#I spent way longer on this than I thought I would

[nemesyaaa]

sweet babyface // toxic!bbydaddy!rafe x reader

summary ; rafe was decided to make your little one, a kook princess. and if it means to spend a million of dollars on a diamond swarovski tiara just to see it on the head of his daughter, you can be sure he's gonna do it.

warnings ; basically fluff but i would add +18 bc of a little bit of suggestive content but not real smut. mention of breeding kink. kind of toxic relationship. a bit of stalking. financial dependence. be aware of the warnings.

author's note ; i just wanted to mention @princessbrunette for the bbydaddy!rafe verse. you can check it on her account <3

even if you tried every time to keep him away, push him away, avoid him or chase him, rafe always came back. you could be cold, distant, suspicious and even cruel, he didn't care. by the way, he was better than you at that game anyway? it wasn’t for nothing that you always lost trying to fight him. he was winning while you were just exhausting yourself out. sometimes you wonder why you let him into your life, why you thought it would be a good idea to have a baby with him when everyone on the island told you he was unstable and uncontrollable. some even laughed at your situation, saying it was like giving something to the devil and hoping he doesn't use it against you.

you couldn't say rafe was a bad father. your daughter had always been outrageously spoiled. he always gave her the biggest and greatest gifts. nothing was ever good enough for his princess. he always thought big when it came to his baby. even if you were a pogue, he wanted to raise her as a fucking kook.

and sometimes you wondered if he did all this out of pure fatherly love or out of narcissism or ego.even if you hated him so much, he absolutely needed to make sure your child was on his side. every time he was there, it was like you no longer existed. the house was full of "dad," "daddy, “ or “ papa, " and babbling and laughing. it was always his name, she never called you. and you always felt a pang in your heart every time he grabbed her in his big veiny arms, making her the happiest little girl before taking her away from you to go on some weekly trips.

even when he was not at home, it was always with the toys he gave her that she played, the dresses he gave her that she wore, the hairstyles that he validated by facetime that she asked you to make, the meals he delivered that she wanted to eat. she was truly daddy’s girl. even in her facial features.

so no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was still there somehow . through the demands of your daughter, the hundreds of deliveries a day to your door, the objects in this house and even its walls because he was obviously the one who paid for it.

you didn't need to work. you had access to all his cards. at first you spent tons of money on unnecessary expenses hoping it would drive him crazy but the next day you saw that even more money had been added to the bank account.

but rafe cameron didn't give you access to his banking data out of pure kindness and affection alone. he was also looking for a way to control you, and stay in your life. then, with that, he could also stalk you and do inappropriate things like when you bought lingerie and he received the bill. he couldn't stop himself from sending you a message. “don't want to see me, but you dress yourself like you want me to give you a second baby ;) ”

the only rule was that you were forbidden from going to see another man and even less from inviting him to the house. he manipulated you by saying it was for your daughter's mental balance but it was purely out of jealousy. and you knew it very well. you weren't the stupid naive girl he had gaslighted in the past and who he could lie to so easily anymore.

one day, you were giving your kid the extremely expensive cupcakes rafe had bought for her breakfast, trying not to comment on the ridiculousness of the prices but especially the situation, and there was a knock at the door. when you saw through the blinder that it was him, you stepped back discreetly, swallowing hard to not clench. your heart was beating fast in your ribcage as you were trying to silence your stepfoots.

“I know you're here.” you had heard his loud firm raspy voice through the door. “baby, i can hear you breathing and backing up from here. come on, i thought we both get over the time i scared you. ”

he continued to knock on the door until your old neighbor called you claiming that a crazy madman was in front of your house and didn't want to leave.

you had been forced to open up to him which made you even angrier.

but that didn’t stop him from smiling at you, the insatiable white colgate smile. his clean and fresh mullet was long enough that hair brushed the back of his neck. he was wearing one of his perfect black suits with the sleeves rolled up to show a glimpse of his nice shirt. a Rolex was tight around his veiny wrist, and the same rings he always wore were wrapped around his fingers.

he had his ear pierced recently with your daughter. you had been against it, but she still wanted to do like her father so you had no authority over the sweet monster. but you had to admit that the jewelry suited them both so well. especially on rafe, you couldn't help but think about kissing his ear, but especially biting his earlobe while caressing the silver piercing until it's wet and rolling against your tongue. all this perhaps while thinking of having a baby again.

“I should be allowed to come here whenever I want. " he had sworn under his breath, staring at you with his evil blue eyes.

“tell me what you have to say or I’ll call the police.” you replied shortly.

"I want to see my girl. I mean, the one who likes to call me daddy. "

“It’s not funny and she doesn’t want to…”

you hadn't had time to finish speaking before your babyface's little footsteps were running on the floor to come into the hall.

“daddy! " she exclaimed before being carried off the ground to snuggle into her father's strong arms, her little frame being hidden by the size of his biceps.

“that's my little girl.” he welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek, making her chuckle.

"I missed you! please, stay !" your kid had asked with bubbly face and pleading eyes, her childish pout so irresistible to say no.

“of course, I’m staying.”

“raf…” you started but he ignored you, walking in the house without your permission into the living room.

“I have something for you, peaches. ”

he took a present out of his bag and you rolled your eyes. you already knew it was going to be something crazy like the giant dollhouse he built in her bedroom, or the huge dinette in the playroom, or a scary tall comfort teddy bear that she couldn't even carry in her tiny hands. sometimes you wondered what he could offer to her because she already had everything. he had literally built her a heaven.

your daughter's eyes widened in surprise, while a smile floated across her lips in excitement. she opened the gift and took out a silver tiara set with diamonds and stunning crystals signed by Swarovski.

“she’s a baby, rafe…” you commented.

"no, she's a princess. " he corrected you and fixed your little one's hair before putting the tiara on her head, and placing a smack on her forehead. “ don't you see that kook babyface ? ”

she giggled before wrapping her hands around his neck to thank him.

“we need to talk.” you said.

"later. i have a princess to honor for now."

you wanted to fight back and kill him but you couldn't resist your daughter's face. she was happy to be with her father. and you knew it was important for girls to establish a strong bond with their father. and there was this bright spark that shone in her eyes every time she saw him that made you melt.

so you let him stay at home. he stayed with her all day. she managed to make him do whatever she wanted, and that's how he found himself playing with dolls, watching the princess and the frog, doing karaoke to barbie songs, serving as a client for a makeup session, and judging all of her princess dresses while she was making him a haul.

No matter how angry you were that he showed up like that and decided to stay, you couldn't deny the fact that he was damn good, that in the moment, you couldn't find any reason not to like him, even when he caught you spying on them and sent you a smirk to remember that you had no control.

you had decided to do some cleaning, to leave them both for a bit until the end of the day. after a long moment, rafe decided to leave her alone for a bit.

you were downstairs, and you were making food. he raised an eyebrow when he saw you. “don’t forget me.”

“no I’m sorry, I’m cooking for two and you’re not included in it.”

“I was included in this pussy to make you a baby so you can include me in this meal for one night, baby. ‘s nothing. ” he shouted back, chewing some gum arrogantly.

“don’t be trashy.”

"you used to like this..." he carefully said, because he knew he was treading on sensitive ground.

he stood in front of you, picking a taste of the ranch sauce from the bowl before putting it in his mouth. you watched him do it, glaring at the smile on his so fucking evil lickable lips.

“ taste's good. ”

“I want you to leave. “

"We should ask every part of your body if they're okay with this. Maybe it would put you back into your place to feel betrayed by your own self. "

“You’re not good for her.” you confessed.

“I am her father. And from what i know, she's very happy with me. You're the one to have a problem with my presence here. ”

"Please, leave the house. I don't want to call the police."

“exactly, baby.” he moved to stand behind you, rearranging a strand of your hair, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “you don’t want to do it. And you're not forced to do it…” he caressed your hand, slowly putting the knife away from your fingers.

“Step back.”

"I want to stay here tonight. Just this night. She really wants me to stay and would it be cruel to make her sad? You don't want to be the villain, right ? "

“don’t try to manipulate me.”

" mmh, just telling the truth and it makes you mad. you can hate me if you want but she needs me. i'm her dad and you know if I wanted to, I could make her come with me but I love seeing you together. you're a great mom.”

"you will sleep on the couch. and that is non-negotiable. you don't try anything with me, is that okay?"

“Come on, we can sleep together. We are mature and consenting adults.” he replied. "There's nothing I haven't seen before, baby. I know all that lingerie as well as that body hidden behind it."

“about that, stop stalking my bills.”

"Mine , baby. you mean, my bills. these are my cards that you use for your pleasures so I have the right to have an eye on them. even more so when I receive bills for sex toys. you should call me instead of handling it? yourself.”

"After trying them, I'm not sure that you're big enough now. “

jesus, you knew how to provoke him and it worked. he had sniffed the air loudly, trying to contain himself because honestly, he only wanted one thing at the moment, a strong urge that was to fuck you dirty on that counter until he was sure to see your hole tearing to death and dripping to get his cock in. jesus, yeah, he would give anything to see you grimace because it will never fit in but prove you wrong by giving you a second baby.

his jaw was tense and his nostrils were flared. he was forced to clench his fist to avoid touching you. " the day when your babygirl will want a little sister or brother, you better be begging on all fours on my fucking doorstep to convince me to give you another baby. so better to start now and stretch that hole very hard before it's happening because i'm gonna make sure to be breeding you enough to change your whole dna. ”

“ aren't you tired of thr…”

“mom, dad, what are you talking about?” the little girl burst into the kitchen, still with her tiara on her head. a smile appeared when she saw that her dad was still there. because it was rare for him to stay that late.

you warned rafe with your eyes, slashing violently at pieces of vegetables with the knife back in your hand.

“ we were thinking that i could stay tonight. what's your thoughts on this, little one ? want daddy to stay ? ”

“ yes ! i don't want you to leave. stay foreveeeer with me. ”

“ but you know, he can't. he's a businessman. ” you replied.

“ what do you mean, baby ? my only business is right here. ”

” Rafe. ” you said.

“ Baby ? ” he replied with a cocky smile. “ Why don't you tell us what you're cooking ? Seems delicious. Maybe we could get a taste. ”

“ Sweetie, can you go to your room for a second ? I need to talk with your dad. It's not gonna be long. ”

She pouted but agreed after Rafe promised her something if she was listening to her mom.

“you know you can’t stay. "

"All I know is that there is my name in the papers of this house, on your bills, and even on your documents. If I can't stay, you can't escape. So what's better ? ”

[ellecdc]

pause to breathe

combination of two anon prompts: yapper reader who seeks out any of the boys and starts talking and then wonders if they find her terribly annoying and she thinks they must hate her combined with part two for Regulus x yapper!reader with the mooncalves

Regulus Black x fem!reader who updates him on the mooncalves [681 words]

p1 | p2

CW: yapper reader, longwinded speech and spiralling thoughts, run-on sentences, reader feels embarrassed

Pandora and Barty were currently busy procuring ingredients to brew truth potions for tonight’s veritaserum-or-dare, which meant that Regulus, Evan, and Dorcas were enjoying a rare quiet moment in the library. 

“All I’m saying is that out of all the poltergeists I’ve summoned, Peeves really is the least of our worries.” Evan mentioned boredly, earning him a snort of laughter from Dorcas.

“Remember Mammon?” She asked in a hushed tone.

“How could we forget?” Regulus responded. “He had first years strung up by their feet from the ceiling trying to get the galleons to fall out of their pockets.” 

“I’m so glad Barty knows how to obliviate; that would have been a nightmare.”

“We would have been expelled.” Dorcas pressed with a laugh, Evan simply nodded at her.

“Like I said, a nightmare.”

Regulus was saved from having to reply when he heard his name being called, albeit softly - this was the library, afterall.

“Regulus! Regulus, Regulus, Regulus.” You chanted your whole way over before sitting down heavily on the bench beside Regulus, breathless and nearly blowing the parchment right off the table from the speed at which you approached.

“It worked! The beast treats from Brood & Peck worked!”

It took Regulus’ brain a few moments to work out what it was that you were talking about when he remembered his trip to Brood & Peck last week. He wondered then if he should ask you how it went, but you carried on before he could.

“I’m sure that maybe, perhaps, the apples were a help, seeing as they’ve grown somewhat accustomed to my presence. But they came right up to me last night! I even got to scritch the space between one’s eyes! Have you ever pet a mooncalf, Regulus? They’re way softer than they look. It’s almost like a cat except the fur is a touch longer and silkier. Have you ever pet a bunny? Sort of like a bunny, but with thinner and longer hair…like a long-and-thin haired bunny. Oh! And! Last night among the mooncalves was one tiny kitten! Real little, too. I wonder if he got separated from his mama when I was feeding them tuna a few nights ago? None of the other cats were there again last night, just the little bubs. But it seems as though the mooncalves have adopted him! Oh, it was so cute! One was even grooming him! But I was so busy being excited about finally petting them and getting them to approach me that I forgot to take pictures. Maybe I can get pictures tonight? Hopefully the kitten is still there. Well, I guess it would actually be better if the kitten was with its mum, yeah? Maybe just one more night, just so I can get a picture, then hopefully he finds his mum again.” 

You paused, likely to breathe, and seemed only then to register the fact that Regulus hadn’t been sitting at this table alone.

“Oh.” You murmured quietly, moving your horrified gaze from Evan and Dorcas towards Regulus beside you, another “oh” escaping you when you seemed to realise how long you just spent shouting about mooncalves to Regulus Black in front of his friends. 

“Oh my gods.” You nearly whispered. “I’m so sorry. Merlin, this is so embarrassing; I am so embarrassing. I’m so sorry!” 

Nearly as quick as you came did you stand and leave, fleeing from the library without even sparing a backwards glance at your potions partner. 

“I’d be worried she doesn’t get enough air to her head. Merlin.” Evan commented as he finally turned back towards the table from where he’d been watching you leave. “Do you think her brain works that quickly when she reads? She must finish books so fast.” 

Regulus simply smiled to himself as he packed up his notes and books. 

“I’ll catch up with you later, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Black.” Dorcas drawled teasingly as Regulus shouldered his book bag and exited the library, venturing off in the direction you had just moments before in hopes of finding out more about last night’s mooncalves and their little kitten friend.

