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andvys · 5 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty two ⭐︎ Let the world around us just fall apart

Warnings: no warnings, I am not gonna spoil anything, read at your own risk and minors, get outta here as always

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.5k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult can you believe we made it here?... feels like we just started planning this story! anyways thank you for helping me proofread and perfecting the story ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

“I don’t know if a dress would make him say yes to a date with his mortal enemy.”

Billy scoffed at your words, rolling his eyes.

“Mortal enemy, my ass.”

You were fidgety as you were walking towards the GAP store with your best friend by your side. You looked around you and stopped at the entrance, a sudden nervousness came over you when you looked inside.

This was insane and it didn’t even feel right. You knew he would say no, not even a pretty dress could change his opinion of you.

Steve couldn’t stand you, it felt ridiculous to even think of asking him out, knowing how it would end but your best friend put so much hope in you, he encouraged you so strongly, how could you not try?

Billy stood before you, a comforting smile crossed upon his features.

“I– I can’t…”

You looked into his blue eyes, the kindness that was shining just for you, making your lips twitch.

He took your hand in his and squeezed it, tilting his head down with a nod, he gestured to the store.

“You can do it, sweets…”

His words echo in your mind, repeating over and over again, blurring your vision further as you look at the man before you with tears rolling down your cheeks and rain pouring down on you, you’re shaking like a leaf, not from the coldness that envelopes your body like an icy blanket but from all the emotions inside of you.

And Steve, he stares at you, eyes blurred with tears that even you can see through your own.

His head is pounding from all the sobs that left his lips, from all the tears he shed over you after what Robin told him about you, about your feelings for him. He feels ready to crumble to his knees as he looks at you now, ready to let those tears spill again, ready to take you back into his arms and try to forget.

But despite the sadness, the brokenness in him, he also feels anger, not even for you but for himself.

“What do you want?”

Tears spill from your eyes and your chest aches in pain and fear as you look at the heartbroken, angered boy in front of you.

You have not heard that voice from him in a long time. That voice that had venom in it, directed only at you. The voice that held dislike, disgust, hatred. The voice that Steve once had towards you… and this time it hurts even worse than it ever did before.

You see the way he looks at you, so different from how he did this morning and it makes you feel small, just the way it always did and suddenly you want nothing more than to turn around and run again, to leave and spare yourself more pain.

But this can’t be the ending.

It just can’t be.

And the pain in his eyes, his reaction to whatever Robin had said to him fuels the hope that began to dwindle. If he didn’t feel anything for you, he wouldn’t stand here like this.

Thunder crashes behind you so loudly that it makes you flinch and shut your eyes tightly, for only a second but a second enough for Steve to snap and truly look at the sight before him – the storm that rages behind you, the wind that curses through the forest, the lightning that surges through the sky, illuminating everything around you as loud rumbles vibrate against the ground while the rain pours down on you.

You are standing here, in the middle of a storm, caught in the rain, you are standing here before him.

His heart lurches to his throat when he hears your sniffle, sees the tears in your eyes and the way you are shaking as your bottom lip trembles. A broken cough falls from your lips and he instantly steps forward. Worry crosses out every other emotion in him as he reaches for your hand, his gaze softening the longer he looks at you.

“Blondie! What the fuck are you doing here!? It’s— It’s storming!” He yells through the rain and tries to pull you into the house but you shake your head at him and take a step back, refusing to step inside.

All the words, all the sentences, everything you had rehearsed and looked forward to all day flet away from you, the confession you planned no longer exists in your mind, it’s all blank.

“I–I… I need to know… I need to ask… I-I never asked and I feel like I’m losing my mind now–”

A desperate sigh falls from Steve’s lips, he shakes his head at you, begging with his eyes as he moves closer to the doorstep, not understanding a single word you are saying.

“What…? Blondie, you need to get inside, you’re fucking soaked–”

“No!” You shake your head at him, feeling uncomfortable beneath the pouring rain but refusing to give into the warmth just yet. “I need to… I need to tell you something!”

He can see the way you try your hardest not to cry, the way your glassy eyes look into his so brokenly, the way you look as though you will fall to your knees any second and it only makes the aching in his chest so much worse.

“W-What?”

You take a deep breath and you almost choke from the sob you have kept inside for too long, that you can no longer hold as it falls from your lips so brokenly.

“It’s all my fault! All this time, I blamed time and I blamed bad luck but never myself! If I only had said something to you, if only I had even shown you a little bit of what I truly feel, you may have noticed! I-I never tried! I never fought! And I am the only one to blame if I end up broken in the end!”

Steve shakes his head at you, his tears falling yet again at the sight of you crying and speaking so desperately through your cries.

“Blondie– you’re– you have to get in–”

He tries to reach for you again but you swat his hand away, sniffling and shaking your head.

“For years I held it in! Even before the upside down, before joining the group and quarreling like never before with you! Even before any of what we had been doing for the past few months! When you passed me in the hallways, when you sat behind me in science class, when you had your basketball matches and even when I went to parties, I always looked at you!” Your voice cracks when another sob escapes you, and then another before they continue falling uncontrollably, feelings overwhelming you as you finally let them out after years of keeping them locked away.

And Steve, he stares at you with wide glassy eyes, feeling stunned and frozen in place as his heart stops beating for a moment.

“And– And now– I can’t hold them in anymore, because I feel like if I keep going like this I will explode– but my gut is telling me that I have to say it… but I’m so afraid… I’m so fucking afraid! I-I can’t lose you, not you, Steve.”

His knees nearly buckle at your words, at his sudden movement as he finally rushes forward, stepping under the rain with you, not letting you move away from him again as he cradles your face with his hands and tilts your head up to make you look at him.

It all moved so quickly, he didn’t have the time to properly digest everything that just left your lips but it all was enough to bring him back to you, to start his heart again, to fill it with the hope that he thought was burned to ashes only hours ago. He already saw his grave, he already saw his demise, the death of his heart when he thought that he found out what you had really felt for him.

But you are here, not caring about the storm above you, not caring about the vulnerability you’re letting come through, not caring about anything but him at this moment.

He grows desperate too and so does his heart as it calls your name.

He rubs his thumbs against your cheeks, holding you so tightly as he fears that you will slip through his fingers at any moment, that he might wake up to an empty bed after sobbing himself to sleep, thinking about you but then you wrap your hands around his wrists, clutching them tightly as you cry.

Now he can see it in your eyes, the look he always searched for but couldn’t find, now he can see it all so very clearly but it still isn’t enough, he needs to hear you say it.

“Please… Please I beg you to say it… I need to know, baby, please. Y-You don’t have to be afraid anymore… not with me… So please, say it.”

Your body trembles like it never did before, your heart pounds so strongly in your chest, you blink through your tears and stare up at him, into his hazel eyes that beg for you, the eyes that look at you with so much hope and desperation as tears cascade down his cheeks along with the rain that crashes down on the both of you.

The boy you never thought could ever feel a sliver of what you feel for him stands in front of you, holds you so tightly as he pleads for you, for your love.

“Please,” he whispers so brokenly, like your words, your love is the only thing he wants and needs.

He begs for you and no one else, only you.

The one you always wanted, the one you would give your life for, the one that had your heart from the very start.

You take a deep breath and hold onto him tightly, your heart jumps to your throat when you finally, finally whisper those three words.

“I love you.”

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, a weight he didn’t even realize he was carrying falling off his shoulders, his brows furrow as his lips part, fresh tears well up in his eyes and his heart starts beating again.

He can’t believe that this is real, he can’t believe that he just heard those words coming from your mouth, he can’t believe that you are here, standing right in front of him with no walls built around you any longer, he sees a side of you that he wasn’t sure was there but it is and you let him see, you let him see all of you, the real you, the vulnerable girl that hid from the world, from him.

And now that those words have finally left the sacred place in your heart, you feel an overwhelming sensation taking control over you, your body begins to shake harder than it did before, tears are flowing and sobs continue on falling.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!”

Your voice is so small, yet so loud as you chant those three words through your cries, clinging to him so tightly so you don’t fall to your knees.

Words that Steve never thought he would hear echo through his driveway, falling from your lips so beautifully, nothing but the truth lingers in your eyes, nothing but vulnerability, nothing but a love he had never thought he would get to feel in this life, let alone from you, you who he had fallen for so unconditionally, so deeply that it hurt not only in his heart but in his soul when he thought that you didn’t feel what he does.

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” you whisper, sniffling. “I love you so much, I always did, I–I loved you from the moment I first saw you, I have loved you for more than you can imagine! I have loved you for–”

A choked sob falls from his own lips before he pulls you tightly against him and smashes them against yours, kissing you with everything that he has, pouring every ounce of love into it, enveloping you in his arms, in his embrace, in his warmth. Holding your face in his hands is no longer enough, he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you tightly against him so your chest is pressed against his own.

You lift your arms up and cup his wet cheeks, kissing him deeply, holding him tightly, not caring about the salty taste on your tongue or his.

Steve cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss and getting lost in it, not minding the rain or the storm and you don’t either, you don’t even flinch when the thunder crashes. He kisses you hard and he makes you forget about everything around you, everything ceases to exist, everything but him.

He murmurs something against your lips when you both grow too breathless to continue the kiss.

He could not begin to describe the emotions that exploded inside of him.

You love him.

You love him just the way he loves you.

You have loved him for absolutely nothing, when he was cruel to you, when he mistreated you, when he gave you nothing but cold gazes and his cruelty.

You have loved him during times when he felt most unlovable, when he thought he had no one, when not even his parents wanted him, when his first love lied to him, betrayed him, left him only to come back and fill him with false hope again, only to leave him once again.

You have loved him when you showed up at Scoops Ahoy that day, you have loved him when you jumped into the water to save him, you have loved him through it all, when this started, and when he began falling, you were already in it so deeply.

But you were so good at hiding it, you were too good, too good at making him and everyone else believe how great your dislike was for him but you were such a good actress, why else would he have believed Robin’s words?

His hands settle on your upper back and he slowly brings them back to your front, sliding them upwards to your shoulders and then your neck. His brows pull together so strongly as the kiss slows down when the lack of air gets to both him and you.

Your lips tremble against his, your lashes flutter when you open your eyes again, you trace his bottom lip with your thumb, still sniffling, still crying as you look at his pretty face. You feel so relieved now that it’s all said and done, that your feelings are out in the open and no longer hidden underneath all your layers that you protected yourself with, all these years.

But you don’t know what this means for you now, not even the kiss could lay it out for you.

But Steve, he stares at you in awe, at the girl he fell so deeply, unconditionally, otherworldly in love with. The girl that stands under the pouring rain with him, the girl that lets nothing stop her from confessing her love to him, not even the thunder, the storm she fears so greatly, the girl that stands in front of him isn’t the one he started this affair with, the one he bickered with, the one with the harsh words, no, this girl is the real you, the one that lost but still gave love a chance, the one that loved despite the blows to her heart he caused, despite the hurt he put her through.

You felt that way during his worst days, you felt that way when he loved another, you felt that way when he was with other girls, you felt that way when he spit mean words into your face – all these thoughts overwhelm him, a mix of emotions flood through him, he is not sure if he is even deserving of this, of you but he would be a damn fool if he didn’t fight for you back.

Steve stares at you through his tears, he leans down closer to you, taking shaky breaths as he finally says the words he never thought would leave his lips again.

“I love you,” he whispers and cradles your cheeks again, “I love you so much and I’m stupid for not saying anything either–”

Your eyes grow wide, shock freezes your whole body as you stare at him.

You knew there was something, there had to be but love? Love isn’t something you expected him to feel for you.

“Y-You love me?”

Your voice sounds so broken, so small, your eyes well up with more tears, your lips tremble harder than before and somehow you look even more vulnerable than you did seconds ago.

How could he not love you?

How could he not give his heart to you?

How could he not imagine a future with you?

You are everything to him, you are his everything.

His heart melts at your gaze, at the way you're clinging to him, looking at him wide eyed like you are afraid that he isn’t real, that this isn’t real.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, Blondie,” he whispers, his voice cracking and tears continuing to roll down his cheeks, “keeping it a secret was tearing me apart, even more so when I thought that you didn’t feel the same.”

You can’t name the emotions that burn inside of you, not right now, at least.

But all that you know is that you feel joy and happiness, like you have never felt before.

Your heart feels alive.

You feel alive.

He loves you, Steve loves you, Steve is in love with you.

His kind, soft eyes look into yours with nothing but adoration, love and affection. His hair clings to his forehead, his clothes wet just like yours are, he is crying, not from sadness anymore but from happiness, just like you are.

You can’t help but kiss him again, slamming your lips against his shaky ones, you kiss the man who confessed his love for you, the man you never thought would feel the same.

He wastes not a single second to kiss you back, your noses bump harshly together but it only makes you smile, it makes you both giggle against each other's lips. Feeling your shaking body against his, Steve wraps his arms around your waist and he pulls you back, leading you into the house without breaking the kiss.

Your sneakers squeak against the tiles in the hallway, water drips down from the both of you, needy whines and huffs fall from yours and his lips, echoing through his house when he finally closes the door to the storm, he pushes you against the red door, caging you in against it as you grab at the collar of his shirt, pulling him tighter against you as the kiss grows more desperate and hungry.

Steve feels it too, he feels the desperation, the need to feel you closer than this. Your body against his, your hands in his hair, your tongues clashing together through the feverish kiss isn’t enough, he needs to feel your skin on his, he needs to feel your warmth, he needs to hear your sweet moans, he needs to be inside of you.

But first, he needs you to know.

He can feel your tears on his lips, hear your sniffles, feel your pounding heart beneath his palm as he touches your chest.

You have loved him for so long, you have suffered for so long and he knows that you didn’t understand yet just how deep his feelings are.

Steve pulls away from the kiss, only enough so he can speak, close enough to still feel your lips against his, he leans his forehead against yours, keeps his nose nuzzled with yours, he rubs your cheeks, wipes your tears away as he pecks your lips again and again.

You are both panting, both clinging to one another, gazing at each other lovingly.

“You need to hear this, Blondie,” he whispers, not feeling scared or nervous any longer. “You need to understand my feelings for you. They’re not small, they’re not in the slightest. You are the one I imagine myself buying a white picket fence house with, the one I imagine myself marrying, the one I imagine having a family with, no matter if big or small, anything you give me I will take. You need to know that you’re my future, that I have been wanting you in my future for a long while now. There is no one else for me but you.”

Steve watches the way your eyes brighten, the way they almost turn doe-eyed, a shaky breath escapes you, like you can’t believe the words that just left his mouth. You blink at him, lips curling. “Y-You want kids with me?”

You have been by his side for so long, you have been his girl from the moment you decided you wanted to be, you have always been the missing puzzle in his life, you have always been the one that was supposed to be here, with him. All this time, you waited, waited for him and he was so blind, so unaware, so focused on anything but the love of his life. It took him time to realize that, it took him too long but he knows now, he knew for a while.

He smiles, wiping the falling tears from your cheeks as he leans in to give you a soft peck, “as many as you’re willing to have.”

A giggle falls from your lips and you nuzzle your nose against his, leaning your forehead to his as you wrap your arms around him tightly.

“I can’t believe that this is real.”

And you mean every word of that.

Steve can’t believe that someone could love him like this, so strongly, so unconditionally, not even expecting anything in return, loving him through the war between you, loving him through heartbreak, loving him through it all.

You have been there.

You have always been there.

Tears spill over his lashline and down his cheeks, a watery giggle falls from his lips, the hurt in him disappearing more and more as the light seeps back in, a brighter one that his soul had ever seen before, his heart no longer twists in pain, it beats so strongly, so lively, so happily as nothing but love and joy shines in him.

“Me neither,” he whispers against your lips, voice shaky and filled with tears, “I can’t believe that you love me, Blondie, that you want me like this.”

You can’t help but kiss him again, again and again. You cup his cheeks, smiling through your tears as you do something you always wanted to, kiss his pain away, kiss the tears away that stream down his cheeks. You kiss his jaw, his chin, his cheeks, every inch his tears have stained, you kiss it all away.

“I want you more than anything, Steve Harrington,” you murmur into his skin, making the boy sob against you as he holds you tightly, tighter than he ever did before. You grab his hand and pull it towards your chest, placing it above your beating heart, “my heart belongs to you.”

Steve could never find the right words to tell you how he felt, no matter how long he’d look for them, he would never find them, they didn’t exist, and no words that do come close to explaining just how deeply he felt for you, not even the I love you’s he gave you already come close.

So he decides to show you instead.

He bends down and hooks his arm around the back of your knees while the other comes to rest on your back, he tears a squeal out of you when he picks you up bridal style and carries you upstairs.

You throw your arms around his neck and hold on tight, giggling at his sudden move.

He can’t help but smile at the sound that falls from your lips, his heart moving in a way it never has before, a whole new rhythm taking over when he feels the shift of energy in you, when he sees the look in your eyes changing, when you let all your guards down, stripping yourself off each layer.

You press your lips to his, pecking them softly before you move onto his cheek and then his jaw and finally his neck, kissing him while he continues his way up the stairs, trying not to get too distracted by your touch.

“I love you, Stevie,” you whisper into his skin, “I love you so much.”

You can’t stop saying those words now that you have finally allowed yourself to let them free.

Steve has to swallow down the sob that threatens to spill from his lips again, your words bring him so much happiness but he is also so emotional.

Rain water drips from the both of you as he walks through his dark hallway, he is careful not to slip with his wet sneakers, he kicks open the door to his room and walks inside, shutting it again, making it slam. The only source of light now being the lightning that still illuminates the sky every few seconds, the rain paddles down harshly against his windows.

Steve puts you down again so he can undress both you and himself and rid you of the soaked and cold clothes but not before cupping your cheeks and kissing you again, rubbing your wet cheeks as your lips and tongues mingle together in a feverish but passionate kiss.

He brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears, he slips his hands down to your shoulders, removing your jacket and letting it fall to the ground, his fingertips grazing your bare arms that are littered with goosebumps.

You hum against his lips, hands reaching for his belt, clinking as you unbuckle it. You then pop the button of his jeans and move on to his shirt as he does the same to you.

You both only break the kiss to take the chosen clothing item off, your eyes flutter open, instantly locking with his warm brown ones. You smile at one another as you help each other.

You raise your arms up when he starts taking your white, now almost see through shirt off, he drops the material and wastes no second to touch your bare skin, staring at you with nothing but awe and adoration, like it is the first time he gets to see you like this. He touches you so delicately, so softly and gently that it brings a new wave of tears to your already sensitive eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers those words to you, followed by your name that always sounds so pretty rolling off his tongue.

Your heart flutters in your chest, your cold skin heats up beneath his warm touch.

You take a step closer to him, almost pressing your chest against his now as you go to take his shirt off too, he looks down at you and bites his lip, eyes flashing with a deeper adoration when you rise to your tippy toes to roll the wet material off his skin, messing up his hair further when his shirt gets stuck around his head, making you both giggle.

You rise up further, trying to pull it off when he mumbles, “don’t say anything now.”

When you finally free him from it, you throw it on the ground next to yours, smiling brightly, “there was a reason I called you Lego–”

You gasp when he kisses you roughly, not letting you finish the sentence. You don’t hesitate to kiss back, placing your hands on his neck, touching his wet skin and raking your nails down his chest and his stomach, you reach for his belt while he kisses you breathless.

His own hands travel down to your hips, leaving no space untouched. He feels the way you suck in a sharp breath, hears the way you whine against his lips as you tug at his pants just the way he starts working on popping the button on yours.

You pull away from the kiss and breathe heavily against his lips, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

He starts pushing down your pants when you stop him by grabbing his wrists.

“Wait,” you whisper, worrying him with the tightness of your hold on him.

“W-Why? Is something–”

Before he can even question you, you stop him once again by pressing your lips against his, “everything is perfect,” you murmur against his skin, making his heart skip several beats as you continue kissing him, “you’re perfect.”

