#don’t worry this isn’t the last of hopeless | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imsofreakingtired · 10 days ago

Note

sevika gets drunk and ends up forgetting about her own wife and ends up in the brothel, and reader end up knowing all, but dont have courage enough to confront her, but she noticed the changes on your behavior like, dont wanting kisses often, dont wanting to cudlle at nigh or worried when she tells you that she have to work and etc.

(I am obsseeeed how you write angst, mwah mwah)

- 🧸

ohh absolutely. i love that idea<3 also tysmm!

leave you with nothing

content warning(s): idiot lesbians (slight angst) (not too bad i swear)

"are you sick of me? would you like to be? i'm trying to tell you something something that i've already said"

~~~

i think she would get drunk only when work was really stressing her out. or if her sense of self-worth is just at an all-time low (i’m thinking of the time silco dead up ordered her to help with a dead body, which was shocking even to renni, who was literally the mother of the victim.) when she feels trapped, hopeless, powerless, like the enterprise isn’t getting zaun anywhere closer to its ultimate goal. she doesn’t want to confide in you about this, she wants to keep up a front of stoic confidence to you, because she’s afraid if she reveals herself to be vulnerable you will leave her.

so she drinks her troubles away and tells herself she’ll clear everything up to you in the morning if you ask why she came home late, she tells herself she’ll just play a round of cards or two with her drinking mates, that you’ll never know the difference (never thinks she’s more sober than when she’s stinking drunk.)

one drink leads to another and she’s vaguely aware of her desire for something else that night - a woman’s touch, a woman’s voice, someone to hold her and tell her she is doing alright. she’s too drunk to remember where she’s felt this before, who has held her like this, and all she is aware of is an all-consuming loneliness that threatens to devour her alive. she’s thrown back into the old days before she met you, when all that awaited her after a hard day’s work was an empty apartment strewn with emptier liquor bottles. she doesn’t want to go back to this home.

so she makes her way to babette’s, incredibly calm and collected—she’s good at playing sober when she wants to, and babette is surprised to see her check in— isn’t she married? — but she asks no questions and Sevika sees a woman who kind of looks like you. the eyes. the shape of the face. the hips, the way she moves in the dusky light. she picks her immediately.

she’s too drunk to care about how it might look, asking the woman if it’s alright if she just lay with her head in the woman’s lap. telling her to stroke her hair and let her sleep for a while. even on the walk here she was hot with desire, but now she just wants to rest and hear the pretty words you would whisper in her ear when you thought she was asleep.

she comes home at around 4 in the morning and promptly passes out on the couch, not even bothering to change. smelling of someone else’s perfume. you find her there in the morning and she doesn’t remember a single thing except that the coins in her pocket are gone.

you know the signs; you’re not stupid, but you don’t want to think the worst. until you overhear Chuck talking to some of the patrons at the last drop.

“yeah, Sevika was here, swept the table and then left in the middle of the round talking about Babette’s.” “Babette’s?? doesn’t she have a wife?”

you wander through the rooms in a daze for the rest of the day as you wait for Sevika to come home. you’re furious at first, then you’re cold with dread. was it you? had you done something wrong to make her want something else, someone else?

you don’t want to confront her, you’ve convinced yourself by now that whatever it was, it must have been something you did wrong, and even though you can’t think of a single time Sevika seemed angry or even unhappy with you, you can’t bring yourself to start the conversation.

she comes home tired and her eyes light up when she sees you. when she tries to kiss you, you turn your face away. her hand reaches for your waist, you dodge her touch.

“baby, what’s with you?” she asks. “i smell funny or what?”

yeah, you smell of babette’s. you smell of liquor. you smell of lies.

“nothing. i’m tired. you want dinner?”

“i ate already,” she says. “i’m going to bed.”

okay, so we’re playing ignorant, you think. two can play at that game.

as the days go on you avoid her more and more. you still clean up after her in the apartment, cook her meals, wash and mend her clothes as usual. but you don’t stay up waiting for her to come home, and you don’t let her kiss you in bed. Sevika’s at a complete loss—she’s never seen you this way before. unlike you, she’d never wonder if maybe she were at fault. if she feels she hasn’t done wrong, she’d stick to that conviction to the bitter end. but it exasperates her, the way you elude her touches, answer her with monosyllables, stare at her with a strange apprehension in your eyes when you think she isn’t looking.

“i’m working late tonight,” she tells you one day. “don’t wait up.”

you feel your heart drop. she’s already a regular for someone at babette’s, you know it.

“what time do you think you’ll be back?” you ask, a little too quickly.

she looks at you oddly. you’ve never asked her this before. “i’ll be back when i’m back.” her brows furrow in concern. “why, is something wrong?”

“no,” you say.

after she leaves you pace the apartment for about an hour before making up your mind and running out into the street. hood over your face so you won’t be recognized, you run straight to Babette’s and burst through the doors, ignoring the strange looks you receive. no one deters you—you were also a frequent patron before you met Sevika, but you see the workers look at you and whisper to one another. it only confirms your suspicions. you reach Babette’s office and she looks up at you in surprise.

“can i help you, hon?”

“Sevika,” you say breathlessly. “how many times has she checked in here?”

her brows lift. she checks her records. “i don’t do this for anyone, you know - confidential information. but since you’re her wife…”

“how many times, please?”

she looks up at you. “just once. a month ago. she seemed inebriated. stayed only for two hours.”

just once? and drunk? Sevika, drunk? you couldn’t imagine it if you tried.

you walk back out of the brothel, barely thinking of where you’re going, barely thinking at all, when you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

Sevika’s walking swiftly down the street towards you, her eyes dark.

“what are you doing here?” she asks, grabbing your wrist.

“what am I doing here?” you shoot back. “i’m here finding out what you were doing here!”

she looks up at the sign of Babette’s place, as if she can’t understand what you mean. “i haven’t stepped foot in this place,” she growls.

“Babette’s records say otherwise.” your voice is cold.

then it all comes back to her at once. Sevika’s lips part slightly as she recalls that night, the desperation, the way she had lain in another woman’s lap.

“baby,” she says. “listen.”

“i’m done listening,” you snap, and turn on your heel. you walk away from her, leaving her behind on the street outside Babette’s.