[keferon]

“We’ll see Earth again.” Swerve says it not because he knows for certain, but because he has to believe it.

———————————————

“You don’t have to, you know…”. Jazz gestures vaguely at Swerve’s holoform as he takes a seat next to Jazz on the edge of the bar.

“I know. But it just feels natural, sometimes.” Swerve doesn’t know how to explain it. That he knows his holoform better than his own frame some days. And if he just walked around like this on the ship, he’d get stares. But with Jazz….

“I know what you mean.” Jazz laughs. “Piloting my mech always felt natural. And then I ended up living out of it for a while after my trip through space. Spent so long inside that wiring and metal and electrical signals felt more like me than flesh and blood. Once Prowl found out…took me a while to remember how to be human outside my mech. I still miss it sometimes.”

Jazz is gazes off at a projection against the far wall. Swerve looks closer and recognizes it as a star map of the galaxies. And he wonders if Jazz is just talking about mechs anymore.

“Hard to believe Earth is just one of those tiny dots,” Jazz says softly. “It’s hard to believe any of it still sometimes. That I’m actually out here, on an actual spaceship, with aliens that aren’t just trying to kill us all. With Prowl. With you. I mean, what are the chances?”

What are the chances indeed, Swerve thinks. That of all the ships he just happened to end up on the same one as Jazz and Prowl. But he’s glad in a way. Because otherwise — otherwise he might never have realized that his dreams, his fantasies were anything more than that.

“I’m actually glad, in a way,” Jazz says, echoing Swerve’s own thoughts. “Glad to know we’re not alone in this. Glad to get to know you — the whole you. Glad to have met Prowl. But — I miss Earth, miss home.”

“I miss Earth too,” Swerve says. “A lot. Sometimes…sometimes when I think about the life I lived there it feels more alive, more like I was living then anything I can remember before my accident.”

Swerve had friends, had a job, had hobbies. Had people, including Jazz, — people who were a part of his life and whose lives he was a part of. People who would notice his absence, who would miss his presence. (People who did notice him go missing. Swerve’s seen the status next to his own name in mecha logs. Him and Jazz.)

“We’ll see Earth again.” Swerve says it not because he knows for certain, but because he has to believe it. He needs to see it. Needs to get back.

Because he knows what he’s not telling Jazz. That things back on Earth are not nearly as good as they are here. That things are falling apart. But he has to believe that it’s not too late. That they can still help, if only they can get there. If only they can do something.

“You think so?” Jazz looks directly at Swerve, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I do,” Swerve says. “Because while you were doing whatever pilot training it is that they have you do to go into space, you know what we were doing? There was a whole team of us behind you — mechanics and engineers — training to support the mission. What to do if things went right. What to do if they went wrong. How to make sure we brought you home. We looked everywhere for you.”

Computations of oxygen supplies, food, water, potential mech damage. All to try and determine the likely survival windows in space. The long days and longer nights and dwindling hopes as the search had stretched on. The memory gives Swerve pause for the briefest moment. But none of their computations could ever have accounted for all the complexities of reality.

“And I found you,” Swerve says, brightening slightly.

“We found Earth.” He points vaguely at the projection. “That’s already two thirds of the way there!”

Swerve grins broadly.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to have a friend like you here.” Jazz throws an arm over Swerves shoulder as he says it. “Next stop, Earth.”

HELP the fact that they both miss Earth despite Jazz being a human and Swerve being an alien is kind of poetic and I’m SO here for it

[swappermanent]

Freckles (Part 3 - Grandpa's POV)

Life has changed a lot for me in the past nine months. You don’t realize just how much you miss about being young until you’ve got it back. I thought I had a good handle on things, swapping into Dylan every summer like clockwork. A week here, a week there—it was enough to scratch the itch, to remind me of what it felt like to have a strong back, quick reflexes, and boundless energy. But let me tell you, living in a young body for this long? It’s different. Night and day.

Kai—no, Theo now—was right. I’ll admit it. I was reluctant when he first said it to me, standing there in that smug stance of his, shirtless as always, grinning like he had the world figured out. “You clearly get a kick out of being in Dylan’s body,” he said, his tone dripping with knowing amusement. And damn if he didn’t have a point.

I hesitated back then, but looking at me now? I owe Theo a massive thank-you. Staying in Dylan’s body for longer than a week was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. For one thing, there’s a kind of freedom that comes with being young and I’ve been taking full advantage of it.

I live in Berlin now. Thanks to my little caveat—"Feel free to alter your body in any way you see fit during the year"—it was totally in bounds to do something like this. A new life, a fresh start. Berlin seemed like the obvious choice. The city practically begs you to reinvent yourself, to explore every side of who you are, no matter how deeply it’s been buried.

The real Dylan wasn’t thrilled about the move, but what could he do? We all already had Irish passports anyway, so it wasn’t like there were any logistical hurdles. He’ll get over it, I’m sure. Honestly, though, I think he’s secretly jealous.

Besides, this is the perfect place to explore my sexuality. Everyone here is so open—no judgment, no shame. I’ve had sex in all the clubs, even in the middle of Tempelhof Feld. Men, women—it doesn’t matter. And let me tell you, everyone wants my hog and body, which is in peak form.

But the best night I’ve had was one where I wasn’t taking the active role in the encounter.. I’d been getting into leather lately, exploring the scene and one night, I found myself at a warehouse party. Dim red lights, pounding music, the smell of sweat and leather mingling in the air. I was dressed for the occasion—harness, boots, nothing else.

That’s where I met them. A Swedish guy, tall and broad-shouldered, with blond hair and piercing eyes that pinned me in place. And a Bulgarian guy, muscular, his dark eyes smoldering with a confidence that left no room for argument. They didn’t ask; they just knew I would take it.

And I did.

They worked together like a symphony, positioning me between them with practiced ease. The Bulgarian was the first to push inside, his cock thick and unrelenting. I gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he filled me, stretching me in a way that felt like too much and just enough all at once. And then, the Swedish guy. His cock pressed against me, slick and insistent, until he slid in beside the first, my body opening up to take them both.

I’d never felt anything like it—the fullness, the weight of them moving in tandem, their rhythm so perfectly in sync it felt orchestrated. One of them reached around to stroke my cock, his grip firm and knowing, while the other’s hand moved to my chest, teasing my nipples until I was trembling. The pleasure was overwhelming, building in waves that crashed over me again and again, each one higher than the last.

When I finally came, it was like the entire world blurred out of existence. My cock pulsed in the Swedish guy’s hand, the orgasm tearing through me with a force that left me breathless. My legs nearly gave out, but they held me steady, their movements never faltering as they milked every last drop of pleasure from my body. By the time they finished, I was spent, my skin slick with sweat, my heart pounding like I’d run a marathon.

That night changed something in me. It wasn’t just the sex—it was the surrender, the freedom of letting go completely. Afterward, they helped me clean up, their touches surprisingly gentle, and we shared drinks at the bar, laughing and swapping stories like old friends.

And now? Well I think I’m officially a Berliner.

[lovebunnie]

Viktor did not know the first time he wanted to kiss Jayce.

It was hard to keep track of all the moments because of just how many there were. Jayce was a very easy person to want to kiss, with his handsome looks and incredible mind, paired with a strong work ethic and kind heart. Viktor suspected almost everyone Jayce met in his life had wanted to kiss him atleast once.

Jayce did not seem too interested in this fact, based on the amount of time he spent in the lab right next to Viktor. Their partnership did not allow for many relationships outside of a scientific purpose; it just so happened that Viktor really liked Jayce not only as a partner but also in general, just as a person.

So really, there were far too many times to count where he felt compelled to grasp his face in his hands and press their lips together. Some nights, Viktor would imagine Jayce running into the lab with great news of a secured deal or more grant money and just plant one right on his lips without thinking, before dashing to his desk while still chirping and leaving Viktor gasping.

He thought of a scenario where he found himself in the forge one night, just the two of them in the entire building, and like something out of a trashy novel, a shirtless and sweaty Jayce would pull him in by his hips and kiss him slowly and sensually before the rest of the daydream turned into something... else.

Once Viktor and Jayce were in the midst of a heated argument about how to conduct an experiment with or without proper precautions in place, and Jayce stood up and walked towards Viktor. He thought in that moment that Jayce was going to find a less conventional way of shutting him up and before he could articulate if that would've worked or pissed him off even further, Jayce had walked out the door. The next day he came back with an apology and they moved on stronger than before.

Viktor was almost embarrassed by how badly he wanted to kiss Jayce. He thought of how much he wanted to know just how Jayce would kiss, he wanted to see that side of Jayce and keep it all to himself. Viktor had Jayce in the lab but he wanted more.

When it happened, VIktor and Jayce were on long night number six. Days had passed since either of them had left the lab longer than it took to take a shower and brush their teeth. They could feel the edges of discovery brushing their fingertips, so close to a revelation.

"Only Piltovians would get bored of the ability for humans to fly," Viktor murmured as he adjusted a screw on the bottom of their anti-gravity contraption. "Why they needed something portable is beyond me."

"Now is kind of a bad time to start complaining, V," Jayce replied as he worked on finalizing the welding components. "This is going to work this time, it has to work-"

"It will work," Viktor emphasized. "And if it doesn't, we try again."

"If it doesn't I'm cracking open that bottle of wine I know you keep-"

Suddenly, the room was flooded with vibrant blue that had the both of them scrambling backwards. While before, the hexcrystals made the entire room weightless, now everything remained as it was with only Viktor's wrench floating in the middle, suspended in mid air. It was flying. It worked.

Jayce picked himself off the ground where he has fallen back and pushed his goggle up to his forehead. "Holy shit, V, it worked!"

Viktor removed his goggles as well, mesmerized by the suspension of an object isolated within their own chamber. The blue of the hexcrystal had died down and left the room in a cool glow, and Viktor felt a smile tug at his lips. "This is.. incredible."

"Oh my god, it actually finally worked. I need to write down everything we did, what kind of screws did you use? What is the temperature of the room, what runes did we use?"

As Jayce rambled on, Viktor stood up and took in his frantic energy. His hands were moving quickly and his eyes were searching for his notebook while he paced the room like he couldn't sit down. His hair was disheveled from the times he ran his hand through it in frustration and his eye bags were getting more and more pronounced. His face was leaner and exhaustion draped over him like a blanket. Objectively, Jayce looked kind of like shit.

Viktor felt a spark in his chest, he couldn't look away.

When Jayce made his way back in front of Viktor, he smiled warmly. "This is such a huge relief, I was really starting to get concerned that we were going to have to completely start over, but now we can start with trials and-"

As Jayce spoke, the spark grew and grew until Viktor could ignore it no longer. He pulled Jayce down mid sentence and pressed his lips to his, locking them together.

Viktor's hands cradled the sides of Jayce's face, keeping him in place while Viktor pressed his lips harder and tilted his head ever so slightly. It felt right, for the first time in a long time. Viktor was used to not feeling included but in this moment it felt like it was meant to happen. Their kiss was always going to happen in the wake of discovery, how could it not?

A few seconds passed before Viktor gently pushed Jayce back, their breaths shared in the close space. Jayce was silent, and Viktor began to quietly worry that maybe Jayce did not feel like this moment was perfect to him. The thought devastated him; there would be nothing crueler than losing Jayce as a friend.

Viktor took a step back as he looked away. "I'll get started on those trials, we can start with the screws to see if-"

In that moment, Jayce reached out and pulled Viktor back towards him, connecting their lips again in a kiss. One hand made its way to the nape of Viktor's neck while the other held his jaw gently. This second kiss was dynamic and Viktor found himself getting lost in the motions. In all the day dreams he had, he never thought to imagine that Jayce would want to kiss him back this badly, this fervent need to claim his mouth. Their partnership truly knew no bounds.

Before things could get more heated, they broke apart once more and Jayce pressed his forehead to Viktor's with a gentle laugh. "I've been wanting to do that for so long."

"What a coincidence," Viktor purred as he tugged Jayce in again. "So have I."

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat; Chapter 20: Her Rose.

Parings: Wednesday x Fem reader. Wordcount: 4.5k-ish?

Summary: Hope is a fragile thing.

Warnings: Angst.

Chapter 1 ------- Previous Chapter

Her Heartbeat's Chapterlist.

Worklist

Wednesday's eyes opened, missing the cold she would feel every morning because she was feeling uncharacteristically warm, cocooned in an unfamiliar yet not unwelcome sensation of comfort.

Turning her head slightly, she checked beside her. You were still asleep, your head resting against her arm, your hand loosely curled around hers. Her chest tightened at the sight of you, so peaceful and serene, as though all the worries of the world had melted away in your dreams.

How had it come to this? How had you—someone so warm, so full of life—become the center of her cold, unyielding world? You were her altar, your presence her sanctuary, your body her church. The idea was unnervingly intimate, and yet, it felt right.

Carefully, more carefully than she had ever done anything in her life, Wednesday shifted, her free hand moving to gently brush against your shoulder. “Y/N,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady, “wake up.”

You stirred slightly, your grip on her arm tightening momentarily before your eyes blinked open. A sleepy smile spread across your face as you looked at her. “Morning, Angry Bird,” you teased

Wednesday rolled her eyes, “I am leaving to get ready,” she said flatly

“Alright,” you said, stretching slightly before looking back at her. “Thanks for staying, Wednesday. Really.”

She didn’t reply, simply watching as you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your gratitude was unnecessary, but she didn’t have the heart to tell you that.

“I’ll meet you at breakfast.” she announced.

You nodded, your smile lingering as you watched her. “See you there.”

Wednesday paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on you longer than it should have. She turned on her heel, leaving before the moment could stretch too long.

As she stepped into the corridor, her mind began to wander, unbidden. She thought of you, of the way you looked so calm, so utterly trusting, as you slept beside her. And then, like a dark cloud creeping into a bright sky, her thoughts shifted to your heart. That fragile, relentless muscle that kept you tethered to this world, even as it threatened to fail you.

Her thoughts drifted to your bucket list, the diary she memorized. She had helped you cross off so many items already, from the absurd to the sentimental, all of it had been for you, to see that spark of joy in your eyes.

But there were still some wishes left. Simple things. Things she could easily arrange. And yet… she hesitated.