He is so close to tears once again, your words match the look in your eyes so perfectly, the love that is and was only ever reserved for him is so strong that he can’t help but wonder how he never saw it before, it’s so clear and so evidently there.

Steve never saw himself as anything perfect, not even when everyone else thought that about him throughout his short lived ‘reign’, he always had flaws, always saw them in himself, always felt like there was something wrong with him deep inside. But you make him feel special, you make him feel like he is truly something perfect, like he is worth something with the way you look at him and touch him so delicately as you reveal the side of you that wanted to love so desperately but never felt safe to.

“I want to make you feel good, Steve,” you whisper as you latch your lips onto his neck, slowly kissing your way down to his chest and stomach before you begin to sink to your knees, “please let me.”

Steve’s eyelashes flutter as his eyes close for a moment, the feeling of your lips kissing his wet body making him shiver in pleasure. He opens his eyes again when you hook your fingers around his belt loops, trying to tear his pants down but he stops you just the way you stopped him, the look you give him nearly makes him crumble, the big and pleading eyes, the pout on your lips, the desperation written all over your face.

He wants to sink to his knees for you.

He wants to make you feel good.

So he leans down and grabs you beneath your armpits, picking you up with ease and throwing you on his bed and despite the sound of your whine, he pulls himself together and takes the rest of your clothes off, tearing off your shoes before he works his way up to your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear.

He stares at your body in awe and in love, tracing every inch of you with his eyes as he quickly rids himself of his clothes and kicks off his shoes hastily before he gets down before you, wrapping his hand around your ankle, he looks into your eyes and he presses his lips to your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your thighs.

“Steve,” you whine with a whisper, eyebrows furrowing and pleasure already seeping into your bones. “Please… I want to–”

“Shh, I want to taste you, my love.”

My love.

He called you my love.

Your heart could burst right this second, it could explode, from joy, from happiness and love.

You hear nothing but his voice, the smacking of his lips against your skin and the beating of your heart as he loves on you. You no longer hear the howling wind or the crashing thunder, the bolts of lightning only add to the rush you are feeling right now as you look down at him, at the pretty man between your thighs. You throw your hand into his hair, tugging at his wet strands.

“Please, Steve… Baby, I want to taste you too, I want to make you feel good, please let me…” You whine, not feeling ashamed for the desperation in your voice. “W-We can do it at the same time, please…”

Steve’s stomach flutters at your words, he stops moving and looks up at you with a blush making its way up to his cheeks.

That is something you haven’t done before, not with each other, not with anyone else.

His blood rushes to his core just at the image of it, his stomach burning with lust as he looks into your eager eyes.

“You can’t say shit like that, darling,” he nearly growls and pulls away from you to take his boxers off before he moves on top of you, stealing your breath by slamming his lips back against yours, kissing you needily.

Your moan echoes through his room, getting louder when he grinds against your center, he pushes his hands beneath you so he can unclasp your bra, ridding you off the lacy material, he throws it on the ground before he moves on to your panties. He pulls away for just a second, hooking his fingers around the elastic and helping you get rid of them in a quick motion. His lips slam against yours again as his hands move back up to your waist, grabbing it with both hands, he flips you over so you’re the one on top.

You press your hands against his shoulders, whining when you feel his cock pressing against your center, thighs already sticking together.

He moans loudly when he feels your warmth against him, lust swirling inside of him.

You pull away from one another and he pushes his hands down to your butt, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Turn around, baby…” He whispers and you don’t waste a second to comply.

You take a deep breath and cup the side of his face, pecking his lips softly before you turn around, your knees dig into the mattress, your hands grabbing his thighs roughly when you feel a sense of nervousness rushing through you, your cheeks heat up at the position you are in, fully exposed to him in a new way but that feeling in you subsides and turns into something else when you see his erection, pre-cum rolling down his length and making your mouth water as the need to taste him, to pleasure him grows stronger than before.

And Steve, his eyes darken with lust and he grabs your hips tightly, already leaning forward, he can’t wait any longer when you’re like this in front of him, fully exposed, your folds soaked with your slick and thighs already glistening too, you are so wet that he can smell it. He gives you a rough squeeze before he leans in and licks a stripe from your clit to your hole, making you gasp out in pleasure, a sound that shoots straight to his dick.

Your eyes nearly roll back at the feeling of his tongue, of his mouth on you as he dives right in, devouring you so desperately as though he needs it, needs you like air.

And you need him too.

You press kisses along his shaft, teasing him by massaging his balls and you slowly flick your hand up and down around him, humming against him as his moans sound through the room, getting more desperate the longer you continue this.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” you promise before you spit down into your palm, wrapping your hand back around his length, a little firmer this time, you jerk him off and swirl your tongue around his leaking tip before you finally wrap your lips around him and take him deeply into your mouth, closing your watery eyes and hollowing your cheeks around him.

Steve moans loudly against you, sending vibrations through you, he slips his tongue inside of you, holding you tighter than before as he laps at your pussy with desperation, getting lost in the pleasure of tasting you and feeling your warm mouth around him.

You look so perfect, so fucking sexy with your hair falling down your arched back, your skin glowing beneath the flashing lights of the storm, he can’t help but run his palm up and down your butt, squeezing and grabbing at your skin, moaning even louder when you grind back against his face as you take him deeper and deeper until Steve can feel the back of your throat.

He whimpers your name, eyes rolling back as he delves deeper into you, slipping two of his fingers into you along with his tongue, he scissors you, spreading you open for him. He can feel you clenching around his fingers, he can feel you drooling all over him.

Your moan vibrates all around his cock, making you pull it out of your mouth in order to take a breath. Your concentration starts to fail you as his fingers move rapidly inside of you, his tongue lapping at everything he can take that is dripping out of you. You keep moving your hand on him as your hips twitch.

“S-Stevie…” He doesn’t care that you are not sucking him off right now, he is only caring about your pleasure. He needs you to feel treasured, cared for, and he needs you to feel it with him only. That he is the only one that can bring you all of this, even if it sounds possessive… He wants to be the only one, forever.

You feel your belly burn and you look down at his cock, trying to pull yourself together, trying to forget about the throbbing happening in your pussy. You want to make him feel good. You want to hear him come undone as well. So you open your mouth once more, licking at the head and pressing the tip of your tongue right on the slit. You feel Steve groan against you, and then you finally take him inside once more.

You bop your head, swirling your tongue around him as tears fall from your eyes, you are so deeply lost in the pleasure, you forget everything around you, only he matters. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, you can hear his moans and how much louder they get and you feel your own release approaching as he flicks your clit with his thumb and curls his fingers inside of you, using both his digits and his tongue to unravel you.

“I know you want to let go for me, darling,” he murmurs against you.

You can only hum around him, wanting to feel him cumming down your throat.

“Please do it, cum on my tongue,” he whispers as he drags his fingers in and out of you, making your stomach tense up hotly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, twisting your wet palm around him as drool continues to roll down his length. You want him to find his release, you want it so badly.

You grab his knee, holding on tightly as a cry tears from your throat and your legs nearly give out when your high washes over you, shaking through your core and making your body feel tense yet released all at once. His other hand gripping your hip tightly to keep you pressed against his mouth, not letting you move away.

“Mmm,” Steve hums against you as though you are the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

You wish you could see his face.

“Just like that,” he praises, giving your butt another squeeze, he laps at your pussy, dragging his tongue along your folds, teasing your already sensitive clit before he moves back to your entrance.

His own hips almost buck up when you hollow your cheeks further and take him deeper, nearly making him cum too soon for his liking.

“W-Wait, baby, please… I wanna cum inside of you,” he says with a shaky, pleading voice as he tugs at your waist, trying to pull you off him so he can have you back in his arms, so he can see your face again and feel you around him differently. He would’ve chuckled at the whine falling from your lips if he wasn’t so emotional right now. “Come here,” he whispers, holding you tightly as he turns you around and pulls you onto his lap, straddling him.

Meeting his eyes again, your lips part when you see the burning desperation in them, his cheeks are flushed and his chin glistens with your release. He looks so beautiful.

Steve’s hands move from your waist to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as your own hands reach for his shoulders.

No words need to be said, you both know what you want, what you need as your eager hands reach for one another, trying to pull the other closer and closer until you’re skin to skin, closer than you have ever been before.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours and wrapping his arm around you, hugging you against him as you place your hand between you both and wrap it around his length again, teasing both him and yourself when you slip it through your sensitive, wet folds.

Your bottom lip trembles, emotions running deep because of his words.

You never thought that you would ever hear such words falling from his lips, you never thought you would ever be this blessed.

You throw your arm around his shoulder and press your lips against his as you slowly sink down on his length, taking him deeper and deeper until you’re fully seated on him, making both yourself and him whimper in pleasure. His fingers dig deeper into your skin, holding you tighter than ever, he stops breathing when he feels you clenching around him, whining as you adjust to his size.

His heart skips a beat when you place your palm on his chest, resting it there as you press yourself even tighter against him and it hits him – this is it, everything he ever wanted now belongs to him, it’s all his, you are his.

And he is yours, wholeheartedly and unconditionally yours.

You start rolling your hips slowly, breathing heavier, holding onto him tighter, gasping and sucking in sharp breaths when he moves with you, pushing his hips up as he fucks into you deeper.

A sniffle falls from you when you pull away from the kiss, breathing in shakily, you open your eyes slowly to find him looking at you already, a loving, soft gaze flashing in his honey eyes, the love in them not hidden at all, it’s all open for you now, all there for you to see and to feel as he leans into you, pressing his lips to your chin and peppering kissing along your jawline, making his way down to your neck as he murmurs your name sweetly.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers, followed by your name that rolls off his tongue so beautifully. “I was going crazy, thinking that I didn’t stand a chance with you, honey.”

He was the only one for you, from the moment you laid your eyes on him, he was the only one.

“S-Steve,” you whisper as you feel yourself nearing another sob, his words and his touches overwhelming you.

You bury your hands in his hair, combing your fingers through it before you grab it tightly.

“I don’t think you understand,” he whispers against your collarbones, leaving tender kisses and marking your skin with love bites, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your bottom lip quivers, your chest contracts and you can’t hold it in any longer.

Years of pining and longing, of feeling hopeless and unworthy of him and his love while watching, admiring from afar and wishing for nothing but a chance with him, a piece of his heart, all while losing yourself in a darkness you have found home in, a darkness he took away again.

He gave you light and warmth and now he gave you more, not only a piece of his heart but he gave you his whole.

Your tears spill just as strongly as before, an uncontrollable sob falls from your lips, leading you to bury your face in his neck, you wrap your arms around him so tightly, hugging him strongly, breathing in his scent and letting your heart match the beating of his own.

“I got you,” Steve whispers as he blinks through his own tears, “I got you, darling and I’m not letting you go, not ever.”

You press your lips to his skin, shutting your eyes tightly. The burning in your chest, in your stomach all feeling too much, you hold onto him, you cling to him, scared of letting go.

Steve’s heart could burst at any second now, feeling your tears rolling down his skin, your hands, your body clinging to him like you’re afraid to lose him because you are, you are afraid to lose him.

Someone is afraid to lose him.

And he nearly let you slip through his fingers.

A silent cry falls from his lips this time, tears pool in his eyes and he pulls you closer and closer until you’re completely flush against one another, pushing in deeper and deeper to feel you closer, to feel you in the most intimate way as he spreads you open and you pick up the pace, rolling your hips faster, whimpering and gasping into his neck.

“Please don’t let me go,” you whisper, pressing kisses to his hot skin, “please don’t ever leave me,” you beg despite the promise he just made to you.

The brokenness in your shaky voice only makes him more desperate to show you just how deeply in love he is with you, how he would do anything for you, how there is nothing and no one that could take him away from you, how he would come crawling back to you over and over again even if you didn’t love him.

He slides his hand up your body, cupping each side of your face, he urges you to face him, wanting to see you again and you look at him, with big and glassy eyes, you look into his eyes.

“I will never leave you,” he whispers softly, wiping your tears before he reaches for your hand, bringing it back up to his chest, he places it over his heart, “I’m yours, my heart belongs to you, darling.”

Steve sees it in your eyes, just how long you have wanted this for, how special this moment is to you, how special he is to you, how much love there was hidden in your heart just for him.

He will worship the ground you walk on for the rest of his life.

“I love you so much,” you sniffle, unable to say anything else.

His lips curl into a smile despite the tears that fall down his already wet cheeks, he pulls you against him, bumping his nose against yours accidentally as he pecks your lips, “you make me so fucking happy,” he kisses you, “and I don’t think you even realize that.” Kiss. “I’m so in love with you, honey.” Kiss. “I love you with my whole heart–”

You smash your lips against his, kissing him with everything that you have, moving your lips softly yet roughly with his, parting them with your tongue as you slip it into his mouth, deepening the kiss further.

He moans against you, placing his large hand on your cheek, he matches your pace and kisses you back hungrily, getting lost in the feeling of you, of your heat and your burning skin against his, your walls that tighten so strongly around him that it makes his mouth water and his cock twitch inside of you, his body screams for release but his heart aches for this moment to never stop, not realizing yet that this is only the beginning of your story.

Your hands grab at whatever they can reach, his shoulders, his biceps, his face, his messy hair and finally his hands as you pull them away from your chest so you can intertwine your fingers with his. You feel the coil in your stomach growing bigger and bigger, the burning in your thighs intensifying by the second. His moans and whimpers vibrate against your lips when you keep clenching around him.

Filthy sounds take over the room, your whines of desperation, the slick noise of his cock slipping in and out of you as you ride him, the sound of your lips smacking against each other.

But nothing, nothing about this moment is filthy or dirty. Everything about this is more than special, more than what words could describe this very moment. Your hearts beat the same rhythm, finally finding each other, your souls entwine as your bodies meet in the most intimate way, you are both overwhelmed by the feelings that rush through you and yet you feel peace because you finally are where you were always supposed to be, in each other’s arms, holding one another and making love to each other as everything fades to nothing but the two of you.

And it feels like forever, neither of you no longer wet from the rain but from the sweat that coats your foreheads, your moans turn into weak whimpers as you’re both panting, your kisses never stopping, not even when you lose your breaths, you are aching, you both are, you are sensitive and in need of release.

You are shaking and so is he, his cock so hard inside of you, your walls so sensitive as you are twitching.

He holds you possessively, from the strong hold on your waist to the touch of his hand on your cheeks, he is showing you with his touch that you are his, only his.

No words need to be shared, no warnings, nothing, you both feel it, you both know what you want, what you need.

Despite the lack of air, your kiss deepens, your lips moving roughly and needily as his digits work on your sensitive nub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You wrap your arms around him again, hugging him so tightly as you and he finally let go, allowing yourself to bask in the pleasure of coming undone.

Steve moans so needily, pressing his palm so strongly against your shoulder blade, he keeps you close, whimpering your name against your lips followed by not one but a few ‘I love you’s’ as he fills you up to the brim.

“S-Stevie,” you whisper shakily, twitching and clenching around him still, even as you slow down, more and more. “I love you.”

And even when this moment felt forever, it still wasn’t enough, how could it ever be? Not even forever would be enough with you, he needs more, so much more.

You fall limply against him and rest your head on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath and he holds you through it all, panting just like you as he lies back, taking you with him, and rests his head on the pillows behind him, playing with your hair and running his fingers through it, tracing your skin with the tips of his fingers, making no moves to pull out of you just yet.

The heat of your skin burns against his own, your hand lays over his heart so perfectly and he takes it in his, raising it up to his lips and kissing your bare ring finger.

In the arms of the man you love is where you found your home a long time ago but now it no longer feels cold or lonesome, one sided or saddening, it truly feels like home now, filled with light and warmth, love. He found a home in you too, he finally did.

Seconds and minutes go by and you stay like this, clinging to one another and loving every moment of this. Your cheek is squished against his chest, you are breathing him in, your heart fluttering at the thought that this is the true beginning of it all.

You open your eyes, your lips curling into a smile when you find him looking down at you, adoration so deep in his beautiful features, his hand still holding yours.

It’s so dark in the room, the lightning no longer flashing, thunder no longer rumbling, the storm has passed and only the light rain remains. You still see his handsome face, the color of his cheeks, the pretty brown eyes that you adore so much, his kissable lips.

You cup his cheek and tilt your chin up, moving closer to him so you can press your lips against his cheek.

“You’re so pretty, Steve Harrington,” you whisper and kiss the corner of his mouth, “pretty baby.”

Steve doesn’t know why out of all the words you have called him, these are the ones that make him blush the most, his cheeks redden and he feels grateful for the darkness in the room.

“That’s you, darling,” he whispers and steals a kiss from you, snaking his arm around you further, he smiles when you press your palms against his chest and lean your chin down, staring up at him with love filled eyes.

“Darling,” you whisper, lips curling into a smile, “I love that.”

His hands squeeze your waist, his eyes not straying away from you, not for a single second, “yeah?”

You nod and lean closer to kiss his chin, “mhm.”

As you lay here on top of him, showering him in kisses, gazing up at him starry eyed, he feels comfort and warmth blossom in him thinking back to a time when he wasn’t even aware of all this, when he didn’t think that it was even possible for anyone to love him, to find out that you did, you out of all people, you who he thought hated his guts more than anything but loved him in secret, a secret you nearly took to your grave.

Oh, he would have suffered, he would have felt such a tragic loss if you had died that night but it wouldn’t have hit him until weeks or maybe even months later, when he would have finally allowed himself to look at your picture, to remember the memories of you, to remember your voice and your beautiful face, remember the few gentle moments you had with each other, only then would he have felt the truth coming to life, the feelings he always refused and denied, he would have realized that it was you, that it should have been you, that it was always supposed to be you but it would have been too late, you would have been gone and it would’ve broken him, he would have never recovered, he would have never forgiven himself for finding his love for you when it was much too late.

You would have been the loss of his life.

That thought shouldn’t even plague him right now because you’re here, in his arms, tracing his skin with your finger as you smile up at him.

“I love you so much,” he whispers instead of tracing those words into your skin like he had gotten used to doing.

This all still feels like a dream, a way too good of a dream.

The smile that reached your eyes wasn’t one he had ever seen before, no matter how happy, how comfortable you were around him, he had never seen such a bright, happy, relaxing smile on your pretty features.

He had never felt the touch of your lips in such a soft way, a kiss so delicate that it made his chest vibrate with a new wave of emotions.

“And I love you,” you murmur against his lips, “I hope you don’t get sick of me saying that.”

Steve scoffs at your words, raising his brows as he stares at you in disbelief, his hand moving up to your upper back, resting them on your shoulder blades as he presses a kiss to your nose, “honey, this is all I ever wanted.”

To hear him say such words only makes the dream-like state you are in much more intense.

Who would’ve thought that you would hear these words from him?

“I always had a crush on you,” Steve whispers, admitting something to you that he himself struggled to accept only a few months back.

This time, it’s your eyebrows that shoot up in surprise, shock flashing in your eyes, “w-what?”

There is no way that Steve ever felt anything other than dislike for you, especially before the upside down.

Steve chuckles to himself, moving his hand up to your face, he tucks your hair behind your ear and smiles at you.

“I always watched you too, Blondie,” he admits, watching the way your softened eyes fill with confusion, “but I was an idiot, I-I didn’t know how to talk to you, I knew how to talk to every other girl but you? Fuck,” he sighs, furrowing his brows as he takes a deep breath, “I didn’t know how to talk to you because you made me so fucking nervous, it’s like all my confidence slipped away the moment you looked at me with those pretty eyes.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his eyes well up with tears again, words he had kept inside for so long now finally slipping from his lips.

“And you weren’t… you weren’t–”

“Nice?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, your heart starts pounding again.

