#anyway someone is supposed to come in at the time im leaving so im not gonna feel guilty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuulyssa · 9 months ago

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🇨 🇴 🇳 🇫 🇪 🇸 🇸 🇮 🇴 🇳 ！

BSD MEN REACTING TO A CONFESSION.

↷ A/N ─ yes new divider again because im indecisive as heck

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , atsushi , fyodor

!! TAGS ─ mentions of suicide, insecurities, overall fluff

"i love you."

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

promptly replies with, "i love you too."

he'll lean into you with an amused smile because he lowkey thinks you're joking

when he realizes you're serious about it he'll immediately stop the stupid grin

and look at you with this sincere look you've never seen on his face before

he'll hold your hand and everything while repeating "i love you too," for a second time, only this time he's serious about it too

definitely asks for double suicide later

"You know it's my motto to unalive myself with a beautiful woman. How lucky of you to have been bestowed upon this honour."

"Mhm."

"I'll say yes if you join me in a double suicide," he asks with puppy eyes.

"Dazai, you already said yes."

"I'll say it again!"

ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

he stops abruptly and half chokes on his expensive ass wine

poor boy is really confused 😭 because "where did that come from??"

he tries to play it cool but he's literally SCREAMING inside

we all know he's been betrayed a lot of times in the past so he feels hesitant about it

will decide to give it a shot tho

100% calls dazai to brag about it

"You may be taller or whatever (as if that matters in the first place) but were you the one able to steal her heart? Eh? I think not!"

You chuckle hearing him update his rival of his new relationship status.

"And anyway," he raises a glass of wine for toast. "I'd like to thank my good looks, good looks and did I mention my good looks (?) for making tonight the happiest night ever."

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

"i know."

he has always observed every single thing about you - how you behave around others vs how you behave around him, the little times you look at him like you want his attention etc etc

he's known about this since like soooo long

he defo also knew when where and how you were gonna confess

went to yosano for tips to react to it and bought you chocolates and stuff. he thinks it'll make you happy :D

eats all of that himself even tho he originally bought it for you but you let it slide because he's a cutie patootie

"You could at least have been a bit subtle about it," he says, munching on his chips. "I mean, anyone who saw you would've been able to guess. I didn't even need my ability for this!"

He lifts his chin up thoughtfully, fingers ripping open another packet of snacks. "You should be grateful I'm not a snitch. Eh, well," he shrugs, "You're now dating the greatest detective in the world! Congratulations!"

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

"eh???"

like chuuya, he's pretty confused too

"are you sure?"

tries to keep a straight face and hide his fluster

he'll narrow his eyes at you as if he's trying to read your emotions. he doesn't wanna get hurt if he gets too attached to you and you two end up breaking up

also how tf is he supposed to believe that someone like YOU like someone like HIM?

reassure him that he's perfect please :( poor baby deserves the world

"I am a lot of work. I don't think you can keep up with all of that," he says shortly.

"I'll try my best."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to!"

He stares at you for a few moments, looking like he's about to cry.

"Oh, alright then," he waves a hand around. "But don't you ever leave me."

ᴀᴛꜱᴜꜱʜɪ.

screams

"SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE!"

jumps around everywhere in happiness

you dont even get a verbal answer the man's just dancing around

either that or he just faints

he's, like akutagawa, insecure about himself. but he's much more open to showing his emotions to you.

you end up cuddling the whole night or he calls off work to be with you for the rest of the day <3

"I..." he repeats the same word for the fifth time in a row.

"Yes?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I get to date you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no!" he panics, wringing both hands all over himself hastily. "I love you! Really!"

ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.

no reaction. im sorry

spares a small glance at you but otherwise doesn't get distracted from his work

you think he's gone deaf from the way he just ignored you cuz what????

will spend like 15 minutes that way before extending an arm to you and you lowkey DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO??? HELP??

he'll stare at you for a few seconds before pulling you onto his lap and continuing with his work

and that's his way of saying yes

He shuts the computers around him down and taps your outer thigh twice. You immediately stand up and help him up. He stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating something.

"You know, I never thought I'd enable others to call me a lovesick fool."

"Does that mean you are a lovesick fool?"

"A little, maybe," he turns around and walks out of the door while you follow him with a soft smile on your face.

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depresssant · 2 months ago

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Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second.

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care.

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air.

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things.

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup.

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

TAGLIST :

@ilovemyhusbandnanami (so real), @missikkj, @ferakillia, @darlinqvi, @soriansick, @sleepydhanie, @h0rr0r-10ver-69 (love ur blog aesthetic bae), @anuttellaa (OK WINX 😽), @feral-childs-word (love the pfp), @shycreatorreview, @friesandfixations, @stuff6969fuckyou, @babiebubsie, @jsprien213, @cattioo, @cherrydaisymanic (cheetah?leopard? printttt 😍), @00hellohello00, @princessloveweird, @amber-content, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @f1lover4ever, @dreamsarenicer, @imaginarydreams, @solkara (love the calm aesthetic), @bobfood, @toast-on-dandelioms, @ijustfuckme, @cantfindmelol, @xx1shadow1xx, @azulawayne, @box-of-kinderjoy, @iamaunknownsecret, @missybabes, @phoenixgurl030, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @devils-blackrose, @arevvv, @freakthis, @yourhornysister, @kirahhhh, @perfectparadisegardener, @testishere, @spaceunicorn293, @vanilliona (love the pfpp), @uknowimdumb, @esposadomd, @dakotali, @lilyalone, @kore-of-the-underworld, @pix-stuff, @hellcatsworld, @chericia, @mspoisoncoil (love the bannnnerrr) , @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cheeseburgercasserole (love the aesthetic), @twismare

so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. making a taglistttttt. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

if anybody’s got requests about this series or in general, feel free to ask!!!

WAIT!! FOLLOW MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT : @depresssant. I JUS PUBLISHED A HISTORICAL YANDERE X READER STORY

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monamipencil · 3 months ago

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── 𝗠𝗥. 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗥𝗦. 𝗬𝗢𝗢𝗡 ft. jeonghan

⛧synopsis; an intrusion, a couple, a murder and a twist. — second fic of lola's spooktober

⛧ pairings; husband! jeonghan x fem! reader ⛧ genre; smut, gore, horror ⛧ w.c; 4.1k+ ⛧ warnings; hybristophilia, body worship, blood, murder/death, description of corpse, sex on the dining table lmao, HORNY fucking, unprotected sex, oral (f.receiving) creampie, allusions to cults, devil worship, etc etc. mentions of food ⛧ a/n; *clears thorat* *coughs* im so sorry for the delay lmao, i was absolutely not motivated to write. but anyways, enjoy!!

READ AT YOUR OWN CAUTION ⛧ MDNI

[ 07th October, 2024 ]

Thunder crackles, and lightning strikes. The heavy rain pitter-patters on the windows and roofs. Water flows, flooding the streets, making them inhabitable to unlucky strays. Chaos brews outside, and you observe it from within the safety of your home.

A ‘meow’ shifts your attention. You smile at the cat you rescued from the storm and rub its head. It meows again and shuffles to the living room, black fur disappearing behind the couch.