What then? The list had been your tether to the world, your way of living fully despite the uncertainty of your future. If it were complete, what would you have left to hold onto? And, more selfishly, what would she have left? She wanted you to keep wishing, to keep dreaming, to keep being there. With her. For her.

By the time she reached her dorm, her thoughts were a storm of emotions she couldn’t fully articulate. She pushed the door open, her movements sharp but not loud enough to wake Enid—at least not intentionally.

The werewolf stirred anyway, her blonde hair a tangled mess as she sat up groggily. “Morning, Wens,” she mumbled before her eyes widened slightly, a sly smile creeping onto her face “So… how was your night?”

Wednesday paused. She considered her words carefully, weighing the exact tone she wanted to convey. “Satisfactory.”

Enid giggled, fully awake now. “Satisfactory? That’s it? You spent the whole night with her, and that’s all I get? Come on, give me something!”

Wednesday turned to face her, her expression deadpan. “I slept. She slept. The end.”

Enid gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “No juicy details? No heartfelt confessions? No midnight cuddles?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “Your imagination is a breeding ground for delusions, Enid.”

But there was no sharpness in her tone. And that, more than anything, gave Enid pause. Her smile faded as she tilted her head, studying Wednesday with a level of seriousness she rarely displayed.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Enid asked, her voice softening.

“Nothing,” Wednesday replied curtly, moving to her side of the room and starting to change out of her clothes.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me,” Enid said, pulling the blanket off her lap and sitting up.

Wednesday remained silent, her back to Enid as she reached for a fresh set of clothes.

“Something’s bothering you,” Enid declared, crossing her arms. “Come on, you can tell me. Was it something she said? Did you guys have a fight?”

Wednesday’s hand froze momentarily before she resumed her task. “No. Everything is fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Enid said, clearly unconvinced. She climbed out of bed, padding over to Wednesday, “Look, I know you don’t like sharing your feelings or whatever, but you can trust me, okay? If something’s wrong, I want to help.”

Wednesday didn’t want to talk about this, especially not with Enid. Your bucket list wasn’t something she could share without your consent, and the thought of exposing your vulnerability felt wrong.

Wednesday finished buttoning her shirt, her movements deliberate as she finally turned to face Enid. “Enid, if someone completed all the wishes they had for their life, what would they do next?”

Enid blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question.

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment before a warm smile spread across her face. “They’d find someone else to wish for them,”

Wednesday stared at her, the words sinking in far deeper than she wanted to admit. She gave Enid a small nod.

Enid watched her for a moment longer before nodding back with a warm smile, sensing that whatever was on Wednesday’s mind was something she wasn’t ready to share. For once, the werewolf respected her boundaries, retreating back to her side of the room.

As Wednesday returned to her preparations. But as she moved through the motions of her morning routine, Enid’s words lingered in her mind, echoing louder than she wanted to admit. Can she wish for you?

As Wednesday walked alongside Enid towards the quad, she spotted you standing there, leaning casually against the stone archway. Even tho you always wait for her right there, Wednesday can't help but still feel the familiar flutter in her chest everytime.

Enid noticed you too and nudged Wednesday with her elbow, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Look at that. Your personal ray of sunshine, waiting just for you.”

Wednesday shot her a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Enid, I will personally ensure your demise if you continue speaking.”

Enid merely giggled, unfazed. “Aww, you’re so grouchy in the morning. It’s adorable.”

Suppressing the urge to retort, Wednesday quickened her pace as Enid struggled to follow.

“Hey, Enid!” you called, smiling warmly.

Enid grinned "Morning Y/n!"

As the three of them walked towards their usual table, you turned to Wednesday. “We’re grabbing breakfast. I’ll get yours too.”

Wednesday gave a single, curt nod, watching as you and Enid disappeared into the crowd. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she turned her attention to the table, sitting in her usual spot.

Her mind was almost back to the list again when she noticed Bianca and Yoko approaching with their trays.

Bianca slid onto the bench beside her, setting her tray down, “Morning, Wednesday.”

Wednesday gave her a withering look, her jaw tightening. She didn’t move to greet her, instead staring blankly ahead as if Bianca wasn’t there.

Unbothered, Bianca smirked and began eating. “You’re as sociable as ever. Anyway, I was just wondering—how’s Y/N doing?”

Wednesday’s posture stiffened, but her expression remained impassive. She refused to let Bianca’s question unsettle her. “She’s fine,” she said curtly. “For now.”

Bianca raised an eyebrow at the vague response but didn’t press further. Instead, she sighed, leaning back slightly. “You know, I used to think Y/N was just some weird girl. Quiet, always in her own little world.”

Wednesday’s glare intensified, her dark eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Bianca said, holding up her hands defensively. “That was back in my queen bee era, okay? I’ve grown since then.”

Yoko snorted. “Barely.”

Bianca shot her a look before turning back to Wednesday. “Anyway, my point is… Y/N’s a lot stronger than I gave her credit for. She’s… too pure for this world, honestly.”

Wednesday was silent, her mind momentarily drifting to you—your laugh, your smile, the warmth you brought into her otherwise cold and calculated life.

Then she spoke, her voice low and firm. “Do not, under any circumstances, remind her of her condition. Not even for a second.”

Bianca held up her hands again. “Alright, alright. Message received. Geez.”

Before the conversation could continue, you and Enid returned, balancing trays of food in your hands. “Here you go,” you said, setting a tray in front of Wednesday with a small smile. “Sorry, Wednesday. They were out of dead spider salad.” you joked as you took a seat across from her.

Wednesday gave you a dry look, but there was a faint flicker of amusement in her eyes.

The table fell into a comfortable rhythm as everyone began eating, the conversations weaving in and out around bites of food. Through it all, Wednesday remained mostly silent, her focus flitting between her meal and you. She noted the way you laughed at Enid’s jokes, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something that excited you.

When breakfast ended and it was time to head to class, the group dispersed, each going their separate ways. You and Wednesday walked together, as you shared the same first class of the day.

“My dad will be here at noon,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. “He’ll pick me up after classes.”

Wednesday glanced at you, her expression unreadable. “I’ll be there, too.”

You smiled, your eyes softening. “I know. Just like you said.”

Wednesday didn’t respond, but the weight in her chest eased slightly at your smile. It was a reminder, however fleeting, that you still had reasons to smile—and she would do whatever it took to keep it that way.

Wednesday glanced at the mirror, her reflection as stoic and composed as ever, but she couldn’t deny the subtle tension in her jaw or the slight tremor in her hands.

Behind her, Enid sat on her bed, watching with an uncharacteristic silence. Finally, after a few moments of hesitation, Enid asked, “So, uh… where are you going?”

“To Y/N’s doctor appointment,” Wednesday replied without looking at her.

Enid’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Oh…” She looked away, biting her lip. Her mind raced with things she could say, ways she could reassure Wednesday, but nothing felt right. Nothing felt truthful. It’s gonna be okay she almost said, but her voice caught in her throat. Is it gonna be okay? Even Enid didn’t know.

Wednesday continued straightening her outfit, her movements sharper than usual. Nervousness was an emotion she’d spent years suppressing, burying beneath layers of cold indifference and iron will. But now, it clawed its way to the surface.

A knock at the door broke the tense silence. Enid jumped to her feet and opened it, revealing you standing there, dressed simply but with a glow about you that only made Wednesday’s nerves tangle tighter.

“Hey Enid,” you said, smiling brightly before looking at Wednesday, “Ready to go?”

Wednesday nodded, moving toward you without hesitation. As she stepped into the hallway, you turned to Enid, “Bye, Enid!” You gave Enid a small wave, but before you could say goodbye, Enid lunged forward and wrapped you in a tight hug.

You blinked in surprise, hugging her back just as tightly. “Not that I mind the hug but what’s this for?” you asked with a soft laugh.

“Just felt like it,” Enid said, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

Wednesday stood a step behind, her dark eyes watching the exchange. She wasn’t one for public displays of affection but even she could understand this, Enid’s hug wasn’t just a goodbye; it was a shield, a silent promise of support, and a wordless prayer that everything would turn out fine.

As you pulled away, you smiled warmly at Enid. “I’ll see you later.”

Enid nodded, her usual pep replaced by a quiet seriousness. “Yeah. See you later.”

You turned to Wednesday, your smile softening. “Let’s go.”

The drive to the hospital was mostly silent but you seemed determined to lighten the mood, trying to spark a laugh from your dad with small, hopeful remarks about the weather, the drive, or even the slightly crooked sign outside a diner you passed.

You glanced at Wednesday in the rearview mirror, offering her a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Dad, remember that time I tried to cook you breakfast for your birthday? and I set off the smoke alarm? The pancakes looked like hockey pucks.”

Your dad’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite form. “I remember,” he said quietly, his voice strained.

The car hit a red light, and your dad exhaled, long and slow, as if he were trying to let out all the tension in his body but failing miserably. You reached over, placing a hand gently on his arm. “Dad… it’s going to be okay,” you said softly.

He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “I hope so,” he said, his voice low and strained.

In the backseat, Wednesday sat stiffly, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

She wanted to say something, anything, to cut through the heaviness, but words failed her.

Instead, she focused on you. The way you kept trying, despite the weight pressing down on you. The way you smiled, even when your eyes betrayed your fear.

Each turn of the wheels felt like a countdown, drawing you all closer to something none of you could predict. Something Wednesday was powerless against.

It was Wednesday’s second time here. The memory of the last visit lingered vividly in her mind. The Raven. Your collapse. The beeping monitors. Your pale face as you lay unconscious. It all played on a loop.

And now, here you were again, but this time walking under your own strength. Wednesday’s eyes flickered toward you briefly, taking in the way your hand rested lightly on the strap of your bag, your shoulders squared despite the tension visible in your clenched jaw. You were trying to be brave, and Wednesday could see it. She hated that you had to be.

The door to the consultation room was just ahead. Your father reached out and pushed it open, holding it for the two of you. Inside, four doctors sat around a polished table. They stood as you entered,

“Miss Y/N,” the woman said as she rose to greet you, her German accent faint but clear. “Mr. L/N. Please, come in and have a seat.” Wednesday’s sharp eyes darted to the woman, then to the others. She didn’t trust them. Not yet. But as you stepped into the room, she followed without hesitation, positioning herself just behind your chair.

Your father offered a polite nod, guiding you to the chair.

You sank into it, your movements slow but deliberate, and Wednesday took her place at your side. She crossed her arms, her dark gaze scanning the room as if daring anyone to show a sign of incompetence.

“We’ve had time to review your case thoroughly,” the older doctor began, his hands folded neatly on the table in front of him. “Your medical history, test results, and the detailed reports from your previous doctors have given us a comprehensive understanding of your condition.”

The middle-aged doctor nodded, picking up where the older man left off. “You’ve been diagnosed with a congenital heart valve disease. Specifically, the mitral valve in your heart is severely damaged, which has caused a range of complications, as you’re well aware.” Your father’s hand clenched slightly on the armrest of his chair, but he didn’t speak.

The woman leaned forward, her calm, measured tone cutting through the weight in the room. “Your current treatment plan—medications to manage symptoms and reduce strain on your heart—has been effective to some degree. However, it’s not a long-term solution. The valve’s condition will continue to deteriorate, and unfortunately, the symptoms will worsen.”

You nodded slowly, your face pale but composed. Wednesday, standing stiffly beside you, felt a sharp pang in her chest at their words. They were speaking clinically, detachedly, as if your life were a puzzle to be solved. It wasn’t wrong, medicine required logic and precision, but Wednesday despised it all the same.

“We’ve discussed your case extensively, and there are two possible paths forward. The first is to continue waiting for a heart transplant. As you know, this option is highly dependent on donor availability, and the wait time could be months but most like years for your age.” the older doctor interjected, his tone careful. “A transplant offers the highest likelihood of success long-term, but the waiting period presents risks. Your heart’s condition may deteriorate further during that time, which could complicate recovery post-surgery.”

Wednesday’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flicked to you, noting the way your hands gripped the edge of your chair, white-knuckled but steady.

“And the second option?” you asked, your voice steady but quiet.

The woman answered, “We’ve discussed your case extensively, and there is an alternative approach we believe may be worth considering. It is not without risk, but it could potentially stabilize your condition while you await a transplant—or, in the best-case scenario, eliminate the need for one entirely.”

“A transcatheter mitral valve repair procedure. It is a minimally invasive technique where we would implant a device to improve the valve’s function and reduce regurgitation. The procedure itself is highly specialized, and while we have performed it successfully on numerous patients, each case carries its own set of challenges.” The oldest doctor added.

Your father straightened slightly in his chair, his expression a mixture of hope and caution. “And the success rate?”

The room grew heavier as the woman exchanged glances with her colleagues.

Finally, she spoke, her voice even. "Given the severity of your condition and the intricacies of this procedure, the success rate is approximately 30 to 40 percent. It is a challenging operation, even for a team as experienced as ours. We must be honest about the risks involved."

Your father let out a sharp exhale, leaning back in his chair as he ran a hand over his face. You, however, remained calm, your gaze steady.

“And if it fails?” you asked.

“If the procedure is unsuccessful,” the older doctor said, “it could lead to further complications, including complete heart failure."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. Wednesday’s fingers curled against her lap, her nails biting into her skin. She hated this—the clinical detachment, the way these doctors spoke of risks and percentages while you sat there, your life reduced to numbers and probabilities.

“But if successful, it could significantly improve your quality of life and extend your life expectancy." the woman said gently to divert your attention from the negatives, "We understand this is a difficult decision. You don’t need to decide today. Take some time to think it over, discuss it with your family, and let us know within a week.”

You nodded again, your voice soft as you replied, “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

The doctors exchanged polite goodbyes, and your father rose from his chair, placing a hand on your shoulder as he guided you toward the door. Wednesday followed silently.

The walk through the hospital corridors was a blur, and you… you were quiet too, your steps slow and deliberate as if each one required effort.

As your father slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, Wednesday stole a glance at you in the backseat beside her. You looked out the window, your head tilted slightly, your gaze distant.

“Do you want to go home, hun?” your father asked, his voice soft, careful.

Wednesday’s stomach knotted. She braced herself for your answer, convinced you’d say yes. How could you not, after what you had just endured? Surely, the comfort of your home, away from the prying eyes of the school, would feel like a sanctuary.

But then you turned to your father and said, “No. I want to go back to Nevermore.”

