils lied still as their master fled to God knows where to lick his wounds. Only the constant storm that would never bring rain loomed over them.

Steve's vision was still blurry after the near strangulation at the Creel house, and Eddie? Well. Eddie was dying.

"Wait here until we can find help," they'd said. "Keep him safe. Keep him alive and talking." Robin and Nancy dragged Dustin away, screaming, crying, and Steve made a reckless promise to make sure that his favorite twerp of the twerp troupe (also known as the Party, the most annoying kids known to mankind) was out of danger. Or at least as much as one could be when the world was ending.

So, the promise? Keep Eddie from dying.

That was easier said than done. Demobats made Eddie their free buffet - Steve hated himself for thinking that, but maybe he could blame it on the dizziness - and now Eddie was even more full of holes than a golf course. Minus the flags.

Yeah, maybe Steve was panicking a little. But hey, who wasn't?

"Come on, man," he muttered as Eddie's hand dropped, letting go of the blood soaked cloth. "Keep it on the wound. I'm not an octopus, I can't plug in all of these, uh…"

Eddie laughed, but it made such a horrendous gurgling sound that Steve hoped he hadn't done that. "New entrances to the temple that is my body, Harrington?"

Steve's brow furrowed in disgust. Which was funny because, you know, they were covered in blood and grime, so this shouldn't have even fazed him. It still did. "Ew. Don't…just don't."

He still reached out and repositioned Eddie's hand to cover the less severe wounds. Which really weren't less severe, all were gnarly and jagged, but at least Eddie could reach them. Steve's hand didn't leave the most dangerous looking one on his neck, pressing down and slowing down the bleeding.

"Aww. Harrington is shy," whispered Eddie, but obediently used the last of his strength to cover the wound on his side.

"Am not. Your innuendos just suck. Where did you get those, in a history class?"

Eddie's mouth twitched into another smile. "Nah. In front of the mirror, like all proper men. Which might be…why they don't work. On other men."

Other men. Huh. Steve had never suspected anything.

His eyes were starting to close, his breathing more shallow, and yep, this was the moment that Steve would normally get up, get punched, get in the harm's way so the others could escape. But this time it wouldn't work. It was just him and Eddie and so much blood that just wouldn't stay on the inside where it belonged.

Keep him talking. That's what he promised to do.

He nudged Eddie with his knee. "Hey. Hey, Munson! Now I'm curious. How do you know they don't work? Have you tested them?"

Eddie groaned, but one of his eyes opened again. "Jesus H Christ, Harrington. Can I just die from blood loss and not embarrassment?"

"Nope. No dying either way. Tell me."

Another groan, another gurgle. "Didn't trest anything, man. This is Hawkins. I never even told anyone. Shit, I didn't even want to tell you, but I'm feeling kinda lightheaded…"

Not good. Not fucking good at all. "It's fine, we're bonding, right?" But Eddie didn't respond, and Steve didn't have a third hand to slap him awake, so he just went for the conversational jugular. "I mean. I kinda get it. I saw a lot of stuff in the locker rooms and I've always thought Tommy has some nice shoulders and back. And…below."

That got Eddie's attention. His eyes opened again, and the bloodied grin he showed Steve was worth the mortifying admission. "Well well well. Who would have thought we have the same taste in men, King Steve? Type, I mean. Hagan's an asshole. But jocks…hmmm. Good for you to…have such a nice view."

Now he was talking too much, and his breath was getting even more shallow. Shit. "You'll get it too, man. Not all places are Hawkins. So stay awake, keep pressure on your…ugh, fine…new entrances to the temple of Munson, and I swear that when you're all healed up, I'll drive you to wherever you feel more comfortable, and we'll get you a jock to smooch or admire. Or both."

"Sounds nice," whispered Eddie. Then, after a pause: "being smooched, I mean. It's so lame, dying without being kissed. Ever."

Look, Steve was running out of options. There was no sound, no indication of help coming, and he had to keep his promise. The world was ending anyway. "Would you like not to?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I mean," said Steve and even attempted his signature hair flip, which earned him a weak chuckle from Eddie. "I know I look like shit now, but I was a jock. And I'm pretty sure I'm a better kisser than Tommy."

"…have better ass too…"

Steve burst out laughing, and perhaps he managed to hide the slowly rising wave of hysteria. "Yes, thank you! I knew someone would eventually have good taste and say it out loud. But seriously, uh…I'm offering. I mean, as far as first kisses go, this whole scenario will be pretty memorable."

Eddie smiled at him from the ground, and it was so sad that Steve wanted to punch Hawkins, his younger self and everyone who made Munson look this self-deprecating. "You don't have to, Steve. Pity isn't a good look on you."

"It's not," he said quickly, with more force than he'd intended. "Seriously, Eddie. It's not. It's…curiosity for me too. And maybe I also need to take my mind off things, because this whole week has been so incredibly shitty, more for me than you, but still, and it's not like we have anything better to do anyways. So I'm asking again, a bit more tactfully this time - may I kiss you before you change your mind and stop liking jocks?"

"Not gonna happen," whispered Eddie, but his smile was wider now. There was a strange sheen to his eyes, but Steve was only focused on buying just a bit more time, a few more minutes, even seconds. "Come on, big boy. Deflower my lips. Or something."

"You just had to make it weird."

Steve leaned down and inspected Eddie's face. It was covered in drying blood, so were his lips, but it didn't matter. He moved even further, still maintaining the pressure on Eddie's neck wound, and pressed their lips together.

It wasn't much, he was careful not to obstruct Eddie's breathing, but it felt nice. He imagined what it might have been like under different circumstances - Eddie's stubble against his chin, maybe taste of his cigarettes instead of blood, hand in his wild hair and around his slender waist. He winced as Eddie's tongue darted out and licked the cut in Steve's lip, but he met him halfway without hesitation.

As he started pulling away to give Eddie more space to breathe, Steve had a sudden realization. Despite his loudness and abrasive behavior, Eddie deserved the gentleness, the caution. Steve wondered if he could have given it to him in another time, another life.

"So," he asked, still hovering over Eddie, "was that everything you dreamed of?"

Eddie's voice was barely more than a sigh now. "Bit…less blood in my dreams. But…yeah. I really wish…"

The hand on his wound was slipping again. Steve moved it back. "Yeah?"

"I really wish I could have come back for more."

His hand dropped again, and this time, no matter how much Steve threatened, argued or pleaded, it wouldn't rise again.

"Eddie." Steve nudged him again, but his body was still. "Hey, Eddie. Wake up. You can come back for more anytime you want. Just…just hold on, get better and then you can have as many kisses as you want. Come on. Don't…"

When Nancy and Robin finally made it back with supplies, they found Steve still covering Eddie's wounds, not leaving his side. When they tried to move him, to make him let go of Eddie's body, Steve could only say one thing - "I made a promise."

Two weeks passed. The world was still ending, Max was in a coma, and Eddie was gone. It felt wrong, being able to summarize so much pain in such few words. Steve couldn't look Dustin in the eye, grateful for the return of the California crew so that Dustin had someone to support him apart from Lucas. He broke two promises in the same day, probably the most important ones he'd ever made.

His body functioned on autopilot. Donations, disaster relief, he did it all to keep busy. He slept very little, but when he did, he no longer had the intense, terrifying nightmares. Instead, he dreamt of Eddie, alive and well, meeting him in a bar, at Skull Rock, kissing him again and again.

Every day he woke up, had a blissful moment when reality was hazy, and then it hit. Eddie would never kiss him again.

It was yet another night full of tossing and turning in his bed. When Steve finally fell asleep, he was in a familiar dream. Sweet and soft kisses, Eddie's hair tickling his face. But this time, his lips felt more rough, and there was sharp pressure on his lower lip.