“-And everyone is requested to stay at home or take shelter till further notifications. Police’s investigation into the recent murders have been halted due to the storm. We request everyone to stay sa—”

The television cuts off and comes alive again, buzzing and glitching. You turn it off with a sigh. Except for the pitter-patter of the rain, your home is silent. The silence lays heavy on the walls and floors. You can’t seem to fill it no matter what. Your hand involuntarily touches the pendant your husband gifted you. Muttering a prayer to Him, you ask for Jeonghan's safe return to you.

[ ... ]

The gentle sizzle of the vegetables fills your ears, and you pour water into the vessel, turning down the flame.

Your newly adopted cat nuzzles between your legs, purring with content at the warmth. You smile and coo at it. But before you can adore it further, the doorbell rings.

You wipe your hands, contemplating whether or not to attend it. It couldn't be Jeonghan. You sigh and walk to the door. The black furball stays in the kitchen, observing you with its yellow eyes.

Looking through the peephole, you see someone shivering from the cold and absolutely drenched. Your hands fly to unlock the door, and the person is startled at the force you open it.

“Come in, please!” you move from his way. He nods his head with gratitude and walks in weakly.

Quickly shutting the door, you lock it. The stranger turns to see you secure the array of locks on the door. You greet him with a smile. He smiles back.

“I'm sorry for the inconvenience,” he apologizes, but you assure him and welcome him into your home. “Oh no, It's fine. I don't mind some company.”

He removes his drenched coat and hangs it on the coat hanger. While doing so, he notices another coat on it. “Is it just you at home, miss?”

“Mrs.” You correct him and reply, “Yes, my husband is out of town for business.”

He also removes his shoes and places them near the door, noticing another pair of shoes. “May I ask you why you are out in such a storm?”

“Ah, I turned up for work and my friend who was supposed to pick me didn't turn up.”

You give him an apologetic nod and gesture towards your living room. “Please make yourself at home. I'll quickly put together a warm soup for you.”

He tries to protest, but you reason with him and disappear into the kitchen. He sits on the sofa with a sigh and thanks God for helping him at the right time.

The low purr of a cat catches his attention. A black cat sits in the middle of the living room. It stares at him, and he awkwardly smiles at it and tries to distract himself. It leaves eventually.

The interior of your home mesmerizes him, reminding him of those vintage homes. The teal wallpapers and the antique decors mesh well together and create a homely look. The myriad of pictures on the wall near the kitchen intrigues him.

He walks towards it and observes each photo. He sees you in all of the frames, along with a man whom he deduces to be your husband. He sees all types of pictures, varying from road trips to studio ones.

“Is your husband a celebrity by any chance, Mrs. Yoon?” He inquires after seeing a frame with the writing, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Yoon.’ A vague feeling of familiarity brews in him the more he looks at your husband.

“Ah, no, no. He's devilishly handsome and he could be a great actor but he only does business.” You voice from within the kitchen, but his mind drains you out. He's more fixated on the pictures, unable to shake the feeling.

He doesn't say anything after that, but you don't mind the silence. Quietly humming, you put together the soup. You smile to yourself, thinking of your husband. If he had been here, he'd be behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he peppers kisses on your neck.

Your daydream feels almost real as you feel a presence behind you. Chuckling, you shake your head and move to grab a bowl. But before you could, a voice shouts behind you.

“Did you kill him?!” The stranger yells, anger surging through his voice. Confusion strikes you, “What do you mean?”

You try to distance yourself from him and grab a knife. His hand catches your wrist harshly, and you cry out. Acting on your instincts, you fling the pot of soup at him. He yelps as the hot liquid makes contact with his skin.

With him muttering a plethora of curses, you run out of the kitchen. The cat observes the chaos, slowly wagging its tail. The stranger blindly moves to the sink and splashes water on his face to wash off the soup.

After gaining composure, he trudges out of the kitchen with a meat knife. He checks every door and room, eyes darting to all corners to find you. His skin stings and burns painfully. He winces but doesn't let it deter him.

The floor creaks beneath his foot, and he doesn't care if it alerts you. He wants you to know where he is, to be afraid of him. He wants to make you feel fear.

A smirk pulls his lips when he notices the basement door open. He stands in front of it, observing the steep set of stairs. As he descends down, a foul stench hits him, and he covers his nose.

He struggles to find the light switch and crashes into a few things. The stench is unbearable, and he cringes. After finally finding the switch, he turns it on.

Light illuminates the room, but some things are better hidden in the dark, like the dead guy tied to the wall. He can't find it in himself to scream or even utter a word. The only noise that escapes him is a gasp.

His horror intensifies when he recognizes it as his friend. “You fucking bitch! You killed him!”

But it seems that there are far graver things than his dead friend. The red pentagram etched on the ground makes his skin crawl. A turn of his head also reveals a board pinned with a map that has pictures of people pinned on several locations.

His heart stops beating when he finds his own picture on it.

A noise from the cupboard pulls him out of his trance, and he stalks to it. Yanking the door open, he finds you there, cowering in fear. You push him off you and run away from him. But there's no way out with him standing directly in front of the stairs.

He runs to you, pinning you to the wall. “You bitch!” Then, he cackles, “Aww, can't run anywhere now?” His grip tightens, and dread fills your gut. He leans in closer, “You're going to be so sorry for what you did when I gut you.”

You flinch and shut your eyes. The sound of a stab echoes through the room, but you don't feel any pain.

A heavy thud echoes through the room, followed by the sound of a body falling on the floor. Warm blood dots on your face, and some stain the cotton of your slip. You gasp and shudder, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. Your eyes land on the injured body. Blood flows from his mouth and his chest. Three holes punctured through his chest.

You don’t need to look at him to figure out who your savior is. “Jeonghan!” you cry, throwing your arms around him. The garden fork he yields in his hands meets the floor as he hurries to take you in his embrace.

Your lips are on his instantly, kissing him with ardor. He matches your passion, both his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him. You curl your arms around his neck, lost in the warmth of his lips. It isn’t long before his tongue prods your lips, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

His tongue glides over yours like it has countless other times. He shifts his head to gain a better angle and kisses you deeper. One of your hands uncurls to caress his face—his flawless skin, his high cheekbones, the bone of his jaw before it slides down further. You glide your hand over his shoulders, his lean biceps, and finally his crotch.

Jeonghan pulls away, out of breath and overjoyed. You mirror his grin when you find him rock-hard beneath his slacks. “Oh, how I missed seeing you kill,” you finish with a giggle.

With a playful roll to his eyes, he retorts, “it’s been barely four days since I did it.”

“And four days since I’ve seen you.” you pout, making him doe eyes at him. He melts instantly and cradles your face. “Always hungry aren’t you?”

“For you? Yes.”

“And for blood.” he adds, making you both giggle.

“Come on now, you gave me something to take care of.” With a pat on his bulge, you pull him up the stairs. Jeonghan happily follows but throws a cautious glance at the presumably dead body. He smiles, catching no sign of life in him, and trails behind you.

You strut to the dining table that adjoins the kitchen and the living room and sit on it. He grins at your place of choice, and lust taints his visage when you spread your legs, inviting him.

He stands between your thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty in front of him. Little drops of blood decorate your face, but the look in your eyes entrances him. A myriad of emotions swirl beneath your irises, but he recognizes all of them, mainly lust and hunger.