Wednesday felt a flicker of confusion. Why? she wanted to ask. Why would you want to return to the place that seemed to amplify everything—the stares, the whispers, the weight of your condition? But she didn’t ask. Instead, more than anything, she wanted to hold you. Not to speak, not to offer any empty reassurances. Just to wrap her arms around you and keep you close, safe from everything threatening to pull you away from her. To show you how much she cared. To show you how much you meant to her.

Wednesday noticed how your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your sleeve, how your foot tapped softly against the car’s floor. You were deep in thought. She wondered what you were thinking, what you were feeling. She wondered if you felt as lost as she did.

When the car finally pulled up to Nevermore’s gates, you stepped out first, followed by Wednesday.

Your father turned to you, his eyes softening with worry. “Call me when you’re ready to talk, okay? I’ll be waiting.”

You nodded, offering a faint smile. “I will. Thank you for everything, Dad.”

He pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly for a moment before stepping back, his gaze lingering on you as he climbed back into the car.

Wednesday stood silently by your side, her dark eyes fixed on you as you watched the car pulling away, disappearing down the road.

You stood there for a moment, watching until the car was out of sight. Then, you turned to Wednesday.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you smiled—a small, sad smile that tugged at something deep inside her. And then you offered your hand.

It was an invitation.

Without hesitation, Wednesday took it. Your fingers intertwined with hers. Wherever you were going, she would follow.

Wednesday didn't ask you where you were leading her, she didn't need to, and before she knew it, you had brought her to the greenhouse. She blinked, realizing she had no memory of how she’d gotten there. Her eyes, however, never left you.

You led her to the far corner of the greenhouse, where the light was dim.

“I wanted to show you something,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday didn’t respond, her dark eyes scanning your face intently.

You knelt down and carefully uncovered a small batch of black roses nestled in a pot. Their petals were delicate, almost velvety, and they seemed to drink in the dim light, their color impossibly rich and dark.

“I found them a while ago,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “They were dying when I saw them. Almost gone. But I couldn’t leave them like that.”

Wednesday stared at the roses, her mind a storm of thoughts she couldn’t untangle. She wasn’t easily moved by sentimentality, but there was something about the sight of those flowers, fragile yet living, that tugged at something deep inside her.

“I love you,” you said, your words quiet but unwavering. “I know I’ve told you before, but I just… I need you to know. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And you’ve given me so much. More than I ever thought I could have."

Wednesday felt her breath hitch. Your words were like a blade, cutting through her carefully constructed walls.

“I’ve been so scared,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “Scared of what’s going to happen, scared of what I might lose. But you… you make me feel brave. You make me feel like I can face anything.”

Your words came out in a rush, stumbling over each other, and you paused to take a shaky breath.

“And these roses,” you continued, your voice softer now, “they remind me of you. Strong, beautiful, and a little intimidating... but worth everything. They remind me of how you’ve been with me through everything. How you’ve been my strength when I didn’t have any left.”

Wednesday’s throat felt tight, her chest heavy with emotion she couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” you said, “but I know that I want you in it. For however long I have left.”

You looked down, your hands trembling slightly as you folded them in your lap. “I’m sorry. I’m probably rambling. I just… I needed to say it.”

Something inside Wednesday shifted. She couldn’t put it into words, couldn’t articulate the storm of emotions swirling within her. All she knew was that she couldn’t hold back anymore.

Without warning, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a fierce hug.

You froze for a moment, startled, before relaxing into her embrace, your arms winding around her waist.

Perhaps Enid's hugging disease was contagious, but it felt right. Perfect, even.

But the warmth of your arms around her wasn’t enough. The thoughts screaming in her mind, the fear, the anger, the overwhelming tenderness she didn’t know how to handle—they demanded something more. Slowly, Wednesday pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes.

Your cheeks were flushed, your breath shallow, and your eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "Wednesday," you whispered, your voice trembling, filled with a depth of feeling that made her chest ache.

And then, she acted. Her hands moved up to cup your face, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.

She leaned in, pressing her lips to yours.

It wasn’t tentative. It was fierce, almost desperate—a silent plea, just last lifetime.

You responded almost immediately, your hands clutching at her blazer, holding her as if you were afraid to let go.

The kiss deepened, softening into something more vulnerable. It was tender, reverent, as if you both were trying to pour every ounce of feeling into it, to say everything that words couldn’t.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. You rested your forehead against hers, your fingers lightly brushing against her arms as if grounding yourself in her presence.

“I love you,” you whispered again, your voice shaky but sure. “I love you so much, Wednesday.”

She stared at you, her heart pounding in a way she wasn’t used to. She opened her mouth to respond, to tell you again that she loved you too, but then it clicked.

You’d made your decision. That’s why you’d brought her here, why you’d shown her the roses, why you’d spoken those words.

“Have you…” she started, her voice hesitant. “Have you decided?”

You stared at her, looking down, back at the roses, and then you answered.

[Author's note: Cliffhanger? Nah Y/n is cooked. Comment or my cat kills Y/n.]

@ognenniyvolk @mally-ka @protozoario @machyishere @freakshow2501 @101rizzlrr

[pixiekiwi]

Trust | Loki x Gn!Reader

Hello!!! It's been awhile ;) I just finally finished Loki S2 and I haddd to write something angsty, because apparently that is how I cope. I love Loki with all my being it might actually be unhealthy. Sooo requests are open!!! For any character on my ML. I finally got medicated so now I can actually complete projects? Crazy.

Master List

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Song Rec - Sailor Song, by Gigi Perez

Warnings: Angst, Season 2 Loki Spoilers, No use of Y/N, Gender Neutral Reader.

Desc: Loki’s internal struggle while knowing what the right thing to do is. But how can he leave you?

Words: 739

SPOILERS FOR LOKI S2 BELOW

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

What is it when people say, “Trust me,” that makes others immediately not want to trust them? 

Loki didn’t know, and he didn’t think he’d ever understand it, especially due to the title he carried. The God of Lies and Mischief. He wasn’t one deserving of trust. He had always refrained from asking people to 'trust him'.

However. 

The words came tumbling from his lips before he could think.

But, instead of laughing in his face at the pure absurdity of his ask. Your eyes softened. Your hands had reached for his face, brushing the sweaty hair away from his forehead. You had nodded.

You had given him your trust without a second thought.

“I trust you,” you had whispered, and his world stopped. It’s not like he hadn’t heard those words fall from your lips a thousand times before. But now, with zero explanation, zero communication, no promises, no plans, you had trusted him. 

From nothing you had trusted him. 

He felt like melting, your hands brushing against his forehead. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to leave you living on without him. But he knew what he had to do, he knew that the only way you could exist was this. It was his last option. 

Trust him, he had tried.

“Don’t go where I cannot follow.” You had said to him, once, long ago, and now here he was. Going somewhere where your mortal soul could not follow. No matter what, he would be alone. He would be leaving you alone.

His hand found your hips, his forehead falling upon yours, “I love you, My Lady,” he whispered, his eyes closed, breathing your smell in. Absorbing your presence for as long as he could. And technically he could. He had spent the past few centuries trying his best to make it so you survived, where you survived together. Looping space and time for longer than he could even believe. But for you, it had only been a matter of minutes. He had the luxury of seeing your face for as long as he had wanted, as long as he desired. You only got to remember this version of him. This was the last version you would ever see.

His eyes snapped open, pulling his forehead away from yours, before leaning in to kiss you as his eyes fluttered shut once more. The kiss was slow, passionate, a final goodbye.

You had felt it, your hands going up and around his neck, pulling him closer than ever before. His hands moving from your hips to cup your cheeks gently. 

Loki’s heartbeat slowed as he finally pulled away, gazing into your eyes. Oh, your eyes. He hoped he would never forget the color.

“I love you Loki.” You had finally whispered back. You had tried to mask the sadness, the sorrow you felt. But he knew you better than that. He could hear the crack - the shattering, that happened within you in that exact moment.

It was almost impossible to look away, he studied every feature. He stared for so long he felt like he could see your soul in you, the way it pulled for him. He might just dissolve into your gaze, he’d never seen anyone look at him the way you were now. 

Mournful at the loss of him. 

So as he stepped back, he broke your gaze. In that moment Loki turned, and walked down the stars. 

Mobius and Slvyie noticed, both of them rushing the stairs, almost pushing your rigid form to the floor as you watched Loki's back move down the stairs. 

He couldn't turn back to you, if he did, he might turn back time for a millennia, just to see your face. To let things play out, over and over again.

Just for you. 

But that was selfish. Selfish of him to not let you experience time and space the way it was supposed to be played out. Live your life, the way you wanted it to be. It would be selfish of him to face you forever, while you only got mere seconds. 

He turned, seeing Mobius and Sylvie at the stairs, banging on the door for him, yelling for him to come back. Begging him that this was not right. 

“I know what kind of God I need to be.” 

And there he went, where you could not follow, but yet trusting him to do what he knew was right. 

You trusted him.

[thesquidgame]

Calm Before the Storm

Hwang Jun-ho x wife!reader

Summary: After your husband's disappearance, he starts to act different.

Warning: Angst, disappearance, gunshot wound, head injury, hospitals, mention of death, marital conflict, mention of divorce, guns

6k words

The worst day of your life happened after one of your husband’s work trips. He said that his team had gotten a lead on what might have happened to his brother and that he had to investigate. That was par for the course, every couple months there would be another potential lead on where your brother-in-law could be, but every couple months Jun-ho would be sorely disappointed. 

This time was different. He said he would be gone for a couple of days, and that he didn’t know if he would be able to get in contact. He left for one day, and then two, then more. His department panicked, apparently, it wasn’t a work trip and one of their detectives went missing. After a week his picture was on the nightly news, and after 10 days you were doing interviews begging for anyone who had any information to step forward. His mother came to sleep at your apartment, and she said she just wanted to help out with her daughter-in-law, but you could hear her sobs in the middle of the night through the thin walls between your bedroom and the guest room. 

At 5 AM, a week after Jun-ho’s disappearance, you got a call. They had found him. He was in a specialized emergency hospital on the outskirts of Seoul, and he was in a coma. You rushed to your car with your mother-in-law and broke speed limits that Jun-ho would never let you break when he was in the car with you. 

The hospital parking lot was nearly empty. The lobby was quiet when you walked in, and the front desk woman almost looked shocked when she saw two women with deep circles under their eyes and hair sticking in every direction. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. She was the receptionist at a hospital, if that was the craziest thing she’d seen she was in for a rude awakening when an actual patient came up to her desk.

She quickly directed you to his hotel room, on the 3rd floor, where his supervisor was already waiting. Time seemed to slow down as you rode the elevator. It couldn’t have taken longer than 20 seconds, but it felt like years. What if he was dying? What if he didn’t wake up? What if he was getting worse? Your thoughts kept racing, and you and Jun-ho’s mother couldn’t share a single word between the two of you between all of the panic going on inside your heads.

The floor was so quiet you could hear the squeak of a nurse’s shoes down the hallway. You should’ve run to your husband's bedside, but you couldn’t. You took one step at a time, terrified of what might await you. His supervisor stepped out the door and closed it. He looked at you with tired eyes. “Mrs. Hwang, Mrs. Park, I’m glad you could make it.”

“How’s my husband?” Formalities could wait. Formalities could go to hell.

He sighed, and your heart skipped several beats. “How is he?!” Jun-ho’s mother yelled. 

“He’s okay, he seems to be mostly stable, but I-” He raised his hand and scratched the back of his head, looking away at the ground, “I gotta be honest. He’s not great. He was shot and fell from a high distance into water. He passed out in the water and the doctors think he breathed in water and fell unconscious. They’re not sure of the extent of brain damage because he hasn’t woken up, but the lack of oxygen to his brain likely caused some sort of impact. There’s more, but they would only tell me the basics because I’m not family.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he did and he wasn’t the same? Memories of the last night you spent together raced through your head. It had been a long exhausting day, and he somehow knew how terrible it had been. He brought takeout home and made an extra stop to get your favorite dessert from a bakery. He set the food down on the kitchen table and immediately made his way to you on the couch, leaned down, and kissed you until you needed to come up for air. You turned off the tv and sat on the couch for hours, eating and talking and eventually fucking. Right before you went to bed he told you that he was going on the trip tomorrow, and you just smiled and nodded, thinking it was going to be like all the other times.

You pushed past the sergeant and walked into your husband’s room. His bed was separated from an empty one by a curtain. You couldn’t feel your own feet as you walked towards it, and it almost felt like your hand wasn’t moving at all when you pushed past the curtain.

Jun-ho looked like death. There was a tube shoved in his throat and his skin was so pale it looked translucent, the blue of his veins showing through on his arm next to an IV. The circles under his eyes were deep and dark, and he was in a neck brace, with his head bandaged. 

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The second his mother saw him, she collapsed at his side and laid her body over his legs. Her cries were guttural and came from something that must’ve broken inside of her. “My baby, my baby. I lost one son, I’ll die if I lose another.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t cry. You sunk to a chair at his side and reached out for his hand. He was so cold. His skin felt like he had just been taken out of the ocean minutes before, and his heart rate was so slow it felt like it was second between beats.

You didn’t hear the doctor come into the room until he spoke. Jun-ho’s mother looked up and stared at him like he was an angel, but you couldn’t look away from your husband’s unmoving body.

“Mrs. Hwang, can I talk to you about your husband’s condition?” You didn’t move, his mother had to beg the doctor to continue speaking. “He was shot in his left shoulder, luckily the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but because of the time between the injury and his arrival at the hospital, he lost a significant amount of blood. We think he hit the water head-first, and the impact caused his neck to break, luckily, there was no spinal cord damage. We induced him into a coma once he reached the hospital, so unfortunately we aren’t able to tell the extent of the damage unless he wakes.”

Your mother and law stood up “Unless? What do you mean by unless?!” she screamed. “My son is not going to die, do you hear me?!” 

You felt broken, Jun-ho had to wake up, he had to. You didn’t care if he couldn’t walk, or speak, but he had to wake up.

You could hear fists banging against the doctor’s chest, but you didn’t turn around. Just kept staring at your husband’s pale face, and pale hands.