When he woke up, he thought he was still dreaming. His head was gently cradled by slender hands, long hair was tickling his face…and Eddie was in his bed.

He was dirty, covered in crusts of dried blood. His clothes were torn and the unnatural sheen in his eyes that Steve had noticed back in the Upside Down made it seem like the whites of his eyes were glowing. His nails were sharp, his canines were peeking out from under his upper lip, but it was him, in flesh. In scarred but miraculously healed flesh.

"Eddie?"

"You said," he whispered, and it sounded raspy, rough. "You said I could come back for more."

It might have been a dream - or maybe not, Steve would find traces of mud and a familiar looking bandana in his bed the next day. But Steve didn't know that yet. What he knew was this - even if it was a dream, even if he was about to have yet another painful realization the next day, he'd take it. Because Eddie was worth every single second of that pain.

He wrapped his arms around the dream visitor's neck and pulled him back into his bed. "I did say that. And I'm a man of my word."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddieangstyaugust #vampire eddie munson #temporary character death #not proofread we die like Dart

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oddheadd · 7 months

Text

Yandere Ex Boyfriend x Reader

CW: Drug use, manipulation, suicidal stuff, Angst, a bit shorter :P

He's doing it again.

I try not to break down immediately as soon as I hear his sick voice, slurring and barely managing to turn words into sentences.

"I... Need you to come here... I took too much..."

I let out a shakey breath. "I'll be right there. Got any Naloxone?"

He groans and I sigh, running into my kitchen and looking for it, left after we broke up. I grab the bottle and reassure him, before hanging up.

He did it again.

Whenever he's left with a slight inconvenience, he starts taking drugs like a starved man. Sometimes to kill himself, sometimes to grab some attention. There have been countless times with me holding his hair while he throws up, giving him Naloxone while trying not to lose my own consciousness 'cause of my boyfriend literally dying.

His condition was hard on our relationship, forcing me into a miserable life of walking on eggshells and trying to keep him alive by giving him all kinds of attention and love, even when I didn't feel like it...

I decided to send him to rehab, and he was doing fine for a few months, hadn't even touched a can of beer.

Now I don't know how to look into his eyes, with his constricted pupils, his skin void of any color and his skinny, hollowed cheeks.

I zone out, not even realizing when I arrive in front of his building. It's old and probably moldy inside. I quickly run up a few set of stairs, and barge into his apartment, the pills ready in my hand.

"Baby? Is that you?" I hear his voice call out for me. I run into the kitchen and end up absolutely flabbergasted.

"Ah, there you are!" He smiles and hugs me tight, burying his face in my neck and... Inhaling deeply.

"Are- Are you alright?" I ask, confused. "...Why is the table set..?"

I pull away from the hug.

He looks... Healthy. His cheeks aren't as hollow, his skin has returned to it's saturated color and his pupils... Are dilated.

It doesn't smell like weed.

"Hey... What's the meaning on this? You seem... Fine."

"I... Got better. Now that you're here especially-!" He chuckles awkwardly. "I knew you'd come... For me. I knew you'd never leave me to die... And I wanted to thank you for all the time you kept me alive."

I stare at him, my brows furrowed. "...Thank me?"

He nods, with an uneasy smile.

I huff. "You're disgusting. You lied that you were dying, just to get me here?"

"...I- Yeah, but-"

I tear up. "Is this a joke to you?!" I yell. "All the nights I've spent taking care of you, just for you to try and kill yourself all over again for shit like me not kissing you goodnight?! Not sucking you off?! Don't call me. Even if you're dying, I won't come to save you again."

I say the last line calmly, setting the pill pottle onto the table with a loud sound, before turning to leave.

"No.. (Y/N) Don't leave..." He frowns. I ignore him.

He grabs my wrist. "If you leave, I'll actually kill myself. My blood will be on your hands."

"Go fuck yourself."

I roughly remove his hand and slam his front door shut.

⁠♡

My ringtone awakens me. I groan as I look at the id, and see his name, along with an old photo of us hugging burns my eyes. I pick up. "If you call me one more time, I'll block your number again."

"Baby... Please, help me..." I hear him sob into the phone. "Couldn't get the 8 ball... I took some pills and I feel nauseous... I need you, please just come here and- and jus hug... Just make me feel loved like you used to... I don't wanna die alone and sad, I want you by my side...."

I hold my breath. "...You're lying again."

Some time passes and he doesn't respond. "...You there?" I ask.

My heart drops at the lack of response and I immediately get up, throw some clothes on and head to his place again. I once again, burst into his apartment and this time see him on his bed with his eyes closed. I tear up as I drop onto my knees next to him. "Can you hear me? Jacob, can you hear me?!" I shake him but it doesn't bring him to consciousness. I take a note of the random medical pill packages on the floor and sit him up, shoving my fingers down his throat to make him throw up.

He gags, his eyes opening as he throws up. I then lay him back down and grab Naloxide from the table.

⁠♡

I lay next to him, the vomit I cleaned few minutes ago still present in my mind, feeling the acid in my nails and the smell. He has his arms wrapped around me tight. His heart is still beating. In fact, it started beating faster, he should be awake.

"...Why do you keep doing this?" I ask, my voice calm.

"...How else do I keep you around?" He asks gently, his voice a little hoarse from sobbing and wailing before on the phone. "I don't wanna live... If you're not with me."

I grit my teeth. "...I hate you." I whimper, before breaking out in sobs.

"...At least you're with me." He says calmly, burying his face in my hair while rubbing my shoulder to calm me down.

A/N: Blehhh felt angsty and sad today. Hope you enjoy!

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #drugs #angst #SH #ex boyfriend

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poppitron360 · 2 months

Text

Doing a clearout of all my fanfic WIPs so have this one I wrote back in, like, April.

————————————

Leo woke, blinking in the bright sun.

“Wha- What happened?”

He was lying on the wet grass outside Bunker 9. A bunch of his cabin mates, Piper, and Jason were all crowded around him. There was one of those arm thingies around his bicep, and Will Solace, the head healer in the Apollo cabin, was checking his blood pressure, a First Aid kid lay open next to him on the grass.

“You just… collapsed,” Piper said. Her expression was worried.

“Huh?”

“I don’t think it’s anything too serious,” Will concluded, “your cabin-mates tell me you haven’t left the workshop in three days. You’ve been working non-stop all week. You’re exhausted, man.”

Leo sat up, and rubbed his head, “I feel fine,” he lied.

“Well, your vital signs are okay. Not great, but you’re not dying,” Will took off the blood pressure thingy, and closed his med kit, “Your temperature’s higher than it should be, though.”

“Nah, that’s normal for me,” Leo admitted, “I’m fire boy, remember?”

Will sighed, “Well then, I’m prescribing you three days off. Get some rest, dude, and when was the last time you ate something?”

Leo ignored his question, “Three days! But I’ve got work to do! The Argo II won’t build itself, and-“

“We’ll handle it, don’t worry,” one of his siblings said.

“But-“

“Leo,” Will’s tone was stern, and Leo knew he wasn’t taking no for an answer, “Doctor’s Orders. Now, Jason’s gonna take you back to camp, get you some food.”

Jason came closer, and offered his hand, “Can you stand?”

Leo groaned, ignored Jason’s hand, and stood up by himself.

“Honestly, guys, I’m fine.”

He didn’t like everyone fussing over him like this. He wasn’t a baby. He could handle himself.

Jason grabbed him by the shoulders, and steered him towards Camp. Piper followed. Leo tried to struggle and protest, but Jason’s grip on him tightened. He was strong, or maybe Leo was just really weak.

Will nodded at the other Hephaestus kids, and they went back inside.