~~~

note: pt. 2 is here!

~~~

taglist~ @notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69 @beatdariceee @sevikaaaalover @intrnetrbl @00valentina-writes00 @zelluna @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @justhereforsubsevika

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika fanfic #sevika headcanon #sevika angst #sevika x you #sevika x female reader #song: lovers rock by tv girl

503 notes · View notes

athenamikaelson · 2 months ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 23

Word Count- 5k

Warnings-Swearing, sexual innuendos, Elijah being a little asshole, mention of blood

“Damon if you don’t move your foot, I swear to whatever holy power is out there I will tase you,” I growl into my pillow as I feel Damon’s foot land on my upper back.

After waiting a moment and not getting a response, I turn around on my back, grab Demon’s foot, which is now resting on my upper chest, and throw it off of me.

Damon, who is currently passed out at the end of my bed at the Salvatore’s, releases a groan but doesn’t wake up.

I rub circles into my temple as I look around my bedroom which is currently trashed with an assortment of empty alcoholic beverages and junk food. After Damon and I left the party last night, we made our way back here and while Damon found alcohol to mend his worries and broken heart, I turned to Twinkies, chocolate, and the shitty pancakes a drunken Damon made me. While Damon cooked for me he went on a love-sick 30-minute about his heartbreaks over the past century. When he was done, we tried tackling my problem but a drunk Damon wasn’t much help. Well…a sober one isn’t either but y’know.

Flashback

“Alright,” I watch from my stool at the kitchen island as Damon pours the entire package of chocolate chips into the pancake batter, “Sooooooo, what you’re telling me is that,” He points his spatula at me, “Not one, but two of the Original brothers claim to be your soulmate and that you have a piece of each of their human souls in you?”

I throw my head onto the counter and groan, “That’s what the masses have said.”

“Interesting,” I lift up my head slightly to peer at Damon who is tapping his chin with the batter-covered spatula, resulting in batter covering his lower chin, and seems that in his drunken state, he doesn’t seem to notice or care, “And Klaus was actually the one who gave you that necklace you’ve been wearing all this time, and Elijah is like head over heels for you as well as his brother,” He pauses and then talks to himself, or babbles to himself, “I mean it was pretty obvious, I mean a blind person could see how either one of them look at you. Especially Elijah, dude has that lovesick puppy dog look on his face since the moment he pulled out those two guys' hearts,” He taps his chin again, “Or was it three?”

“Demon, seriously, not helping,” I exhaust and he shrugs turning back towards the pantry. I watch as he grabs yet another bag of chocolate chips.

“Dude, seriously? That’s the third bag. I think we have enough.”

Damon looks up at me with a glare, “My kitchen my rules. My chocolate chips.”

“And my stomach ache,” I mutter to myself as I watch him pour in the chips.

“So what do you think I should do,” Hopelessness clear in my voice.

Damon sighs, wipes his hands on the apron he’s wearing, and walks around the island to me. He stands in front of me places his hand on my shoulders and leans down to my face.

“Fuck them both. Get them out of your system. We’re planning on killing them anyway so the problem will fix itself momentarily. In the meantime, go to Poundtown,” Damon smirks and then nods his head to himself as if he just gave me the greatest piece of advice ever.

“You’re disgusting,” I glare at him and he smiles.

“And you’re a prude.”

A knocking on the downstairs door shakes me out of my head and I send a kick to Damon’s stomach.

“Demon, someone’s at the door,” I hiss and Damon rolls over onto his side but doesn’t wake up.

“Damon!”

Damon whips around and glares at me, but the sunlight protruding from my window makes him close his eyes again, “Then go answer it,” He hisses.

“What if it’s someone trying to kill us,” I whisper and he runs a hand over his face.