The hospital had apparently received a large grant during COVID to expand, and when the pandemic had died down they became designated only for acute emergency cases and recovery care, and many rooms were kept vacant. The staff let you stay in the other bed in his room, and there was a shower attached to the room, designed for patients in long-term recovery and their family members. The hospital had a small cafeteria that made shockingly delicious Korean food, and they delivered the meals to the room three times a day. Before long, you became used to the tired routine of late-night check-ups and tired smiles from the nurses urging you to go home and rest. You were terrified that if you left the hospital Jun-ho would die before you could get back, but you couldn’t tell the nurses that. You just told the nurses that your house was far away and it was more convenient to stay at the hospital as opposed to making the commute or getting a hotel room.

It was three weeks before Jun-ho moved. In that time, you hadn’t left the hospital once. He squeezed your hand while you were holding it, and at first, you thought you imagined it. You called the doctor, and she said she would keep an eye on it, but not to get your hopes up- apparently twitching was normal in coma patients. Several hours later you felt the squeeze again, and when you looked up, you saw Jun-ho’s eyes open the slightest bit. 

It was like a month’s worth of fear and pain cascaded over in a heartbeat, and you collapsed on his chest in broken sobs, staring up at your husband. His mother was there, and she leaned over at him, pleading his name. He stared at you for as long as he could, until his eyes closed again, his eyelids twitching like he wanted them to stay open. Once his eyes closed your hand was still holding his in a tight grip, and you reached open to press the button again.

In the next couple of days, he went in and out of consciousness at increasing intervals. The first moment where you felt like you could breathe again came a week after he first squeezed your hand, when you awoke from sleeping laying on his lap while you sat in the chair to the sound of gagging. You heard his heartbeat increase and saw his throat convulse and his eyes flash open as he fought his breathing tube. 

You immediately pressed the call button for the nurse, and when they took too long you went out into the hallway and screamed for a nurse. There were only a couple of patients on his hall, and they could go screw themselves if they thought their sleep was more important than your husband's choking. The nurse and doctor came running and closed the door on you. Within a couple of minutes the nurse opened the door, and let you step inside. The doctor tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying as you walked past her toward your husband’s side.

“Baby,” Jun-ho whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken, and you could feel tears streaming down your face.

“Honey, you’re- you’re here.” You cried more and more, and he painfully reached his arm up to you.

“It’s okay (y/n), I was never going anywhere, I’m here.” You tucked your head into his neck and sobbed into his hospital gown. 

He stroked your hair slowly until his hand rested on the back of your head. You looked up to see that he had fallen back asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of choking on his breathing tube. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wet from a single tear rolling down his face, and tucked your head back down to fall asleep again.

You woke up to a nurse gently shaking you away, informing you that you had to sleep in the other bed to prevent infection. You wanted to fight her for doing her job, but obliged. You fell back asleep quickly, too tired to stay awake because of the crying you had just finished doing.

“(Y/n).” You awoke to a quiet voice, blinking your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming through the window. You immediately looked over at Jun-ho to see your fiance with his head turned looking at you.

“Jun-ho.” You stood up, stumbling out of bed in the clothes you had to have been wearing for at least a couple of days before now, and went over to kiss him on the lips, the same way he had the last time you had seen him before he went missing. He reciprocated with more force than you thought someone who hadn’t moved any part of his body in a month could.

“I missed you so much honey, I couldn’t breathe for so long.” He smiled and wiped a tear off of your face. 

“I know baby, but I’m here now, I’m here.” He looked at you with so much love and life in his eyes, exactly what you had been missing for the past month.

“I was so scared Jun-ho, first I couldn’t find you, and then once I did I- I wasn’t sure.” You paused, another tear streaming down your face. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.” You whispered.

“I know (y/n), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You- you got shot. You fell from really high into the water far out in the ocean. You have no idea how scared I was.”

His brow furrowed painfully before he suddenly pulled his head back and winced. “Jun-ho, Jun-ho? Are you okay?!”

You frantically pushed the call button and within seconds there was a team of doctors and nurses entering the room. They slowed slightly when they saw the scene in front of them, and quickly determined there was no immediate danger, and quickly began examining him and asking you both questions. Once the rest of the group left, Jun-ho’s main doctor sat in a chair to explain the situation to the both of you.

She explained what the team had seen when they had checked Jun-ho over, and explained the need for another set of scans to ensure there was no serious brain injury. “We also will need to call the police back to the hospital, because of the gunshot wound.”

Jun-ho froze, and his back grew stiff. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You rested your hand in his grip, tightening it around his.

“Nothing’s wrong, just nervous about the tests.” He squeezed your hand back and smiled up at you at your position sitting next to him on the bed. His body remained stiff, and your brow furrowed in confusion. He was likely traumatized and in pain, both physically and mentally.

Once the doctor left, you apprehensively asked him “Honey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but… What happened when you were gone, with the fall, and the gunshot wound?”

He looked away from you and glanced out the window. He paused, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”

You leaned in and squeezed his hand again. “It’s okay if you do, I just want to help you.”

He remained looking out the window, until he looked back at you, something tight across his eyes. “I really don’t know, can we please talk about something else. I’m going to get enough of that from my coworkers later anyways.” He laughed, but the tightness across his face remained the same.

Smiling a similar tight smile, you squeezed his hand back. “Okay. Just, let me know if you remember anything.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you?” 

“Jun-ho, I’m not the one who just woke up from a coma, that’s my line!” Jun-ho smiled a real smile, and you copied him, smiling your first genuine smile in weeks.

After the tests, you wheeled Jun-ho in a wheelchair back into his hospital room, where you were greeted by his boss sitting in your usual chair next to his bedside. He stood up to greet you, “Detective! It’s so good to see you awake again!” He bowed to Jun-ho, and your husband nodded his head in return.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think we could do the interview now? Just so we don’t get more in the way of you and your lovely wife.” He smiled, but there was anxiety furrowing his brow. He was clearly using many tactics that you watched Jun-ho explain that the police force used on victims and their families.

Jun-ho smiled back, “of course.” He looked up at you and smiled a similar tight smile towards you. “Honey, do you think you could go and get some coffee from downstairs for us?” 

You nodded, unsure of what to do as you could clearly tell that the coffee run was just an excuse to get you out of the room. “Of course.” There wasn’t anything you could do about it, and confronting your husband about something he is clearly not ready to talk about would certainly not be a solution. “Officer, would you like me to get you anything?”

He waved you off and you hesitantly exited the room to go downstairs.

Due to the emptiness of the hospital, it didn’t take you long to go down to the cafeteria, pick up some coffee for you and Jun-ho, and come back upstairs. When you reached the floor that the room was on, you hesitated, noticing that the door was cracked and the sounds of him and his boss were still quietly filtering out into the hallway.

You debated for a second staying and eavesdropping, but your moral compass won out in the end. Whatever it was, Jun-ho was clearly not ready to tell you. You didn’t want to betray his trust, and eventually, he would share it with you. The two of you had no secrets between you. If there ever was a night when Jun-ho would have to stay later at work, or was suddenly asked to hang out by his friends, he would call you immediately and tell you what was going on and when he would probably be home. Not that you necessarily needed him to, you trusted him, but he insisted that he never wanted you to worry after him. You did the same in turn, even though your job was far less demanding than his and plans came up far less sporadically for you than they did for him.

As you walked away, you heard a sliver of the conversation “hundreds… shot.” It made you pause in your step. You must’ve misheard. Maybe he had said something else. Maybe you were too sleep-deprived and stressed to think clearly. Still, you turned those words around in your head as you sat in a chair in the hallway next to the nurse’s station.

If you hadn’t misheard- if; what would it mean? Did Jun-ho have a brain injury that didn’t turn up on scans that makes him misremember what happened? Or- or was he telling the truth? Your husband wasn’t a liar, he was the perfect detective because of his strict moral compass, so that must mean… That must mean that if there was no brain injury, and if you didn’t mishear, wherever Jun-ho was he had watched hundreds of people die.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, “Mrs. Hwang, we’re done with the interview.” 

You stood up and walked toward the door when the other detective put his hand on your shoulder while his face grimaced. “I hope everything works out well for the two of you, I really do.” With that foreboding line of encouragement, he walked past you and towards the elevator.

When you entered the room, Jun-ho smiled at you. “(Y/n).” You walked towards him and kissed his forehead, handing him the cup of coffee.

Kissing his forehead, you asked, “How did it go? Are you alright?”

Jun-ho’s brow creased, but he smiled back at you still. “It went well, I just told him that I didn’t know anything.”

That didn’t make sense. You had to have been gone for at least 20 minutes, there was no way those 15 minutes were filled with the other detective asking questions that your husband kept saying no to.

“I’ll have to go into the station later on after I’m discharged and give a longer more formal statement, but for now they’ll leave us alone.”

“Great, I’m glad to have you all to myself.” You leaned over and kissed him on the lips again. You trusted him, and whatever it was that he wasn’t telling you, he would open up about soon. 

He didn’t. After another 2 weeks, the hospital was completely sure there were no long-standing effects. Besides having to regularly come in for check-ups and to carefully not hurt the shoulder where he was shot, miraculously there were no other serious effects.

You had finally gone back into the apartment after he woke up, although you weren’t happy about going back when it was lifeless due to Jun-ho’s absence. By the time he was discharged, the apartment was dust-free, and you made sure that everything was the same as it had been when he had first gone missing.

In the past couple of weeks, Jun-ho had been too calm. He was casual about just about everything. He was smiling, and making jokes, like nothing had ever happened. But, underneath it all, you could tell something was different. When you’ve been with someone for so long, had exchanged wedding vows, and slept in the same bed for years, you just knew them. You knew your husband, and something was off about him. He refused to go to sleep in the hospital room with the door open, and every time you came or went he would make you close the door behind you. He insisted that you spent the night in the hotel room with him (not that you were complaining) even when he was far out of the danger zone. On the car ride home from the hospital he would check the mirrors every time he thought you weren’t looking.

There was something completely off about him, he seemed paranoid, and for the first time in your relationship besides his brother’s disappearance- scared. But every time you would ask him what was wrong, he would just smile and say “I’m alright, just adjusting.”

You carried all of your stuff to the apartment, insisting on doing so even though your stubborn husband wanted to carry luggage even with a bullet recently being removed from his shoulder. But, when you left the elevator and were about to go into the apartment, he stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Baby, I just want to get inside. This is heavy.” You complained.

“I know, just- just give me a minute. I want to check something.” He silently turned the key to your small apartment, took off both his shoes, and stepped inside. He pulled up his pant leg slightly and took out a gun that you didn’t even notice was there.

“Jun-ho!”

He turned back to you and put his finger to his lips, shushing you. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the door behind him, and you stood there shocked. You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t expect him to take out a gun and search your home.

In a couple of minutes, he came back out. “What the hell Jun-ho? What was that!” 

“It was nothing, I’m sorry.” He put the gun back away.

“Why would you search our house? You’ve never done that before. Seriously Jun-ho, what’s going on?” You shouted, exasperated by him saying one thing and acting in a completely opposite way.

“It’s nothing.” He sighed, “I’m sorry (y/n), I’m just scared. It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the hospital, so I’m nervous.” He leaned in and gave you a hug, which you reciprocated. But still, that wasn’t the whole truth.

“I think you should see someone Jun-ho, this isn’t normal.” You said into your husband’s chest.

“(Y/n), I’m fine. I promise.” You leaned your head up and kissed him again.

The first week back was difficult. Jun-ho seemed terrified of just about everything around him. The both of you barely left the house, and when you did his hand held yours in a tight grip.

Your job had given you an extended leave to take care of Jun-ho, but your leave was ending in a few weeks once the two-month mark passed. 

You were laying in bed one night, Jun-ho tracing circles on your shoulder as you spooned after making love. “Jun-ho, I’m worried about you.”

He kissed your shoulder, “what about?” He said casually.

You rolled over to face him. “About everything, you’ve been so scared and stressed. I don’t know what’s going to happen once I go back to work.” 

He propped his head on his hand as he laid on his side, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m starting to feel better. I’m sorry I’ve been so paranoid lately.”

You sighed, “I want you to see someone Jun-ho. I don’t want this to fester and fester.”

He sighed, “I know (y/n), I promise it’ll get better soon. I talked to the chief today, I’ll go back to work next week.”

You shot up in bed, “two weeks? Babe, that isn’t nearly enough time. You still can’t lift anything heavier than a paper clip with your left arm.”

Jun-ho reached back towards you and stroked your arm. “Well good thing I’m right-handed.” He smirked.

Tilting your head, you just looked back at your husband anxiously. “Jun-ho this is serious. You aren’t ready to go back to work.”

“(Y/n), please trust me. This will all be over soon, okay?” He looked at you pleadingly. He didn’t want you to drop it or ignore it, he wanted you to- trust him? There was a secret, but he clearly didn’t want you to know it, and just to wait.

Sighing, you said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t make him tell you the truth, and he wanted you to not push it. There was nothing to do. “But I really want you to talk to someone.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and right before he touched your lips, he said “Okay, I will; for you.” Then he closed the distance and kissed you until you needed to come up for air.

Your house was quieter after you both went back to work. When Jun-ho came home from work he would make his way next to you on the couch, lay down, and put his head on your lap. It was nice at first, after so much stress you could simply relax and enjoy each other's company.

Soon after getting home, he would get tired. Sometimes falling asleep on your lap.

After a month of him getting back to work, you were exhausted from the silence. It became oppressive. You grew tired of the same routine, and how your husband never quite grew less paranoid. He became better at hiding it, attaching cameras and extra locks around your house under the guise of burglaries in the building that you had never heard of. He would stand up from his crouch install the locks and wrap his arms around you, kissing you and telling you that he just wanted you to be safe.

Before his accident, he would wake up every morning and make breakfast for the both of you, insisting that it was the most important meal of the day. After the accident, he started to make lunch as well, and whenever you suggested that you go out for dinner, he smiled and told you that he enjoyed your cooking so much more.

Then, after 3 months, he came home completely exhausted. It was later than usual, and you stayed up late to greet him, completely concerned by his lack of response to any of your texts. “Jun-ho, where the hell were you? Are you okay?!” You ran up to him as soon as he opened the door, looking him up and down for any injuries.

“No, I’m fine.” He smiled a lopsided and insincere smile at you. He smelled like alcohol.

“Were you drinking?” You demanded.

“Me and my coworkers went out for a couple of bottles of soju after work, nothing much.” He shook off his shoes and went to hug you.