“And just because he’s head counsellor, doesn’t mean y’all should go following his example,” Will called after them, “The infirmary is already crowded enough without a bunch of campers who have overworked themselves half to death.”

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runabout-river · 10 months

Text

The Mechanisms of Nobara's Return

The Setup

Her injury is the smallest transfiguration Mahito made without interference

This injury didn't kill Nobara instantly

Nitta used his CT to stop her from dying

Affirmation that Nobara has a chance of survival even if that chance is less than 1%

This setup itself is the biggest indication/confirmation on a meta level that Nobara's return will happen. Because otherwise, Gege wouldn't have written it like this in the first place or he would've written later scenes about her death more explicitly.

Nobara is the female lead of JJK and is often compared to Sakura from Naruto in that regard. I find it hard to believe that Shonen Jump would let Gege discard that lead so early in the story. It would also be an unpopular decision to replace the female lead with another female character (Maki) even for Shonen standards.

Temporarily replacing one on the other hand, is a decision I can see happening. I'm no expert in this but it's known that editors keep the number of female characters low in their titles in SJ. Gege most likely wanted to do something shocking as well, so this a course of action many would be fine with.

If Nobara's death had been meant to be final then not only in the story but also outside of it we would've gotten definite confirmation on it. Instead, I don't recall something like that being said. In story and outside, we have this wishy-washy Schrödinger's Cat situation going on.

Her injury

Idle Transfiguration cannot be healed with positive energy or any other means

That's because positive energy doesn't recognize damage to the body if it's in the same shape as the soul

At this point, her death was suspended in a similar fashion to how Megumi's death was suspended inside his exorcism ritual

This suspension can theoretically be kept up indefinitely as long as Nitta can use his CT

A popular theory in this regard, is Nobara learning Reverse Cursed Technique while at death's door.

Nobara is a Black Flash user, her use of cursed energy is more refined than that of the average sorcerer

Her learning RCT would parallel Gojo learning it after being sliced open. For her, it just takes longer

Having to use RCT constantly would also mirror Gojo, bringing her narratively closer to her teacher after being the one most distant from him

Her Return

Why did Megumi say she was dead?

Theory: because Shoko told him that she was dead:

Because Shoko thought it cruel to keep the hopes of Megumi and Yuji up. She still wasn't finished to try and save her though

Shoko was afraid of the higher-ups interfering in her treatment after Yaga was executed

Having Megumi believe that she died also makes Sukuna believe that she's dead, which makes her comeback unforeseeable to him.

Why don't we see her in the flashbacks?

To keep up suspense. But do you know who else we don't see in the flashbacks? Todo. And that guy isn't even dead.

What is she doing now?

We have some possibilities for the flashbacks:

Learning to function under her RCT

Learning to function on Nitta's CT

Training/secret missions with Todo

Recovering with her grandma/learning to use new forms of her own CT

For the current fights:

She's waiting her turn

Popular theory is that Nobara will use Resonance on Sukuna's last finger. If she does this too early, she will explode. My favorite way for her to do this is like this:

Utahime and Gramps will enhance her CT and she will attack Sukuna's finger right at the moment when Sukuna attacks Yuji to kill him, mirroring the Mahito scene.

Which are the instances where her death wasn't made explicit?

We never saw her corpse

She wasn't at the airport

No one talked to Gojo about her death, they only talked about Nanami

Only Megumi and Yuji talk about her death. The second and last time about Hana potentially replacing her

I think this is about it about Nobara's Return. If you have questions, I will answer.

...

I lied.

There is a way to heal Nobara.

And the person who's going to do that is Megumi.

Megumi will have to infuse one of his shikigami with Mahoraga's Adaptation ability

The Adaptation doesn't happen with CTs, it happens with phenomena

A transfigured body and soul is a phenomenon

After the adaptation, Megumi can order his shikigami to reshape or reverse the transfiguration

This Adaptation to Idle Transfiguration also has a second use: stopping the merger (or reversing it).

Kenjaku used Mahito's IT to change Tengen's barriers. If I remember correctly, he will use IT again in the future or the effects of IT will be relevant later on. And that's when Megumi will have his biggest role.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nobara kugisaki #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #gojo satoru #theory #meta

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nomoreusername · 8 months

Text

Hidden Burns

⚠️ Self harm ⚠️

Pairing:Gally x gender neutral reader

Summary:As you think you're hiding your problems fine Gally quickly proves otherwise

Escaping the Glade went differently for everyone. Some people didn't escape at all, some were picked up by people in black suits, one of us shot Chuck after getting stung, and one of us stayed behind after that person got a spear through the chest.

Gally and I are the last two. Apparently, I helped save his life that day.

I don't feel like a hero though. I feel like someone who was forced to make a choice. Mine was to go with my friends or stay with the two dying people.

Except, it was too late. Chuck was already dead.

So now I figured out how to work a lighter. The problem is why I use it. My arms can give you that answer. To be more specific the old and new burns on them can tell you that answer.

The pain I feel when I use I though, is nothing compared to the others, to Chuck's. That little kid died. Maybe if I had figured out what to do quicker, had been more calm, more collected, more clear minded, I could have helped him. I wasn't though.

I hide that pain well though, just like I hide the burns on my skin.

"Earth to Y/N. Are you there?"Gally asked, snapping me out of my thoughts as he waved a hand in my face.

"Yeah. What'd you need?"I asked, resting my hand on my chin as I looked at him.

"I was asking if you're okay,"He stated, though it sounded more like a question. Not that I let it throw me off.

"I'm great,"I lied, giving a fake grin.

"No you're not,"He confronted, making my heart drop in my chest. Still, I refused to let it show as I played dumb and asked what he was talking about.

"You're not okay,"He repeated. I feigned confusion as he let out a sigh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small item and placed it on the table in front of me. As I saw what it was time froze. I thought I had lost it, but sitting in front of me was my lighter.

"Where did you find this?"I asked quickly.

"Your room."

"What were you doing in my room?"

"What were you doing with a lighter?"

"It's not mine,"I calmly lied.

"It's not yours?"

"No. It's not."

"So it was just on your dresser in plain sight for the fun of it?"

"It's not mine,"I insisted.

"Why are you lying to me about this? That's so stupid."

"I'm done with this,"I huffed, going to walk away. Before I could he grabbed my wrist, making contact with the fresh burns. I let out a yelp of pain as I pulled my hand away.

"What is on your arm?"He asked after a moment of silence. I still didn't answer as I stared at the ground. "Y/N, what's on your arm?"He slowly repeated. I gave a half hearted shrug as I pretended none of this matters, as I pretended this wasn't pissing me off.

"Show me your arm,"He suddenly demanded.

"Shuck off,"I mumbled, crossing them over my chest.

"Show me your arms,"He said louder. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming at him. So far it was barely working as blood filled my mouth.

"Y/N, if you don't-"

"Fine! You want to see so bad?! Here you go!"I yelled, pulling my sleeves up. His face dropped the second he realized the truth. "You happy? I'm a wreck. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"I don't-"

"Because you got it! I'm an absolute mess, a disaster, and I don't even care anymore! It's fine though! I'm fine! Everything about this is fine, and I don't need anyone's help, and I don't even need you so just leave me alone or-"

Before I could finish my rant he gently pulled me into his chest. I froze as I tried to figure out how to react. In all the years I had known him he had never hugged me or really anyone before. Ever.

So maybe it was that, maybe it was the way he knew the darkest part of me, or maybe it was the toll that outburst had, but I cried. No. Not even that. I was full on sobbing into his shoulder as I wrapped my arms around him.

"I don't want help,"I quietly admitted.

"Even though you need it,"He whispered.

"Yeah. Even though I need it,"I whispered back as he only held me tighter.