His eyes dip down to the column of your neck, which he glides his forefinger over. His finger slowly ventures down and undoes the knot of your slip. He tuts, complaining about the blood on them. “That’s fine. It gives me evidence of your love.”

“I’m right here. The living proof of my love for you,” he pecks your lips and pushes the slip off you.

He pulls you to the edge of the table. His fingers ghost over the cloth of your underwear, brushing against the wet spot on them. His warm breath wafts down to your breasts when he kisses your neck and chest. “I can prove it now, if you want me to.”

A breathy moan escapes you, giving him somewhat of a ‘yes.’ With another kiss to your jugular, he pulls away and kneels down. He kisses your heat through the cotton material and smirks, eyeing the wet patch formed by your arousal. In one sly movement, he removes your hipsters. His lips are on your heat before you can process it. He kisses your little nub and gives kitten licks to your hole. His eyes dart to your eyes, mischief swirling under his dark irises. “Jeonghan! Please!”

“Please what sweetheart? You have to use your words.” You feel his smile on your core, and his warm breath wafts against it.

“Please, eat me out!”

He groans and obliges to your wishes right away. He dives right in, licking and kissing your folds. He moves above, wrapping your clit between his soft lips. He sucks on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking at the bud softly. He makes sure to look at you the entire time he’s buried between your legs.

You relax and lay back down on the table. He spreads your legs further and licks up stripes on your sopping cunt. His tongue provides you the utmost pleasure, and moans fall from your lips freely. He switches to a slower pace as if he’s making out with your cunt.

His tongue prods your folds, licking and savoring your taste. His hand moves to spread your lips, and he places a wet, loud kiss on your clit. A gasp escapes you when his tongue slips past your hole. He slowly moves his tongue in and out while he thumbs at your clit, drawing circles.

He tones up his pace, getting faster and faster. Your legs tremble around his head as the coil in your stomach tightens. You cum the easiest whenever Jeonghan touches you after a “long time”—which is three days at the least. He seems to have some magic hidden up his sleeve to bring you the utmost pleasure possible. And, of course, all your years of marriage add to it.

The pressure on your clit builds up, causing your entire body to shudder and tremble. Your back arches, lifting off the table, but Jeonghan pushes you down, holding you firmly. And now that he has secured a tight grip on your hips, there is no escape from his tongue.

“Jeonghan!” you moan his name, hand shooting to grip his black locks. You push his head further into your cunt and move your hips in sync with his tongue. He smiles lazily between your legs, eyes holding nothing but awe and mirth.

The coil snaps, pushing you over the crescendo of pleasure. Wanton moans fill the room, and you cum on his tongue, giving him all your sweet nectar. Jeonghan licks you dry, caressing your trembling legs before he stands up.

Though you achieved your climax, the sight of your husband undoing his belt warms you up again. You sit up eagerly, hands flying to unbuckle his belt and slacks. He only chuckles, patting your head and muttering a low coo of ‘that's my girl.’

He slips off his shirt along with his slacks and boxers. It prompts you to undo your brassiere, presenting yourself bare to him. With a grin, he approaches you. You fawn at his rock-hard cock and undo your legs unconsciously.

Overwhelmed with the urge to feel him inside you, you pull him to you. He crashes his lips on yours in the process, giving you a searing kiss that sets your body aflame with desire. Your hands don't stay put, eager to roam all over his body. He does the same, hands relearning the route of your body for the nth time.

The heat of his body on yours melts your brain, knocking every thought out of you. The only thing you remember is his name and the way he makes you feel. Not the dire situation at play now or the dead body in your basement.

The brush of his fingers on your nipples, the poke of his cock against your inner thigh, the sensation of your sweltering skin making contact with his, the glide of his tongue on yours—all of it pushes you over the edge, driving you insane. Your arousal drips down your core, and it throbs with desire.

“Hannie,” you whine his name, your desire burning with a rage only he can control. “Fuck me.”

“As you wish, dollface.”

His cock slips past your entrance with ease, filling you up in an instant. You hook your legs behind him, your foot digging into his back to push him in further. Your gummy walls envelop him in a warm hug that makes him dizzy.

You moan in unison when he bottoms out, in bliss with how perfectly he fills you. Throwing your arms around his neck, you prompt him to move. The first thrust is easy, given how your cunt drips down with arousal. It fills you with a pleasure that makes your body tremble.

He sets his pace, fucking you with eagerness. Each slap of his balls against your ass makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you cling to him for dear life. Sinful moans rumble from your throat with each snap of his hips.

His lips find yours again, but this time the kiss is sloppy and messy, with moans passed between your tongues and erratic snap of his hips. You meet his hips with the same vigor. You fuck him with an animalistic desire in your veins, and he gives you back just the same.

“Ah—fuck! God, I love fucking after we kill.” you yelp between your moans. He groans, replying with a “fuck, yes.”

Jeonghan grips your hips firmly, driving his cock in and out of you with a vigorous pace that numbs your nerves. Your nails dig into his back, and you scratch his delicate skin, leaving red marks for him to admire. “Ah, ah, ah, ah!” you moan, unable to control your pleasure. The table squeaks in response to the vigor of his hips. You press your tits against his chest, desperate to feel more of his warmth.

You look down to where your body meets him. The sight of his cock disappearing into your cunt with a wet squelch each time makes you moan. A creamy ring forms at the base of his cock, and some of your arousal drips down to the table.

Jeonghan shifts one of his hands to harshly grip the back of your head, forcing you to look up at him. A grin decorates his face at the hazy look in your eyes. He keeps up his pace while moving his other hand to squeeze your mouth open. You push your tongue out eagerly, waiting for him to spit in your mouth. He does, and you happily taste him before swallowing it.

“Good girl,” he kisses your forehead, sliding his hand down to wrap around your throat. He grips your throat, squeezing it lightly. A chuckle erupts from his chest, watching your eyes roll back. He kisses your forehead again, only for him to deliver light slaps to your cheeks. Warmth pools in his chest when you whine and push yourself closer to him.

“Fuck, I love it when you go dumb on my cock.” He whispers into your ear, tickling you with his breath. His cock kisses your sweet spot, and you feel him twitching inside you.

You clench around him on purpose. He groans a low curse, and his movements turn erratic. You continue to do so till he eventually stops, whining a string of curses. “Stop it. Stop doing that,”

Obliging to his wishes, you observe him as he takes a few seconds to compose himself. His eyelids flutter, and his lips fall apart as he tries to regain control. A knowing smirk graces your lips, knowing the effect you have on him.

“Brat,” you only giggle in response, which is cut short when he thrusts with a force that has you shuddering. His tip kisses your cervix, sending shudders of pleasure through your body. Tears prick your waterline and eventually cascade down your cheek as you cry out his name.

All it takes is one more thrust to push you over the crescendo again. This time, it's more intense and mind-numbing. You moan his name over and over again, like a prayer for salvation. He follows suit and fills his load inside you, shuddering the same as you.

His hands wrap around you tightly and, yours around him. Leaning your head against his shoulders, you catch your breath and try to control the shivers through your body. His warm breath on your back calms you, and so do his feather-light touches.