You pulled away, “why didn’t you tell me? We always tell each other these things.” 

“Baby, I had a long, long day, let’s not do this right now.”

“No, we have to do this right now, what happened? You’ve been so strange lately, and you never went to talk to someone like you said you would.” You paused, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “I’m really concerned for you. I want you to get tested for PTSD.”

He stepped closer to you, “I don’t have PTSD, I just had a long day.” You didn’t move. He sighed, “(Y/n), please, I’m exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t move when he closed the distance between you to pull you into a tight hug. You finally reciprocated, pulling him closer, when you heard silent sniffling from next to your ear. In a heartbeat, you felt a drop of wetness on your shoulder. 

The next day, Jun-ho quit being a detective. After he started crying, he pretended like nothing had happened, got silent, and took a shower before going to bed. You barely spoke another word the rest of the night, but after he thought you went to sleep you could feel him trace circles on your shoulder.

He told you as soon as he got home that being a detective was too much work for him after the accident, and he tired more easily, but you didn’t buy it for a second.

“Jun-ho, you love your job, why would you quit? Do you want to go back on leave?” You pleaded at your husband.

He smiled back at you, “Of course I love my job, it’s only temporary.” And he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

Temporary. Although your better judgment told you otherwise, you put all your faith in that one little word. Temporary, this, like everything else making your husband act so different, would pass.

Jun-ho came home late the next day. Then the next. The first you waited up for him, sitting at the dinner table, your food growing cold. When your husband came in, he didn’t smell like alcohol, he simply kissed you on the forehead and sat down across from you, not confronting his tardiness. You cried yourself to sleep that night, with your husband laying stiff as a board next to you, unsure of what to do.

The next night, when he was late, you didn’t bother to wake up. You left his food in the fridge and went to bed early, tears streaming down your face. You were still awake when he came into bed but pretended to be asleep. You could feel the bed shaking from his silent sobs.

The next month went on in the same way, with the only escape from the monotony of your miserable silence being Jun-ho’s one day off. On that one day, you would pretend that you didn’t have any problems, that you were a normal couple who would go walking through the cherry trees and go out drinking together late at night. You went on a double date with one of your coworkers and her husband and sat awkwardly through one of their arguments. It wasn’t the same, but having some bit of refuge away from your stress was a lifesaver.

But even that changed. One day, you decided to go kayaking out in the bay, and while you were out in the water, Jun-ho stopped for a minute. There was a gap in your conversation, and during it, your husband stopped paddling.

“Babe, are you alright?”

He looked up at you as if startled. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He paused, “Would it be okay if we went back, I need to do something important.”

“Um, yeah sure. What is it?” You hesitantly asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your face sank. Every question you asked your husband ended with him saying ‘It’s nothing,’ no matter how big of a deal it likely was.

A couple of days later, when your husband came home late again, he told you that he would be busy on his day off and that a friend of his needed help on his boat. You just smiled and nodded, because what else could you really do?

Then he was busy the next weekend, and then the next, and the next. You only really saw your husband for a couple of minutes in the morning, and a couple of minutes in the night. Sometimes, you were able to make time. Sometimes, you would go out for a nice dinner, or go out to a friend’s party for the holidays. On your birthday he took the whole day off work and planned every single thing you would do all day. He made breakfast, took you shopping in the morning, went out to a nice lunch, took you out to the countryside to the ocean, and bought you lunch in your favorite tiny spot next to the shore. It was like for just 24 hours you had your husband back.

But other than that, it was like living with a ghost. He got more and more stressed over time. He smiled the same amount, but even with taking a demotion to a regular cop, he was getting worse and worse over time. He felt tenser, and more on edge than he had ever been before.

Every night you would fall asleep crying, you became used to waking up with a wet pillow or having to look at your puffy eyes when you wiped the condensation off the mirror after crying in the shower. Whenever Jun-ho saw the tears, whether you were laying in bed or cooking dinner on one of the rare nights that he came home early would wrap you in a hug from behind, and say, “I’m so sorry honey, I promise this will pass.” 

And you would plead, “Please honey, please, just tell me what’s happening, please be here more.”

And he would press his head into your back and whisper, “I can’t, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Your hopes would drop all over again, “I love you too.”

It was three years before anything changed. You would constantly beg him to do anything, to see someone, to talk to you, to do anything. Your friends asked you if he was cheating, but you knew he wasn’t. You knew, somehow that whatever was happening, was big, and important. And that it was eating you and your husband alive.

You didn’t see him for three days. He answered all of your texts with “Just something for work, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” Nothing else. No explanation for anything.

You slept on the couch and stayed there when you were awake, racked with anxiety. When he finally came home you sat there staring straight ahead. He didn’t speak.

You had pictured a fight, a confrontation. You had begged and pleaded, with tears in your eyes before. But nothing had happened. And after almost four years, you didn’t have any energy left.

“I want a divorce.” You surprised yourself with the words.

You looked up at him, and he stood there, his expression unreadable. 

“If you can’t tell me what the hell is going on, tomorrow I’m going to a lawyer.” 

He stumbled toward you and dropped to his knees in front of you, “(Y/n), please. You just have to trust me. This, this’ll all be over soon. I know I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it, soon it’ll be just like before.”

You looked into your husband’s eyes which were beginning to fill with tears. “I don’t believe you.”

“Baby, please. I can’t tell you, I really can’t.” His head dropped, breaking eye contact as you saw a tear fall down to reach the floor. He whispered, “If- if you know the truth, I don’t know what’ll happen to you. And I can’t risk that. I- I’ve risked everything else. But I can’t risk you.”

You couldn’t cry, your tears were all dried up. You should be shocked by what he was saying, but your mind went back to what you heard him say from outside that hospital room years ago “Hundreds… Shot.”

“I know, I’ve known. I know that you remember, and I know that it’s related to when you went missing. I just need you to trust me. I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks up at you, grabbing your hands and wrapping his around yours. “I know, I’m so sorry, but I need you to just wait a little bit longer-”

You stood up. “I think you should leave.” 

“(Y/n), please.”

You walked away from him, towards your bedroom. “(Y/n), I love you.”

“I love you.” And then you heard the door shut.

As you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but feel empty, like your heart had been torn out of your chest. The brutal calm you had been through was over, but storm had just begun.

Part two will be out with the next season, stay tuned for more!

[kat651]

Emotion (Haldir x reader)

Word count: 1591

You had been in lorien for a little over a year when you found yourself falling hard for the marchwarden. You tried your best to hide your feelings, not wanting him or anyone else to know. It seemed to work quite well until one day…

You heard a horn and looked up to see the elves returning from patrol, Haldir in the lead as usual. He looked exhausted and grumpy. Well, more grumpy than usual after a day of work. You frowned and went over to greet them as they came closer.

As you neared, Halidir didn't exactly smile, but his face did lift a bit when he saw you. You greeted him by bowing your head and extending your hand from your heart. A common elven greeting. He nodded, acknowledging your greeting. 

After a moment of hesitation you joined him as he made his way back to his chambers. “Long day,” you asked softly as the two of you walked. 

Haldir nodded. “The goblins are getting bolder. They attack more often and in larger numbers. They have drawn too close to our borders… im afraid we will have to double our efforts, get more of us out there to fight them back into the mountain where they came from.”

You frowned. “It must be tiring, fighting to keep all of lorien safe.”

Haldir nodded, agreeing with you.

“What if you found a way to seal off the exit? Trap the goblins inside?” you asked.

“We tried, they have more than one way out of that mountain… i fear they may end up hurting someone before we have a way to remove them.”

“Have you brought this to the council?”

He nodded. “They are working on a solution.”

You frowned and walked in silence for a moment. 

“Haldir?” you asked, unable to bear not knowing any longer.

“Yes?” 

You let out a breath. “Does it bother you that I walk with you every day? If you would prefer to be left alone with your thoughts i-”

Haldir gently cut you off. “No, mellon, it doesn't bother me at all. In fact I look forward to your happy greeting after a tiring day.”

You smiled. “Oh, i'm glad, i was worried i was bothering you.”

“And where would you get an idea like that?” haldir asked.

You shrugged. “People talk…”

“Well, don't pay them any attention, they are wrong.”

You smiled and stoped outside his door. “Well, i guess i come to bother you tomorrow,” you said in a joking manner.

Haldir did not laugh.

You turned to leave when he grabbed your hand, causing you to pause and turn, looking at his hand and he let go of yours. You immediately took notice that his gloves were completely worn through, causing small blisters to begin forming from the use of his bow. “What is it?” you asked, looking up and making a mental note that you should make him a new pair of gloves before his hands got any worse.

He shook his head. “Oh, nevermind…”

“I- ok…” you said, turning to leave. “You know where to find me if you need anything,” you said as you went back to your workbench to start on those gloves.

.-.-.

You rose earlier than normal and put on a cloak to shield you from the morning cold. You then snatched the gloves you’d spent all of last night making before running out the door, hoping you had gotten up early enough. 

You ran quickly through lorien, determined to stop Haldir before he left for patrol. You saw the group leaving and ran faster. “Haldir!” you called as you ran.

Hearing his name, Haldir paused and turned to see who was calling him. When he saw you his confusion escalated. You were a night owl, not an early bird. He feared something was terribly wrong. “y/n is everything alright?” he asked, walking over to you as you paused to catch your breath. 

You nodded and smiled shily, holding out the gloves to him. “I uh…” you took another breath, trying to ignore the group of elves watching you. “Yesterday i noticed your gloves were worn so i-i made you a new pair,” you said, trying hard not to blush. 

Haldir smiled and gingerly took the gloves. “Thank you, y/n…” he said.

You smiled up at him. “I hope they fit…” you said softly.

Haldir slipped them on and nodded. “They do…”

You tried to stifle a yawn but failed. 

Haldir chuckled. “Go back to bed, y/n,” he said softly.

You nodded and waved as you went back the way you had come.

Once you were out of earshot, Remli spoke up. “She likes you,” he said as the group began walking again.

Haldir stopped admiring the gloves and looked up. “You think?”

“And by the looks of it you feel the same,” Ferin said, joining the conversation. 

Haldir colored and cleared his throat. “I do not,” he said. “What would give you that notion?”

“Haldir the two of you see each other every day, she goes out of her way to greet you when you get back from patrol, and just a moment ago you were looking at her as if she was the only thing that mattered in the world,” Remli said with enthusiasm. 

“And can we acknowledge the fact that she blushes every time she sees you?” Ferin added.

“You should ask her out.”

“Yeah, just imagine it.”

“No, I will do no such thing.”

“Why not?” they asked in unison.

“My duties lie here, not wondering whether y/n may feel the same or not.”

“Oh so you do like her?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You just said you couldn't worry about whether she felt the same or not…” Ferin said.

“I did?”

“Yes!”

Haldir was silent.

“Just pay attention to the way she acts next time you see her.” Remli said. “Maybe invite her inside for once.”

The day seemed to pass in slow motion for Haldir. Every minute felt like an hour. 

When the patrol did finally come to an end, Haldir sighed with relief and walked a little faster than normal. At this point he was desperate to see you. 

You sat at your workbench, carefully working on a saddle when you heard a horn blast. You jumped to your feet and ran out the door you didn't want to be late.

When you arrived, everyone was making their way home. Except for Haldir, he stood, clearly searching for someone. You realized with a flutter of your heart that he was looking for you.

You gently tapped his shoulder and he turned around. “I know I'm late, I'm sorry…” 

Haldir smiled softly. “It's alright y/n…”

You tried to fight the blush growing on your cheeks.

This time Haldir did notice it and his smile widened. He offered you his arm, something he seldom did which caused the blush on your face to grow. You shyly linked your arm with his.

“Thank you again for the gloves, they did wonders.”

You smiled. “Well i- i couldn't just leave you to get blisters all over your hands now could i?”

Haldir smiled, Feren and Remli were right, he did love you and it was quite evident you felt the same.

Once the two of you arrived at haldir’s chambers, you stopped outside his door as usual. 

Haldir opened the door and asked you inside, you blushed and accepted his invitation. 

“Just give me a moment to change out of this and ill be right back,” he said, disappearing around the corner. 

You stood, surprised by how welcoming the room was. You smiled and looked around there were a few random items scattered among the books he had on a shelf. You walked closer studying the items with curiosity. 

Suddenly, there was an arm around your middle which caused you to gasp. “You startled me,” you said softly.

There was no answer. 

“Haldir?” you whispered softly, curiosity in your voice.

He gently turned you to face him before he pulled you to his chest, wrapping both arms around you. You stood stiff for a moment before letting yourself relax into his embrace. You tried to remember ever seeing Haldir show anyone affection. You failed. 

“y/n,” he whispered. 

“Yes?”

He released you from the hug but let his hands rest on your hips. He then leaned forward, placing his head between your collar and jaw. “I love you,” he mumbled.

You blushed madly and put your arms around him. “I love you too,” you whispered, placing a kiss on his head. “I have for quite some time…”

He lifted his head and gently placed a kiss on your cheek. “May I court you?” he asked softly.

You nodded, tears filling your eyes. “Yes…”

Haldir tilted your chin up and slowly leaned down, pressing his lips gently on yours. 

You melted into the kiss and lifted your hands to his hair before pulling him a little closer. 

Haldir pulled away but allowed his forehead to rest against yours. “It took Remli and Ferin’s teasing for me to realize just how much i love you.” 

You smiled. “Mmm, you must remind me to thank them for that…” you whispered.

Haldir chuckled. “Your just as bad as they are,” he teased, kissing you again. “Goodness, your more addicting than wine from mirkwood…” he whispered in your ear.

You were now a very deep shade of red and you knew it. 

Haldir kissed your nose. “ I love you… don't ever forget it…”

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Love your work 😍 tell me what are your headcanons for Johnny, Gyro, Hot Pants, and Diego in a scenario where they learn that their partner has actually been working for Valentine the whole time and some time later sacrificed themselves to atone for their betrayal

Thank you!! Very Sweet (heh) of you to say!