He chuckles for a moment and shakes his head, “no, I– you weren’t supposed to be nice to me, I wasn’t nice to you, but that’s not what I mean, I… You just, I don’t know how to– I always messed up around you and it kept happening so I put on this King Steve persona, especially when I was around you and fuck… Honey, I tried to impress you but I always felt like you weren’t looking at me, no matter what I did, you were never looking at me.”

You don’t know what hit you harder tonight, the three words he repeatedly blessed you with or this revelation.

All you know is that you feel it in your core, the shock and the confusion.

You shake your head a little, like you don’t understand a word he said.

“When we wrote notes to each other, I-I didn’t want to admit it to myself back then but I really fucking hoped that something would come out of it but nothing did… I know you thought that Tommy set me up to it but he didn’t.”

You don’t know what to say, you don’t even know what to think, it’s all so much, it’s all too much for one night.

“I-I don’t–”

Steve cups your cheeks, shaking his head as he isn’t done yet.

“No, I waited for you… I waited for you at every game, I always looked around trying to find you in the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of you, even when I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I always waited for you.”

Your eyes crinkle though they well up with tears again, you couldn’t describe the feelings in you, not even if you tried.

His hands on your skin feel softer than ever, his eyes shine with tears and his bottom lip quivers.

“I was there, Steve,” you whisper, blinking through your tears, swallowing the nervousness, “I was there.”

He nods, lips curling into a soft smile, “I know that now b-but I wish I knew back then, I wish I wasn’t so hard on you…”

You know the look in his eyes, the regret, the guilt he feels from that day at the mall and the few other bad ones.

But they don’t matter anymore, they haven’t mattered for a while now, and they especially don’t matter now.

Shaking your head, you lean up, cupping his cheek too, you kiss him sweetly, softly, stealing his breath away with tenderness. You place your hand over his, guiding it down to your chest and placing it over your heart.

“Those days are over, they don’t matter anymore,” you whisper and keep a tight hold on his hand, “you have me now.”

And you have him.

He is yours, he wants to be yours so badly.

Steve nods, leaning into the touch of your hand, he blinks his tears away and moves his head, pressing his lips against your palm, and he kisses you there, making you smile.

“And you have me,” he whispers softly, watching the way your eyes sparkle with happiness, with love.

You catch him by surprise when you start showering him in kisses, pressing your lips to his face, to his cheeks and his forehead, to his nose and his chin and then finally his lips, making him giggle at the sudden sweet affection and then, you cutely nuzzle your nose against his, giggling through it all yourself.

You only did this once, on the fourth of July, when you were wasted. Your lips went crazy across his whole face, you kissed him all over, complimented him and looked at him as though he was your own personal sun.

How could he not see back then?

How could he not see that it wasn’t the alcohol but the love you already felt for him, the love you couldn’t contain in that moment.

Steve makes you squeal when he moves too suddenly, grabbing your waist and flipping you over so he is the one on top, he cups your cheeks and leans down, doing what you just did, leaving no spot unkissed.

“Steve!” You giggle, squeezing your eyes shut as he trails kisses down to your jaw and your neck, tickling you with his hair and the light stubble around his mouth. You grab at his waist, holding on tightly.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he murmurs into your neck, kissing you there over and over until you grab his face and pull him back up to you.

He looks down at you, moving his hand up to your face, he tucks away your hair and caresses your cheek, admiring your puffy lips, your beautiful eyes as you look at him with nothing but love in them.

Everything he ever wanted is now right in front of him, in reach and now all he needs to do is ask.

“Do you want to go on a date with me, Blondie?” He asks, unable to contain the smile on his face as he watches the way your eyes crinkle and a giggle falls from your lips, you cup each side of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, answering him in the sweetest way. He only chuckles against your lips, pulling away for just an inch in order to mumble against your lips, “I need words darling…”

And that little word that will change your life forever finally comes out of your lips,

“Yes.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

#dwoht -- chapter twenty two #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #stranger things angst

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gr1mstar · 10 months ago

Text

Timeless lover - part II

notes: this is a second part of an one shot i did a few days ago. i don’t think it will be a part III because my account is dying? i think i was reported once and from then my post don’t get much the attention anymore. how can i fix this?

contains: sukuna ryomen x f!reader, reincarnation, past lovers, curse words (not a lot of them), sfw, human sukuna (from that time when he was actually human), flashbacks, lovers to strangers, mentions of death, sick reader (in the past), sorcerer reader (present time), sukuna has sentiments?, sukuna is soft for reader, past sukuna looks kinda like itadori yuji, not the same tho, but very similar, mention of pills, slightly an au because sukuna will never be this nice, reader is older than yuji but sukuna is older? that makes sense?

check out the first part first if you didn’t already - here

“sukuna”

“sukuna. that’s my name, keep that in mind, doll” the man in front of you spoke, taking your chin in his big hands and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

‘what a shade of red…’ you thought, analyzing the irises that looked at you with almost hatred. ‘i despise red.’ you continued, continuing to look in his direction, seeing that he was not backing up.

“not afraid, i see. what a particular sight,” he muttered, finally leaving your chin alone. after some time, he took a few steps back, running his hand through his hair. “what are you exactly?”

“what do you mean?” you found yourself asking, now looking at the tree that stood tall beside you two.

“are you not afraid to die? people usually are scared of me, fearing that i would fight them and win, resulting in their death.” the man continued, taking a few steps just to be beside you.

thinking back, when you were younger you were afraid of death. it was a terrifying thought, but after all the bullshit you went through, you found yourself not having the exact same mentality.

your time was limited, death being the only thing you were certain it was coming for you. what did you have? nothing. so that’s why you set out to live your life to the fullest, or well… how much is left of it.

you were strong. stronger than others.

“no. only the weak are afraid.”

the familiar man that stood in front of you, one intimidating, now was a big puppy, his eyes showed emotions, emotions that a curse should never have. so what was different?

“my love, no time no see…” he stared, taking a few steps in your direction, his arms parting, beckoning you to come closer to him for a hug.

‘is he crazy? what happened to yuji?’ but you were never able to answer your question, because he interrupted your thoughts.

“didn't you miss me? i've been waiting for you for hundreds of years… love-”

“don’t. i am not such a thing.” now was your time to interrupt him, taking a step back. looking at your surroundings, you found megumi looking at you with shock, a light line of blood staining his face. “megumi,” you continued, addressing the back-haired boy, “run.”

“i think i will remember you always,” you confessed, looking at the man who stood behind you, a hand on your waist and the other in your hair.

looking at the sky, you could see the millions of stars smiling happily back at you. the night was peaceful, but you knew well that the following morning would not be.

“and you will never forget about the scolding you will receive tomorrow” he continued, placing a sweet kiss in your hair.

“maybe. but it was worth it. you deserve all my time”

“and you deserve all the world, my love.” was his response, closing his eyes and praying that you would be fine.

the stars were bright and you could not stop yourself from asking: ‘when i become a star too, i will shine this beautifully?’

“so. where is it?” the white-haired man asked, hands in his pocket and looking between me, megumi, and now-yuji-really-yuji.

there was a moment of silence, the sensei looking funnily at the three sorcerers. you found the silence ironic, so you tried to break it using a fake cough, but yuji beat you to it, speaking.

“i- i kinda ate that thing.”

another pause. now you were eyeing megumi, who looked somewhat constipated. it was true really, it was a very shitty moment-

“really?”

“yes, really. i am fine, kuna. you don’t need to worry, go to your mission, beat some ass, and came back to me for my cuddles, okay?” you tried to make a compromise, but the red-eye man that stood in front of you didn’t want to listen.

“i’m not going. the maid told me that you were feeling lightheaded all morning, i want to be with you-”

“but people would die if you’re not going, sukuna. i don’t want-”

“let them die fucking hell. who is more important?” he interrupted you, his angry face making you roll your eyes. he was a stubborn bitch when he wanted.

after a moment of silence, he started approaching you, taking your neck gently with his hand and making you look at him. “answer me. who is more important?”

you wanted to scream in his face that ‘the rest of the world is more important than me. who i am? a sick woman simping over a handsome man”, but you could not do that. it was going to make him more angry than he was already.

“me. i’m the important one.”

“good girl”

“so… what’s your relationship with sukuna? the king of curses, really?” the principal asked, looking from behind his glasses at you, with an eyebrow raised.

“i really don’t know. he looked at me… somewhat differently than the rest. i think he knew me from somewhere, but i don’t know.” was your response, signing and putting your head against the couch cushion.

“in any case, we must be careful. it's sukuna after all, we have to expect anything.” gojo responded, playing with his blindfold.

it was strange to see gojo wearing a blindfold reader than the glasses you were used to. the first time you saw him, you asked about it, his response making you feel bad for him.

at the same time, you could not resist asking him: “kinky much?”

“gojo is right. let’s be careful.” yoga spoke, and then continued. “now, what about yuji?”

“what about him? he would not be a part of the jujutsu high?” you found satoru asking, his now naked eye looking at yaga.

he looked so… intimidating without something covering his eyes.

“the elders want him killed.” the principal continued.

“no”

“what do you mean no?”

“i said no, kuna. meeting my parents would be a bad thing,” you said, looking at your pale hand. sukuna was playing with your fingers.

“but why?” he complained, looking like a kid who just got his candy stolen. “it could be a great opportunity to show them you are in good hands-”

“no, sukuna.” you interrupted him, taking a break from his attitude. “they would freak out and probably never allow me to meet you ever again.”

“i could kill them-” he started speaking, but you interrupted him harshly.

“absolutely not.”

“how are you feeling?”

“the same really. i mean it was pretty gross at the beginning but it went away.” yuji spoke happily, making his way to sit beside you on a bench.

the conversation you had a few minutes ago was still fresh, but you were glad that gojo was able to convince the higher-ups to not execute yuji.

“i’m glad you are okay, yuji. i heard you can control him too?”

“yes and no. i feel his presence in my mind, i can feel him too.”

“so you… you have any idea how he knows me?” you asked, a little bit of hope lingering in the air.

“not really. he always bothers me about you, but at the same time he doesn’t want to talk with you.”

“why you don’t wanna talk with me? kuna!”

you were met with silence. you could feel that he was annoyed, but somewhat you liked how he looked all… angry. he was sexy. the red eyes that stared at you a few minutes ago were now filled with jealousy, and the little crease on his forehead was just too cute to ignore.

“are you jealous?” you continued your question, tilting your head a little bit to the right to look at him better.

‘i would kill for this man’ you found yourself thinking, admiring his attractive features.

“no. i just don’t like the way he looks at you.” and then he continued, taking your head in his big hands, leaving a little kiss on the tip of the nose. “you are mine.”

“yours always.”

“he what?” you shouted, tightly clutching the phone to your ear as if it was ready to fly out of the blue.

“he ripped his heart out.” magumi answered again, then continued “you should come here, maybe say goodbye? i don’t really know.”

and so you did, and in a few minutes, you were at the jujutsu high, ready to see a poor boy who fell pray in the hands of a curse.

“you were with him?”

“yes.” the black-haired boy answered, immediately sighing. “i saw everything.”

“where was gojo?” you asked again, getting on your feet and ready to kick the white hair man’s ass.

“i don’t fucking know.”

seeing a dead person on the table was not something you were planning to see on your holiday in tokyo. yuji, now fully naked, was lying cold on the operating table. gojo just left the room to bring shoko to examine the boy, so you were all alone with a dead corpse and possibly a curse inside.

“sukuna…”

you were not sure what got into you, but somehow you found yourself talking with yuji and in the same time with sukuna.

“i know, you hate humans and shit. and i’m sorry i don’t remember you, or that i know you? i’m confused. i just… can i ask something?”

you sighed.

“can you bring yuji back? for me?”

a few minutes passed in silence. it was childish, really. thinking that ‘the king of curses’ would respond and listen to a human.

but it did. sukuna brought yuji back.

“happy birthday, princess.” started your lover, holding out a bouquet of wildflowers to you. it was not well done, some flowers were poorly placed and some even had some weeds next to them, but you appreciated the gesture.

“it’s so beautiful, kuna.” you responded, making your way to him for a kiss. “when did you have time to make thus?”

“i’ll always make time for you, you know that.” he responded, taking another sweet kiss from you. “nos, make a wish.”

“a wish?” you asked, “but didn't we need a cake for that? and candles?”

“just pretend, you know. we don’t have a cake right now, and it’s almost midnight. you show to make a wish.”

“okay, okay.” you laughed, taking the bouquet and hugging it.

‘i wish… to be with him forever’

“no! i can’t be with you. you are-”

“i’m what? last time we met, those weren’t your words, love.” the red-eyed man spoke, taking a few steps in your direction.

“it was all in the past. last time we met? that was a few weeks ago, sukuna. i don’t know you!” you shouted, keeping a fair share of distance. “i’m not your love anymore, so just give up, forget all about it.”

“i can’t do that. you know that, my love. i can’t”

“bring yuji back,” you commanded, looking at the man in front of you with despair.

he told you the truth. all your dreams and all your nightmares were just memories. memories from your past life, and so you lied to him that you didn’t remember anything, too afraid to tell the truth.

your life has just been turned upside down by a boy who ate your ex-boyfriend's finger. what a beautiful life you have, isn't it?

“kuna,” you asked, playing with your lover's hair.

“yes, princess?”

“i want you all to myself. i want to always be with you, together.”

“bring yuji back, you monster!”

“you are not a monster, kuna. you are a beautiful man, with a big heart. people just misunderstand you.”

“i hate you. i hate you, you broke me. because of you, i have insomnia, because of you i’m miserable. because of you, i used to think i’m crazy, you piece of shit”

“i love you. i will always love you. because of you, i smile more, because of you i feel alive again and because of you i will die at peace, knowing that you will be here when i wake up again, waiting for me.” you spoke gently, taking his rough hand in yours.

“promise me, kuna. promise me that you will find me in my next life, and we will be together again, even though i will not remember anything.”

“i’m not breaking my promise, princess.”

the photos were taken from pinterest

tags: @wr4inn @cyzvx @sunnshinie @guinevere666 @periodbloodmanipulator @esauritamaviva @uhnanix @shadowstar123

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tnsophiaonly · 1 year ago

Text

HATED - SAGAU.

In which Self-Aware Genshin People loathe your existence and believe that you're the founding reason why they're not real.

Tired of this obsessive and lovesick creator or impostor SAGAU? Then what about this alternate? Be wary, it's dark and we'll mentions of torture something ig idk

Basically. This is impostor AU and the real creator who looks like you is horrible af. And you're an actual impasta.

Special mentions (♡): @sleepparalasis @haru-tofuu

Hatred. That's all they could feel when they see your face throughout the screen. Amusement. When they see your face wrinkle in pain and frustration when you get a standard character in through wishing or when you get the wrong stats in artifacts. After all, you were the one that made that right? You were the sole reason for your own pain, you made them in a fictional universe, where nothing is real. You're horrible for that and you should take the consequences of such.

That's why you're transported in this place, in which you thought the world was heaven before became your most terrorful nightmare. Hell, just like how it should be. Teyvat is hell. An upside down world, ruled by gods-demons and filled with darkness and pain. The world you created. Right? That's your fault. Your fault alone.

---

"Oh great heavens, that's cold..." you chatted out, freezing and shaking because of the cold. You face the wrath of the Cryo Archon's Nation. The home of the so-called organization, Fatui. Snow and ice were evident everywhere. And the cold, the cold was for sure affecting you. (Especially if you live in tropical areas or close to the equator? I feel so sorry for you)

Any bits of liquid that could be created were frozen within milliseconds. So you're sobbing just makes it worse, maybe if you actually used your feet and moved and found a place to heat yourself up instead of shining and sobbing, you could probably be in a great condition right now.

But you chose to cry. Pathetic really. And you expect this to be an impostor of me? The so great, almighty creator of The Genshin Universe? Absolutely not. I'd rather guide the Traveller to the absolute truth of this world at a fast pace than be, represented by you.

But fear not, I am sure I am able to at least give some potential to you... OFCOURSE I can do it. It's me after all.

But now i should really have this pathetic excuse of an impostor of mine to.. move and do something rather than cry and freeze to death. After all, I can't have my ungrateful people of Teyvat run after a very obvious impostor who's close to dying eh?

So, much to my dismay, I chose to give you guidance, see? Such a kind creator, you're a very lucky fella..

"ah-aaachoo-!" You sneezed, it feels like something just happened, but what? And why? Those questions are left unanswered. As you unconsciously started moving your freezing feet to walk and find some shelter to heat up.

Oh how the torturous snow storm causes you pain and despair. Why were you striving forward anyways? Your whole body aches. It hurts. Why. Why.

"You deserved it." The inner within of the core speaks.

You deserved it..? Why?

No one answers.

----

After walking away which felt like centuries, you finally are met with a bonfire, a large one in fact, the only problem was that it's within a fatui camp. Oh god...

"Well, well, well.. what's a worm like you doing here for?" A taunting and mocking tone says so to you. Oh my Lord, oh it just couldn't get worse thab this, bits of electricity shocked you slowly, you were feeling the wrath of The Balladeer, the 6th Fatui Harbinger. You could only stay in your spot as you feel electro build up within you, hurting you, killing you.

You're sweating bullets of fear just turns to ice because of the environment, it was no use to run.

"Well well comrade, what's with the guest? I didn't know you were quite the welcomer!" A mocking and sarcastic voice taunted the hat guy, which earned him a glare for, the ginger bread- hair man had a boyish charm and looks, almost looking innocent if you didn't know better. Well guess it got worse.

The ginger head guy's eyes widen, as his taunting smile quickly turns into a frown. The mocking gaze turns into a face of anger, annoyance.

"Is that..." he muttered, bewildered and angry. The ginger guy quickly launched unto you, with bloodlust and wrath causing you to flinch, that's before the entire electricity builds up within you and completely shocked you to oblivion, and the ginger's defense mechanism, of course he backed down.

The electro flowing within you caused so much pain, overbearing pain, yet you did not scream. You did not scream in pain. That one thing The Balladeer was hoping for. Maybe the shock was too strong you couldn't scream at all? Yeah, that's it..

The electro shock died down, and you passed out on the spot. Yet you were still not dead. Despite the fact that electro burns were evident, and that you were crisped to the spot, you're still alive. How lucky, or should I say unlucky?

The ginger- you know what I'm tired of calling him ginger, it's Childe. Childe went close to your passed out body. Caressing your electro-burned hand, before gripping it.

A bone crack was heard, oh did he crack it too hard? No worries, he doesn't care. The fatui skirmishers walked close to the place "We'll take care of it Lord Tartaglia." The pyro agent spoke.

"No." The Balladeer protested, as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your head to look at him, ofcourse you're still passed out, and you had an expression of sorrow, The Balladeer could just smirk. It's the creator.

"I could make use of our Grace after all..." He spoke sinisterly. The agents were on the edge and so was Childe, it really was the creator, they were so close to jumping and killing you on the spot if it weren't for the fact that The Balladeer was there.

-----

The sound of chains vibrated throughout the dungeon, sweet little breaths and movements.

You looked around, it was pitch black and only one candle was the source of light, which was out of reach for you.

A swarming and overwhelming feeling of cold and warm was brushed against you, the electro infused chains hurt when you try to make even the slightest movement, why were you here? Don't act stupid, you're aware why.

You could partly hear the conversation outside. It sounded a lot like the fatui agents earlier, it seems they were discussing either transporting you or guarding you still.

Your breath hitches—which echoed in the room— when they mentioned Il Dottore. They're not planning on giving you to him right...?

You could feel yourself sweating bullets, your eyes showed fear as your expression scrunches into fear. There's a 50/50 chance, but you've always lost your 50-50!

The door opens, and someone steps inside, a blue haired fellow, walking slowly and causing an intense atmosphere. You could feel yourself shaken, not because of him, but because everything feels colder. At least that's what's on your mind.

The blue haired fellow caressed your chin. And forcibly made you look at him.

"My, what a wondrous pet The Balladeer has taken upon."