"But you need it."

"I do,"I agreed. "But there's nobody who can give it to me."

"I can,"He said firmly.

"But you're not going to like it. You're going to get sick of me, Gally."

"No. I could never get sick if you,"He coaxed, rubbing my back.

Did I completely believe him?

No.

Would I trust him just enough to let him try?

Yes.

#gally tmr #gally x y/n #gally x reader #one shot #tmr #angst with comfort #hurt/comfort #tw self destructive behavior

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tswwwit · 1 year

Note

Med student dipper finding bill on the verge of dying and panics, I mean sure he's an ass but he doesn't deserve to die

Sure, here's a thing!

The body lying before him is a mess. And that's putting it politely.

Dipper's clenching his jaw tight, and the expression he's wearing can't be reassuring. He schools it back to a neutral state, trying to take in -

There's a lot to take in.

All his training, the tests. The patient practice and medical diagrams. Nothing prepared him for a body like this. All this blood, not in vials or on the cool white sheets of a hospital bed, but bare and leaking on the ground. Nothing between him and the reality that life is fragile, and can end so, so soon.

Training fails. So does tact.

Dipper takes a shaky breath, and says, "You're dying." "Pfft, hardly." The demon waves an idle hand - the one not holding his chest, failing to keep that weird, viscous blood inside. How he manages to smirk despite everything is a mystery. "I've had way worse!"

Bullshit, he's - A demon, sure, but anatomical facts are facts. With a hole that big, Bill Cipher shouldn't be moving, much less able to talk.

"This? Is basically nothing! Not even a patch on the times I've had a limb come off, or been impaled." Bill Cipher lies on the grass, waggling his hand in a so-so gesture. Despite the half-circle of chest missing, bitten right out of the torso. "Or even the time someone blew up this body's entire skull!" A low whistle, a shake of said very intact head - then a grin. "Though that one worked out pretty well, if I do say so myself."

Bill buffs the nails of his free hand against his ruined shirt, examining them with a bit of pride. How is he still moving.

Dipper stares at the concave gap in his torso. The slow leaking of the thick blood hasn't spread far, but it's just. Part of Bill is missing, Dipper finds it tough to look at. His stomach churns.

If it hadn't been Bill, it would have been him.

A dragon is. Well. A dragon. Who the hell knows why Dipper got snatched up and flown back to the den in the first place, but once he was there he wasn't getting out anytime soon. Or in one piece.

Dipper's talents aren't meant for combat, only trickery, and his chosen profession. Five minutes and three bites later, he'd have been a fairly forgettable snack. A random demon wandering in was the best stroke of luck Dipper's ever had, or could ever have, in a million years.

Hell, there's a lot of people who would take this entire situation as a win. One fire-breathing lizard gone, one fire-wielding demon about to follow. Two monsters, taking each other out with one stupid, pissy, ego-powered destructive battle.

Dipper, though, is perfectly fine. Aside from some burns and acid spit marks on his jeans, he's in great shape. He could just turn, walk away, and leave this monster to die next to the other, slaughtered one.

With this amount of damage, Bill Cipher isn't going anywhere. Eventually, he'll bleed out, pass out, pass away-

And Dipper would never forgive himself for letting it just... happen.

He takes a deep, calming breath. Lets it out, slow.

Okay. Back to basics.

He drops to his knees next to his patient. The scene is safe, the dragon's - Dipper glances over his shoulder - very, very dead. Bill himself is in no position to do much but be mildly annoying, by continuing to talk about more grievous wounds he's seen and experienced.

No airway trouble, since he's talking. It's amazing he's breathing at all. Even with a good portion of the lower chest gone, Bill hasn't passed out. And has enough air to talk, so. Probably fine? Yeah.

Dipper takes Bill's free arm in both hands. As a neat side effect, it stops the dramatic gesturing.

Pulse is.... slow, at first. But it picks up as Dipper takes it at the wrist, then a bit quicker at the neck. If this were a regular human he'd consider it bradycardia. By demonic standards, it's... probably fine? He thinks?

He checks Bill's face - grinning, and wiggling his fingers at Dipper - so, no signs of distress. He's not certain how to evaluate disorientation in a demon, either. Skip that for now.

So far, Dipper's working with the idea that this isn't immediately fatal. The next step is inspecting the wound, and see whether or not he can do anything about it.

"Okay." Dipper moves to check the damage, and finds it covered with ash, and shreds of cloth, and that acidic dragon drool - with this much in the way, it's hard to evaluate. "Bill, I'm going to have to cut your shirt off."

"Sure! Need a knife?" Bill produces one from seemingly nowhere. Dipper leans away, startled. That's. More enthusiasm than he expected. Bill notes his response, eyebrow rising. "What, you squeamish or something?"

"Uh." Dipper hesitates just a moment, but that's long enough for Bill to do the job himself, splitting his shirt open bare from chest to groin, which is. A lot. With a flourish of the knife, he lies back, tucking his arm behind his head.

And. What is there to say to that. "Thanks?"

Bill just gives him a slow, slow smile, and tucks his arms behind his head. Whatever look he's going for, it's too oozy to be effective.

Despite Bill's best attempts to be an ass about it, Dipper clears the wound area, as best he can. Not fully making eye contact, it's going to be bad. It's going to be a mess. Odds are he's going to have to tell a demon he's dying, even, and it's -

Dipper glances down.

It's.

The first, insane comparison that comes to mind, is 'like a cake'.

Bill's human enough. On the outside. Layers of skin, and muscle, and bone, and a considerable amount of 'blood' from the - Dipper feels it deserves the quote marks, now - 'body'.

But where there should be organs, and interstitial fluid, and a broken, leaking, seeping mess, a tangle of bitten flesh, there's. Not.

Organ-like shapes, certainly. They work unimpeded by any holes, pulsing, and alien. Apparently alive. Not spilling anywhere, either, since they're threaded through a pitch-black, non-leaky substance. This demon's body is like... layers of human fondant, over a weird jelly filling.

Dipper grimaces. Shakes his head, hand hovering. Not certain where to touch. Or if that would even be a good idea.

The human part is leaking everywhere, though. And when Dipper tentatively presses against it to slow the bleeding, one finger on the other bit - a couple drops of bright yellow ichor ooze slowly out, landing with a sizzle on the ground. He flinches back -

And Bill starts giggling. Like that freakin' tickled.

Dipper sits back up, shutting his eyes tight. He raises his hands as if in surrender. Which he's not doing, he just. Needs a second.

Overall, his professional evaluation is that the patient isn't dying. Not having a great time by any means, but outside of immediate danger. Theoretically, something could be done to help the... damage -

But. Bill Cipher's way, way outside of any of Dipper's experience. And that includes the several courses he's taken on nonhuman beings. Even the ones about demons, and otherwordly creatures, and spirits. Hell, the seminar he attended about elementals didn't mention this.

Bill is - or rather, Bill's wearing? Bill exists in? Some type of bizarre, semi-organic, mostly-magical hodgepodge of kinda-human kinda-demonic.... molded material? Specially created container? Oddly organized organic goop?

Whatever it is, Dipper's got no idea how it works. Or what would work on it.

"I don't-" Know what to do, Dipper almost says. Despite himself, his mind is racing. "I don't think I can fix you?"

The upturned inflection betrays him. Bill's grin brightens by several degrees.

"Now there's my curious guy! Part of you does know you can fix me! Don't overthink it, kid." He slaps the wound with a wet sound, making Dipper cringe back in sympathy. "You've got the mojo, so let's get things moving."

"I have life magic, yeah," Dipper adds. He fails to disguise the irritation in his voice. Shit, he has to learn to control that. Even if the patient's being a condescending dick. "I just. Don't think that works on demons."