“Pukey…If someone was here to kill us, do you really think they would knock first?”

I think about Damon’s question for a moment then realize he’s probably right.

“Fine but if I get killed, I’m haunting you,” I say to him as I put on my slippers and head out the door.

I hear Damon mutter a sarcastic “yay” as I descend the staircase.

I get to the door and cautiously open it and when my eyes meet dark brown ones I release I low swear.

“Good afternoon to you too, Elskan,” Elijah’s eyes trail from bedhead and my makeshift pajamas which consist of Damon’s button-up shirt from yesterday and a pair of sleep shorts that barely cover my ass.

“Or should I say good morning,” Elijah’s eyes move back up to Damon’s shirt and I watch as his upper lip seems to morph into a snarl but after a split second returns to a forced smile.

“What are you doing here, Elijah,” I grip the handle of the door as I wait for his answer.

“I told you yesterday that I would answer any questions that you had for me,” Elijah gestures behind me to the living room, “May I come in?”

I glance at the living room for a moment before turning back towards the suited Original, “Don’t you have your family to deal with?”

“My siblings have lived with themselves for a thousand years, I’m sure they can go one hour without getting themselves killed,” He smirks but something in his tone makes it seem like he doesn’t believe anything he just said.

I pinch my temple and move to the side, “Ya, fine. Come on in.”

Elijah’s smile doesn’t falter as we walk into the living room and he places himself in a leather chair while I sit on my favorite sofa, tugging my knees under my chin.

“Are you dead?”

I turn around at Damon’s sarcastic voice and roll my eyes.

Damon enters the living room with a blood bag and hand and no shirt on.

“Ew, gross. Put on a shirt,” I gag and cover my eyes.

“I would but you’re wearing it, Pukey,” Damon snarks back and I move my hand away and look down at the white button-up I’m wearing.

“This is quite literally your house. Go find another shirt,” I exhaust and Damon just shrugs his shoulders and then looks over at Elijah.

I turn back towards the Original who is watching Damon and me with a flat expression. His usual smile is no longer present.

“Good morning, Elijah,” Damon smirks at him, “Funny you're here. Y’know since last night you were such a present figure in Y/n and I’s girl chats.”

I whip my head around and send daggers at Demon but he doesn’t seem to notice and if he does he certainly doesn’t care.

“Is that so,” Elijah says and I back to see him glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope,” I grab an empty root beer can that is placed next to me on the couch, from Damon and I’s movie night last night, and hurl it at Demon. Sadly, he dodges it.

“Oh that’s odd,” Damon looks down at me and taps his chin, “Because if I’m not mistaken there were talks of a certain suited Original and going to Poundtown with him,” Damon turns to Elijah, who lets out a cough, as I watch on in horror, “Hmm, must’ve been someone else then. My mistake. You two enjoy your little chat,” Damon says with a final wink to me as he practically skips into the kitchen.

I’m frozen in horror as I stare at Elijah who is staring back at me. Elijah's face appears a tinge redder than before and I can’t even imagine how fucking uncomfortable I look to him.

“I can explain,” I chirp out quickly.

Elijah raises an eyebrow and seems to have collected himself as a shit-eating grin comes over his handsome features, “Please do. I insist.”

“Well…well,” I try to think but come up with nothing, “I got nothing.”

Elijah’s smirk deepens and if it didn’t make him appear even hotter than he already is, I’d probably slap him.

“Well, you’ll just have to enlighten me on the conversation later on. I’m quite interested in learning what this, “Poundtown” place is,” Elijah says as he does air quotes around Poundtown.

“I’m going to kill myself.”

Elijah’s smirk drops and he frowns, “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

I nod, “I’m never going to be able to show my face ever again,” I pause, “Well first I’d have to kill Damon. Mutual destruction. But that could take some time, so it appears I’ll have to postpone it,” I say sadly and look back to Elijah who looks incredibly confused.