Your eyelids feel heavy as slumber descends upon you. And, before you know it, you fall asleep in his arms.

[ … ]

“We have to let the others know about this,” Jeonghan informs, stirring his cup of tea with a spoon. You nod wordlessly, sipping your own cup of tea.

Slumber hasn't left you completely, and the tiredness weighs down on your bones. Your eyes slowly close shut again, and you lean back on the loveseat. Jeonghan sighs to himself, setting his cup down on the coffee table. He takes away yours before you can spill it on yourself.

Your soft groans make his heart flutter, and you stir awake again. The first thing you see is your husband sitting on the floor as he massages your legs.

“Poor thing, you must've had a hard time.” The pout on his lips makes you smile. “Not really,” you chirp, feeling more energetic as the seconds pass.

“Oh really?” he muses, and you hum. He shakes his head, worry marring his features. “What if I didn't get here on time? Why did you even allow him in?”

“I was bored.” To which he glares at you, a tired sigh falling from his lips.

“And, He visited.”

Jeonghan stops massaging your legs and looks up at you, confused. You see the tinge of fear in the clench of his jaw and the hold of his breath. You point to the black cat that has made itself home despite all the chaos that went down a few hours ago.

He visibly calms down and bows his head at the cat meows in return. He looks back at your smiling figure, and it strikes him. “Right, I asked for your safety to Him.”

“He saw our pictures,” your words barely audible as you look at the big wall covered with all your pictures with him. A soft smile graces your lips when your eyes fall on your wedding picture. 14th October, 1949.

Then you cackle, recalling the realization and terror on that guy's face. “Oh, you should've seen his face.” Jeonghan laughs along with you and resumes his ministrations on your legs. You relax on the cushion and let out a blissful sigh.

He sighs and zeroes in on the blood spots on your vintage slip. One of his many gifts to you, and it's something you've treasured for over seven decades.

“Ugh, it's fine. You can always buy me a new one.” You say, and a smirk adorns your lips when your eyes fall on the Johnny Cash vinyl on the shelf. You stand and walk towards it, pulling it out gently.

You flash your husband a grin, and he mirrors your visage. Placing the vinyl on the platter of the vinyl player, you move the tonearms and set it on the vinyl.

The world tunes into a buzzing background as you dance with him. His hands are gentle on you, holding you delicately. The setting is all a little too familiar to him, and before he knows it, he takes a trip down memory lane.

But the only one he can remember is the time when he almost lost you to death. The image of your bed-stricken figure flashes through his mind. He holds you a little closer.

In his life plan, Jeonghan never even imagined that you'd be diagnosed with cancer fifteen years into your marriage. Nothing held out, and it was hard to be optimistic with his wife on the lifeline.

And as he was holding your pained body in his arms, he cried and cried. What kind of god would allow this? Why should you be taken away? He felt life slowly slip out of you, and he couldn’t stop it.

They say to never pray to the gods that answer at night, but that’s all he could do. Turning his back on religion and righteousness. His love for you blinded all reason, and he yearned to be in your embrace once again. He could never live without you—what he feels is an immortal desire, lust, love. Even if he is to die, the ground around him will flourish and sprout your favorite flowers—an amaranthine yearning.

So he did it. He prayed and prayed, and when He finally answered, he vowed to do anything and everything that He wished for. Immortality for the curse of bloodied hands. He cringed at the sight of blood staining his skin, but as your bloodied hand intertwined with his, all felt right and in place.

His hands take purchase on your hips, holding you as you sway to the gentle hum of the music. You smile at him and lean on his shoulders, content in his embrace. He mirrors your smile and kisses your forehead.

What a blessing it is to be here with you? To gently sway to some music in the living room of your home with your blood-stained slips and his stained soul?

He kisses you, and you kiss him back. You bite his lips just enough to draw blood. A thousand ways to bleed, but you are his favorite.

⛧spooktober taglist !

@verogonewild @blancflms @chromequette @junniepookiedookie @kyeomiis

@jeonghnie @scoupsieee @xuminghaes @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ririesna

@monstacheol @hoshiskimchi @miyx-amour @woozidanisms @choco-scoups

@cookiearmy @shadowyjellyfishfest @wonwoossecret @strxwberry-skiess @iamawkwardandshy

@merakilles @vitaminkyeom @okiedokrie @armycarat2612 @gyuguys

@idubiluranghae @goodforgyu @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @gyubakeries @nonuify

@aaniag @4cheezflatbred

#lola's spooktober ⛧#jeonghan smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan #seventeen #jeonghan drabbles #jeonghan hard hours

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ennabear · 5 months ago

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hi ennabearrrr...im back at it again...poppin in your inbox with a request for more loser!abby fluff if u want! 💙 i need her to be all blushy and squishy and i literally want to just EAT HER WHOLEKELFKTO love your writing soso much, it brightens up my day every time!

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ HIIII SWEET PLUTOBEAR!!!!! i love having you in my inbox don’t worry 🫶 i’ll build you a comfortable little nest so you can enjoy your stay and come back sometime... HEHE ANYWAYS making fun of this fucking loser again but she’s actually just me in another universe… nsfw at the end but i swear it’s cute!!! 18+

can’t stop thinking specifically about loser!abby falling asleep in front of you for the first time when she comes back from patrol completely wiped out. the trudge back to her room feels like it’s never ending, her whole body is sore and aching but she’d rather pass out in bed than on these concrete stairs. you’re sitting in her bed waiting for her— sheets freshly washed and pillows fluffed— when she clambers through the door. she doesn’t see you at first, yelping and almost falling backward when she realizes there’s another person in her bed.

“abby, it’s me.” you laugh, staring at her panting and hunched over form.

“jesus fuck, never do that again.” she sighs, holding her face in her hands.

you beckon her closer, opening your arms to make room for her. she flops right down on top of you, completely crushing you as her muscles relax. “how was patrol?” you prompt.

“mmmh, it wasn’t great.” she groans. “we almost lost a guy because he got shot in the leg. he was losing so much blood, saying shit like ‘tell my family i love them’ and it kinda freaked me out, you know how i am.”

“he’s gonna be okay though?”

“yeah. at least i think so. i just pray that never happens to me.”

“it won’t.” you assure her. “i love you too much to let it happen. plus, i wanna see what you look like with gray hair and wrinkles.”

she giggles softly into your neck, wrapping an arm around you and settling down. before long, her gentle breath turns into soft snores, and her soft snores turn into her sounding like a fucking chainsaw with a puddle of drool dripping down your neck.

you laugh again at your loser of a girlfriend, letting her exhausted cacophony of snores lull you to sleep like some sort of evil white noise. this was the first time in a while you fell asleep with such a smile on your face.

or… loser!abby oversharing to you while she’s drunk. you’ve never questioned why she was so sentimental about certain things, like how she could remember how and when she got every coin in her collection, but would never let you touch them. as soon as she got some alcohol in her system, she felt like it was impossible to shut up. (although she frequently felt that way, sober or not.)

it didn’t really cross your mind that she’d lost someone so close to her. sure, you’d lost your own family and friends a few times. the world is cruel but we adjust, we learn to grow around the grief, changing into bigger and better versions of ourselves. that’s what abby was good at.

she was so sweet, so confident, sometimes even a little bit of a badass although she’s a true dork at heart. so when you hear the story of her fathers passing, the brutality of it absolutely wrecks your heart. the fact that she was in the building when it happened, letting the mysterious murderer escape right under her nose, leaving her with a giant hole in her heart that could never be filled.