"And typically, you'd be right!" Bill raises a finger, wagging it at Dipper. He almost looks proud that Dipper knew some random demon fact, like a weirdo. "Lucky for both of us, I'm in an... interesting body situation. Your stuff'll work just fine."

"No matter how much 'stuff' I have, there's nothing to reattach." Dipper gestures vaguely at the still-steaming corpse, smelling of iron and salt. There's a portion of Bill's torso in its stomach, and though the dragon's dead, he's not going digging around in there. He'd lose a limb in the attempt. "You can't regrow-"

"Stop thinking 'human', then. I'm nothing of the sort!" Bill chides, wagging a finger at him. Dipper pushes his arm back down, but it pops up again to snag him by the shirt. "All I need is some tailoring done on the flesh-suit. Super-duper easy for a guy like you!"

Dipper starts to protest. Then shuts his mouth, and ducks his head.

Maybe - just maybe - Bill has a point. Whatever this is, it's miles away from normal, what with how Bill's still alive and talking, to boot.

The sheer absurdity of Bill's body situation did make him hesitate. Wondering what he could do, with something this clearly, purely magical.

What Bill's proposing is still insane, of course. Dipper doesn't know why he entertained it in the first place.

Despite not having graduated yet, Dipper's used to helping save lives. He's done a few rounds, and shadowed several doctors. Bill's injury is the worst he's ever seen. He's the worst, most deadly being Dipper's met. Leaking and immobile as he is, he's still a demon. They're absolutely the worst.

But in terms of patients? Bill doesn't even rank in the top ten.

"Hello!" Bill's glaring. He clears his throat, and snaps his fingers twice. "Tired of waiting, kid. Do I gotta ring a bell for service here or what?"

Maybe in the top nine, or eight, though.

Dipper takes a deep breath, and lets it out. "Look. This is way beyond what I'm qualified to do." He squeezes Bill's hand, held in his own, and feels a deep sense of relief. "I can help stabilize you. Though you're, uh, pretty stable, and I can call an ambulance - " He glances around the woods. "Or. Get us at least closer to where I could call one. I might have healing magic but I can't just. Do it."

The entire idea is insane. Recklessly use medical magic on an unknown being? On a strange, unfamiliar semi-organic whatever the fuck body? Without knowing how, and where, and what type to use, any part of it could go wrong in so, so many ways.

Bill's asking so casually. Like it'd be easy. Maybe he thinks it is.

Sure, his 'body' might be fine. But it really deserves the quotation marks. Assuming that it's a type of magical construct, trying to 'fill in' his missing parts might work. Demons could, in theory, be able to synthesize a... something or other, out of Dipper's efforts.

But even if it is a construct - Dipper doesn't have the blueprints.

Bill's 'body' is very, very real, not some gossamer-thin creation. Both solid, and living enough to bleed. Without a plan to follow, while he poured regeneration into an organic form? One this complicated? He'd totally screw it up. The sheer amount of magic it takes to sustain it alone is absolutely insane.

"Fine. Then back the fuck off, if you're squeamish." Bill interrupts his train of thought, voice sharp. His teeth bare as he sneers, and Dipper makes another note on the 'not human' chart. "Or hey! Find a neat stick or something." He pats at the gap on his side like it's more of an annoyance than a grievous, leaking wound. "Gotta get something to prop me up so I'm not tilting forty degrees just trying to get around."

"Cut that out." Dipper uses his stern, professional tone, to zero effect. "You need to keep that clean." Probably. Does Bill even have an immune system, or-?

His train of thought gets interrupted as Bill pats around, finding a chunk of a blasted-apart log- then compares it to his wound, with a contemplative look. Like he's judging whether it's sturdy enough to replace the flesh and bone missing from his friggin' torso. Like he only needs to plug it up as a structural issue.

"Oh my god," Dipper says, and swats the stupid splintery thing out of this idiot demon's hand. "Do you want an infection?"

Bill opens his mouth. Presumably, he was about to make some quote-unquote 'witty' response, but Dipper's already covered his mouth. Running his over hand over his face.

"If I try to patch you up," Dipper starts, slowly. Already knowing he's doing something dumb, just so someone else won't do something dumber. "Will you please not shove anything into it. After."

"It's a deal, sapling." Bill gives him a smug grin, and an irritating thumbs up. "Go for it! And tell you what." The wink is totally unnecessary. "I'll even back you up on the magic front."

"Sure," Dipper says, very dry. Because transferring magic being-to-being is that easy. Everyone just. Hands it over, on a whim. Bill has lost a lot of blood, though. Maybe it's made him loopy. "Go for it."

That, at least, shuts Bill up. He hums a little tune, lying back and waiting for....

Dipper to do the dumb thing.

With a sigh, He sets his hands on Bill. His skin is bare, so there's a the brief relief that Dipper won't have to channel through it; a total lack of modesty does have minor benefits.

Another breath. Dipper shuts his eyes. focusing on his magic. Drawing it down, through his own source of life, through is arms, to his fingers, pressed into Bill's soft skin like he's testing the ripeness of a peach.

Welp. Here goes nothing.

Literally nothing, mind. Demons are powerful, and weird. Mortal magic doesn't mingle well, or easily, with the kind that demons throw around, and the form Bill's wearing looks hand-crafted. Whatever made it is going to be way beyond Dipper's ability to fix. Possibly beyond his ability to comprehend.

If he's lucky, though, he might be able to slow the bleeding. For some reason that hasn't really stopped, but it'll make transporting him less messy if he can manage to stem it. but the best case scenario is that he doesn't murder Bill outright in the attempt.

The first trickles of magic bleed into Bill's flesh, spreading through that layer of fondant, down into the jelly-donut center. His magic feels bone and blood. He feels the little tangling twine of veins, and the strings of muscle.

Following his training, Dipper pushes magic in. Carefully. Slowly.

A moment later, his eyes shoot open.

He stares at the wound. Then he stares Bill.

All he gets in return a is a big grin, and a nonchalant wave.

Dipper blinks back down a the gap in this demon, and how it slowly, slowly closes up without even being guided.

Fixing up a person would be a multi-step, long, lingering process. Like repairing the circuitry on a delicate electronic, or gently guiding the weave of a tapestry.

With Bill, Dipper's just. Pouring wax into a mold. As long as he keeps putting magic into it, it reforms back into shape. No blueprints needed.

Holy shit, this is easy.

What the fuck.

Whatever form Bill's wearing is truly bizarre. This is - he doesn't know - technically organic, but absolutely a constructed thing. How the hell was this made? Who did it? And what the hell, why is it growing back so fast?

Dipper nearly pulls back out of sheer surprise, intending to stop - before quickly realizing he can't.

He slams his palms back on Bill's torso, shivering as the small plumes of flame fade. Bill doesn't seem to mind; which both is and isn't a surprise. No blisters form, either, which proves Dipper's startled assumption about what the fuck just happened.

Swearing again, Dipper shuts his eyes, shoving harder against Bill's skin. No backing out now. He has to keep focus, and see this through.

Bill wasn't kidding about how easy this would be.

He also wasn't kidding about backing Dipper up with his magic.

Even though this is easy, Dipper wouldn't have enough on his own, not to heal a huge chunk like this. Too much missing material, even in a magical construct. Too complicated, and strange.

But Bill's here. A guy who's very invested in getting up and around again, and - shit, demons can hand over power to humans, it's kinda their thing. God, why didn't Dipper think of that before.

Though he started with a trickle, just to see what would happen, Dipper amped it up as things seemed to be working. A little increase to the stream of magic, admiring the effects.

Somewhere along that line, it turned into a torrent.