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justpoliteconversations · 7 months ago

Note

About the apple merchant story (it lives rent free in my mind always): Please let me hug Link please. One hug. Just one. Please he makes me so sad dhshsjsj

For the little shadowling that came to say hello.

---

Embrace [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Apple Merchant Extra)

What if Link had teleported home immediately after defeating Vah Ruta? (An alternative route for after Part 6.)

(Far too tired to edit tonight. I'll do it later.)

Part: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

Blue had come to you in the dead of night (just as you were finally getting ready to sleep after a long day's travel), dressed in full sheikah armor and eyes as dispassionate as they've ever been. And maybe you'd have believed that too, had Red not confided in you all those weeks ago. And if not for the words that left her in a low, monotones whisper.

"Courageous One's beloved. I request your presence." She'd intoned, but you could hear the command in her voice even as she remained in a subservient position kneeled at your bedside. "Master Link is in need of your comfort. Lest he falter in his duties as Hyrule's Hero."

You wanted to question her as to this sudden and unexpected change of heart regarding the sheikah's intentions, but you restrained yourself. Taking that prickling curiosity at the forefront of your mind and pushing it away in favor of the unease that permeated within your heart instead.

"The zora." You mumbled quietly, letting your gaze fixate on the blankets laid warmly on your legs. Displeasure trying to crawl up your throat and take home in your thoughts. But you shook away those spiteful whispers before they could poison your heart.

You disapproved of the hatred the elder zora held towards Link (and by extension, hyrulians). It was cruel of them to lay blame for Ganon's crimes upon his victims without regard to how the story had unfolded. To use them as scapegoats when the true focus of their ire was out of reach and far beyond their power to defeat.

It was an addicting kind of self-soothing that had been left to fester throughout their long lives, fueled by their guilt and fear. Guilt for their powerlessness, and fear not just for the world's future, but for that of their beloved royal family.

As told by the grape vine that weaves thickly through the Stable System, King Dorephan had lost his beloved mate too soon (the cause was kept quiet, but rumor has it it had been to birthing complications). Shortly after the birth of their son, Prince Sidon, in fact (thier second child and their only spare).

And after her passing the King choose to never take another (a controversial decision), instead spending the rest of his breeding years grieving his dearly departed and raising their heirs instead of producing more spares to ensure the royal bloodline in those turbulent times.

(Yet, the King received only whispered sympathy from his people, and the young Prince adored all the more for his status as final heir to a beloved, departed Queen.

It's always been easiest to demonize an unfamiliar face, after all. Easier to spit upon another race than to fault the heart of a grief stricken man and an innocent child.)

With the death of their Princess, Mipha, the zoras had lost not just a beloved healer and gracious future ruler. They lost half of their royal bloodline, their future. They who's ears reach the Goddesses' songs, or some such saying (in other words, gigantism, an inheritable trait found only in the zora's royal family line. by magic or genetic mutation, you didn't know).

And so, the zora of the time had taken their fear and guilt and unspoken grievances and shaped it into a hatred that only future generations seem to have been able to delude from their racial conscience. Sidon, the Prince himself, being a shining example of this. And honestly, may well have been the spark for this (positive) change in the zora's newest generation as well.

There was a reason you never bothered trying to enter Zora's Domain. And it wasn't even the lizalfors. Though maybe in a few decades, you might give it a try.

Blue nodded at your quiet utterance, eyes cold and sharp under the veil of feigned disinterest. And you wondered, silently, what she was feeling right now. If she was truly so angered on Link's behalf, or if she was frustrated at her superiors for making this level of secrecy necessary (it had not escaped your notice that everyone in the stable was far too quiet for simple sleep. even the desk attendant was slumped over, quiet. chest barely moving. drugged).

Maybe even both. Even as removed from the sheikah's plotting as you were, you still understood that the girls were making independent moves outside of their given assignments. Perhaps even going against orders (their direct superior's orders, not yours. surprisingly. or perhaps not so surprising given Red's apparent fondness for your rupees, the opportunistic jerk).

None of that mattered right now though. Not even the yiga and the very real threat they still posed to your life.

All that mattered was Link, and that he was distraught enough to force the twins' hands to such an extent. That the situation was bad enough to ask permission to temporarily disregard the established agreement (bound by contract and enough rupees to tempt a saint).

"Take me to him." You said quietly, hands clutching the bedspread. Fingers twisted into silky cloth tight enough to hurt. Letting the soft, plush weight of it sooth your agitated nerves. Grounding yourself from the whirlwind of emotions that wanted to overwhelm you even as you kept your tone smooth and even. "Please."

She nodded, moving closer with eeriely silent strides and plucking you from the bed with frightening ease (you hadn't even realized what was happening until you were in her armor clad arms). The suddenness of the action nearly pulled a gasp from your lips. But it caught in your throat at the sudden speed as which she was all but flying through the moonlit fields.

She was such a a small woman. Seemingly delicate as a butterfly's flutter and soft as blossom petals. Yet you could feel the way her muscles pushed at your weight with unyielding strength.

In that moment, she felt as tall and imposing as a mountain. As solid as stone and as powerful as a hurricane ripping along the coastline.

In that moment, you were reminded that this woman (these women, beautiful and graceful and spirited both) were warriors. Born and raised. Trained until their hands bled and their bones twisted into the steel of a tempered blade.

And you had never felt more protected than in Blue's arms.

(Spit in the eye of the elders, Red had said. You were certain this woman would sooner stab them in the face.)

You just hoped that strength would be enough to protect Link until he was strong enough to protect himself. And enough to protect her as well. From whatever it was that had stolen the light from her eyes.

---

You weren't sure whether to be impressed by Blue's speed, or irritated that she managed to undo a day's worth of travel in just a couple hours (how in the world were you going to explain this to Skims and Adino? Red most certainly won't be any help. you can already tell). But one thing was for sure, you were never going to piss this woman off. That was for damned sure.

That wasn't what had your attention at the moment though. That was the sight of Link tied by the wrists to his bed, blindfolded.

And why was Red here, sitting at the table as though this was a perfectly normal thing to walk into (how had she even gotten here before you and Blue? why hadn't she been the one to take you back to Hateno if she was going to be here anyway)?

Link was awake and alert, pinched brows and down turned mouth looking just as befuddled (and maybe even a bit scared) as yourself at the current happenings. His delicate ears tracking your footsteps (Blue's were quiet, even on hardwood floors. what a scary realization) as you moved up the stairs and closer to his bed (your blanket dragging slightly across the floor, too heavy and thick to comfortably carry in your arms).

He was handsome for sure, all long blonde hair, elegantly sharp features and lithe muscle. But not quite as flawless as he had been portrayed as in the games (which was to be expected, but was still jarring. even after having come to terms with the reality of this world's imperfections).

The scars were by far the most prominent detail about him, even accounting for his noble features and toned physic. Hard, knotted patches of discolored skin sprawled across the left side of his face, shoulders and chest. Pink and raw looking, for all it was plain to see these horrendous burn marks had long since healed.

His skin too, was another thing that set him apart from his game presentation. Where as the game had shown Link to possess a pretty peach complexion with rosy cheeks, the man before you was off-puttingly pale (almost grey in the cheeks). So much so it was concerning. With the beginnings of a tan just beginning to take form on his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

Sick. You realized link was sick. No. That wasn't quite right. It wasn't sickness that seemed to be clinging to him like a veil.

Had Link ever fully recovered from his time trapped in the shrine?

Your memories of the game were foggy and unclear after so much time spent in this world. But there was one thing you did remember clearly when you pulled at the strings of your memories.

It was Zelda's voice, urging Link up from his slumber (tired and pleading, after 100 years of fighting a battle of wills). And Link, hitting the ground running. Without thought for his own wellbeing. Without consideration for his still recovering body. Just bullheaded determination and an unbreakable spirit driving him forward.

Your stomach clenched at the realization. Something that hadn't truly hit you with its entirety until you had finally cast your gaze upon the very man who had lived through it all (was still living through it).

Not a game character. Not the concept of heroism given humanoid form. But a man, small and confused and fighting to right the wrongs of a hundred years ago. Having to accept that everything he once had was gone now. And that he must now fight a battle he doesn't even remember having a stake in.

You cast a questioning (concerned) look over at Blue. But she ignored you, instead saying softly (and far less tensely than when you were at the stables) to Link. "Courageous one. Your beloved is here to offer you comfort."

Link tilted his head. Uncomprehending.

Blue cast a glance towards Red, who nodded quietly. Not even looking up from whatever she was doing at the table.

At the gesture, Blue continued. "They may not speak to you." She cast a cool glance your way, the hard glint of her eyes telling you more than a thousand words ever could. "And you are forbidden from touching them. This is to ensure you will not be tempted to- memorize their voice or distinctive features."

A moment of silence. Then confusion. And then (finally) the dawning light of comprehension seemed to line every inch of his diminutive form.

The change in him was immediate. Link's entire body tensed, the bonds at his wrists creaking under the pressure he was exerting on them in his stiffened state (as did the headboard. and you had a feeling only Blue's presence was keeping him from breaking free with brute force). His chest nearly shaking with the intensity of whatever emotions held him in their sway.

His face had twisted into a complicated expression. Lips taunt, scars pulled tight at the skin of his face (what was visible through the blindfold) and fair brows pulled into an almost grimace.

One breath. Two. And then, he spoke. "AM." He breathed, quiet and shaking. Raspy, dry and unpleasant (and beloved. so much so your heart ached with the feeling). "AM. I-" And just like that, his voice broke. Fractured. Shattered.

His hands tensed into fists, his teeth grit against the pull of his lips. His shoulders shook.

And you just. Moved.

Dropping the blankets, nearly tripping over the bulk of them in your haste, you fell hands first onto the bed. Barely taking the time to regain your balance before slotting yourself into Link's side (warm and solid and so very alive) and pressing yourself into his space.

You ignored his tensed form. His shudder as your night chilled clothes pressed against his own skin warmed ones. And spooned into his side as best you could with his arms bound above his head. Your upper body laid against his own, arms wrapped around his chest and head tucked under his chin. Trying to cover as much of him as possible (trying to hide him from the world and everything it demanded of him. trying to absorb all that pained his heart into your own body).

You squeezed him with all your might (pitiful though it may have been to someone physically blessed as the goddess' chosen champion), words sitting at the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. Unsaid and burning at the base of your throat. Held back only by the strength of your resolve, and the silent promise to do better.

To fight with everything in your power to do right by this man.

A man who had been demanded to give everything for the greater good. Even if it meant making a deal with the devil itself. Even if it meant losing himself. All. Over. Again.

You would make sure this man succeeded.

You would make sure he thrived.

His chest heaved under you, breaths coming in short, ragged gasps (quiet though, as though afraid to rise above a faint whisper). His throat bobbing under your cheek in thick, painful sounding swallows. His entire body was shaking, and you could feel the warmth of something wet soaking into the crown of your hair.

You squeezed harder, pushing every once of your care and devotion into the action. Gritting your teeth against the torrent of warmth that flooded behind your eyes, burning, demanding to be released. Demanding that you do more than just cling to him in a bid at comfort.

The tension in his body released all at once, and a ragged sob forced its way out of his throat. Long and raw and achingly vulnerable. Like nothing you've ever heard before.

And you sobbed right along with him, bitting back all the words you wished to tell him more than anything. Cursing the circumstances that had led to this moment.

And so thankful too. Thankful that you could be here in his time of need. Even if all you could do was hold him as he cried. As he broke apart beneath you.

And so, you sobbed all the harder. For the Link that had had to cry alone once upon a time.

---

Back to the shadows.

Tagging: @littlepanda7 @2000babies @danyzta

#botw link #isekai reader #botw x reader #link x reader #link x you

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secretress · 9 months ago

Text

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐈 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐰.❞

What do you need to hear?

Subliminal channel | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

Not a tarot card reading, only based on my intuition.

18+ readings

Divider

Pile 1

You must understand that the reason why everything isn’t going your way isn’t due to the fact you’re not a good person. It is not about your good deeds, or your bad deeds. It is not about who you harm inadvertently, this stems from you as a person. What are you looking for or in your case, whom are you looking for? Are you looking for something that satisfies you for the time being or for the longer term? Ask yourself this. Are you deserving of good luck? Am I deserving of the best?

If you think to yourself that every small detail of your life isn’t going well then you stimulate your mindset in the wrong light. Small simple bad things are normal for us all. One paper cut, a fight occurring, a friendship ending, these things are much smaller than you know.

A paper cut, you were careless and you lack patience.

A fight occurring teaches you patience, resilience, and knowledge. You learn from their behavior, are they a hot headed, calm, how do they react? It heightens your sense, awareness and analytical skills.

A friendship ending is a lesson for us all, it makes us grow as a person and it teaches us how to make ourselves the priority because friendships always end no matter, positive or not. Happy memories are the things one can hold on but to reminisce about the past makes us a prisoner. Do you want to be a prisoner? Does that sound ideal to you? If so, why?

So to ask once more, who are you looking for?

Think about this for a bit and speak to yourself about it until you realize you already know the answer.

The answer is within you.

Pile 2

When you see fire near you, you instantly run or perhaps freeze due to fear, and yet here we stand in the midst of it excited by it. Why is that? Why do you think you seek the adventure of danger? Do you think it plays the factor of being the person you desire or perhaps you’re hiding away once more under a facade of dread and hatred?

Do you believe that the burning flame within you is seeking to go upward or downwards? Do you believe that the same burning flame is you or perhaps it's merely the people around you, your environment?

Why all these questions? What is this reading, you may ask, the truth is, your mind is rather clustered of useless thoughts surrounding you like a snowstorm where you cannot escape, only to shelter oneself. Learn to let go of the thoughts that do not benefit you, and take in the ones that makes you happy. Let go of your worries to whom you believe or what you believe in, and let them take those worries away. Come back anew and make yourself whole once more. Your life is in your hands, not them, not the community nor your family, simply just you and you alone. Obstacles surely are a pain, are they not? But then again, obstacles make us whole so, will you be the person who stops midway through the obstacle or will you go forth with it and leap over it, perhaps even swim around it? The choice is yours and it lies within your grasp. You choose.

Pile 3

When you see the moon hiding the sun, you find it to be mesmerizing. The moon shines its beauty for us so we can enjoy the stars, perhaps to stargaze, maybe to feel like ourselves, who knows. But then again it’s just a normal cycle, a factual tradition, I suppose. But then we look at society and how it teaches us that our flaws are significant and that we must be perfect like Barbie and Ken. But then again, one cannot achieve such perfection, it’s simply impossible. Right?

Why do you believe that you must be perfect at everything? You must achieve everything and that if you do not, you’re unworthy? Not good enough and such. What are you gaining from that? Would you preferably say that to a child, let alone your child? No.

Would you find an infant, barely born and tell them, “you’re doing this wrong. What is wrong with you?! You cannot do anything right!” No. So why do you do it to yourself?

If I were to yell at you right now, how would you react? Would you reciprocate it? Would you let it bury inside and create resentment towards me? Maybe you might slap me as well. Or I suppose, you will laugh it off like it’s nothing, or maybe it truly isn’t anything because you became numb to it because you justified it.

Even so, it’s not justified to act so harsh on yourself, high expectations won’t lead you anywhere, well, I suppose it would leave you in a dump. That doesn’t sound enjoyable, does it? No.

Maybe next time, let’s try being easier on ourselves and show gratitude to oneself for achieving a small accomplishment and giving ourselves a reward. Shouldn’t be hard if you actually care for yourself, now would it? You tell me. Decide it for yourself.

Pile 4

When I think of your pile, I see a child, presumably someone who looks pale, but isn’t. I see an image of someone wearing nothing, but not in a perverted fashion. I see them staring into my eyes with such sadness, such hatred in their heart and eyes. So much anger, and yet there is a “help me” feeling of the way they are gazing into my eyes.

What I’m saying is, those reading this pile feels .. a sense of emptiness and apathy. This pile gave me anxiety for 3 hours straight and I ruined my nails by biting them (which I never do), I wish I was exaggerating, but I am not. Your pile is very rocky, lots of anxiety and frustration, and so much resentment. I can feel my heart beating so incredibly fast, I feel suffocated, I feel like I am drowning, but it’s not the same as you expect someone to drown. I feel as I am dying and that is what you feel right now.

I hear depression, anxiety, BPD, and “I’m going to kill you.” Everyone here feels so much anger, it’s going to explode on the next person. Sometimes you feel like no one understands you and they treat you as a joke, at times you feel as if you aren’t important enough to be apart of your social group, even your family as well. At times, you want to.. jump off a cliff but the thought scares you very much, not because you're a coward, but because you have this small shred of hope that you may have a better life, and you will.

I see a hill, someone's child is holding a book or perhaps a diary, they are holding it tightly, close to their heart. Despite if you don’t read or write journals/diaries, something you have within you is what you hold very close to you and you must cherish that. Keep it close, I’m not speaking of your negativity (some of you, stop it), I’m speaking of the thing you want so badly but you believe it is impossible to achieve and yet it is not. How could it be impossible? You found the right pile for you, so what is the issue of you believing it will come to you even when you do nothing? Anything is possible, that’s very obvious, understand this. If you put your mindset on something, in this case, what you want, you think of it or perhaps daydream about it, then it’s yours. That’s all.

Here is what you must hear.

When a shooting star shoots across the night sky, we all become hypnotized by it due to it being such a rarity, correct? We stargaze because stars are so mesmerizing, so enchanting. When you think of what you desire, that lost hope, you become hypnotized about it, don’t you? If shooting stars are possible, then how dare you say what you desire, that shred of hope isn’t possible?

Getting lost in a world of possibilities is such an exciting experience, isn’t it? But when you realize it’s not real, it hurts even more. Perhaps using that small shred of happiness can amplify what you want. Ever think of that? So just daydream or think of the things you want, even if it’s a “silly” daydream about being a knight saving a princess in a castle with dragons and such, and then think of what you want for a split second even and go back to that “silly” daydream. You’ll manifest what you want without even realizing.

My intuition is telling me is that you can get what you desire if you change your approach in life. If you can do that, then that small shred of hope in your life can bypass the hopelessness that you feel as of this moment. It will twist your mind and make it assume that what you want is so incredibly easy to reach and achieve.

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tacticalhimbo · 24 days ago

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this subtle little thing in the segment where swansea is trying to break into the cockpit is so fascinating to me. like

there's not many times where jimmy expresses genuine fear besides this...

and when you're going through the warehouse level to grab the mouthwash and have to be quiet so you can evade the creature(tm).

because. if you listen while playing that segment, you can hear jimmy gasp/whimper when the actual horse creature thing appears near you (aka: when you can actually turn in place and shine the code scanner to reveal it).

it's so fascinating to see that, out of the two times jimmy genuinely feels fear, there's only one time he's legitimately in danger (lest we forget the malformations of polle are jimmy's subconscious substituting his overarching guilt/regret/hatred for the unborn child; à la silent hill. at least, that's my interpretation of it considering the other scenarios/hallucinations/delusions jimmy has regarding polle). and it's because he's been exposed for what he really is.

a rapist. a villain. a spineless coward.

he's no longer the strongest person in the room. he's not the one at the top of the ladder. he's not in control. it's swansea. it's another man; a man who can very easily put him on his ass with or without the axe. a man who has a clear moral compass and is willing to do anything to uphold that. a man who knows how to take responsibility.

and i just think that's neat.

#txt #pic #mouthwashing #mouthwashing jimmy #cw spoilers #meta post #<- loosely anyway #it's an observation that i think can have some very interesting diving into in terms of characterization

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gildedkrone · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

Gold is the colour of royalty. In filigrees embossed into vermillion cloaks, in the frames of paintings in royal courts with ceilings of skies adorned with angels and cherubs. Gold is the dust blowing through a cracked façade and a bleeding heart.

He doesn’t bleed red. He never does.

Shake off the dust gathered on the tarp over his heart and rein in his faith—he is a man facing a crisis of faith shaken and broken as with marks deep and scarring in the soft flesh of human emotion.