“i’m sorry…” she giggles through her waterfall of tears. “we were supposed to have fun tonight and i killed the mood. again.” you frown at your girlfriend, pulling her in for a tight hug and letting her sniffle into your shoulder. yeah, it’s true, she did technically ruin the mood. but how could you be mad at your baby? at least you know her better now, and she’d probably find another way to ruin the mood if not this one.

on a happier note, walking in on loser!abby masturbating... she’s actually had a great day today, and she wants nothing more than to be pleasured by her girlfriend to end it. she just doesn’t know how to ask for it. after giving you a quick parting kiss in the cafeteria, she showered and returned to bed, deciding to finally do something about the ache in between her legs. should she go get you? what if she just rubs one out really quick and then forgets about it? should she wait until you get back?

fuck it, she decides, and she’s instantly shoving two fingers into her weeping hole. the stretch is easy, she’s used to it by now. she whimpers as her fingertips graze her g-spot, reaching up to tug at one of her nipples. “abby?”

“oh, jesus!” she gasps, clamping her hand over her mouth as her cheeks redden. “you have got to stop doing that!”

“having fun?” you tease, watching as her blush spreads from her cheeks to her ears. “yeah… well, no actually.” she sputters. giggling, you climb on top of her and tug your shirt off, then lean forward to place a sweet kiss on her nose bump. “would you like some help?”

as soon as you get her approval, your lips are suckling onto her clit with two of your own fingers pumping in and out of her. she’s breathing incoherent praises like “gah, fuck! oh- it- i’m !!!” as you slide in and out of her, pausing repeatedly to lick up some of the slick that’s dripping down your hand.

once she tips over the edge, you rub her thighs in encouragement, mouth too occupied sucking up all of her cum to praise her verbally. when you pull away, she’s staring up at you with doe eyes. her lips, cheeks, nose— fuck, her whole face— looking more kissable than ever.

“i’m sorry.” she sighs once you have her wrapped up in a warm blanket, guiding her head to rest on your chest.

“for what?”

she ponders this for a second. she’s so used to apologizing for embarrassing herself that she forgot you’ll love her no matter what, even if it’s as awkward as walking in on her with her hands down her pants. “uhh, actually, i dunno anymore.” she smiles. “i love you though.”

you crane your neck down to kiss each of her eyelids as they flutter shut for the night. “i love you too, silly.”

#tried to make this one a little less embarrassing… hope u like 😣😞😞#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby anderson fluff #the last of us

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breathinlove · 1 year ago

Text

band!ellie 2 headcanons and smau

read this

sinopse: ellie williams is the lead singer in a band (+some texts with her).

cw: nsfw after the texts with warning! swearing, explicit, reader works in a record store and ellie's a simp, not explicit if reader is fem or masc.

part 1

band!ellie who made it unbelievable for dina and jesse to believe she found her girl, but then they met you.

“this shit's cringe as fuck, but you two are sweet…” jesse starts and dina immediately agrees. “yeah, she's perfect for you, el.” “i knowwwww, i need her.” jumping like a teenage girl fr...

band!ellie who sometimes thinks her bandmates like you way too much.

“invite y/n to the next rehearsal too for real.” jesse says after you leave a rehearsal you went to. “okay man i get it, she's amazing.” with an annoyed expression. “so… invite her.” dina chuckles. “no, i don't want any of you jumping on my girl.” but she does invite you anyway.

band!ellie who's so stupid tbh, she's gonna sign girls’ tits after concerts and act all oblivious when you swerve her kisses.

and swerving her is so fun istg, she's gonna try like 4 times before she's upset. UPSET! (she will go non verbal).

band!ellie who's the type to perform and glance at you like you're about to have sex right that instant (u will, after the concert tho!).

band!ellie who's a singer herself but turns on the tv and pretends to be the weeknd for you.

band!ellie who wishes she could rap… actually, no. she thinks she can.

"that was... something." you smirk and she scoffs, throwing herself on the couch she was standing on, mic in hand. "i'm literally in my rapper era but whatever, you'll see." and you're full on laughing. "don't laugh." and you come hug her and say she's so so special.

band!ellie who makes it so you can't open x (twitter) without seeing girls mourning your girlfriend… she's alive not single tho!

band!ellie who's always late for everything, but she tries her best istg. you and the band are TIREDDD.

band!ellie who's nervous about pda… but she likes it, showing everyone you're hers and she's yours.

band!ellie who made a slideshow about how you should move into her apartment… that was kinda like:

“REASONS FRRRR 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯

ALL OF THEM 🤣

we're literally soulmates so we gotta be roommates too???

countless sleepovers omg i'm crying!

i'll never be late again (kinda😬)

we can get a pet tg 😯

i'll get to listen to u sing in the shower more and you know i like hearing you and singing with you while im in the toilet or even outside the bathroom

passionate lesbian sex before sleeping, after eating, doing the dishes, the laundry ALL THE TIME

i love you the most and i want you close all the time

you love me back (i hope) so you gotta want me close too

i want you as my wife asap

think about it, thanks and please my love ❤️”

you moved in… weak mf but can anyone blame you??

band!ellie who loves cooking with you for friends and family when they come over. just loves being with you in general but even house chores are better with you??

band!ellie who comes to disturb see you at your job, your bosses hate her and said they were gonna stop selling their album 😒 (they actually love her).

band!ellie who switches from your serious cool rockstar girlfriend to your silly baby girlfriend in a second.

band!ellie who reposts them and comments under edits fans make of you, even more than her own edits.

“that's my baby so stop gawking.(jk)” “whats her @” “id repost but my gf would be jealous, shes hot asf 🤤🤤” “THAT'S MY GIRL” “creamed💔” "straight to the y/n folder" someone said “ellie cant handle allat” and she replied fr “true, she the one handling me 💯💢” SHE HAS NO CHILL...

band!ellie who pays the same attention to potential hate you'd get, she will block them… don't talk about her girl.

nsfw (cw: cunnilingus [e and r!receiving], fingering [e and r!receiving]. switch!ellie!!!!).

band!ellie who treats you like a star

you were supposed to be in the shower but ellie saw you stripping out of your clothes and she has to ask to kiss your clit, dropping to her knees. her fingers bruising your thighs and shes eating you out as if she'd been starving. you cum but she's not satisfied yet, she pulls you down on the bedroom carpet with her "give me another one, please." hands roaming your skin ever so softly, sending shivers down your body. she asks what you want, the position, how many fingers, she just needs to please you. and now she's on top of you, pounding you with her fingers and pressing down your lower stomach because she just wants you to cum again.