It figures. Bill's power must be behind this, and he's a demon, and an asshole. While Dipper wasn't paying attention, Bill opened up some kind demonic valve, without Dipper ever noticing.

There's a whole river of demonic magic coursing through Dipper's veins now. Arguably still controlled by him, but fed by a pushy demonic asshole. The magic doesn't feel bad at all, but it's big. Vast, and seemingly endless.

Demonic power courses through Dipper, hot and thick in his arms, lighter in his chest, swirling around his own heart, both his and not-his -

And all of it has to go somewhere.

Underneath his hands, the flesh.... flows.

Dipper watches the arch of the ribs, gently connecting back together, and the sheets of muscle blossom back. Skin spreads over what was empty air. Something is made from nothing, as full and complete as that power inside him.

Bill pulls Dipper's hand away from his chest, and takes a long, deep breath. His eye shuts.

And Dipper blinks as if coming out of a daze, jerking himself upright. He doesn't know when he started leaning over Bill like that, but now it feels super weird.

As Bill mutters something under his breath, wiping a hand down his face. Dipper backs up, then sits down heavily on the ground.

He didn't know he could - but he did that. Or Bill did that, through him. It's. A lot. To think about, and to have handled.

Either way, the result's slightly dizzying. As is the sheer amount of leftover magic.

For a moment, Dipper stares at his hands. He flexes his fingers, then rubs at them.

There's still a heady, warm sense of having way, way more to work with than usual, which is. Weird. But what's left no longer feels like it's being rudely shoved forward, and that makes it more manageable.

So. Kind of a controllable, reasonable level of absolutely absurd power. Without Bill powering him ,it should fade over time, and Dipper won't let himself miss it.

"Oof," Bill says, sitting up and stretching. "What a huge pain in the side that was!" He rises to his feet, brushing off dirt and debris. "Do you have any idea how many muscles a human shape needs to ambulate right? And there aren't any backups? Shitty engineering, if you ask me."

Dipper only vaguely pays attention to the rambling. Bill's up and about, and the patch of ground where he was lying is bare. Stained, but empty, and it's all -

Bill clears his throat, and reaches down. Dipper blinks at the intrusion of a sudden hand, but takes it and lets Bill haul him upright.

"That worked." Dipper says. He saw it with his own eyes and yet. "I can't believe that worked. How..?"

Bill says nothing, only smiles. Enigmatic, and dickish of him.

Dipper frowns as he runs a hand over the place where there was nothing only five minutes before. The temperature matches all the rest of the skin, and the stomach jumps a little under his touch. It's complete and solid, hot to the touch. Bill looks perfectly healthy, he guesses. But. "Are you doing okay?" Dipper asks, reaching up to take a pulse again at the neck. Much faster this time; maybe a sign that he's improved. "You look alright, but I don't know your vital signs." There's only one pupil, and it looks slightly dilated. Nothing to compare it to, sadly - Dipper frowns. "How are you feeling?" "Good question, sapling!" Bill takes Dipper by the wrist, lowering it to his shoulder. And winks, leaning in with what could only be called a leer. "How do I feel?"

"Uh." Dipper darts a glance down at his hands - resting on Bill's bare chest, the other on his shoulder.

This isn't - He was checking - Okay, fine, the assessment is over. Time to stop touching him.

Dipper takes a step back, clearing his throat. Bill follows, leer annoying wider.

Not that that's. Unnerving or anything. Dipper's just sweating because of the magic he used. That was pretty intense.

"Well, you're fine." He stammers, then grimaces at Bill's raised eyebrow. "I mean, you're okay-fine, not-" He manages to get one hand off the chest, but Bill's not letting go of the other. He lets out a nervous laugh. "So. You're all better, and I should, uh. Get going now."

Bill hums a little in thought. Clearly an affectation. Dipper doesn't have to be a mind-reader to know Bill's already made up his.

Pulling away doesn't work; Bill's grip is surprisingly strong. One might even say, inhumanly. So. Dipper offers a smile, weak as it is. "Yeah, I should really leave now."

"Nah, I don't think so." Bill shrugs, then grins again. "I didn't fight a friggin' dragon just for the prize to run off at the end."

Yep, Dipper figured.

Out of the dragon's den, and into the demon's.

He should have left Bill there to die and rot and be a dick somewhere in a demon realm. He should have known that stupid turn of luck was way too good to be true.

"Now you and I are gonna-" Bill's stomach jumps again, and he grimaces. Tapping a fist against his chest, he sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Ugh, life magic." He ducks his head, breathing slowly. "One sec, kid."

Dipper seizes the opportunity, wrenching his arm away and clutching it to his chest. He backpedals until he stumbles. In front of him, Bill growls - then rests his hands on his knees, and makes a small choking noise.

Oh thank fuck, Bill's not perfectly fine. Healed, sure - But something's gone wrong because he almost looks.... sick?

Dipper turns towards the woods - then pauses. He fixed him, sure, but - "Uh. Are you-?"

"Fine! Fine. 's just a side effect." A hiccup, and a dismissive wave. Bill stops, holding back a dry heave, then groans ."Won't last long, so don't try anything funny." He glares at Dipper, pointing at him like a command. "The second this is over, I'm-"

Before he can finish the sentence, Dipper's halfway across the clearing and rounding the dragon corpse. It blocks Bill's line of sight, and from there, it's a straight running contest. The nausea should by him some time to truly get the hell out of dodge.

Good thing it's still daylight out; he might be able to find his way back to civilization, or, like. Follow a river or something. With the extra power in him, he might be able to throw up a few illusions too. That should help keep the literal goddamn demon off his back.

What a goddamn mess today has been.

Dragons, demons. Magic and monsters and crazy assholes who have who-the-fuck knows what intentions after someone just helped their jerk ass.

This was supposed to be relaxing. A break before Dipper finally went into residency -

And much like other parts of his life, it's turned into a complete and absolute shitshow.

The pine trees whip past as Dipper keeps up a breakneck pace. God, he should slow down lest he sprain an ankle or something -

But behind him he hears Bill cursing, and there's a growing blue glow that's as terrifying as it is ominous. He picks up speed out of sheer terror, and makes a promise to himself.

Next time Dipper gets vacation, he's going absolutely anywhere that isn't Gravity freakin' Falls.

#answers #Warning for mild/moderately described gore but the person's fine cause it's Bill and he's a weirdo #Here is me attempting to break through the writer's block #Have some very silly bullshit #Written entirely in tumblr's draft thingy so apologies for any errors and the quality overall #I might have fun tag facts but I'll add them later when I think of it

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savventeen · 2 years

Text

take it easy (slowly carve out my heart)

you had always been the target. always. he knew this. he knows this.

so why does wonwoo feel like he's the one who's dying?

pairing: assassin!wonwoo x gn!reader rating: M wc: 0.8k prompt: @diamondyjh wanted angst so i repurposed an old namgi fic hope u enjoy :') summary: wonwoo's assignment: become your husband and bide his time until given the command to kill you. a simple mission, really — one that shouldn't have been hard. except, he never accounted for the fact that he might actually fall in love with you. too bad he's the perfect little soldier. warnings: major character death (reader), graphic depictions of violence, stabbing, blood, assassination, grief/mourning tags: angst, and i mean ANGST, no happiness here sorry folks, only as much pain and sadness as i could shove into less than 1k a/n: the prompt for the original fic was 'a whisper in the ear' for the 'ways you said i love you' prompt challenge, and the friend who'd requested it had specifically said "but make it hurt" so. here we are :')

The brick of the deserted alleyway is freezing through the back of Wonwoo's jacket, but he doesn't really feel it. Just focuses on the way the chill greedily seeps under his skin, sinking down through muscle and sinew and deep into the marrow of his bones.