Intriguing request, it gave me some thoughts immediately and we love angst here so yeah~enjoy~

When you say sacrifice themselves I immediately assume you mean reader dies to atone, so that is what we’re going with (with variation of this for Hot Pants and Diego)

-

Genre: Angst

Content, Plz read: reader death, religious (and regular) guilt and themes, canon typical violence, Diego kills reader in his part

Style: micro fic/fic outline, different lengths

Characters: Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, Hot Pants, and Diego Brando in:

“My darling, if I hurt you, I’m sorry

Forgive me, and please, say you are mine”

All this time…you’ve been working for the enemy, all this time.

Johnny Joestar: You had Intended in the beginning to obey your simple directive. Retrieve whatever corpse parts Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli had acquired, and eliminate them if possible. The method was up to you, and as wary as they were of you, there was no way they could know of your true nature. All you had to do was wait for their guard to drop enough for you to make your move.

Getting close to Johnny was all part of the act, initially. Though the admiration you felt for his resolve was genuine…and so was the eventual real affection you found yourself feeling for him in the quiet moments you spent with him during your short periods of rest at night. You told yourself (and the President, in your infrequent status updates) that you’d wait just a little longer before making your move under the pretense that you were aiming to procure more corpse parts. If you waited longer, maybe they’d find more. You’re sure your consistent inaction is what prompted Valentine to call off your mission, and order you return to his side (since Clearly you needed a reminder of your place in all this, and you performed your tasks more successfully when you felt the inherent threat of his presence.)

You had wished Johnny had just shot you right then and there when you obeyed Valentine’s command like the lapdog you were, shamefully returning to him, unwilling to murmur your apologies given how entirely dishonest and empty it would sound now that you’ve thoroughly betrayed him.

Why didn’t he just shoot you…he knew you were the enemy now. You knew Johnny had the resolve to do it. So why didn’t he just kill you himself?

It made your hands quiver with guilt, even more so when it dawned on you why.

He had doubt.

If you were truly his enemy, you had plenty of opportunities where you could have killed him and Gyro in the middle of the night and taken the corpse parts, or taken advantage of an enemy stand attack to quickly dispatch them, or the myriad of other opportunities you had to complete your mission. But you chose not to.

And that is why he hesitated.

You had to atone. You thought about it carefully, with lots of time to consider how you should, since the President also no longer trusted you and kept you on a tight leash by not even giving you anymore tasks to perform. You knew he was just observing you. Waiting for the inevitable betrayal you were planning, but keeping you alive as a potential human shield should Johnny still harbor any affection for you.

You settled on a phrase. A quick string of words you prayed you could say faster than the President could react to. Nothing sappy or sentimental about how you regretted betraying Johnny or that you really loved him and wished the best for him…something practical.

You knew you wouldn’t be capable of harming Valentine physically in your position, not with how powerful his stand was, and especially not with how carefully he was watching you.

So you’d give Johnny a hint. A vital piece of the puzzle. Johnny was smart, even if he couldn’t fully understand the meaning of your words immediately you knew he could still use them. Valentine’s hasty decision to keep you alive and close to him had backfired quite miraculously, because you had come to comprehend (at least to an extent) the new ability the holy corpse blessed him with.

The President had brought you along on that damn train, and so many had pursued.

And as soon as the opportunity presented itself, the moment Johnny was right in front of you, even though you knew you would be slaughtered immediately, you had resolved in your heart to warn Johnny about Love Train.

“The holy corpse redirects misfortune!”

It’s so…vague. Is it too vague? But that’s what it does, that’s the only way you could think to put it. The clearest and only way.

The bullets from Valentine’s revolver tore through your body as soon as the words left your mouth. You wondered why he had to shoot you so many times? He really was “Funny” Valentine…surely only one or two shots from that close would’ve been enough, this was just overkill.

How could you make jokes to yourself at a time like this…?

Because you had already accepted your death? Is it really possible to face something without fear just because you knew it was coming? That couldn’t be it. But maybe it was, for some things, and depending on who you are.

It was all so vague, so unsatisfying, your consciousness, your life, it was all fading so fast but at least you got to see Johnny again. Your vision was blurry and your mind fading but…even when he was looking at the scene unfolding before him with horror and agony, you could still see the subtle, quiet, but ever persistent resolve as even in all the chaos he was trying to piece together the meaning of your words so he would not need to hesitate anymore and waste even a second of your sacrifice.

You had said that for a reason. Willingly sacrificed whatever minuscule chance of survival you might’ve had if you just stayed quiet, to give him the slightest, vaguest advantage in this fight.

…

You too. One more name added to the list of so many people who left him behind. It’s bitter, it’s cold, there’s no silver lining in his mind, not a real one anyways. Did you have to die for Valentine to be defeated? Maybe not. If things had gone a bit differently, maybe you, and Gyro would still be alive right now.

But he can’t keep looking back. Even if all he can do is thank you both for the ways you’ve supported him and helped him grow, and make sure you were returned to your homes and properly buried, he would do all he could to make sure you were given the respect you both deserve. That was the highest way to honor you both. To keep living, since it was your lives that touched his and strengthened his resolve, a crucial push, a guiding hand, a light along his path. To honor you would be to move forward.

Gyro Zeppeli: A spy of the President, sent to observe him, try to figure out everything about him…Everything…age, height, weight, occupation, place of origin, motivation to join the race, real name, abilities, notable personality traits, etc…Most Importantly, you were to look for weaknesses. And if you couldn’t determine any, make one.

He feels so STUPID when he overheard you secretly speaking to someone over the telephone, concluding the call with a very clear “understood, Mr. President”.

He should’ve known better. Of course someone like you wasn’t actually interested in him, he had fallen so easily for your little guise as a spectator to the race. The story had sounded believable enough, but he accepted it quickly because you were skilled at flattering and buttering him up. Of course he wasn’t going to question you, not with how you praised his performance in the race, marveled at his talents, and shyly confessed you found him roguishly charming~

He bought you drinks at checkpoints when he could, and you would smile and ask him “shouldn’t you be resting?” and he’d say yes, but that he didn’t mind sacrificing an hour or so of downtime so he could spend it with you instead.

Well. If he insisted…you wouldn’t object~

It sounded so genuine when you gently placed your hand on his arm and asked him questions about himself.

He liked you a lot, asking you about yourself in turn and kissing you goodbye when it was time for him to leave. He still maintained his guard though, in a manner that implied he had been raised to keep certain things secret no matter what. But even his unwillingness to open up about certain things was information you could use to draw some conclusions.

You had been told Gyro was some dangerous threat, some bad man that you had to do everything in your power to stop. And maybe you had never been the best judge of character given you worked for Funny Valentine, but from your observance of Gyro…he wasn’t some evil force at all.

Your confidence was wavering, and with the way he was already talking eagerly about taking you back with him to his home country, for the first time in your life you were beginning to wonder if the path you were walking was really the right one.

You had intended that telephone conversation to be your last one, only making it because if you didn’t then someone would be sent to check on you. You had meant to come clean, confess to Gyro and Johnny, and try to make amends.

You had never expected when you were given this order directly from the President that you’d be chasing Gyro down and anxiously begging him to hear you out, because you feared losing the man you grew to love.

You know he’s stubborn. And he didn’t listen when he was really upset about something.

He finally looks at you when you actually step in front of him.

You had seen him angry before, but you felt the true weight of that intensity when it was actually fully directed at you.

It’s much worse to hear Gyro loudly tell you to get out of his way, and that he never wanted to see you again. It’s different when he’s yelling at you. You can’t think of anything to say, you have no defense…you tricked him, took advantage of his affection for you, all in the name of literally one of the evilest men currently alive.

Gyro deserved to be furious with you, so you stepped out of his way, your head lowered in shame. You wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon, if at all.

But you would attempt to assist him, in any small ways you could. Feeding false information to their enemies, and even silently taking out a few of the President’s hired assassins. You had intended to never run into Gyro again, to respect his wish of never seeing you, but it didn’t take long for the President to catch on to your betrayal. The reports he gave to you became vaguer and vaguer, until all you knew was that there was another stand user assassin waiting in Philadelphia.

True, and an effective trap for you. He could kill Many birds with one stone if he could get rid of you along with everyone else he planned on disposing of.

With no other knowledge of what you were looking for, you were a little late in finding the assassin. D-I-S-C-O was already fighting Gyro, but the silver lining was that he was so preoccupied with Gyro he didn’t notice you sneaking up behind him.

Despite how tough he liked to talk, you saw the momentary relief in Gyro’s eyes at the sight of you still alive.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” he huffs, but he didn’t have the same fire in his tone like when he was actually upset at you.

“I just saved your life,” you point out, trying to suppress the urge to melt right into his arms on the spot.

“I had it under control.”

“You’re welcome~”

He gave you a handsome smirk: “I still don’t trust you.”

Now that part is true, even if he’s smiling in the moment he’s not going to just move past what you had done so easily.

Before you could even respond, a flicker of movement behind him caught your eye. Whatever it was, you had only a moment to react, and all you could do was shove Gyro out of the way before it hit him.

So it hits you instead.

Another enemy…that you had missed. Gyro quickly dispatches whoever it was, but the damage from the attack was undoubtedly fatal. A poison, deep in your system and targeting your vital organs. Gyro carried you off to safety, but as soon as he had a chance to properly examine you, he’d know it was too late. Despite never telling you, your observations had led you to conclude Gyro had an expansive medical knowledge. You were too far gone, and he’d see it immediately.

He sets you down as gently as he can muster, propping your back up against the wall of a building.

He places his index and middle finger onto the pulse of your neck, and then places his palm against your forehead, a bit forcefully in his urgency.

He mutters a curse in italian under his breath. Not even the miraculous powers of Gyro Zeppeli can stop an inevitable death.

“Trust me now?” you ask, your strength failing you as you try to reach a hand up to touch his jaw.

“Shut up,” he counters, weaker than you’ve ever heard from him. His shoulders are shaking, his hand clutching yours tightly as he frantically searches for an answer. Medical knowledge couldn’t solve something like this on its own, and he couldn’t even identify what kind of poison you were inflicted by. Some doctor he turned out to be…

He’s just denying that the poison is unique to the stand. Even if he had studied every single poison in the world, he would not be able to identify and treat this one. He couldn’t even expel it with the spin if he didn’t know what it was.

“Maybe there’s a…hospital around here…” he suggests, reaching to pick you up again, his breathing intensifying not from the recent enemy encounters, but from the anxiety shaking his core. To not be able to save someone, especially someone he cares about…it was a type of fear even he couldn’t bear, despite the way he was raised.

“You know better than anyone that it’s too late,” you point out quietly. The feeling of your own body shutting down…it was frightening, but somehow you didn’t feel as scared as you thought you should be.

He’s shushing you again, trying to pick you up. Despite his trembling, Gyro’s hands were still steady when he reached for you.

You use the last bit of your strength to take his hands in yours.

“Huh…” you murmur. “So even you can be gentle sometimes.”

“Course I can.” He musters a smile, squeezing your hand slightly. It soothes you. You like to believe he’s pretty good at being a doctor.

“I feel so calm, even though I know I’m going to die.”

“Might be a symptom of the poison…sedative properties that are making you feel more relaxed…”

“Ha…that’s kinda nice for me…”

“Where is your family?” he changes the subject.

“My family?”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure you make it home.”

You don’t have much time left, stammering out where your family is, and muttering your thank yous as your body gives out.

He catches you, laying your body down gently and placing his cape over you. A temporary arrangement until the situation calms and he can come back for your body.

Just wait on him a moment, he’ll come back for you. He promises.

Hot Pants: Your lover was a guarded woman, but something about your charisma somehow dropped those defenses just enough for even someone like her to open up. At least a bit. Really you’re just using your stand ability: Heart of Glass. It heightens emotions, targeting deep-seated ones. Great for inciting violence, or loosening lips…making you one of President Valentine’s favorite stand users at his disposal. Hot Pants was much too mysterious for his liking, so you were sent to investigate. A worthwhile assignment…even though it took you a good while to learn anything, the discovery that she certainly had a stand was Very Valuable.

You were her companion, a partner to keep the freezing nights a little warmer, and her time in the race less lonely. But despite being the closest person to her, she didn’t open up easily. You really had to work your stand to worm your way into her heart and get past that stoic, distant politeness she used even with you.

It took time, but you got through.

One starry night, as you sat by her side in another comfortable but quiet moment, you finally got it. Like the clicking of a lock when the code has finally been cracked, you had gotten through the barrier of her heart, and you were FINALLY going to get SOMETHING to report back to F.V. He was getting real impatient with your meager reports.

You weren’t used to Hot Pants touching you first, usually it was you initiating any sort of affection. But tonight, she asked your permission to put her head on your shoulder, and you said yes, of course.

Her hair is soft, you intertwine your hand with hers and she actually squeezes your hand, unusual for her.

“I don’t know what it is about tonight…” she sighs. A good sign for you, she doesn’t realize you have a stand. “But…would you let me confess something to you?”

“I’ll always be willing to listen to you,” you smile.

Finally, she opens up. Just about why she has chosen the path of a nun, but it is enough.

Guilt. Guilt. A woman entirely weighed down by soul crushing guilt.

And she expresses how even though she doesn’t show it or say it, your companionship has been a source of comfort for her. She’s distant with you because she has not been absolved of her great sin, it weighs so heavily on her that she cannot allow herself to get too close. It would not be fair, because she can’t give you the attention you deserve while this guilt consumes her.

And now your own guilt is weighing on your mind. You release her heart from the chains of your stand, and she exhales heavily, leaning against you a little more. It must’ve been exhausting, fighting a silent battle with your stand for so long and not even knowing.

“Feeling like a weight has been lifted?” you ask quietly.

She replies with a quick hum. “Somehow…yes. Thank you. For listening.”

Your turn to experience the weight of guilt. This whole time…you’ve been playing her for a fool. You were a liar, and you hadn’t even felt bad about it til right now. If she was a sinner, then you were the devil.

“May I confess something in turn?” you ask.

She’s tired from the impact of your stand, but she nods, responding with a firm: “of course,” and for once you don’t feel like a near invincible retainer to the President, and instead you’re nothing more than a deceptive snake.

“I owe the President a great debt,” you mutter as calmly as you can. But she immediately stiffens and pulls away from you, despite her tiredness her senses sharpen immediately, her hand going to that strange weapon by her side.

Her hand hovered over it, her gaze wary, the trust you had built immediately cracking, one wrong word away from shattering, but she would permit you to speak. “He took me in when I had no one, granted me a new life. I would be free from my debt after…” the words taste bitter on your tongue, but they are accurate: “…this last job.”