band!ellie who loves sleepy sex

she's gonna be in bed with you, almost asleep asking you for kisses, then for some touches... and you end up between her legs, sloppy nasty head and some slow fingering. your lips around her clit and kissing her pussy lips and slit and your fingers in and out her pussy. she's whining and squealing, playing with her own tits and caressing ur face. you're humming against her pussy and she's clenches "let go for me, ellie..." you coo and she squirts on your mouth and fingers. soft pants leaving her lips, soon stopping with her caresses on your face as you lick her cum. you look up, hair messy against the pillow and eyes closed. "i love you..." she mutters after you clean her and lay next to her "i love you." you spoon her.

a/n: this is kinda shitty but it's for who asked for more! @kyleeservopoulos @sameenatruther @harrysslutsstuff

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #lover girl!ellie #ellie imagine #ellie x masc reader #rockstar!ellie #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smau #ellie williams hcs

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atlabeth · 5 months ago

Text

time’s blur - ialwbty au

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader but this primarily features percy jackson & sister!reader

summary: somehow, someway, you come back.

a/n: wow it has been a while hasn't it!! 148 days to be exact!! im always thinking about these two in the corner of my mind and ive been wanting to write this au since i got an ask about it, originally i was going to do it all as a big long one shot but i just want to get something out lol. and this will give me more freedom to do wte i want with this au instead of just having one big one shot and leaving it. anyways enjoy there is actually some fluff for once but still some emotional damage and there is more to come!! also reader is 19 and percy is 15

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): hurricane dies but she has come back!! told through percy's pov. angst, hurt/comfort, signature percy jackson guilt, but some fluffy sibling moments<3

Percy doesn’t end up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning out of instinct, foresight, or any kind of divine ‘chosen one’ intervention.

He ends up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning because some Apollo kid was hooking up with an Ares kid on the beach, and they found you.

They found you, not Percy. He didn’t even have a clue until he woke up to Chiron in his cabin.

Percy had had his fair share of rude awakenings over the years, usually because of horrific demigod prophetic dreams, but the expression on Chiron’s face immediately alerted Percy that something was wrong, even through his groggy haze.

“Chiron?” he rasps, and he sits up as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He has to make sure he’s not still dreaming.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Percy,” he says. “But I need you to come with me.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Is everyone okay? Is camp okay? Is there an invasion?”

“Nothing so ghastly,” Chiron says. Though his tone is a bit lighter, it still doesn’t ease Percy’s concerns. “But it does concern you.”

“Great,” Percy mumbles, and he pulls himself out of bed. Normally he would have the foresight to change, but a part of him is still worried that Christmas has come early and Kronos has already invaded the city.

So he follows Chiron—with all the sneaking around he’s done since getting to camp, it’s strange to be out this late and not have to worry about being eaten alive—clad in flannel pajama pants, a Yankee’s tee, and Converse he didn’t get the chance to fully lace up.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong,” Percy says, glancing up at him. “Right?”

“Of course,” he nods. “I wouldn’t classify this as something going wrong. Just… rather shocking.”

“Great,” he repeats. “Are you going to tell me?”

Chiron is silent for a moment, and Percy frowns. “Now I’m really worried.”

“I suppose it’s best to rip the bandage off,” Chiron says. He stops right outside the Big House and lets out a sigh. “An hour ago, a girl was found on the beach. She looked as if she’d been washed ashore.”

Percy’s frown deepens. “What? Gods— is she okay?”

“Yes,” Chiron says. “I checked her over for injuries, but she only had some minor bruises. No water in her lungs, somehow.”

“That’s crazy,” he says. “How could someone even wash up here? Even with demigods— don’t we have protections against that?”

“All of this makes me believe there was some… divine intervention,” Chiron says slowly. “Especially with who she is.”

Percy crosses his arms. “You’re making this sound like a huge deal. Who is she?”

“Percy,” Chiron says, soft but firm, “it’s your sister. Somehow, she’s come back to life.”

And for a second, all he can do is stare.

“What?”

“I could never forget her face,” he says. “Or the presence of a child of Poseidon.”

Percy shakes his head. “No, Chiron— if this is a joke, it’s not funny.” He huffs a mirthless laugh and looks down at his hands. “And if this is a shitty dream, then it’s really shitty.”

“Perseus, this is real,” he states.

He’s still shaking his head. “How can it be real? She’s dead— she’s been dead for years.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Mr. D has already gone back to Olympus to figure it out. But if I had to guess, your father decided to meddle.”

He wants to call it a lie. Honestly, he wants to punch Chiron for getting his hopes up about something like this. But deep down, Percy knows he’s telling the truth.

“Can I see her?” he asks. “Is— is she okay? Does she know who she is?”

“In time,” Chiron says. “I cannot be sure, but it doesn’t look like she remembers anything from her life.”

Percy shakes his head again. It doesn’t feel real. He’s imagined what it would feel like to meet you since the moment Luke told him about you, but he knew it could never happen.

But now, all that stands between Percy and his sister is a few doors.

“I want to see her,” he says.

“Of course,” Chiron nods. “I just need to make sure it won’t mess with her further. This isn’t like Thalia coming back with the fleece—though I have suspicions, I can’t be sure how this happened. It could be a very delicate matter.”

“As long as it doesn’t hurt her more.”

Chiron nods again and he opens the door to the Big House. He follows him up to his office door, then stops when Chiron gestures at the couch.

“I just need to discuss a few more things with her.”

Percy nods wordlessly and sits down, then Chiron disappears into his office.

A million things are running through Percy’s mind, namely guilt.

Shouldn’t he have been the one to find you?

Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s you.

You’re his sister. He’s always had a connection to you, even when you were gone—gods, the night after he found out you existed you appeared in his dreams. Percy’s spent almost every moment since he found out about you wishing you were still here, that he could meet you, and when it finally does happen—somehow, because he still doesn’t understand what the fuck went on for this to happen—he’s not even the one to find you? He’s just asleep like every other night?

He huffs a sigh as he hunches over, his forearms on his knees. His leg bounces up and down at a rapid pace, moving his entire body with it, but this is one time he can’t lay his ADHD to rest. He’s more surprised he isn’t up pacing the entire room for the hundredth time.

If Percy feels like this, he can’t even imagine how you must feel. To come back for seemingly no reason with no memories, after four years in Elysium.

Luke said you’d been killed by a monster. You were buried like any other person.

You were gone.

But you just… came back.

He lets out another harried sigh and falls back against the couch. He’s exhausted, but there’s no chance of him being able to go back to sleep. Not with you around.

Suddenly, the door opens, and Percy instantly darts up from his seat. You walk out with Chiron and it’s almost surreal.

You look like all the pictures, all his dreams, just older—more mature. He wants to cry and scream and hug you all at once.

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance at Chiron for a moment before you focus back on Percy.

“Uh— sorry,” he says, wincing a bit. He doesn’t know how to act around you, not when he knows you but you don’t know him. “I waited for you. I thought it would be good to have someone on the other side.”

“That’s really nice,” you murmur. “I… I see why. Word on the street is that you’re my brother.”

Percy nods way too many times. “Yeah. Uh— yeah. We’re both children of—”

He pauses, his gaze moving past you to Chiron. He has to have explained all this to you, right?

“Poseidon,” you finish, and you let out a slightly shaky laugh. “Chiron laid out all the basics.”

“This has all got to be really confusing,” he says. “I remember how lost I was when I first got to camp, and I didn’t even…”

“Die?” you ask wryly. He nods again. He really can’t finish any sentence around you—he’s so worried of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you. Percy doesn’t know how any of this works.