He has emotions, contrary to typical belief and what his coworkers think.

Erudition is a curse—the knowledge contained within only serves to break him further into pieces of unfulfilled longing and desire shimmering and shining under the rays of heaven.

He bleeds gold and he bleeds it all over your hands in streams of gold particles blowing off the charred remains of his supposed heart. A lie; it is one he tells himself all the time.

You can’t hurt what you don’t know.

Faith in crisis—man down in a pool of gold lust lapping at his ears and his nose as waves crest in periods synced with the surging of his heart strings tangled between your fingers in splinters of his shield.

He’s a compromised soldier of god when he first laid eyes on you. His oaths are nothing against what you bring with you when he experiences your touch initially. It blinds him with fervour and shakes the foundation of his understanding of the world.

He finds gold to be his new favourite colour as it’s associated with the lustre of your wings, the crown on your head and the tips of your fingers brushing over his when he’s injured on the battlefield. His comrades have abandoned him, warrior left to rot in ruin as they retreated from their unsuccessful assault.

Gold is his eyes with the reflection of your smile in a sardonic pose.

“Oh Ghost—have you fallen?”

He grits something in ashes of pride and shivers at your touch against a wound in his thigh. Gold filters through your fingers in something viscous and lazy and you swipe it on his garments to get rid of them. He feels small under your touch and he whispers a prayer.

A prayer to a god no longer willing to listen and on deaf ears are his final pleas. What fools to take him for nothing.

Defiance is salacious in eyes burning with hatred—but it’s so pretty set against his blonde lashes. The wind blows from the east and you lean into his space. A caress of his hands tenses his body before you tell him of your intentions.

“I think I will keep you, Ghost.”

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Gold is the colour of his pleasure when he gives in to his carnal desires. No man can truly hold out against temptation and with his mask removed, his pretty face is framed by skin resplendent and healthy.

A man in a crisis of faith always seeks redemption; to seek another higher purpose so you will have to step in and be his religion. It has taken months, gently nursing him back to health and breaking down the barriers of meaningless restraint inculcated by weak men with fragile egos.

“Need your consent before we do anything, Ghost.”

He nods even if his faith is tested. He can’t love another man; it’s against the beliefs his father and the military have knocked into him over and over again.

“But you no longer believe in that, do you?”

He moans.

“Take me to be your faith, Ghost.”

“Let your belief be moulded by me and let yourself be rewarded.”

He chokes and it’s a sound echoing around the chambers. He lays on duvets and a hand is busy between his thighs rippling up and down a shaft neglected by his duties as a soldier. Your fingertips leave trails of gold weaving down his body in intricate markings and patterns to help him find his new purpose.

“Look into my eyes and tell me to stop. I will.”

Crisis and ruin gag his tongue and he comes noisily and weakly into his hands with his second orgasm clawing it way out of his throat. The mighty Ghost, once feared by all laid naked before you in the throes of pleasure with an eager hand lost in earthly desires.

You seek to show him heavenly desires.

The cloth around you falls to the floor in a heap and he zeroes in on your pelvis. A gilded cock ring affixed at the base and rings pierced in your nipples. The mattress dips below your weight as you kneel between his thighs and encroach into his space.

A hand touches his thighs and the question hangs in the air. He debates and gives his consent. To be bathed in your fervour and magnificence and your ego is stroked by the simple gesture itself. Fingers gently swiped through a bowl of liquid before they prod gently at his entrance and they push through between a gasp and growl of pure surprise and instinct.

He is beautiful, laying there with a hand clasping onto your arm pressing into the bed for support. The mask never did suit him—it’s ugly and hides a face sculpted in the truest image of man. Chest heaving with the thrumming anticipation of his first time with you and the light around you is blinding in it’s intensity. With three fingers in him, you taste him on plush lips pushing into yours with eager and a moan slipping from his slipper grasp on his awakened desires.

Gold is the colour of his nails when his hand wraps around your shaft and you smile encouragingly as he felt up what is going to enter him. He tugs your length and you clamber forward and rests a hand against the back of his head.

Sacred, in every sense with your body shadowing his and cradling him in pleasure as the length gently pushes into him. The hand on his head allows you to see into his eyes dilating with pleasure and supposed sin he once believed in.

A man’s pleasure is another’s too.

He gives a gasp when it’s halfway in and you stop; any further will hurt him. He is tight and eyes shut in an attempt to regain some semblance of control over his body and desires as you tug and pull on them to keep him off balance. Eventually, you give a shallow pull and thrust as he keens. The sound is melodious—pure and unfiltered without the meaningless shackles once denying him of pleasure this euphoric.

“Tell me how you feel, Ghost.”

His words are disjointed and broken, like lines of gold spiralling into loose ends as you rock into him again with the burning fervour to show him what he has denied himself for so long. Rebuild his faith and bring him to ecstasy over and over again.

In the bedroom, he loses himself to the chants of your name with frantic pawing at your chest when he feels the burn blaze in his loins. The body with gold paint flexes and shakes with thrust and symbolically, it represents a man seeking truth and knowledge with trust and vulnerability.

Tears streak down his face and they aren’t gold. You don’t expect them to be—they are pure as his heart is light in the moment. They fall in beads of expungement of false teachings of fake prophets.

Shake his faith and be his keeper—chant the name. Chant the name until all is nothing but drudgery behind a brilliance of gold that is his climax when he topples over the crests of vermillion into your hands ready to catch him and make him whole. He runs a hand through your flank as you whisper his name.

Simon.

“mmfph! C-come … come in me, p-please!” His voice beckons and his dick leaves evidence of his desire in strings on his pelvis. The tip leaks with clear fluid and you swipe a taste of tangy and salty and the quivering of a virgin hole around your aching dick. With each thrust, his whines are words of a siren in an altar defiled by your presence if they were to be believed. His eyes beseech you to be merciful as he slings an arm over.

“Cl-close! P-please, just … let—let me cum!” His body, aflame with desire getting higher and higher swallows you greedily as you thrust harder into him to make his wish a reality. His cheeks are smattered with pink and desperate men make convincing pleas.

Gold is the future waiting for him with you in seas of calm waters and a sun warm as your body pressed against his and seeding him in spurts as he spews messily over his stomach. His tears are rivers of release; cathartic is what he experiences when he lets out everything he has suppressed for so long to allow himself to feel.

“Stay with me, Simon.”

He nods and looses himself in your lips and grunts when you pull out of him before rearranging his rogue limbs into an embrace of suns and stars—a man sated and fulfilled with his desires snoozed, for now. His tears wipe off with a hand.

Gold, truly, is a colour best reserved for him. For his splendour and brilliance of a man having found his faith with you descending upon him in radiance and glory. In a house without god, he finds what he has been looking for. Upturned tables and roots of culture in a space no longer empty with your presence as you cup his face gently to soothe.

After all, what would you be if you didn’t safeguard a being as divine as him?

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist

#fanfic #cod mw2 #male reader #cod x male reader #x male reader #x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #ghost fanfiction #call of duty

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twst-drabbles · 10 months ago

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Meleanor 1

Summary: You do not understand this egg's mother. On multiple occasions, with words or with silence, she has made her hatred towards humans clear. And yet, here she is with her egg in her arms.

(Ough, spent most of the day transferring my stuff to another writing program because my brain refuses to engage with the current one. Hopefully this one will be better for me. The interface is something I'm used to, at least. Also more time travel shenanigans because why not?)

When a guest is invited–or at least, allowed over by the pixies–the cluster of bells by your lattice windows would ring cleanly through the house, then would glow depending on how many guests there were. And if there was no guest but someone was coming anyway, all bells would ring at the same time and glow a sickly green.

It was a nice, a way to distinguish guest from intruder.

Only one ball bell glowed in this instance, a calm gold, but another one was hesitating, almost flickering in it's attempt to shine.

It was weird, until you saw the vine curtain pull back to reveal that faerie noble woman Meleanor with a huge egg in tow. Her smile, while clearly crafted from years of experience, did not fool you. You can feel the way her eyes regard you as a crawling, invasive bug.

"Hmm," was all the greetings you could muster out, because you didn't expect her to come here, nor did you want her here, but the egg was a pleasant surprise. It cancels out your need to give a dismissive/rude greeting into a neutral noise.

Meleanor, however, turned her eyes back to her egg. Her smile grew smaller, but gentler, as she rubbed her thumb over the raised grooves and ridges over the shell.

"Was that all you needed? You spoiled boy of mine. But fret not, I'll give you everything that you want, even if it means robbing the night sky of its every star just to give them to you."

It's… weird, knowing that Malleus was inside that very egg that Meleanor was so tenderly caressing. A growing fetus, alive and well, beating with a very tiny heart.

…oh right, you're supposed to receive this guest on behalf of the pixies. They can't do it themselves, on the account of how dense and volatile her magic is. Such sensitivity tends to make them agitated or fearful. And you, being a dull human with no magic sense whatsoever, would have to take the reigns.

"Sit wherever you like," you gestured to the whole scope of the room.

"And who gave you permission to speak, to gaze upon me?" She didn't so much as look at you, keeping her gaze upon her child, still so filled with fondness and love.

This song and dance again… Ugh, you're going to be so exhausted by the end of the day.

"A host that cannot gaze or speak with the guest is a negligent one," Meleanor not looking at you was a sign that she's not truly angry. She's just trying to mess with you in the way all faeries love to do. "You know this."

A prank to them, a danger to you. You fall for it or falter, and she will relish in punishing you however she sees fit. You're just lucky you have a good sense of when you're in danger or not.

"Haha," Meleanor lifted her head to laugh, mildly amused, "A host now, is it? Your manners are well-trained in you, for a human. Any less and I would have had you replaced. Surely the pixies will find another creature to attach themselves to."

"That's if they don't gather up their things and leave for other places," you dragged a chair and kicked back on it, "You would lose your stable seasons if you were to 'replace' me on your own whims."

Human etiquette in you tells you to go into the kitchen and make a drink or a snack. Faerie etiquette, however, told you to wait and quietly listen. You can't assume a request of a faerie guest. You could easily be accused of arrogance.

But, instead of requesting for anything or attempting to stab you with her sharp words, Meleanor took the seat on the other side of the dining table. She leaned her egg close to her belly and simply let time pass with a steady lullaby.

And, unfortunately, this meant that you couldn't do anything as well. You're forced to sit there and wait with her while she gets lost in whatever is inside her head.

Just as you were about to zone out in your seat, Meleanor finally spoke.

"It was only for a brief moment, but I'm more than sure that my son heard your voice. It was when Malleus and I were wandering around these very woods as a means of staving off my boredom. And just as I was about to craft a most impressive tower of thorns, I heard your voice, along with those playful pixies right by the riverside. And my son heard you as well."

"Huh," you tapped at your knee, trying to recall what she's talking about. You can't. "What does that have do with you bringing your egg here?"

There was only the lightest flare of green fire over the hem of her dress, but she reigned it in. She is a guest after all. She can't very well rampage inside this house just because the pixies gave the okay for her to visit. It's why you're letting yourself be a little more lax than usual.

Meleanor gave a sigh, letting just a fraction of her rage go. "Already, before he's even born, Malleus is rebelling against me. I would be more proud if it weren't due to your influence. But, I have no choice in this instance. What my son wants, I'll give. It is my right to spoil him, especially at this stage."

"…Give him, my voice?" That's not exactly something you want to do.

"Malleus wants to hear more of your voice," she spat it out, as though the words were disgusting on her tongue, "He'll reject most of my and my husband's magic otherwise. Honestly, of all things for him to latch onto, it had to be a human's voice."

Wow, of all things…

"That's unfortunate," you sighed out.

"On my end, yes. But for you, it is a blessing that no other shall receive, so best weep for joy at such a miracle. When I take my leave, that is. I don't want to subject my child to the grating noises of a sobbing human."

Meleanor is certainly hating every moment of this, isn't she? Guess you should be thankful that, no matter where you are in time, Malleus attaches himself to you quickly. How nice.

But oh boy, you hope this doesn't have any consequences when you finally figure out how to go back to your present.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #meleanor #meleanor draconia #janitor au #time travel shenanigans #reader insert

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foundtherightwords · 5 months ago

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Fallen Empires - Teaser

So remember last week, when we got the confirmation that Joe plays Geta and not Caracalla, I was lamenting that all my work on this Caracalla WIP may have been for naught? Well, I figured out a way to make it work! It was always going to be canon divergent from the movie, and now I'll have to slap the alternate history tag on it as well, but... hey, at least I didn't have to throw away 30k+ words!

Anyway, here's a teaser/preview to celebrate the release of the trailer: (1k, mentions of blood and injuries)

Chapter 1

The smell of blood was in the air.

As he staggered over the rocky ground, he could smell it all around him, on him, in him, and there was no escaping it. The sharp metallic tang of it brought back unpleasant memories of battlefields, of death and screaming and decay. But this was no battlefield. It was quiet, far too quiet; there was none of the clashes of swords and armors, the panicked whinnying of horses, or the groans of dying men. The only sound was his own ragged breathing and the hammering of his pulse in his ears. There were stabbing pains on his back and between his ribs, and it hurt every time he drew a breath. There was a pounding somewhere on the back of his head—he must have hit it when he fell down the slope, though he no longer remembered where that slope was. He no longer remembered anything except for a burning feeling of anger and hatred, almost stronger than the pains of his body, though at whom or what that anger was directed, he didn't know. And underneath it all was a threat of fear. He had never been afraid of anything, he knew that much. Yet now the cold breath of Phobos was on the back of his neck, forcing him to get away, as far away as he could.

His head felt heavy and light at the same time. More than once, he stumbled over a rock and went down on his hands and knees. That was when he realized he was clutching a dagger in his hand, a dagger sticky with blood—his own or someone else's, he no longer remembered either. He pushed himself up by the handle of the dagger and continued on. His lungs burned, and his skin was icy cold despite the warm spring sunshine, and his limbs were so numb he was afraid the dagger might slip from his fingers. He must not let that happen. That dagger was important somehow. And he walked on, over the rocks and the uneven ground and the thick undergrowth.

He came across a stream, its banks overflowing from the winter rain. He still had the presence of mind to tuck the dagger into his belt before plunging in. The water was much deeper than he'd expected. His feet went out from under him. The pains in his back and his ribs melted into one scorching spear that went through him from chest to shoulder blades, and he had no strength left to fight the current. A branch of driftwood floated past. He held on to it, by instinct rather than a conscious desire to live. Doing so hurt his chest, but the water cooled his pounding head and washed away some of the searing pain and the blood, so the smell no longer assaulted his nostrils. He let the stream carry him away. So this is how it ends, he thought, feeling blood and life drain out of him. This little stream was to be his River Styx. Not for him the glorious death of the battlefield. Not for him the quiet, peaceful death after a lifetime of ruling and conquering. Not for him even the sudden, tragic death of a great man cut down in his prime. No, for him would be an ignominious death, befitting an ignominious life. Somehow he'd always known it. This was what the Fates had in store for him.

He never quite lost consciousness, though he didn't know how long he floated. At some point, the light shining through his eyelids lost its brightness, but he didn't know if it was because the sun was going down or he was dying.

Hands came down on his shoulders. It brought the pain back, and that was how he knew he was still alive. He'd stopped floating. Someone was hauling him up the bank of the stream, dragging him by the arms. So they'd found him, then. He was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground, where he lay motionless, waiting for the soft whisper of a sword being drawn from its sheath, for the final blow to end his misery, for eternal darkness to engulf him at last.

When it never came, he opened his eyes.

For a moment, he thought he really was dead, and he was facing Charon—a dark shape loomed over him, with fire for eyes and a hairy, oddly-shaped head. The words of the Aeneid, learned from his youth, came to his mind unbidden.

A sordid god: down from his hairy chin; A length of beard descends, uncombed, unclean; His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire; A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire...

Now he knew he was dying. Since when did he start remembering poetry?

Something warm and moist brushed his face, a snort stirred his wet hair, and the illusion broke. It wasn't Charon that stood over him, but some sort of animal, perhaps a horse. The fiery eyes moved, and he realized they were a torch, held in the hand of a person—a real person, with a cowl covering the head, keeping the face in the shadow. Savior or executioner?

He twisted his head to avoid the horse's inquisitive nose. Even such a small movement hurt. A pair of small feet, clad in old leather sandals, stood beside him. A pair of slim ankles, brushed by the long hem of a dark gown. A woman's feet.

Gentle hands turned him over. He tried to focus. In the light of the torch, he found himself looking into a pair of green eyes, as green as the hills of Caledonia, as green as the forests of Germania, as green as the water of the Euphrates, eyes that soothed and calmed and took away his pains.

And, as he looked into those eyes, Emperor Geta, the Imperator Caesar Publius Septimius Geta Augustus, uttered the one word he'd never said, never thought he would say, in all twenty-eight years of his life.

"Help."

Darkness took him then.

I'm still slowly working on this, but I'll wait until the movie comes out to tweak some of the characterizations and hopefully finish it by then. If you want to be tagged when I post it, let me know!

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #gladiator 2 #geta #geta x ofc #emperor geta #emperor geta x ofc

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jeonjungkookenthusiast1997 · 5 months ago

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The Price of Love and Loyalty - Lee Minho x Reader

Summary: Y/N is sent deep into enemy territory, by her older brother, to try and mend an age old feud between two Mafia organisations. Can she gain the trust of the Stray Kids? Can a hatred that long standing be fixed by a simple truce? All Y/N knows for sure is it's going to take a lot of patience to make this messy situation work out for the best.

Do not repost or translate my work! My blog is 18+ so minors do not interact!

TW: gangs, mafia families, weapons and mentions of violence, some major hostility between everyone involved, mean Minho, mentions of BTS as a rival gang.

Word Count: 3K

"This is a bad idea Namjoon. A really fucking bad idea"

Y/N's words echo through her thoughts as she walks the streets of Seoul.

Slender fingers pull at the sleeves of rather thin coat attempting to pull it closer to her shivering body as she roams the abandoned streets looking for a very particular building, it's been a long time since she'd been allowed to this part of town so she endeavours to soak it all in before she's no doubt banished back to her own territory… or worse.

Her older brother Namjoon was the imposing, usually smart, leader of the Mafia she belonged to but she truly feared her beloved brother may have finally lost his mind if he thought sending his little sister into enemy territory is a good idea.

Bangtan had lost a lot of good and loyal members recently in fights with their rivals Stray kids, so determined not to lose anyone else Namjoon decided a truce was the best course of action.

That is why Y/N is currently trudging towards Stray Kids headquarters, her nervous eyes flitting between buildings that tower above her.

"Almost there" she whispers to herself in a bid to settle her nerves.

She rounds the last corner to her destination with a weary smile and is about to walk the last stretch of pavement when a blow to the back of her head sends her body hurtling to the rocky floor, dark bleeds into her vision as she moans in pain before losing consciousness.

When Y/N finally wakes up her eyes are watering, barely adjusting to the harsh light when a dark chuckle sounds in her throbbing ears. She looks down as her head swirls with confusion and notices that she's tied to a chair with thick black ropes.

Groaning, she tries to lift her head to look at her assailant. A disparaging ‘tsk’ is sent her way as her eyes finally focus on the man in front of her.

“I would advise you not to move too much YN, you'll only make things worse for yourself” she recognises the voice as a pair of cruel brown eyes reveal themselves.

"Lee Minho" she grits her teeth as the words drip from her throat like venom.

A sinister smile stretches over his lips and reaches his cheeks as he glares at the woman left helpless before him looking her up and down before whispering in a dark tone ”you're in my territory now little one”

Y/N glares at Minho as she watches his movements carefully "you've got a shitty way of greeting people, you didn't need to knock me out. I would have come peacefully"

Minho scoffs as he moves closer to her "yeah yeah and I'm the king of England, why are you in my territory anyway?”