He needs it, the cold — more than he needs the air in his lungs or the blood in his veins or that overbearing muscle that continues to beat inside his chest. That terrible, frivolous thing.

So he needs the cold, needs it to numb everything except the machine that he thinks has always dwelled within him.

("Never forget who you really are, Wonwoo-ssi — what you've been made into.")

"Wonwoo?"

("It's the only way you'll survive.")

"Where'd you go?" Your call comes from just outside the entrance to the alley, cutting softly through the otherwise quiet of the night.

That thing in his chest gives an obstinate thump, but he ignores it. He is numb.

"In here, y/n," he replies, just loud enough to be heard from the street. He takes in a deep breath, the winter air a painful comfort as it crystallizes inside his lungs.

"Baby?" Your voice is closer now, and Wonwoo tilts his head to see you peering down into the alley. He meets your eyes, your brows furrowing in concern, and you quickly make your way toward where he continues to lean against the wall. "What're you doing out here in the cold? Are you okay?"

He is numb. He is numb. He is numb.

He tells himself this over and over again, wills it to be true as you stop in front of him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry," he murmurs, "I'm fine. Just needed to get some air."

Before this moment, the lies had always fallen so easily out of his mouth, like sand between his fingers. (Were they ever really lies?) But this one weighs heavy on his tongue.

"That's usually my line," you quip, a half-smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

You move your hand from his shoulder to his jaw, gently stroking the cool skin of his cheek with your thumb. Your other hand comes to rest on Wonwoo's waist, the touch just as gentle even through his thick winter coat. "We can stay out here for a bit, hmm? Until you're ready to go back inside."

You close what little distance is left between the two of you and press your forehead into his neck. "Or if it's still too much," you mumble into his collarbone, soft and warm, "we can go home. Whatever you need, baby."

I am numb.

He whispers, "Okay, love."

I am numb. I am numb. I am numb.

Three deep, slow breaths later, and he believes it enough to do what he was always meant to do.

It's quick, the way he pulls out the knife and shoves it between your third and fourth ribs in one swift motion.

It's so quick, in fact, that you don't even scream, just choke on a strangled breath as your body jerks in Wonwoo's hold. He twists the blade — "like a key in a lock, Wonwoo-ssi" — and yanks it out, letting it fall from his gloved grasp to the dirty concrete below.

You choke again, hands sloppily trying to find purchase on Wonwoo's chest as your legs rapidly lose their ability to support your weight, but you don't let go.

I'm numb.

And neither does Wonwoo. He can't.

You had always been the target. Always. He knew this. He knows this.

I'm numb I'm numb I'm numb I'm numb—

So why does Wonwoo feel like he's the one who's dying?

"W-won—," you cough, the blood that's filling up your lungs spilling messily past your lips.

"Shhhh," he croons into your hair, carefully lowering you both to the ground when your legs fold completely beneath you. "I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry. God, I'm so, so sorry."

He pulls you tighter to him, the blood rapidly soaking the both of you. Your movements start to slow, and your wet, shallow breathing turns into stuttering gurgles.

"I wish things could have been different," Wonwoo whispers into your ear. "I'm so sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Back and forth, back and forth, he rocks you — whispering his love and apologies over and over until your chest goes still in his arms.

And then he screams.

("Make it believable, Wonwoo-ssi. No one can ever see anything other than a grieving husband.")

He screams, and he weeps, and he begs, because somewhere along the line, it had stopped being a part to play. Loving you had never been an act, and the agonizing sorrow he feels ripping through his body will never be anything but scathingly, disgustingly, unfathomably real.

He'd never wanted it — that stupid, stupid, terrible, horrible thing called a heart. But you had given yours over so freely, so wonderfully, so wholly, that he had been helpless but to hand his over in return.

That stupid, frivolous thing.

#wonwoo angst #svt angst #seventeen angst #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeenweeklyarticle #i feel like i'm missing tags but oh well #savv writes #savv fics #feel free to come yell at me about this #i deserve it skjflksdjfsldkjfsldk #:')

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sapphicmsmarvel · 2 months

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feyre: lost and found

i cried multiple times writing this LOL (i’m dying inside)

this is me trying to heal the inner child that just wanted her siblings around. may my sister rest in peace and my brother can rot in hell (he’s not dead, just to me).

tw: talks about addiction, drinking alcohol to numb thoughts, death of a sibling, abandonment of another sibling.

noted: platonic use of “baby”. Unless you have a crush on Feyre then it can be romantic.

anyway i feel like i need to submit this one to my therapist.

A very bittersweet moment for you was watching your friends with their siblings. You tried not to get emotional when you saw Feyre and Elain baking together. Or Nesta and Feyre friendly bickering.

Even their not-so-friendly bickering was emotional for you.

The normalcy. Having someone you know deep down who won’t turn on you for saying the wrong thing.

You’d do anything to have an inside joke with your brother. For your sister to be alive let alone argue with her again.

You felt guilty for having those thoughts. Jealousy. What kind of friend is jealous because their friend's sibling isn’t dead?

You felt broken.

It was a party, some random one the Inner Circle decided to throw. Nothing special, or else you would’ve felt really guilty.

After a while, your thoughts got to you. About how you should have these moments with your sister still and never will again. How your brother left you in the dust. And now you work for the Night Court.

Suck my balls folks

You thought as you tipped the wine bottle into your mouth.

Oh yeah, you’re drinking. You don’t drink. Not because of an addiction, it just tastes nasty. But you needed something to quiet the noise. You grabbed a bottle of Rhys’ fancy shit.

Blegh, it was horrid. But it was something.

Eventually, Feyre found you sitting against the balcony in her study. You needed somewhere quiet. It was the end of the night anyway. But seeing her happy with her sisters overwhelmed you in a way that made you feel horrible.

“Hey.” She knocked against the open door and leaned slightly on the doorframe.

You tipped the bottle to her, “hello.”

“You have your inner monologue face on. What's up?” She stepped closer to you.

She walked through the terrace doors to where you were leaning against the brick balcony.

“I’m fine, Fey.” You said as she stopped in front of you.

“And I'm human.”

“What?” You asked incredulously.

She shrugged. “Thought we were telling lies now.”

You couldn’t help but snort as she sat next to you.

“You’re drinking. That means it’s bad.” She nudged your knee with her own.

Yeah. She had you there.

“My mind is loud.” You swallowed. The bitter gross wine taste.

“About what?”

“It’s…” You shook your head. “You’re going to think I'm a bitch.”

“You’re my bitch.” She joked. It was rare to see the High Lady so jokey. She had a hidden side not many saw.

She was a little shit.

You did a breathy laugh through your nose. “Okay fair point.”

“Seriously, what happened?”

“Promise you won’t hate me?”

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes.

“Promise?”

“Pinky.” She answered and held her pinky up which you grasped.

You took a deep breath. “I just, I'm jealous.”

“Of?”

“You and your sisters.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would do anything to have had a true sibling. I mean I did. I had two. One preferred drugs over her family, then she died. My brother left to god knows where. Completely abandoned me to pick up the pieces of the puzzle my sister destroyed. I had to help raise her kids, keep some normalcy. And yeah I had my parents and friends. But, I would’ve done anything to have had a sibling my age. On the same level. Going through the exact same scenario and they would know the exact way I felt. I wanted a partner in crime.”

Feyre was silent which spurred you on. “I know you three didn’t always get along. But, you still would always have each other's back. My own siblings stabbed me in mine. I am alone.”

“Were.”

“What?”

“You were alone. You have us.”

“And I love you all. But it’s not the same. I’m grateful for the found family, but it would be nice to have some blood family that actually likes me.” Even your cousins, aunts and uncles never really liked you. But that’s a different story to unpack that you don’t have energy for.