“It’s strange,” you admit. “I… I lived this whole life before this, and I don’t even remember any of it.”

Percy’s heart clenches painfully. He doesn’t know how he’s going to explain everything to you when you start remembering.

When you start remembering Luke.

“Really?” he asks. “There’s nothing?”

You shake your head. “I have my name, but that’s all. And…”

Percy frowns. “What?”

You pause for a moment before you shake your head again. “Nothing. This is just…”

“Weird?”

You nod with a slight laugh. “Yeah. To say the least.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not the first person to come back to life,” Percy says. “Uh, a girl named Thalia used to be a tree before she was turned back into a human.”

You frown. “Wow.”

“We can get to all of that some other day,” Chiron thankfully interrupts. “Percy, will you take her back to your cabin?”

“You’re sure we won’t get eaten by the harpies?” Percy asks. “Aello is out for my blood.”

“I promise,” Chiron says. He glances at you, your frown noticeably deeper, and he looks back at Percy. “Perhaps we should, ah, hold off on this sort of discussion. Until tomorrow, at least.”

“Of course,” Percy says. “Sorry. You must be exhausted.”

“A little,” you admit. “Apparently coming back to life takes it out of you.”

“Come back here first thing in the morning,” Chiron says. “We have… quite a bit to talk about.”

“That’s an understatement,” you murmur.

Percy smiles a bit, and he gestures with his head for you to follow him. You do, and Chiron goes back into his office. He nabs a bag of ambrosia squares from an empty bedside as the two of you go through the infirmary just to be safe, and when he glances back at you he sees you frowning.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Does anything hurt?”

“You’re a Yankees fan?” you say instead.

Percy blinks, then he realizes you’re looking at his shirt. “Uh— yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m from New York, and my mom loves them, so…” he tugs at his shirt. “I know you like the Red Sox. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “We can’t all be perfect.”

Percy can’t help but smile. You died and came back to life, and you remember nothing but your name and your love for the Boston Red Sox.

“That means you keep up with baseball, right?”

“When I can,” he says. “We don’t really have technology out here.”

“Have the Red Sox won a world series since I’ve been gone?”

“They won last year, actually.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly grin. “Really?”

He nods. “They beat the Cardinals.”

“That— that’s huge!” you exclaim. “Oh my god, they broke the curse and I didn’t get to see it? This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“You know you died, right?”

“And look how well that worked out for me.” You shake your head. “I need to go to the library or something and find some footage.”

“As much as I would love to do that,” Percy says, “we have a few other things we have to focus on.”

You huff and shake your head. “Fine. But as soon as we figure all this out, I’m figuring out some way to see those games.”

Percy chuckles. “I don’t think anyone’ll deny you that.”

“Good.”

Silence settles over the two of you as you walk back to the Poseidon cabin, and Percy just feels awkward.

He always thought about what he would say to you if he finally got to see you again, and now you’re alive somehow and right next to him and he has no idea what to do.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Percy finally decides on. “Chiron said you just washed up on shore.”

“I feel surprisingly okay,” you say. “All I remember is waking up at the bottom of the lake. I thought I was going to drown, so I kicked my way up, and then got to shore.” You shake your head. “Somehow, I didn’t drown. My clothes weren’t even wet. I’ve got to be the luckiest person out there.”

“You’re a child of Poseidon,” he says. “We can breathe underwater so we can’t drown, and our clothes don’t get wet unless we want them to.”

“Like I said,” you incline your head, “luckiest person out there.”

“I just don’t get why you’re back,” Percy says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. I just don’t understand how, or why— or why now.”

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re not able to get any words out before a yawn interrupts it.

“Maybe that’s a tomorrow problem,” you say.

“I think you’re right,” Percy says. He opens the door to the camp store and you follow him inside, but you frown.

“What is this?”

“The camp store,” he says. “You don’t really have anything, so I wanted to get you some things.”

You just stare as he starts taking things. “You’re just… stealing?”

“Just a couple toiletries and some clothing,” he says. “They won’t miss it.” He stashes it all in a Camp Halfblood tote bag and holds it out to you, and though you’re a bit hesitant, you still take it.

“Thanks,” you say. “We won’t get in trouble?”

“I think everyone will cut you some slack for a while,” Percy says. “A guy did this for me my first day and it helps—makes you feel more at home.”

You hum, and this time you open the door for Percy. “Nice guy.”

Percy swallows the sudden lump in his throat, trying to ignore the chill that trickles down his spine as he realizes the implications of his words.

“Yeah,” Percy mutters. “He was.”

Eventually, the two of you get back to the Poseidon cabin. He opens the door for you and you slowly walk inside.

Again, it’s strange that you’re here. It’s like if a piece of his history textbook suddenly came to life and started walking around—he’s heard so much about you, imagined what he thought would be an impossible meeting so many times, but now that it’s actually happening he doesn’t know what to do.

And it hits even more as you walk over to a picture of yourself hanging on the wall, surrounded by a myriad of others.

It’s one of many of you and Luke, him holding you close with an arm slung around your shoulder as you beam at the camera with the brightest smile imaginable. Before Luke got his scar, before you died, before he went off the deep end.

“I put a couple of your pictures up,” Percy rushes to explain, his throat feeling scratchy, “and a few of your old things. As— as a way to remember you.”

“I love it,” you say, and the tension dissolves in his shoulders when he sees your smile. It really is so much brighter in person. “I— I can’t believe I don’t remember any of this.”

“We’ll figure out a way to get it back,” Percy says. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say idly as you continue to take all the pictures in. He can’t imagine what it must feel like to see all these memories of a past life you have no recollection of.

“I don’t,” he says. “We’re gonna figure it out.”

You’re silent for a while as you keep looking at them. Then you take one of the pictures off the wall, the one of you and Luke at a baseball game.

“Luke,” you murmur, as if you don’t realize you’re saying it out loud. You blink, then you turn to Percy. “His name is Luke, isn’t it?”

He nods, almost in disbelief. You don’t remember a damn thing about your old life but you know Luke’s name.

How is Percy supposed to tell you what he did?

You laugh softly as you trail your nail over the edge. “We must’ve been pretty close if I got him to go to a Red Sox game.” You look over at Percy. “Does he go here too?”

After a moment, Percy shakes his head. “He— uh, he used to.”

“Makes sense,” you murmur, and you put the picture back on the wall. “I got the easy way out. Everyone else had to deal with the fallout.”

Percy frowns. “You were killed by a monster. I don’t think anyone considers that the easy way out.”

“It kinda was,” you say with a shrug. “I— I don’t remember much about it, but Chiron said I was in Elysium. There aren’t any monsters down there, and there certainly aren’t any responsibilities.”

“Well,” Percy sits down on his bed, “I’m glad you’re here. You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined meeting you.”

You chuckle. “I didn’t know I was so popular.”

“I’m serious,” he says. “Poseidon is one of the Big Three, and they made an oath not to have kids. I was the only Big Three kid in general when I got to camp—when I found out about you, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to have a sister to talk about all of this with.”

Your eyes soften, and you lean against his bed frame. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?”