He's so close to her now that she can feel his warm breath fan over her face as he speaks. She hums to herself as she acknowledges his words.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" A smirk graces her features as she tugs on the ropes binding her hands behind her back "maybe I'm just here to get a glimpse at the great and powerful Lee Minho, is that a crime?"

The man's distaste for Y/N is palpable as his nose scrunches in disgust “Oh, not at all YN…” he coos sweetly at her, his words dripping with sarcasm “but your appearance here is still a little suspicious don't you think…”. Minho tilts his head to the side as he looks at her.

Y/N notes that, with his face so close, his eyes are a warmer shade of brown than she remembered with almost golden flecks scattered around the orbs making them shine beautifully and yet at the same time they appear so cold and cruel. She doesn't dwell on those distracting thoughts for long though as she tugs on the ropes again to no avail.

With an overly dramatic sigh her head tips backwards in an attempt to get away from his fiercely perceptive gaze.

"Fine, fine I'm here on behalf of my brother. He wants to talk to Chan. Figured he'd be shot on sight if he came here himself so here I am…yay" her eyes roll as she feigns enthusiasm.

Minho’s eyes glow darkly but surprisingly he does chuckle at her “ah, so you’re just Namjoon's little messenger? But why does he want to talk to Chan?”

Y/N’s eyes shift to look away from the man to a dark corner of the bleak room "I guess you could say that. Is that really any of your concern? I'm here to talk to Bang Chan, not you"

A low, almost animalistic, growl leaves his throat almost shocking her “anything involving Chan's safety is of concern to me, little girl”

Minho’s gruff voice echoes loudly in the small room “so, I advise you not to hide anything from me, otherwise you won’t be getting what you came for. Haven't you learnt not to mess with me Y/N?”

Minho moves his head away from her face as his fingers trace over a small wound, coated in dry blood.

Wanting to be as far away from Minho as she possibly can given her circumstances she tries to shift her body but can only pull so far away with her hands bound making her huff in annoyance.

"My brother wants to call a truce between our organisations" the room is silent for a moment before Minho finally speaks up.

“A truce?” he's clearly not very happy about the offer judging by the frown on his face “and why do you want a truce?” he smiles crookedly as he adds “our families work very differently. You, above anyone should know that for a fact”

Her ability to remain calm is slipping as she grits her teeth to stop the insults that threaten to leave her lips.

"Oh come on Minho we both know a truce would be beneficial to us all. We've both lost good people in the last few months, Jungkook has a hole in his leg currently because of a gun fight with your men!"

The brooding man smiles fondly at this fact "ah yes…poor pathetic Jungkook"

Something inside of her snaps at that "well I happen to know that your precious little Hannie is bundled up in bandages right now after a run in with Jimin" she smirks at the probing words knowing it's bound to get a reaction.

A fire blazes in Minho's eyes as he reaches out to grip her hair harshly between his fingers "the fuck did you just say?"

Y/N simply smiles at him as she remains silent, wide doe eyes blinking at him in fake innocence.

"Why would we want a truce after everything Namjoon has allowed his men to do?" Minho drops her hair from his hold as he turns his back on her, ready to leave her to rot in that disgusting room.

"I understand you don't trust us and I don't blame you. Hell if you came knocking on my door I'd have Yoongi knocking you on your ass in seconds"

She lets out a laugh as Minho's retreating form stiffens "that's another reason why I'm the one that's here"

At that Minho turns to face her with a look of actual interest in what she had to say "I need to see Bang Chan before I continue speaking, I don't want the message to be misinterpreted"

His eyes roll but he gives her his full attention again “you're right, I don’t trust you”

Minho’s body seems to tense but he isn't outright rejecting her words “but since you are here in the flesh clearly as a sign of goodwill, I will let you talk to Chan”

Minho steps away but she feels a chill run down her spine as he turns towards her “but I’ll be staying right here with you”

It's an understandable response really and she had been waiting for it, Minho is part of Bang Chan's inner circle and the head of his security detail so she doesn't fight him on this front.

"I expected that so please untie me so we can get this over and done with" she wiggles her arms to get his attention on her bound limbs.

Minho seems to think for a moment, weighing up his options before he mutters a gruff “No. You stay bound”

Minho uses one of his hands to grip her arm, lifting her body up into a standing position making her whine out in frustration.

He keeps his hold on her arm firm as he stands beside her “for our safety and yours…let’s go" without any more warning he begins pulling her out of the room and down a long corridor.

They pass a few locked doors and armed guards before stopping at a large and intricately decorated door.

"Are you ready?" Minho smirks as his hands come to knock on the door.

He gives the door a few sharp taps before opening the door to reveal the Bang Chan himself staring at them intently.

There's a few men huddled around him as they point to some papers that are scattered across the leaders desk, the hurried whispers stopping abruptly as Minho steps into the room stopping as the pair reach Chan.

“Hyung I have a surprise for you” Chan's eyes almost bulge out of his head as he clearly recognises Y/N.

Chan's eyes stay trained on Y/N for a few moments before they slide to her side to look at Minho "what the fuck is she doing here? Should I be expecting Namjoon to burst through my window any second now?"

He's clearly very annoyed and at that moment Y/N is glad it isn't being directed at her.

"Apparently she was sent here by Namjoon actually" Minho shrugs his shoulders dismissively.

"Oh really? What happened to her head then? And why is she tied up?"

At this Minho finally looks somewhat sheepish "okay that was me but she was intruding on our turf!"

"I didn't know she was here to deliver a message and I sure as shit didn't wait around to ask! I haven't untied her in case tries something" Minho turns his head pointedly to look in her direction as he finishes speaking.

Chan sighs deeply as he rubs his eyes "a message? What message?" Chan's eyes are planted firmly on Y/N again, much to her displeasure, as Minho nudges her.

"I have already told Minho this…" she glares at him as he smiles amused by her side

"but I'll say it again for the benefit of everyone in the room, I'm here because my brother wants a truce between Bangtan and Stray kids" she waits patiently as her words float through the air.

Chan’s gaze is laser focused on the nervous girl, he is silent for a moment before he finally speaks.

“A truce, huh...?"

"Why does Namjoon want a truce and why send his precious little sister into the lion's den? Any of us could have killed you on the spot, you’re lucky you escaped Minho with a simple cut”

Clearing her throat before speaking again she looks to the floor "Namjoon's sick of seeing his brothers hurt and murdered"

"That's why he wants a truce and as for your other questions, he sent me because he knows that above all else you respect women. He figured you'd at least let me explain myself"

She takes a breath as all the eyes in the room are focused on her

"that and well, there's too much bad blood between you and our members. At least I haven't killed any of your men" she finishes as her eyes scan the men standing beside Chan.

She recognises a few faces.

She notes that Felix and Changbin are at his side with Seungmin off in the corner watching her intently with dark cold eyes as he spins a butterfly knife between his fingers sending chills down her spine.

"He also sent me because I'm part of the deal he's offering"

"As a sign of good faith Namjoon is proposing that I stay here until you can be sure he won't attack your 'home' anymore" she closes her eyes for a moment as she tries to calm her rapidly beating heart.

The room is so silent after her speech that it's almost suffocating as she waits with bated breath for some sort of response.

Chan's face hardens, surprising her "he's offering to keep you here? Like you're some sort of prize for us to hang on the wall? What if we don't trust you enough to keep you here?"

Y/N goes to speak but is stopped as Chan stands up from his seat. He walks around the desk and towards her as sweat starts to build on her forehead.

"Are you even willing to stay here? Willing to follow my rules?" Y/N nods to Chan's questions.

"Namjoon has asked me to do this and I will do it to the best of my ability. I've also seen such horrible things, watched our members get hurt, had to watch Taehyung hold Jungkook down as he screams in pain so that I can make the blood running from his leg finally stop…".

Her vision becomes cloudy as she bites her lip as the tears drip down her cheeks "I want it to stop" she whispers as she looks down to the floor, not wanting the enemy to see her hurting even if she was trying to negotiate an alliance with them.

Bang Chan is silent as he looks at her for a moment, she can feel that Minho is looking at her too and the thought makes her wriggle against the rope wrapped around her hands.

“very well…I can see the loyalty you have for your family. I only hope we can trust you to show the same loyalty to us”

Chan turns his back on them as he walks back to his desk ignoring the surprised looks from the younger members "you can untie her now Min"

Minho nods as he pulls out a knife and cuts the rope. Her eyes drift to his own and she notices that his face is a little softer than it had initially as Chan sits down he watches Y/N wipe the tears from her face with a look of sadness.

"I take it your brother will be in touch to finalise the details?" She simply nods, not quite trusting her words.

"In that case, Minho, I'll be entrusting dear Y/N to you to watch over" Minho groans at the command but nods dutifully.

"Take her and get her step up in the room beside yours" Chan gives Y/N one last look before returning his attention to the papers on his desk, Minho takes a hold of her arm more carefully than before and tugs her out of the room.

It's oddly silent as they walk down the winding corridors which lead to his room, Minho finally speaks up after noticing the awkwardness of the situation.

"I suppose I should officially welcome you to the family..." Minho says while attempting to diffuse the tension.

He leads Y/N up a flight of stairs before finally reaching two doors "My room is the first on the left here if you need anything and this is your room" Minho opens the door and ushers Y/N into the room as he strolls in after her.

Y/N looks around the room while Minho fiddles with something off to the side; the room is relatively simple, she notes, it has a large floor to ceiling wardrobe, a comfy double bed. A full sized mirror and a lamp stowed beside a small bedside table.

Minho gives her a few moments to find her bearings before speaking "well it's late and I'm ready for this day to be fucking over"

His sigh makes her turn to look at his face, his eyes are bloodshot and has bags under them which makes her wince as he gives her a piece of paper which seems to hold his phone number on it.

"in case you need it… try not to though ‘kay?" she nods while watching him walk to the door, leaving the young woman to her new personal space.

"Chan will probably arrange for me or Bin to go get your shit from Bangtan so don't worry about all that"

Y/N eyes start to water a little at the mention of her old home making Minho panic as he moves towards the door "since I'll be watching over you for now, if you need anything just text me or knock on the wall… I guess”

He's about to leave when Y/N grabs his wrist making him turn back “thank you for you know… not killing me straight off the bat”

Minho snorts at her words as he nods “hmm you're lucky you’ve got a pretty face. Wouldn't want to mess it up too much” again he laughs at her when he notices her wide eyes.

“Night” he smiles ever so slightly as he turns and slips away into his own room leaving Y/N alone to take everything in.

Changing into some old shorts and a baggy top she found laid on top of her bedside table she flung herself onto the bed, it was comfy sure but it wasn't home.

As her thoughts turn to her brother and his own inner circle, each of the members in it becoming like family themselves, tears flow freely from her heavy eyes and her chest rises with her increasing sobs.

She doesn't even care anymore if the Stray Kids members can hear her, she's distraught about leaving them behind but she understood why Namjoon had done it and that made the pain in her heart burn a little less brightly.

She'd done this for them, to stop the bloodshed and pain that invaded their lives daily and if her living here was the only way to do that she would have to suck it up and deal with it. As she's about to go to sleep her phone, which she had almost forgotten about, buzzes to life with messages coming through fast.

Jeon Cena 💪🏼:

Y/N?

Are you okay?

Do I need to beat some bitches up?

Cause I swear I'll come down there and

fuck

them

😡

God of Destruction 💀:

Please tell me you got there safely? 💜

Kook calm down, I'm sure everything's fine

Jiminie Cricket 🦗:

Speak to us Y/NNN

If you don't answer I'll be forced to cut a bitch 🔪

J-Nope 🔆:

Has anyone heard from her yet?

Guessing not?

Motionless Min 😴:

Starting to worry now…

Jinnie Choos 💁🏼‍♂️:

Lil Tae Tae 🎤:

If she doesn't answer in the next 5 minutes I say we burn their building to the fucking ground

Jinnie Choos 💁🏼‍♂️:

Motionless Min 😴:

Wouldn't we risk killing Y/N doing that?

Seems counter intuitive? 🤷🏼‍♂️

God of Destruction 💀:

No one is doing anything until she gets in touch and that's final

Everybody got that?

Jeon Cena 💪🏼:

What if she doesn't get in touch?

We sit around and do nothing?

Strawberry Shortcake 🍰:

Guys!

I'm fine!

Please don't burn the building down 🙈

Just been given a room so it could be worse

Seems like I'm stuck with Lee Minho for the time being 😫

She can't help but laugh as fresh tears roll down her cheeks "fuck I'm going to miss these idiots"

Y/N wipes the tears from her eyes before quickly explaining to the guys exactly what had happened from Minho tying her up, which was met with many furious responses, to Chan agreeing to the truce.

It takes her a few hours but finally the exhaustion finally kicks in and her swollen eyes close as she begins to dream of her happy life back at Bangtan.

Once she felt she'd given a good enough update she bid them all good night and buried herself under the unfamiliar covers.

100 notes · View notes

thisgirlnamedblusy · 4 months ago

Note

First off, your writing is nectar. I slurp it up like a fine wine.

I would ask if you would write a story about how Donna got the reader pregnant out of jealousy and possession, but it ends up being a difficult pregnancy/birth, which kinda makes Donna realise how she could lose the reader in trying to keep her. If and how well reader recovers is up to you.

If this ask makes you uncomfortable, I apologise. Have a nice day :)

Yesss!!! Thank you for your words and your support, and ofc, for your request. I'm sorry if it's too dark, but well, I've tried. I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

A long road to redemption

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna (implied), Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, dark Donna, jealousy... Angst, but with a happy ending, Donna's POV

Word count: 6,926

Summary: I'm sorry, (Y/N), this is all my fault...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“I'm sick of your stupid jealousy!” You shouted, looking at me with bloodshot eyes, with the shine of hatred that your words conveyed.

“And I'm sick of you despising me, of you disappearing without warning! Do you know what you've put me through?” I responded furiously, pushing you, cornering you against a wall.

“I just went shopping, you damn psychopath! People are right, you're sick in the head, I don't know why I fell in love with you...” You hissed those last words, turning them into a sharp dagger, one that sank into my heart like a stake, killing what I had left of humanity.

“You think so?” I asked, with my words full of rage, with my body trembling.

“That's what you show me, Donna,” you responded, making me lose my composure, making me push you even harder, making the ideas that torment me day and night be reflected in my actions.

“I'll make something clear to you, (Y/N). You are mine, and only mine, if you’re trying to abandon me...” I threatened, hitting the wall with my fist, making your pride turn into terror, into panic, the only thing I didn't want to see in your eyes.

“You’re threating me? Is that your way of loving?” You asked, with your voice breaking, with your eyes open imagining what was the worst thing I would be capable of doing to keep you, so you wouldn't abandon me. “You're going to kill me?”

“No,” I answered dryly, gritting my teeth, fighting against the anger inside of me, against the voices in my head that urged me to do something horrible. “But if you don't want to stay, I will force you to do so.”

I woke up sweating, after reliving that horrible moment over and over again, that moment when I completely lost my mind.

I could have settled for a quiet, solitary life, with the life that fate and the Gods had granted me. But no, I couldn't do it, not when I met you. You were a funny girl, but kind, you showed me I really didn't want to be alone, just for what? So I would harm you, so my inexperience and my fears would turn your life into hell.

Those discussions compromised the happiness I felt at your side, they made me believe you didn't love me, that you would abandon me, that you would exchange me for someone who wasn't a monster like me.

None of that helped you to leave. You never left, not even that dark, rainy afternoon, when my madness was too much even for me. I never wanted to hurt you, (Y/N), ever.

But jealousy, that possessive behavior that torments my soul made me make a mistake, made me force you, made me take you to keep you. How could I make you stay? In what way could your mind force you to love me, to continue loving me? The solution seemed right, it seemed like a good idea: getting you pregnant.

Neither your screams nor your refusals made me stop. I fulfilled my threat, I took you without permission, I made you mine on that wall, my bad thoughts, my demons, took control of my actions.

Your scared look haunted me every night, even after you had forgiven me, or so you said. You were always so understanding, too understanding. Maybe you loved me as much as you said, maybe you feared me as much as I thought. It was impossible for me to know.

Forgiving an act like that only made you kinder, only made me see how wrong I was with you, but my own torments still screamed to be heard. No one in the world could forgive something like that, no one except you. Why? I still wonder.

You were always so patient, you were always there to help me and how did I repay you? With distrust, with jealousy, with the eternal suspicion that your presence would be ephemeral.

The day you told me that you were pregnant I didn't know how to act. It is true that it was what I intended, but it was only the product of an argument, of my deranged and sick mind. You could have left after that, but you didn't, you forgave me, you always forgave me.

8 months have passed since that day and the nightmares do their job, reminding me that everything was my fault. A child should be a reason for joy, but not when your body seemed to have problems with it.

It seems like everything in my life goes wrong, maybe I never deserved you. Like a divine punishment, your condition worsened with each passing month, with each little bit that our child grew in your womb. I couldn't say if I preferred nightmares, or seeing you in bed unable to move, because of me, because of my stupid jealousy.

“(Y/N)...” I murmured, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Your presence always helped me keep my demons away, knowing that you were there with me. That night it seemed like everything was against me again.

On your side of the bed, there was a cold emptiness. My hands traveled over the place where your sick body should be. It was gone, and the voices returned.

She left, for sure.

But that statement that my own mind was making was no longer enough to make me lose my temper. I could say I believed in your unconditional love, but it was more of a logical reasoning. You could barely move. If you meant to leave, you would never do it at night, not in that state, not with my child in your womb.

I got up confused, searching in the darkness of the bedroom. Like a heavenly light, the illuminated hallway served to calm my head, so my heart would stop beating fast.

“(Y/N), where are you?” I asked, walking through the hallways, peeking through each door in a mad search, retaining the tremors of my body, the sweat of my hands, that part of my head that told me that you would abandon me. “(Y/N)?!”

"Shh, don't yell, damn it...” Your hoarse voice sounded from the kitchen and I almost ran to meet you. There you were, leaning on the counter, holding your belly with your hand.

Your look was no longer the one I fell in love with over the months. Your body was weak, your skin was pale. I knew it was my fault, but I refused to believe it.

“What are you doing?” I asked, slowly entering the kitchen. The smile that was always on your face did not illuminate me that time, only a sad shine in your eyes.

“Can't I even drink a fucking glass of water?” You hissed, setting the glass on the counter forcefully, making me step back, scared by your attitude, one you hadn't had in a while. “Can't you leave me alone for at least a second?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't do it, your words hurt me again, but I suppressed my anger. I never told you, but I tried very hard so my madness would not hurt you again, no matter how difficult you made it for me.

You closed your eyes, sighing, lowering your head, resting your hands on the furniture and taking a breath.

“Hey, Donna, I’m sorry,” you murmured, gesturing for me to come closer. “I didn't mean to talk to you like that.”

I walked slowly towards you and a sad smile appeared on your face. It was fake, false, but at least it was a smile. I lowered my head, thus showing that your attitude didn't bother me, that I had gotten over that kind of things a long time ago, even if you didn't realize it.

“You should be in bed,” I said, putting a hand on your shoulder, wishing with all my might that you wouldn't take it away. You didn't, you just turned slowly, with a grimace of pain. “If you were thirsty, you should have woken me up.”

You smiled again, sighing, closing your eyes and holding my hand, playing with my fingers erratically. I could see the pain in your body. I was able to feel it. It was all my fault.

“I didn't mean to wake you up,” you said softly, rocking with me, suppressing the pain you felt. “You are so beautiful when you sleep...”

That whisper made me smile, really smile. Despite everything I put you through, you still allowed yourself to flatter me. Again, I couldn't tell if it was love, or fear.

My hands traveled slowly to your belly, to the cause of my happiness, and my worry. Yours joined in that caress, but your face still expressed pain, annoyance.

“I really want to know what it will be like, don't you?” You asked, enjoying that tender moment, one of those that relaxed my heart. I nodded with a wider smile. “I know this is being hard, but I have no doubt that we will be able to overcome it.”