She didn’t have anything to say, because she knew there wasn’t anything to say. She knew nothing she could say would help you.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded all of this-“

“Shush.” She said, pulling you into a hug. “I’m just sorry that I don't know how to help.”

“That’s the thing Fey. You can’t. Nobody can. This is my life and I need to make my peace with it.” Your voice wobbled. “It’s not fair.”

It was silent for a moment, you managed to subdue the crying until she said, “I got you, baby. Let it all out.”

“It's not fair.” You cried harder and she held you tighter. Her chin was on your bent neck, your face in her elbow. One harm was holding your head while the other rubbed your shoulder. Her scent of lilacs and pears washing over you. Grounding you just a bit.

The childhood birthday parties where neither sibling showed up. The arguing that would ensue when they did show—as rare as it was. Your fathers’ drinking problem. Your mother smiling like everything was okay for the one child that deserved better—you. She was protecting you. She would have loved her step-kids (your technically half siblings) if they had treated her kindly. You are her whole heart.

The gifts your siblings would buy you last minute. While you were grateful for those gifts, they weren’t meant for you. Half-assed comments and broken promises beating down on your already distrustful heart.

As you cried into Feyre’s arms, she vowed then and there that nobody would ever hurt you again. She knew she couldn’t ‘heal’ you. She didn’t want to, because you were never broken to begin with.

“It’s their loss.” She whispered. But she knew you heard it. “It’s their loss, Y/N. Always will be. You are loving, supportive, protective. You are magnetic. You encapsulate the feeling of safety and comfort.”

You sniffed, your tears staining her sleeves as you buried into the crook of her elbow.

“I wasn’t a good enough reason for them to stick around.” You mumbled.

“One of the best things that could’ve happened to me was meeting you.” Her voice was thick, as if she was hiding her tears. But you felt the warmth of her tears hit your neck as they dripped down her cheeks. “I can’t take away your pain. But I can hold you through it. It would be my honor to do so.”

She would hold that promise until her dying days, she knew it and so did you.

“I am not leaving you. Understood?”

You nodded.

“Good. Because I need you.” She gave you a squeeze. “We all need you. You keep us afloat, sane. You give the best hugs.”

You let out a small, watery laugh at that.

You two pulled away from each other, you rested your foreheads together. It broke her heart seeing your puffy eyes and red skin, tears from those who did not deserve you.

She whispered into the night, into you. “You may have been lost, but now you’re found.”

#acotar fanfic #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acofs #feyre archeron x reader #feyre archeron #feyre x reader

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byeoltoyuki · 5 months

Text

✧memories of us ✧ love again

↳ Pairing: Jisung x Reader

❧ Genre : romance / smut /fluff / 1st love to strangers to lovers

❧ Summary: Sometimes memories are just that. Memories.

A series of drabbles about you and Jisung, about your love and your heartbreak and a second chance.

❧ A/N: Likes and reblogs are appreciated ♥

Masterlist / previous / next

You were covered in paint. Some splashes on your cheeks, a lot on your white, long t-shirt, some on your hands. The whole room was a mess, your kind of mess, a mess that usually led to a good result. Your muse decided to visit you in the middle of the night probably to save you from your own restless mind.

For the past few days, your thoughts were plagued by Jisung and the sweet kiss that happened after the gathering. Just a kiss but enough to set your whole body on fire. You couldn’t think about anything else. Just the kiss and Jisung’s warmth and his arms around you. Every time you laid awake in your bed, your mind would replay the moment, wishing for it to happen again. And it would be so easy, all you had to do was grab your phone and text him; knowing Jisung he would have answered and probably came to your place.

But you did none of that. Jisung was a busy man, especially with the upcoming show; they had to rehearse every single day, making sure it would be perfect. You understood it but it didn’t make things easier for you.

So you painted.

Lost in your own little world, you paid no attention to your surroundings; you didn’t know what time of the night or day it was and you didn’t notice how shyly the sun rose. You didn’t pay any attention to your phone either, not that you expected a call or anything.

Until your doorbell rang. Once, twice. The sound startled you, making you almost drop all the paint on the floor. You blinked confused, slowly coming back from your bubble and only to realize that it was no longer the middle of the night judging by how bright it was outside.

At the third bell, you hurried to your door before the person behind it got too impatient.

“Finally!” Jisung screamed too loudly the moment you opened the door. He barely let you time to recover from the shock of seeing him as he stepped inside and grabbed your cheeks, squishing them. “Where the hell were you?”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean ‘where was I’?”

Jisung paused and finally noticed all the paint on you, realization dawned on him. “Were you painting the whole night?”

You slapped his hands playfully to free yourself. You closed the door behind you, not needing an audience. “Yes. I couldn’t sleep.”

Jisung nodded. “Then, why weren’t you answering your phone?”

“My phone?” You tried to remember where you had left it. You had no use for it while painting, therefore you didn’t bring it with you.

Jisung groaned in frustration and shook his head at you. “Yes, your phone. You know the thing you use to message or call someone?”

Seeing Jisung so bitchy was not a usual sight, in fact, you could barely remember the last time you saw him in this state. Something bothered him and made him snappy. Slowly you approached him and observed him for a moment, trying to find out what was wrong. “What are you doing here, Ji?”

Jisung averted his eyes from your face and clenched his fists. “I needed a break. Minho is a tyrant.”

Your mouth twitched at his blatant lie. At least there was one thing that didn’t change about him; whenever he lied, he would avoid your eyes because he knew you would see through him. You took one last step towards him, leaving almost no space between your bodies. You left him no choice but be completely aware of your presence, of your body lightly brushing his. You flicked his nose and chuckled. “And the real reason?”

A faint blush spread on his face, but despite his embarrassment, his eyes locked with yours. “Fine. I was dying to see you. I’ve been trying to reach you for a while, but you weren’t answering, so I panicked. I thought maybe-“ He stopped to inhale sharply, “I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

At his confession, butterflies erupted wildly in your stomach. It comforted you to hear just how affected he was with your situation. It warmed your heart to know that he wanted to see you just as badly as you did. You gently cupped his face and couldn’t stop yourself from pecking his lips.

“I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about our kiss.” You admitted, confidently. There was no use hiding how you felt anymore. There was no use running away.

Jisung opened his mouth, but no words left it. He tried again and again and still nothing. You tried to muffle your giggles in return but how could you when he looked so adorable? You pecked his lips again and every time he tried to speak you did it again.

“Angel.” Jisung managed with a fond and exasperated sigh.

“Hmm?” You hummed, smiling fondly at him.

“You’re-“ You kissed him again. “Not mak-“ And again. “Bloody hell.” And with this last attempt, Jisung completely snapped. His mouth crashed down on yours, one hand on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. He cupped the back of your neck and deepened the kiss, pouring all his feelings, his need into the kiss and you kissed him back as eagerly, moaning softly into the kiss. The kiss was far from sweet and gentle and you couldn’t care less. You didn’t need nice, not when you were craving him so badly. When you felt like your life depended on him. And his lips.

“Please, tell me I’m not the only one needing it.” Jisung begged, breathless against your lips. “Tell me I’m not the only one who want to try again.” By the sound of his shaky voice, you could tell how desperate Jisung was. He was ready for everything if only it meant you would give him a second chance. A chance to make it right.

“If you want me to get on my knees and beg, I would.” He continued, his eyes filled with so much fire and resolution, you almost melted at the spot.

You kissed him softly. “As much as I like the image of you on your knees, you don’t need to. I want us to try again.”

Jisung exhaled loudly, his heart ready to burst out of his chest. “Thank god.”

#stray kids #han jisung #stray kids fic #han jisung fic #han #stray kids x reader #han x reader #stray kids fluff #memories of us

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