“I— I don’t know,” you say with a slight laugh. “I just feel bad that I couldn’t be there for you.”

“You’re already doing a pretty good job at being a big sister,” Percy says wryly.

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re doing a pretty good job at being a younger brother.”

Percy laughs and smiles, and you smile too. He’s beginning to understand what Luke always said, about your presence embodying warmth. He’s only been around you for a few minutes and he already feels better.

“I’ve never had a brother before this,” you say. “So there might be a couple speed bumps.”

“We’ll get through them together,” Percy says. “Besides, I… I kind of always considered you my sister. Ever since I found out about you, even though you were…”

“Dead?” you guess, and he winces. You chuckle a bit. “It’s still weird for me, too. Can’t imagine what it must be like for all of you.”

“Weird,” he says without really thinking. “Really weird. But I’m thankful that you’re back.”

You smile. “So am I, Percy.”

You let out another yawn, and you sit down on the bed across from him. “God, what time is it?”

Percy glances at the clock in the corner. “3:34.”

You whistle. “I really chose a great time to come back, huh?”

He chuckles, and he kicks off his shoes as gets up to turn the lights off. “I think some sleep would do us both some good.”

You nod and do the same. As you lay back, one hand behind your head, you continue to look around the cabin.

“Are these your band posters?”

He shakes his head as he sits back down. “They’re yours, actually, but you’ve got good taste. I love Pearl Jam.”

“I used to have good taste, you mean,” you say wryly.

“Hey,” he says. “I meant what I told you. We’re gonna get your memories back.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I’ve done a lot of impossible things,” Percy says. “And so have you, from what I’ve heard. It’s kind of the Poseidon kid way, honestly.”

“You’ll have to teach me some things, then.”

“And when you get your memory back, you’ll have to do the same,” he says.

You smile and nod. “Deal.”

Percy smiles too, and he lays down. “You really should try and get some sleep. Chiron wasn’t joking when he said we have a lot to talk about.” He huffs a slight laugh. “Whatever the reason is for you coming back, I guarantee there’s gonna be some people upstairs that are mad about it.”

Your eyebrows rise. “Upstairs?”

“Olympus,” he says. “The gods don’t really like things happening out of their control.”

You hum, and for a moment there’s nothing but silence and the sound of both your breathing. It’s a little strange having someone else here other than Tyson, but he’s thankful for it.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” you ask. There’s an edge of fear in your voice, and Percy frowns.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” he repeats. “I’m not going to let anything happen. The gods have already messed with your life enough—they don’t get to do it again.”

Percy half-expects to hear the sound of thunder echoing across camp, but the silence continues. Maybe Zeus isn’t listening in on him for once, or maybe he just expects the disrespect at this point.

“I really am the luckiest person,” you say. “I’ve got someone like you looking out for me.”

“You were looking out for me when you were gone,” he says. “You might not remember, but I could feel it. So I’m just repaying the favor.”

Again, silence. It’s temporarily interrupted by the sound of sheets shifting, then you speak.

“I’m really glad I got to meet you, Percy,” you murmur.

He can’t help but smile, and he tries to ignore the tears beginning to spring in his eyes. He has no idea why you’re back—no idea what this could mean. Maybe your dad did bring you back, maybe it’s a bizarre case like Thalia, maybe you play a part in something that they don’t even know about yet and it's nothing but bad news.

But for once in his life, Percy’s not going to question it.

You’re alive and you’re here.

For now, that’s all he needs.

“Me too,” he whispers.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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literaila · 5 months ago

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kid megumi and gojo definitely took bubble baths together while megumi washes his hair and satoru's just yapping about how much he loves reader

“megumi,” gojo says, not even bothering to knock on the door.

it’s the boys fault, really, for leaving it open in the first place.

megumi stills, brows furrowing as his hands stop foaming the soap in his hair. “gojo?” he asks, a bit disbelieving.

he might be going crazy—it’s not uncommon for sorcerers. and megumi barely thought he would make it to fourteen and here he is, so. he should probably tell someone about the hallucinations but—

“you got it,” gojo answers, predictably, sitting on the toilet seat. “i need to talk to you.”

megumi peaks his head around the shower curtain slowly, blinking a few times to make sure the man is really there.

but he is, grinning at the tiny bit of megumi he can see, tapping his fingers on his knees obnoxiously.

megumi points a hand towards the door. “this is an invasion of privacy.”

“megumi,” gojo gives him a bland look. “i’ve seen you naked.”

“that’s creepy.”

gojo sighs, hanging his head. “we’ve known each other for so long now, and you still don’t trust me.”

“you still haven’t given me a reason to. can’t this wait? or not happen? i don’t want to talk to you.”

yes, megumi is still hanging halfway out of the shower. yes, his hair is dripping water on the floor. no, he does not care—it’s gojo’s house anyway. he can fix the ruined floorboards.

“it’s about your mother.”

at that megumi blinks. “what’d you do?“

“i didn’t do anything.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” gojo scoffs, reaching out to pull his ear—which megumi expertly deflects (he almost slips and dies in the process). “am i crying on the floor right now?”

megumi considers it. then he recalls the last time you and gojo had a fight. he had to check gojo’s pulse every time he walked past the couch.

“good point. what is it?”

“as you know, her birthday is coming up—“

“are you serious?”

“megumi.” gojo’s eyes are dubious, his voice is disapproving. “your mothers birthday is very important.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “i know. i mean, are you seriously asking me about this right now? im in the shower. there’s shampoo in my hair.”

gojo nods very seriously. “it’s the only place she won’t hear.”

“she’s not even home.”

“she’s hidden cameras, megumi, i know it.”

“no she hasn’t.”

gojo pouts. “i want it to be a surprise. she always finds out about her gifts before i can give them to her.”

“that’s because you tell her.”

“the suspense is too much. i need you to buy her something for me and hide it so i don’t know what it is.”

he sounds absolutely serious, which might be the worst part of that request, actually.

and when has megumi ever done gojo a favor?

“gojo,” megumi gives him a little smirk, tilting his head. “i’m not doing that.”

gojo groans, falling onto the floor. “c’mon, megumi, we’re supposed to be friends.”

“you’re my teacher, if anything.”

“and your father,” he juts his chin, “favoritism is not cute.”

“good.”

megumi finally turns around. gojo was never going to leave, even if he’d attempted to tackle him out of the door.

and he’s used to this, anyway. there hasn’t been a day in seven years that he’s gotten some peace.

“okay,” gojo begins again, sounding like he’s won—which he hasn’t. “i was thinking some jewelry, but you know how picky she is. and besides, she’s too rough for something small. tsumiki is already getting her that chibi mug we saw in that corner store last weekend, and whatever you’re getting is off of the table too.”

“i’m not listening to this.”

“i could take her out to dinner, but that’s not a gift. and i do that anyway. maybe i should buy her a car—what kind do you think she’d like? something blue, like my eyes—“

megumi groans.

gojo pauses. “did you get soap in your eye?”

honestly, banging his head against the wall might be better than this. at least they have pain killers at the hospital.

megumi doesnt answer, no longer entertaining this, but gojo continues anyway.

“maybe we should re-do the bathroom, you know how she’s always saying that—“

god, when will it end?

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