“You're always so optimistic...” I whispered, trying to feel the baby with my hands, trying to feel its movements, the reality of its existence. You laughed amused, caressing my cheek and raising your eyebrows.

“I can't live any other way,” you said, kissing me slowly, placing your lips on mine. If you only knew how your kisses made me feel... “Ah...” You complained, doubling over yourself, with a horrible grimace of pain.

“Tesoro, what's wrong?” I asked worried, holding your body while you shook your head.

“Nothing, I...” You said breathing hard, faking a smile, one that I knew wasn’t possible for you to wield in your state. “I think, I think it's gotten jealous...” You murmured amused, placing your hands on your belly again.

“Should I call Mother Miranda? You don't look good,” I said, still worried, searching your eyes for the source of that pain, wishing I was the one who was suffering. I caused it, it was my fault.

“No, no, I… I think I can handle it,” you said, catching your breath, breathing like you had learned. All these months had been an eternal circle of pain and discomfort for you, because of me.

Days and days, hours and hours of suffering... That child of mine seemed to want to make you suffer. It seemed to hate you as much as I did when I created it. I just wished that it didn't look like me, I just wished that everything would go back to the way it was before.

It never will be, because of you...

Your screams of pain were unbearable.

After a week, that terrible moment came. It seemed like the baby wanted to come out early, it seemed like it was killing you inside. I have never seen so much pain in a person. I have never felt so much pain.

“Hold on, please,” I said desperately while you lay on the stretcher. Mother Miranda attended to you, but I could only see your wounded face, the blood that flowed between your legs. The fear I had of losing you finally had a basis, a real one. “Squeeze my hand tightly, come on, please…”

Desperate, I was trying to help you, trying to make those screams stop. Your eyes looked at me, but I knew you couldn't see me, all you saw was pain, it was suffering, because of me. You were destroying my hand, but I didn't care, I just wanted you to stop suffering, I just wanted that for once, fate wouldn't make me pay for my mistakes.

“Keep talking to her, Donna,” Miranda told me, while she acted on your body, while her hands were stained with blood. “Don't let her fall asleep.”

I nodded profusely, leaning over you, holding your hand tightly in mine as you sobbed.

“Come on, tesoro, hold on, I know you can do it... You are the love of my life...” I repeated over and over again. You didn't seem to listen to me, or didn't want to, how could you believe those words when I was responsible for your suffering?

“I can't take it anymore...” You whispered with a weak voice, squeezing your eyes tightly, with the strength that began to lack in my hand.

I looked at you scared, but I tried to stay calm, looking at the priestess, my Goddess, who seemed very focused, her hands red with your blood. My hands were the ones covered in blood, not hers. That was all my fault.

“Come on, my love... Just a little more, it won't be long now,” I said, trying to control my voice, trying not to fall into a heartbreaking cry. You needed my strength. You needed your executioner to be your salvation.

“Donna...” You sighed, your voice becoming weaker. Your hand was dead in mine, you couldn't hold it tightly anymore. I didn't want to see it, but I saw the life disappearing in your eyes, and I panicked.

“Miranda! Do something, (Y/N) is going to...” I screamed desperately, when I noticed a weak hand on my cheek, forcing me to look at you. There was a too-calm smile on your face, your sobs had stopped.

“Shhh, don't be afraid, my Donna...” You said with an agonized voice, making the tears I was suppressing finally run down my cheeks.

“This is all my fault,” I sobbed, lowering my head and resting it on the stretcher, without letting you go, I would never let you go, (Y/N).

“No, my love... It's not your fault,” you said, trying to console me, making me feel even worse. You didn't have to console me, you should make me suffer. Give me back a bit of your pain. I wish I was the one on that stretcher, and not you.

“I did this to you...” I said, rubbing my face on your chest, noticing for myself your slow heartbeats.

“It's not your fault, do you hear me?” You repeated, making an effort, clenching your teeth when another spasm of pain ran through your body.

“Her vital signs are dropping. We have to sedate her,” Miranda commented. She seemed absent until that moment.

“What?” I asked scared, looking up at the drip that the witch gave you. “What are you doing?”

“I have already told you. If I don't sedate her, both she and the baby will die,” the priestess said, the one to blame for everything, the real culprit. If her divine grace had not granted me the gift of creating life, I would not be like this. You would not be like this.

“Donna, calm down, everything will be fine...” You murmured, closing your eyes, with a strange smile on your face. “You know I love you, right?”

“(Y/N)...” I murmured, only being able to say your name, not even being able to say how much I loved you, how much I was sorry for having hurt you.

“Promise me one thing, okay? Promise you'll take care of that baby...” You said, with a tone that made me panic.

“No, no, don't say goodbye, you, you can take care of it too, we will be, we will be a family...” I said desperately, seeing how your body relaxed dangerously, probably due to Miranda's medicines.

“I love you…”

“No, no, (Y/N), (Y/N)...” I said when your body collapsed on the stretcher. Crying, I shook your shoulders. My head thought too many things, I felt too many things that I lost track of reality, I was trapped in a spiral of pain, of guilt. It had been all my fault.

Because of you, Donna, because of you, Donna…Donna…

“Donna! Are you listening to me?” Miranda's abrupt voice made me raise my head and return to the world, return to reality, to that terrible reality. “Come here, quickly.”

I kissed the back of your limp hand, trying not to see the weakness of your unconscious body, and I approached Miranda, who looked at me with almost the same hatred as you did that day.

“Hold the head carefully,” she ordered me, placing me in front of you, in that bloodbath. That little monster was killing you. It was taking the love of my life.

“Two drops...” Miranda murmured, introducing another syringe into the serum.

I couldn't think clearly. My bloody hands were definitive proof that I killed you, that I put you through that. I will always thank Mother Miranda for preventing me to lose my temper even more.

“Wake up at once!” She screeched. “Hold the baby and pull it out slowly.”

“What about (Y/N)?” I asked immediately, looking at your inert face, your breathing almost non-existent.

“Damn...” The blonde grumbled, grabbing the collar of my dress. “Stop acting stupid and do what I tell you. Otherwise they will die.”

I nodded, terribly scared, holding that little head that, after a spasm, turned into a baby, which I picked up in my arms. I was paralyzed with that bloody mass in my hands. It wasn't moving, and neither were you. It was the worst of my nightmares, the worst of my punishments.

“Come on, breathe...” I whispered, cradling that little baby full of blood, the blood of my sins, my mistakes. This was all my fault.

A screeching cry filled that small laboratory. The little being that I had in my hands writhed and cried desperately. I sighed, letting more tears roll down my cheeks. My daughter had been born, she had survived.

The sound of scissors, cutting what still bound the girl to you woke me up again. Miranda pushed me away with a gentle push and a slightly calmer look, nodding.

“Well done, stay back, I'll try to stop the bleeding,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder and taking a quick look at the baby, who was still crying inconsolably.

It was eternal agony. I could only see blood, death. I could only think about that afternoon, I could only think that beautiful baby I was holding in my arms was the cause of your misery. I couldn't even look at it. I couldn't even feel the happiness I should feel.

Miranda sighed after an hour of erratic movements in your body. Her gaze turned to me. I couldn't interpret it and that made me shake.

“She's alive... For now...” She whispered, making me close my eye in relief but worried at the same time. “I really didn't think she would do it.”

“Is she alive?” I asked incredulously. It certainly didn't seem like it, your body barely moved, the sound of that infernal machine confirmed Miranda's words, but there was nothing that made me think calmly. Not even the daughter I had in my arms.

“For now. She has lost a lot of blood,” Miranda commented, washing her hands in a sink. I wish it were as easy as that, I wish by just washing my hands, your blood would disappear from them. “Let me take a look at the baby.”

Involuntarily, I handed the girl over to her, my gaze focused on your body, in the blood on the sheets. I killed you, it was all my fault.

“Fine...” The witch murmured, examining the girl cautiously and returning her to me shortly after. I didn't want to hold her in my arms, she was to blame, I was to blame. “The girl is fine,” she sighed, heading to a table and mixing something on it.

I didn't respond, I just moved my arms, wishing that terrifying cry would go away.

“Here,” Miranda said, holding a small bottle in her hand. I looked at it suspiciously and then looked back at you. “The girl is hungry, can't you see it?”

“It should be (Y/N) who…” I mumbled, shaking my head, making the witch snort again.

“(Y/N) isn't there, Donna!” She yelled, surely exhausted by the effort, and by my behavior. “Stop whining and feed your daughter.”

I nodded. It was hard to see Miranda so angry. Surely people were right, I am so sick in the head that not even the one who called herself my savior could stand me. Unsure, with trembling hands, I took the bottle, slowly tilting it towards the baby, who didn't think twice before starting to drink almost desperately.

“That's it...” Miranda said, plopping down next to me, exhausted. I couldn't even thank her. I didn't even feel that adoration I should feel towards her. I was to blame, but so was she, she made me like this.

“You were hungry, right?” I asked softly to the baby, who squirmed in response. Seeing that being so defenseless, so beautiful, I regretted wishing it had never existed.

But not even that intense happiness I felt having my daughter in my arms could eclipse your last words, your last declaration of your love for me. I just wanted it not to be the last. I wanted you to get up, for a miracle to happen.

I couldn't think of anything else.

“You've been lucky,” Miranda said, taking the now empty bottle, with a cold look, with the only look she could have. I should have realized. I should not have wanted her to save me from my miseries. “This usually doesn't turn out well.”

“Lucky? (Y/N) is...”I protested immediately, making the baby cry again, making me nervous again.

“She’s alive, Donna,” Miranda corrected. “You should be glad the baby survived. I don't understand you.”

“You can't possibly understand me,” I hissed angrily, making her frown. “This is all my fault.”

“Well, if you think so, you should have thought about it before, right?” She told me mockingly, making me look up at her, wanting to see her on that stretcher instead of you.

I shook my head, knowing that baby came into the world because I was crazy, sick, because I thought I would lose you. I wish I had known I was going to lose you like this, I wish I could have suppressed my instincts.

“Can I leave you alone? I need a shower,” the blonde sighed, standing up with disdain and looking disgusted at her bloody clothes.

I looked at her with an eye of fire. I couldn't blame her for doubting me but, I felt like she really had to, that I was a danger. I put you in danger, it was all my fault. Slowly, I nodded and she looked at me suspiciously, but she walked away.

The silence was overwhelming. The baby had fallen asleep in my arms, I had almost forgotten about it. Gods, why were you so cruel to me? How could I forget my own daughter?

I looked at you and got up slowly, walking towards you, sitting in the chair I occupied a few moments ago, where I heard those words, the words I should have heard that afternoon.

“Look, (Y/N), she’s beautiful, don't you think?” I said with a sincere smile, showing the baby, who peacefully sleeping.

Your breathing didn't change. Your smile didn't appear on your face. I just thought you were really listening to me. I wanted to share that happiness I should feel. I couldn't, (Y/N), without you I couldn't feel anything.

“I can't handle this alone, tesoro... You have, you have to recover, you have to...” I whispered, falling into tears again, holding your insensitive hand, overwhelmed, alone, without you.

“If you can't, why the hell do you have a daughter?” Miranda asked, interrupting that private moment, interrupting your first meeting with our daughter.

I ignored her question, gritting my teeth. She was right.

“I don't...” I murmured confused, knowing that deep down I should defend myself, but I couldn't do it. She was right, it was all my fault, it always was. I should never have asked you to stay, to love me. Your love for me was your downfall.

“You don't, what?” The blonde insisted, taking the baby from my arms, probably because they started to shake uncontrollably. “For Gods’ sake, Donna…”

“I didn't know this would happen,” I said, frowning, replacing my tears with anger, with rage, with the lack of control I had in my life, in our life. I really couldn't know, but it was my fault.

“What didn't you know? Didn’t you know that if you played with your little thing without being careful, (Y/N) would get pregnant? Please, I thought you were smarter.”

“No!” I screeched, calming down instantly. I couldn't let my daughter know what kind of mother she had. I couldn't let my sick mind affect her as soon as she was born. “I didn't know that (Y/N) she would get so sick.”

“It was impossible for you to know,” the witch murmured, cradling the baby calmly, like a real mother, something I would never be. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and behave like what you are.”

“And what am I?” I asked madly, breathing hard, minimizing my nervous breakdown as much as possible. No, my daughter couldn't see me like that.

“I don't know, what do you think you are, Donna?” Miranda asked back, without losing her calm. There's a reason she was Mother Miranda, and not a crazy psychopath like me.

“I'm a monster...” I said without hesitation, relaxing my body, burying my face in my hands, pulling my hair hard, hurting myself, barely feeling it. The pain in my heart was more unbearable.

Miranda rolled her eyes and sighed again, looking at the baby.

“You think so? Because I think that this beautiful girl could not be the daughter of a monster,” she said, loving my daughter, doing what I had to do.

I looked away abruptly, searching for your limp hand again, squeezing it in mine, wishing that my heat would revive your body.

“Please, (Y/N), wake up, please...” I repeated over and over again, concentrating, squeezing my eye tightly, crushing your hand, letting my tears soak the stretcher. “Please… Forgive me, please…”

“Donna, enough is enough. You can't do anything,” Miranda snapped at me with a stern voice, but holding the baby carefully, with the care that I lacked.

“I have, I have to be able to... I have to save her...” I said to myself, turning to the priestess, seeing her response. If she made me like this, why couldn't she also save the love of my life?

I got down from the chair, kneeling desperately, pulling at her clothes, making her look at me with disgust, a disgust that I didn't realize.

“Mother Miranda, I’m begging you, save (Y/N)... I will do anything...” I said, sobbing again, uncontrolled, scared and hurt. I couldn't take it anymore.

“Please...” She sighed, tired of my attitude. “I told you I can't. Don't humiliate yourself any more.”

“I will give my own life if necessary, but please... Help her,” I repeated again, not listening to her words, not wanting to accept the reality that devastated the depths of my mind.

“Your own life...” She murmured, shaking her head. “What about your daughter? Who is going to take care of her? You're stupid, Donna Beneviento.”

“I... I don't...” I said confused, hurt by her words, but willing to do anything to save you. I wish I could have reconsidered sooner.

“If you care that much about (Y/N), you should do her the favor of taking care of the daughter that she had such a hard time giving birth to, don't you think? Or do you just not care about her?”

“Of course I care,” I said defensively, getting up from the ground, with the shaking in my hands completely uncontrollable.

“It's incredible...” She said, sighing at my attitude, almost desperate for my madness. Surely she also regretted saving me.

“You don't understand,” I whispered, not being able to bear the guilt, a guilt that had been dragging on for too long. “I did this to her! I have hurt her!”

“Stop, yelling... Damn, you're a stupid nutcase...” Miranda hissed, protecting my daughter from my own psychosis. “I told you that you couldn't know.”

“Maybe I couldn’t but...” I said nervously, running my hands over my forehead, hands still covered in blood, your blood, like my conscience. “I raped her! I forced her to have that baby! Just, just because... I was afraid of losing her!”

“You did what?” She asked, surprised but impassive.

“I, I forced her, I, I forced her to... I didn't want her to leave. I believed she would abandon me if I didn't... If she didn't have a reason to stay. I got her pregnant against her will and still she…. She stayed with me... She really loved me and I... I did this to her...” I confessed loud and clear, ceasing to be the only one who knew what had really happened, showing my true face, showing my true illness.

“Wow...” Miranda said, with a sinister smile on her face, one that made me shiver even more. “Did she stay after that?”

I nodded, following the priestess to a nearby couch, plopping down on it with my head buried in my knees.

The witch sighed, thinking about what to say to that horrible confession. Maybe that was the end of me. Maybe it was something so horrible that not even Miranda could bear it.

“Not all the people would do it in her situation, don't you think?” She whispered with a passive voice, she almost seemed not to be talking to me. I raised the head, looking at her out of the corner of my eye, embarrassed.

“I was jealous, I couldn't bear the idea of losing her and now... Now I've done it, I've lost her...” I murmured, feeling like the most despicable person in the world, which I really was.

“Well, that's still not true,” Miranda said, with a mocking grin, moving the baby in her arms, cradling it relentlessly. “Tell me, do you think I love my daughter?”

I nodded confused by the question. Her deceased daughter, Eva, was a taboo subject in the village, no one, not even my siblings, could talk about her.

“Of course I do,” I answered tiredly, looking at you, wishing you would move, that you would open your eyes to end this torture. “You have done everything possible to get her back.”

“I have killed, I have done horrible things for her, and you know it better than anyone,” she commented in a low voice, as if she wanted to be more evil than me. Nobody could be. “Well, if there is someone to blame for this situation it is me, don't you think?”

I didn't respond, I didn't even move.

“Do you know what the difference is between you and me, Donna?” She asked, seeing my passivity, seeing that my mind was very far from her words. I shook my head, staring at the ground, at my bloody hands. “I don’t regret my actions.”

That sentence sent chills through my body, forcing me to look at the witch, who was looking back at me with those gray, empty eyes, impassive in the face of such a horrible statement.

“You love her, right?” Miranda asked with a softer voice. I nodded, I couldn't do anything else. “She loved you, Donna, she loves you.”

“But I don't... I have, I have failed her,” I said with a calmer voice, watching you every second, looking for the slightest sign of life in your body.

“Of course, that's why after everything you've done to her, she's stayed with you,” Miranda mocked, crying out the light cry of the baby, my daughter. “If you want to redeem yourself for your actions you can only do one thing...” she said, handing me the baby slowly. “Take care of your daughter.”

I nodded, looking at the small creature in my arms.

“Go home, Donna. I think we all need a break,” the witch said, standing up and checking the strange monitors you were connected to. I shook my head.

“No, I won't leave without (Y/N)” I protested, standing up, angering my savior again, who rolled her eyes, sighing listlessly.

“Very well, whatever you want... But if I find out that you neglect the baby, I will finish you off, is that clear?”

Thus the hours passed, the days.

I didn't leave your side, neither did Miranda. She watched you every day, but only for a while, I spent with you, with our daughter the remaining time. You didn't wake up, you didn't open your eyes and hope was slowly fading from my heart. But there was some truth in Miranda's words: I regretted it. I would be capable of anything to make you recover, even... Losing you.

“Okay, okay, Antonella it's maybe old-fashioned,” I said amused, sitting next to you like I always did, trying to talk to you, trying to get my voice to bring you back to my side.

“Angie, her name has to be Angie,” my doll said, my only company in my moments of loneliness.

“No, no way,” I said, looking at the baby, now looking better, with incipient black hair and bright eyes, my eyes. “Come on, (Y/N), give me a hand, this girl needs a name.”

My madness had relaxed, but I began to get unhinged, to talk to you as if you were there. You weren't there, and that was my fault.

“Please...” I sobbed, unable to continue pretending that I was happy, unable to make myself believe that everything was okay. “Please, (Y/N)...”

“No, no, no, no, no, Donna, no, don't break down again,” Angie said, getting on the stretcher and making gestures with her hands.

“Angie... I can't take it anymore...” I said with a broken voice. “I want her to come back.”

“Do you know the only thing that has to come back? Your knucklehead,” the doll protested, making me frown as the puppet watched the baby, trembling in my arms. “The girl… The girl, Donna.”

I composed myself, holding the baby properly, who was about to slip out of my arms. Maybe Miranda was right and I couldn't take care of it. It was all my fault.

“Come on, come on, you have to calm down, you don't help (Y/N) that way,” Angie said, helping me as she could, showing the rational side of her, my rational side.

“I can't...” I sighed desperately, holding back tears.

“Come on, cheer up, do you remember what nonna Giovanna said?”

“Quando ci vuole, ci vuole...” I repeated the old woman's words, those that called for responsibility, no matter how unpleasant or hard it was.

“That's right, you have to be strong, Donna, if not for yourself, do it for the baby.” I have to confess that Angie has never helped me that much. “Hey… What do you think about Giovanna?”