“I can’t quite tell if you’re being serious or not?”

I just shrug, “Who knows? Anyways… you said you came here to answer my questions?”

Elijah leans forward to unbutton his suit jacket, “Yes, that is correct. But,” He looks back towards the way Damon went and I swear I saw him roll his eyes, “Perhaps there is somewhere we can talk, away from listening ears.”

“Don’t mind me!” I groan at Damon’s loud voice coming from the direction of the kitchen.

“We can talk in my room,” I stand up and gesture for him to follow.

—

“I didn’t realize you had a room here,” Elijah says as he stands at the doorframe of my room. Glancing around at the trash littered on the floor along with the bottles of alcohol.

I quickly make work of gathering the littered trash and bottles, “I moved in here over the summertime and Damon gave me this room. He let me pick out the decorations and everything,” I pick up an empty bottle of bourbon and look back to Elijah, “The alcohol isn’t mine. Damon was in here last night, drinking away his sorrows.”

Elijah lets out an almost annoyed sound, “You and the eldest Salvatore brother seem to be rather…close,” He practically spits out the word as I place the trash in my pink trashcan.

I shrug, “He’s alright company, y’know when he’s not being a cunt.”

“Language, Elskan,” Elijah chastises and I roll my eyes.

“Umhm.”

Elijah takes a few steps in and starts inspecting my room more. I don’t have much in here other than some summer clothes, makeup, and other little knick-knacks that I picked up over the summer.

“Did he sleep in here last night,” Elijah questions as he picks up a glass mouse I have sitting on my mantel.

“Uh, ya. We were watching season 3 of Supernatural and his drunk ass fell asleep, why do you ask?”

Elijah sets the mouse back down and then turns to stare at me. Or really the shirt I’m wearing, “I don’t mean to intrude. But, are you and the Salvatore brother…something more,” Elijah asks the question like he’s afraid of the answer.

I stare at him for a moment and then let out a huge laugh, “Damon and I!? Never! Ew! As if! I’d rather take a hot poker to my foot than let that Neanderthal anywhere near my lips,” I laugh disgustedly and I watch as Elijah’s tense shoulders drop.

“Why? Are you jealous,” I squint my eyes at him, and his upper lip twitches?

“Jealously isn’t something I’m quite accustomed to,” Elijah walks over to me and runs a finger along the sleeve of my shirt, “But, I must admit seeing you in another man’s shirt has stirred up many unpleasant feelings, and thoughts in me.”

I bite down on my inner lip as I listen to Elijah’s deep voice.

“What kind of thoughts?”

Elijah pulls lightly on the collar of my shirt making me stumble at bit into him, “Thoughts like how much I’d like to rip this shirt off you and burn it and never let another man’s clothing touch you ever again.”

Oh Good Lord.

I open and close my mouth, “I’ll go umm… change if that’s what you want?”

I gesture to my closest and Elijah smirks proudly, “I’d appreciate that highly, Elskan.”

I nod and quickly run to my walk-in closet throw off Damon’s shirt and grab one of my dark blue Henleys.

I exit the closet to find Elijah lounging in my armchair, strumming through “The Duke and I.”

Shit.

Elijah, noticing my presence, lifts his head from the book and eyes my new attire.

“Good girl.”

Jesus Fucking Christ I’m going to-

“Stop doing that,” I stutter out as I point a finger at him.

Elijah tilts his head, quite adorably, “I’m not sure what you mean?”

I sit on the edge of my bed, across from the chair, and glare at him, “You know exactly what you’re doing. That whole smirking, flirting thing you’re doing.”

Elijah leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, “Once again, Elskan,” He locks eyes with me, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I glare at him until a shit-eating smirk comes back onto his face.

“See! There it is,” I turn around and grab a pillow and throw it at him, “Jerk!”

Elijah catches the pillow easily, and a warm laugh escapes him.