Just a job. She was just another job for you to dissect and send back to the President.

She is quiet, back to that stoic visage, but the slight narrowing of her eyebrows gave away how much you have shaken her.

She turns away, staring off at nothing in the distance, but you wouldn’t be able to break through this new guard.

“Then you’d best report back, before your President begins to wonder where you are.”

Her voice is cold, and she cannot disguise how upset she is right now.

You want to confess you’ve even used your stand on her. But it’s better if you just leave. Right now is not the time for words.

…

How long did not matter, this was a fitting punishment for someone like you. The manifestation of your guilt circled around you, unable to reach you from where you had stationed yourself on a pile of discarded items, but waiting for you, eternally.

Hot Pants stood in the entryway of the garbage dump with the appearance of a church.

You had killed Axl RO in your attempt to save Hot Pants, despite knowing to an extent how Civil War functioned.

With the entirety of the specters’ attention on you, Johnny, Gyro, and Hot Pants could leave. Three lives at the cost of yours…that was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

“Go,” is all you said, as firmly as you could, despite the nearly uncontrollable urge to beg her to not leave you like this. This was…terrifying. You wanted to cry and scream and beg her to find some way to save you. But she felt like this every night when she had to relive the cause of her own guilt in her nightmares. If she could act unaffected, then you could too.

From her spot in the doorway, she shuts her eyes, bows her head, and intertwines her fingers. Her lips move. You are too far away to hear what she’s saying, but you know it’s a prayer.

When she opens her eyes, gives you a firm nod, a few stray tears trailing down her face betraying her mask of stoicism. You nod in turn.

She lingers a moment, and you watch her too, having one last silent exchange. One more heart to heart.

She’s forgiven you, but really, she didn’t hate you for your initial betrayal in the first place.

Though she wished you hadn’t been so hasty to pay for your sins. Now she was going to feel even more guilt, leaving you behind like this, but there was no changing your mind on this. And if this eased the weight of your sins, she’d be a hypocrite to try and take that away from you.

It’s hard to be strong when she turns away, so you don’t even try, giving in and burying your mouth in your hands and muffling your own screams for anyone to save you from this hell of your own making. But this is what you chose, and if it gave her another chance at finding what she wanted, you’d do it again.

Diego Brando: He had been Quite furious when you finally told him the President had offered you a very generous sum of money for all the information you had on Diego. Who could blame him for getting mad at you, after all, you could’ve gotten so much more if you had played your cards right! Why betray him if you couldn’t get more out of it? That’s what Really irks him about the mess you’ve made for him.

But it’s okay now. All is about to be forgiven. Your head rests on his lap and your skin loses its color due to the immense amount of blood you were losing from a massive gash from the middle of your chest all the way down to your stomach.

Of course Diego had used your guilt against you, even though you had planned to try and redeem yourself anyways.

You had told him literally everything you had observed during your employment under Funny Valentine, even the details you thought weren’t important; a genius like Dio could use literally anything that you say.

And after having you get on your knees and groveling for his forgiveness for a bit, you have officially exhausted both your usefulness and entertainment value.

Sure, he liked you a lot when you were sweethearts. And SURE he also would’ve betrayed you if there was a worthwhile reward on the line, but the fact of the matter is YOU betrayed HIM. It’s a shame really. He might’ve liked putting a ring on your finger and spoiling you rotten with the money he was going to win from the race. But you had to go and throw it allll away.

Still. He didn’t love the feeling of ripping you apart. Even though he had told himself you were nothing more than a pigeon, apparently all the time he had spent with you actually affected him. He stroked your cheek with a surprising amount of gentleness for what he had just done, watching you die, observing how your lips move…trying to say something to him, even now? Looked like you were trying to say his name, but he couldn’t tell if you were cursing his name or singing his praises in your final moments.

“Hm? I can’t quite understand you,” he sighs, and your eyes tear up and you try again but no sound will come out and for the first time in his life he finds himself looking away as someone dies right in front of him.

It’s so…frustrating. He thought it’d feel satisfying to tie up loose ends by getting rid of you. Instead it’s just a sort of hollow, dull feeling thrumming in his chest. Ugh. That same, disgusting feeling he got in the rare moments he made a mistake.

Mistakes felt terrible, but what he really hated was the regret that came with it.

He could shove it down for now, but he’d regret it later if he just left you like this, so he uses his influence to make sure you’re properly buried somewhere nice. And THEN he shoves it down. You can haunt him later. Right now he had a race to win and a President to defy at every turn.

-

Author’s note: I can’t believe you’ve been secretly working for the President, smh.

The title comes from the song: Return to Me

[nabipumpum]

⟡ ݁₊ Sad 2see u go ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Pairing - Nakamura Kazuha X fem!Reader

Genre - angst

Synopsis - A painful truth is that love is not always enough to maintain a relationship Word Count:1.030

Warnings! relationship breakup, mention of fights, may be sensitive content for some people

Le Sserafim masterlist

The wind blowing through the cracks in the windows was the only sound that filled the room, the loud whistle causing a certain shiver and discomfort in you, the poorly lit and cold environment gave you chills, the constant feeling that something was wrong slowly consuming you.

A different sound, the sound of the lock opening finally took you out of the whirlwind of thoughts you were in, a familiar figure entering the room, not knowing whether to be happy or sad to see her, you stood up.

“Hi.” was the first word you had spoken in a few hours, Kazuha then noticing your presence after hearing your voice.

“Oh, hi.” you watched her take off her coat and put away her keys, a nervousness running through your entire body, certainly in tufts of the scenarios you imagined, it certainly seemed easier to face her and say what you wanted “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

“I was waiting for you.” Kazuha's muscles tensed, a thousand thoughts running through her mind as she turned to look at you, a tense expression on your face, something that was hard to see, but unfortunately she had seen it often.

"Did something happen?"

Sure, you had so much on your mind to say, so many complaints and questions to ask, but you froze. Seeing her there, in front of you, this time real and not just a scenario in your mind, was harder, you were no longer teenagers and you had been together for years, but Kazuha still made you nervous.

Over the past year, the entire relationship that you had built meticulously and carefully began to crumble, the moments of conversation at the end of the day turned into mostly meaningless and unnecessary arguments, arguments that you would normally resolve in a few minutes turned into hours of screaming and sometimes a few tears. You held on as long as you could, after all, Kazuha was the love of your life, even if she hurt you with rude words, sometimes love hurts, doesn't it?

The answer that most people believe is that yes, love hurts and that's normal. But that's not how it should be, in a more rational view, love should be comfortable and comforting, the person you love should make you feel good, disagreements are inevitable and this happens to any person who has their own opinion, but why would it be normal for someone you love to hurt you?

When that key turned in your head, your whole vision changed, maybe you and Kazuha weren't going to spend your whole lives together and that's okay, you did what you could to save this relationship but now you couldn't do anything else, you have to move on.

"Can we sit down?" She waved, the two of you walked together to the living room, light flashbacks passing through your mind, of all the moments you spent together on that same couch “I don’t know a better way to say this.”

“Don’t say.” She clutched the fabric of her pants, a big lump forming in her throat.

“Zuha…” She shook her head.

“Just don’t say, please don’t.” The last three words sounded so low that it seemed more like she was talking to herself than to you.

Kazuha had the same bad feeling all day, so when she heard that you wanted to talk and that you were waiting for her, everything seemed to stop, she regretted all the times she yelled or that you two fought for the most stupid reasons possible.

“This isn’t working anymore…” She kept shaking her head, looking down this time.

A sob.

“We can fix this, I swear, I can make it better, please.” You sighed as you heard more sobs and small murmurs coming from her “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Then we don’t have to break up.” She looked at you, her eyes watering, bright trails of tears reflecting in the dim light of the room.

“Love isn’t everything, Kazuha.” She moved, sat down next to you and held yours tighter.

“But if we love each other then we can get through this.” You shook your head again, controlling yourself as much as possible so as not to cry along with her.

“Love doesn’t fix everything either…” She cringed “I’m so sorry.”

“Is it your decision?” You agreed and she sniffed, letting go of your hands to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand. “If that’s really what you want then fine, I want to see you happy” even if it’s not with me.

“I’m sorry things ended like this.” She looked at you again, you then feeling your eyes burn and a tear form.

“It’s my fault, I’m the one who should apologize… I’m sorry, Y/n, for everything.” You smiled.

“I forgive you.”

For the next few minutes, Kazuha remained seated on the couch, crying softly, trying not to disturb you.

Seeing you with a suitcase walking to the door was certainly one of the most painful scenes for Kazuha, how did she let it get to this point?

She stood up and the two of you were in front of the door, a scene similar to when you moved into her apartment, with that same suitcase, but you were both smiling that day, now you both had red eyes from crying.

“Whenever you need something, you can look for me.” The girl’s voice broke, but you still understood.

“You too.” You looked up a little and sighed “Bye, Kazuha.” You opened the door and looked at her one last time.

“Bye, Y/n” You closed the door, Kazuha falling to her knees with her face in her hands right after, crying as if someone had ripped out an organ from her, the sound of her crying now keeping company with the whistles coming from the windows.

Kazuha stayed there for long minutes, having difficulty breathing when she managed to calm down a little, a mental note was made in her mind.

I should return the ring this week.

[menodoramoon]

Everything feels so big. Their past. Their positions. Even Tófi's manor itself. She grew up in an estate far bigger than this -- almost castle-like in its sprawling design -- and yet, still, the flight of stairs feels like a longer trek than a traipse through the moors.

She has to ruin it with these feelings that were also too big. These memories that beat against her check, knocking against her ribs, begging to be voiced. She did so, and look where that has her. Look what it's gotten her.

Tófi's gaze, in that horribly penetrating way.

Even when they weren't trying, they could read her so easily. Well, it's easier to read something you're well-familiar with. There are few people alive who would know her more than them.

Her head swims with the implications. And the lost opportunities of that.

Tófi's voice cuts through the haze, the way his voice always could. She looks just slightly off of their vision, but their words hit their mark all the same. They speak about feelings -- the way they might shift and change. Their impermanence? Or merely their ability to evolve?

She nods numbly as Tófi likens her adoration for them to their rage. That stings. That stings in such a way that it only adds to Menodora's languid feelings, a looseness in her body that she really wishes she could fight off.

'I can feel too, Menodora,' they say, in a way that brings her mind to a steady halt.

Tófi's always been an enigma to her, even now. As a child, it made more sense. He was a Septarian, a monster. A civilized one, but still a monster. She wasn't meant to understand what was in their mind or heart. Their deepest thoughts and feelings were better to be left untouched. If she found out, it may frighten her.

Now, at an older age -- but still an insignificant one, she imagines, for Tófi -- she wants to know. She wants to know their thoughts and feelings. She has spent so much time trying to decipher Tófi's mind that she realizes she's neglected matters in heir heart. Rationality will only get you so far in understanding another person.

Is it possible that she's forgotten that Tófi was capable of feeling?

'Sometimes anger wins.'

'Sometimes anger burns brighter than any magic I can conjure, Tófi,' she wishes to say. It wouldn't just be true of them. It was Stella's temper, or Hekapoo's or Mina's that came to mind. Even her own. Sometimes anger did win… there were consequences to those blazes.

She gives the briefest exhale of a laugh. It's silly. Their Danish makes her smile, and she makes out the words even if it causes her to stall for a moment. They would always be more than her in that way. Danish. Or whatever came before…

"hvad kan du overhovedet elske, Tófi" She asks, with a wry smile.

It hadn't meant to be such a deep comment, but Tófi takes her seriously. She's reminded that there was a time when they were the only one who would.

They take her promise and speak almost kindly to her. She hesitates, but nods. The spreading quiet in her head is a relief to her. The way that she tries to allow herself to relax, even in their company…

'I just want you to fight,' they say. It's amusing. She feels they are no longer speaking of her resolve to rest.

'Wasn't there a time when you wanted me dead? Or to surrender? What happened to that, Mr Advisor,' she thinks. 'There was a time where I was little more to you than a pawn. Is that still true?'

Another thought.

Am I still an amusing game to you?

It's bitter. It's tart.

Her gaze follows their direction to the wound on their shoulder. Or, rather, where it should be. Would be, if not for their monstrous nature. It's obvious that her gaze lingers. She knows they can't see them, but she can. Those small motes and pinpricks of reagents, floating through the air. She often tried to mute her senses of them, a skill she'd been taught early by Glossaryck, but in this moment, she sees them. There's a fondness and hope dancing around her that she wishes she could pluck from the air and smother out. Small lights in varied hues that were intangible and impermanent... and so clearly related to Tófi...

But if Tófi couldn't see them… what was the harm in letting them stay?

"Alright," Menodora says, inclining her head. She's much more at peace than she had been, even if there are unanswered questions and unresolved feelings still hanging about. "Guided the right way... And you're wanting to guide me, Tófi?" She asks, with a slightly humored smile.

But then it eases, and her face once again shifts into tiredness. Her headache is threatening to return, rapping lightly on her temples.

She shakes her head slightly, her smile slightly tilted on one side.

"I suppose before you guide me on any philosophical journey, finishing the journey to bed would be preferred…" She inhales. Exhales. Lets out a thoughtful hum... Looks up at him with an earnest smile. "Nothing between us is ever easy, is it, Tófi? I fear I'm so used to them, I don't know what our relationship would be without these moments. Calm, perhaps? Peaceful, heaven forbid?"

@ofseptarsis

genfødte sandheder || Tófi & Moon

[sunset-hourglass]

So I was listening to a song called Lagtrain by Inabakumori yesterday (It's a wonderful song, you can listen to it here) And I hyper focused on one of the frames and went "Huh...Y'know I could see Siffrin here." And then, well, I tried to draw it! Here's the frame specifically:

And here's the piece I made from it (Spoiler warning, just in case!):

Featuring (from right to left) Siffrin, Loop, Mal Du Pays, and what is supposed to be Ghost Siffrin! I figured I could spin the original frame into the different versions of Siffrin, since there's only really four I could recall from the game! (I know the arms are a little funky, but I tried,,)

[anzuhan]

[sylvrndoodles]

sleeping beauty

[iris0s]

Hiiii I made a core picrew if u wanna check that out I think that would be super cool <3