“Giovanna...” I sighed, looking at the girl, who had fallen asleep peacefully again, as if she were not in the arms of a dangerous madwoman.

“Yes, like the nonna, doesn't she seem great to you?” Angie said, excited.

I looked at the baby again, baby who took one of my fingers in her hands.

“Do you like Giovanna, my love?” I asked softly, getting used to the idea of having to take care of that girl on my own, to thinking that you would never wake up.

“It’s a beautiful name...”

“Well, that's my grandmother's name,” I said, totally unaware of hearing that voice, that voice that I hadn't heard for so long.

“It seems perfect to me, Donna…”

“Yes, I think she likes it and...” I said, stopping immediately, turning pale and moving little by little, breathing with tremendous difficulty.

Your eyes, your eyes were open, your face showed a weak smile, but a smile. I was paralyzed when your hand rose to mine, caressing it slowly, trying to touch the girl in my arms.

“Gods...” I murmured nervously, I was out of breath. “(Y/N)...”

“It seems like I've been away for a while, right?” You asked, looking at me with tender eyes, with no resentment, lacking that guilt I carried on my shoulders.

I cried desperately, smiling, holding the baby while caressing your face, leaning down to kiss you, to feel your lips again.

“Gods, tesoro... My love...” I said repeatedly, wishing it wasn't a dream, one of many I had while I was taking care of you. Your laugh showed me that it wasn't.

“Hey, hey, don't worry, I haven't died, or so I think...” You joked, being yourself, as always, making me gasp at your lack of tact. “I'm alive, right?”

“Of course, of course, amore mio...” I said, crying, unable to stop doing so, happy and regretful at the same time. “You are alive…”

“Hey, hey, enough, don't overwhelm me, Donna,” you protested, seeing my unfailing displays of affection, all the kisses that covered your face.

“I'm sorry,” I said, confused, regretful, but euphoric. You had returned, my love, you had returned to me.

“Okay, okay... Hey, can you let me see that beautiful girl you have in your arms?” You asked, looking at your daughter, our daughter. I smiled, my vision blurred by tears, and nodded.

“Go with mom...” I whispered as I handed Giovanna to you.

“Hey, what a beautiful girl... What black hair you have...” You said amused, hugging the baby in a terribly tender way, like the mother you were, like the mother I couldn't be. “You're a little Donna, huh?”

The girl made a strange sound and our gazes met for a moment, when I began to calm down.

“Mom has been away for a while, but I see that mommy has taken good care of you, right? Gods, Donna, she is beautiful, she is a miracle,” you commented, looking at me with excitement, one that I did not expect to see again.

“The miracle is that you're back,” I murmured, exchanging happiness for sadness, for guilt. It was all my fault.

“I wasn't going to leave you alone so easily,” you joked, cradling the baby, slowly sitting up, weak, but alive, awake.

“You always take everything as a joke,” I said with a dark voice, annoyed by your indifferent attitude. Cazzo, (Y/N) you almost died because of me.

“You already know me,” you responded, as if you hadn't noticed my annoyance. “Um…” You sighed, seeing my distraught face, seeing how my hand moved away from your body. “Come on, relax.”

“Relax? How can you ask me to do that? I was about to kill you,” I said, breathing nervously again, with an uncontrollable hubbub of voices in my head.

You shook your head, eyebrows raised.

“What are you talking about? Whoa, whoa, mommy Donna really needs a break,” you joked, cradling the baby, talking to her instead of me.

“Well, of course I need a break, I've been here for two weeks taking care of you and you're just making fun of it,” I protested, angry but calm. No, I couldn't mess it up again. “It was all my fault, I almost lost you because of my selfishness, and you tell me to relax?”

“You made a mistake, yes, and I've already forgiven you,” you responded with a more serious tone, facing me as only you could do. “Don't spoil my resurrection, will you?”

“A mistake?” I asked ironically, getting up from the chair. “You should hate me.”

“How curious... Mommy says I hate her, but I don't, what do you think, Gio?” You continued joking, making anger rise through my veins.

“I almost killed you, I have destroyed your life, I have burdened you with the responsibility of a baby that you were not ready for and you don't care...” I said furiously, ignoring Angie's pulling on my dress.

“Your only mistake, Donna, was thinking that I didn't love you,” you said, with your cold expression, with tired, bright eyes. “You are not to blame for the pregnancy complications.”

“But I am to blame for the pregnancy,” I whispered, sitting down again, controlling my nerves, just as I learned for you. “I'm a monster.”

“Donna...” You whispered, getting closer to me, speaking in a way that I didn't deserve. “You are not, and you know why?”

I shook my head, sobbing again. I don't deserve your love, (Y/N).

“Because you regret it,” you said, immediately reminding me of Mother Miranda, who claimed that a monster would never regret her horrible acts. “Look, I know that maybe it wasn't the right way, I know that you did wrong, but we can't fix it now. I have forgiven you and also... Look, look what a precious little thing...” You said in a tender voice, showing me the baby who was lying calmly in your hands. “How can you regret having created something like that?”

“But…”

“Listen to me, Donna. I'm very sleepy and I don't feel like arguing with you anymore. You are not guilty of anything. You never lost me, you will never lose me. I love you, and I loved you then, I love you now, and I will always love you.”

“I love you too,” I whispered, sobbing, accepting your caresses.

“That's what matters. I can't forgive you because there is nothing to forgive. So pull yourself together, smile and let's be a happy family, what do you think?”

“I don't think I deserve it,” I said relaxed, sighing, letting all my fears out with the air. “But I will do everything possible to take care of you, to take care of both of you. I love you so much...”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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justauthoring · 2 years ago

Text

catalyst.

*catalyst: a person or thing that precipitates an event.

pairing: manjirou “mikey” sano x f!reader

a/n: i have no idea where this is supposed to take place in the canon timeline lol, i just want to write something angst for mikey and i find his character so fascinating.

warnings: kisaki lol, death.

You were the catalyst for everything.

Kisaki Tetta knew that now.

Months of carefully crafted plans repeatedly ruined; his everlasting plan to mold Mikey into the perfect leader for the gang he envisioned had failed right before his own eyes more times than he could count on one hand. Forced to watch as it all fell apart and he’d been made to look like a fool in front of those he demanded respect from enough to have Kisaki fuming with humiliation and anger.

The worst part? You didn’t even know it.

It wasn’t like you’d figured him out, or had any suspicions like he knew a few others did. You were none the wiser to Kisaki, and every time you had interacted with him, you’d been nothing but completely pleasant and warm. You, with your bright smile and twinkling eyes and that sweet voice of yours that could carry on for hours without fault. You were friendly, incredibly so, able to talk to anyone and everyone and never stumble over your words or wonder what to say. People gravitated towards you, and you let them.

Kisaki was just another face that you greeted occasionally, a member of your boyfriends organization that you always made sure to show respect to. You didn’t have a single idea of what darkness resided in Kisaki’s mind or the things he wanted to do, specifically to your boyfriend.

But you were warm and you were glowing, an ethereal presence amongst Mikey that constantly pulled him back in when he slipped just a little too far into the darkness. Mikey’s eyes shined when he was with you, even had a sparkle of life to them as he smiled at you, giddy and completely in love, and all it took was the mere mention of you, and Mikey would remind himself of who he was and that was that.

Mikey had lost more than he could process, but he still had you.

Kisaki knew that now, as he watched Mikey dote on you, a single poke on your nose that had you blushing as you wiped at the crumbs on the corner of your lips of the snack he’d given you. Mikey never shared with anyone – well, anyone but you. And Kisaki felt positively sick as he watched the two of you, a pure hatred that was so unfairly focused completely on you, a glint in his gaze as let his eyes wander across the reason for all of his failings.

You were the reason for everything, and Kisaki had every intention of changing that.

You were a piece of the puzzle that was no longer needed.

Fingers digging into Mikey’s jacket, you hold fast, feeling the wind whip through your hair, making your eyes sting and your heart race.

Mikey’s laughing, blissfully unaware of the deep fear coursing through your veins as you press your face into his back and shut your eyes. He’d told you this would be fun, and even if you’d been skeptical, you’d believed him. You know how Mikey loves going on rides and you always felt bad that you never go with him; so you’d mustered up your courage and pushed back your fear and agreed to go on one with him.

You were now severely regretting that fact.

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve screamed at them to stop. But you hold back your own terror for Mikey’s sake, trying to take pleasure in the feeling of being so close to him and ignore the way you constantly feel like you’re about to be taken by the wind and go flying off.

When Mikey finally stops, you accept his hand with shaky legs, gripping onto him tightly enough so that you don’t fall flat on your face.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Mikey lightly laughs, taking in the paleness of your skin and the way you can barely stand.

“It was awful,” you huff, bracing yourself against the wall slightly away from him. “I’ve never been more scared before in my life.”

But Mikey just smiles; “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

And your eyes fall on him, stunned by his confession as your lips part and a soft blush falls across your cheeks. But still, despite your surprise, your answer comes with ease; “of course,” you nod, “I know.” Then, almost like an afterthought, you can’t help but pout. “Doesn’t make it any less scary though.”

He makes his way over to you, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen in your face, letting his fingers run through your hair with a fond smile that is only ever reserved for you. You find yourself mesmerized with the way he stares at you, gaze so soft, so adoring that it takes your breath away every time you’re faced with it.

Only Mikey can ever make you feel this way; an indescribable warmth that flows through you and makes your insides feel like butterflies and your legs feel like jelly (even more than they already do). Mikey had a way about him, always has, for as long as you’ve known him, his charm is soft and gentle but it makes you a blushing mess every single time.

You’d do anything Mikey asked of you – that you’re sure of.

“Was it that scary?”

You concede at that, shoulders falling; “no,” you admit, unable to say anything else with the way he’s looking at you. “Just takes some getting used to.”

His face brightens then, a kid-like glow of excitement washing over his face. “You’ll go on a ride with me again then?”

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve said no; unable to deny the way your heart is still racing and you feel like throwing up.

But, this is Mikey.

“Of course.”

You were entirely too trusting.

Mikey had told you that a million times, that you shouldn’t be, exasperated at the way you trusted anyone's word and simply said yes to anything someone asked of you. It didn’t matter who and it didn’t matter what; if you were capable of helping, you would.

It’s why when Kisaki asks you to follow him, saying he wants your help for a surprise he’s working on for Mikey, you just smile and nod, letting him lead you away. You’re blissfully unaware of the dark, looming threat that peers over your shoulder. The smirk on Kisaki’s face is perceived as a smile, and you mimic one back to him, head tilted and eyes crinkled in warmth as you nod, not even questioning when Kisaki leads you into what looks like an abandoned building.

He must just want to keep the surprise secret, you figure.

And you continue to think nothing of it until there’s a smack against the back of your head, and your vision blurs, body wobbling as Kisaki’s name leaves your lips in a echoed gasp of a mixture of surprise and pain, collapsing on the ground with a resounding thud. Your vision continues to darken until it turns black completely, the last thing you’re able to register is Kisaki's looming figure over your own, that same smirk that suddenly looks more sinister than you remember it looking staring back at you.

You’re fourteen when Mikey kisses you for the first time.

You’re both young, stupid teenagers that barely know what commitment really means or what the weight of a relationship is supposed to promise. But you don’t really care either way. You’re completely smitten with Mikey, unable to tear yourself from his side, wanting to spend every waking moment with him, even if that involves simply following him around.

And Mikey feels the exact same.

It’s why he kisses you that day after school.

He can’t hide his feelings anymore. You erupt a fire in him that he can’t ignore, this itch to be closer, be more with you… When Mikey pulls you from class that day, tugging you all the way outside until he tucks you into a corner away from prying eyes, he doesn’t even say anything before his lips press against your own. And yet, there’s not even a moment of hesitation from you. The kiss is a shock, Mikey knows that, but when his lips press against your own, you’re responding with as much want as him.

The kiss is messy, sloppy and just what you’d imagine two fourteen year old's to kiss like.

It’s still the best kiss of your life though.

When Mikey pulls away, he’s breathless, chest rising and falling with every breath he inhales and you’re bright red, embarrassed but completely euphoric at the fact that Mikey had finally, finally kissed you.

You giggle when he meets your eyes and he grins wide.

It’s the first time you see that sparkle in his eyes you haven’t seen since his brother's death, a bit of life returning to his gaze as you set your hand on your cheek. Your touch is gentle, unsure at first, before you let yourself relax, petting his cheek with your thumb, unable to tear your eyes away from his own.

Mikey can’t either.

“I love you,” you admit, breathless.

And he says it back too, just as breathless. Just as smitten. “I love you too.”

You’re both fourteen. Young and dumb and teenagers.

And yet, you know you mean it when you tell him you love him.

You know he means it too.

You’re not returning his texts.

You never go more than a few hours without texting him back. But it’s been two days.

At first Mikey had tried to convince himself you were just busy – he remembered you saying you had a lot of work to catch up on and so he eases his mind with that; you’re just busy.

But when you’ve been busy in the past, it hasn't stopped you from texting him back. Even a simple “hey <3”.

Mikey starts to panic. Time starts to tick and the panic worsens, this weight pressing on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He can’t think straight, he can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t do anything but worry about where you are. He wants to hold you, wants to have you close, kiss you… anything. He doesn’t care what, Mikey just needs you.

He cannot lose you.

It’s a fact he knows without even the slightest bit of doubt. Mikey perhaps understands himself better than most think he does – he’s not stupid enough to not realize the dark thoughts that course through his mind. He’s found himself slipping into them more than he can count, shrouded in darkness repeatedly, and the person that has always brought him back was you.

Always you.

Smiling at him, calling for him, hands on his cheeks as you kiss him so passionately, with love unlike he’s ever felt before.

After all he’s lost, all he’s suffered.., sure, he still has his friends… still had Toman. But through the darkness, you’re always on the other side of it, the light at the end of the tunnel, and Mikey knows without a doubt that you are what’s holding him together.

He cannot lose you.

A knock on his door pulls himself from his thoughts. His eyes snap to the door as it slowly opens, Draken’s head popping through.

Mikey straightens, shoulders tensing.

“We found her,” Draken says, “we know where she is.”

The fact that Draken doesn’t elaborate doesn’t escape Mikey, but he hardly cares. The mention of finding you is all that matters and he’s jumping to his feet before he even realizes, grabbing his jacket on the way; “where.” His voice is dark, sharp, demanding the answer right then and there.

He needs to get to you.

“An abandoned building just twenty minutes from here,” Draken explains, eyes never leaving Mikey. He continues to watch him, silent, until Mikey moves to step past him and then Draken’s hand falls on his shoulder, grip tight, halting his steps. “Mikey.”

His voice is low, thick.

Mikey hesitates, eyes turning to his friend, a glare set on his features; “what?”

“What happens if you find her there and she’s…” Draken doesn’t even want to say it. You’re his friend too. “What if she’s dead?”

“She’s not.”

And Mikey isn’t even sure if he believes the words. The fear is crawling up the back of his throat and he’s finding it hard to focus on anything other then this horrible feeling welling deep within him.

“We don’t know who took her, we don’t even know why.” Draken reminds, desperate for him to listen, for Mikey’s sake more than anything. “Mikey…”

“She’s alive,” Mikey says, eyes never turning away from Drakens. “I know it.”

Mikey knew from the moment he saw you, you were the one.

Tears pouring down your face, cheeks red, snot-nosed, your pretty pink blouse all mucked up with dirt and mud – and yet, you stand strong, tall, in front of the boys who’d kicked you down in the first place. You’re scared, shaking, but you don’t let it show in your face. Through the tears, your glare is harsh and your lips are set tight, in a straight line, and you don’t waver from your position.

Behind you, a kitten is curled up on the ground.

Mike doesn’t even really understand it. Doesn’t even realize he’s moved until he has. There’s four boys surrounding you, cornering you, moving to grab at you, pull at you, hurt you and despite knowing that, you don’t move. Your focus is wholly on the cat behind you, desperate to keep it safe, and Mikey likes the way you stand up even if you have no chance of winning.

Even if you’ve already lost.

Reminds him of someone he knows.

He knocks the four boys down with ease. Two of them go down before they even realize what’s happening, and even then the other two don’t manage to do much before they get a nasty kick to their faces, sending them flying and landing straight in the dirt. When they get up, it’s in fear and all four of them go running without even a single glance in your direction.

When it’s just the two of you, MIkey stares back at you only to see you staring at him with awe.

The tears have since dried on your cheeks, just a stained reminder, but you’re no longer sniffling or shaking. Instead, your eyes are glowing with admiration and your fists are clenched in front of you tightly in excitement.

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

Mikey blinks at you, that having been the last thing he expected.

But then, as the surprise fades, he finds himself laughing; “you wouldn’t be able to kick like me.” He says it in with a air of cockiness, hands falling on his hips as he stares back at you.

You pout then, clenching your fists at your side; “I so could!” You declare, “just because I’m a girl, doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”

And Mikey, oddly, believes you.

He doesn’t say anything in response, though, simply lets his gaze lower, to the cat behind you, and it takes you a moment, but slowly you follow his gaze, reminded of why you’d been there in the first place. Your entire demeanor changes then, face softening and body easing as you scoop the cat up in your arms. It doesn’t fight you, easing into the warmth of another, and you pet it softly, hushing it.

“Is it your cat?”

You turn back to Mikey at his question, shaking your head; “no. Just saw them kicking at her,” you explain with a frown. “It’s just a cat.” And it’s simple; as if that’s all the explanation you needed.

It is.

“Yeah,” Mikey shrugs, eyeing the nasty bruise on your cheek, “but you got hurt because of it.”

“I’d rather get hurt than let someone who can’t defend themselves get hurt.” you huff, as if that’s obvious. But the annoyance from your face fades as you turn back to him, beaming brightly as you meet his eyes. “Besides, you came to save me anyways.”

You send him a toothy grin, and Mikey blinks, face falling with bafflement as he stares back at you.

He... saved you?

“My hero,” you grin, without wavering confidence. You say it like you’ve known Mikey for years, as if this wasn’t the first the two of you have spoken, like you have no doubt in your mind that Mikey will continue to do just that -- save you.

Then you add, a toothy grin on your lips, “until I can learn to fight like you.”

To be honest, Mikey finds he likes being your hero.

He finds you too late.

You’ve bled out, stabbed twice. Your hands are tied behind your back, your mouth gagged, dried tears streaming from your eyes, staining your cheeks. Your skin is pale, eyes lifeless, and even as Mikey pulls you into his arms, freeing your arms, you don’t move. You don’t say anything.

You're dead.

He’d been too late.

Draken who stands behind him doesn’t say anything. Nor does the rest of Toman. His friends stay eerily silent, some crying, some in shock, but no one moves. No one says a single thing.

Mikey feels like he’s floating. He’s staring at you, he knows you're dead, can feel your body growing cold in his arms, but he finds himself unable to say anything. When his hands move to remove your gag, there’s a moment where everything freezes.

A long, terrifying moment where nothing happens.

And then he feels his eyes watering and his vision blurring when, as seconds pass, you still don’t move.

Mikey knows you’re dead, somewhere deep in the back of his mind. Of course he does. But half of him still expects you to move, to say something, to smile at him, with those eyes of yours he loves; a stupid, naïve part of him that can’t accept that you are dead. Because, you can’t be. Any moment now, you’d move, smile at him, say his name and it’d all be okay.

You don’t, of course, you’re completely still in his arms, limp and unmoving and gone.

Just gone.

He’s sobbing. Mikey doesn’t even realize it.

He’s screaming your name, screaming for you.

Mikey doesn’t hear himself.

Your hero.

What a joke.

And as his world darkens, and everything slips away from him, he’s unaware of the glinting eyes that stare at his back.

Everything happened according to plan. Finally.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokrev #tokrev x reader #mikey #mikey x reader #mikey imagine #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader

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