“It appears I’ve got to work on my flirting skills. It has been quite some time since I’ve tried wooing a woman,” Elijah tells me and I try to look anywhere but him.

“You don’t have to woo me,” I say as I play with the hem of my shirt.

“On the contrary, my love, yes I do. Not just as your soulmate,” I pick up my head at his words, “But as a man who is hugely infatuated with you.”

“You’re only feeling things for me because of our bond, or whatever it is. If there wasn’t a bond you wouldn’t have even looked in my direction that day with Rose.”

Elijah stands from his chair and comes to stand before me, he reaches his hand down and grabs my chin, so I have to look up at him.

“Let me assure you, bond or no bond, that a beauty like yours is one that not even the darkest of nights can hide away. You are the sun to me, Elskan. And maybe, yes, the bond is what led me to you, but the woman you are is what has made me wholeheartedly obsessed with you. In my many years of living, I have rarely come across a soul like yours. One so…pure. You’re full of this light that somehow has kept shining even when everything around you has tried to snuff it out. I have seen the heart you have with others and can only hope that one day I may be given the opportunity to be let into it as well.”

I stare up at the breathtaking man before me. My mind seems to go blank as I stare into his deep brown eyes, eyes that are filled with such longing and heartbreaking devotion.

“You truly can’t think all that of me. You’ve only known me for a few months, Elijah,” I shake my head out of his hold and he lets out a sound of disagreement.

“Elska-...Y/n,” Elijah draws my attention to him as he comes to kneel in front of me. Now it’s my turn to look down at him as he reaches his hands up and gestures for me to take them. I release a breath as I place my hands into his.

“For one thousand years, I have fought with my humanity. I have done horrendous things in the name of my family. For years I lived with this self-hatred, never thinking that one day I might be able to calm this storm I feel inside of my mind,” Elijah looks to be in pain as he seems to be thinking back to something, “But then,” His scorned look lightens as he locks eyes with me and his upper lip lifts into a smile, “I felt my heart lighten. I locked eyes with a beautiful y/e/c the day Rose-Marie called me about the doppelganger, and for the first time in a millennium that storm settled. All my mind could focus on was the angel in front of me. Seeing you gave me this sense of, calmness. As if everything I had ever done before that day meant nothing. I’d lived for a thousand years, but the moment you looked at me,” Elijah lifts my hands to his lips and presses a kiss to my inner wrist, “I became alive. That is what you are to me, Y/n. You are my life. My immortality.”

Elijah continues, “And you may say I don’t know anything about you, and you may be right. But here are some things I do know. I know that you love learning and reading,” Elijah smirks to himself, “Even if the literature you read is just sex,” Elijah releases a laugh at my horrified expression, “After I had seen what books you have in your collection. I spent my time buying my own copies and reading each of them.”

I shake my head, “Why, though?”

Elijah stands up and squeezes my hands, “What other reason do I need other than that you enjoy them? You were wary of me, but I still wanted to know everything I could about you. When I saw your stack of books I thought the closest thing to you, would be your books.”

I release a shaky breath as I look up at the man before me.

“I also know you love your family and friends more than you love yourself. Theodore is incredibly lucky to have an older sister who puts herself and her feelings second when it comes to him. I also know how you’re able to find the best in people,” He makes an annoyed face, “Clearly since you spend your time with the eldest Salvatore brother. I dislike you being around him, but even I can see how you’ve changed him. Yes, he’s an irrational insolent little child,” I send him an eye roll and he smirks, “But even I can admit his change since you’ve come around. That’s the kind of person you are, you insight goodness in others. Being around you changes people. Y/n, you are an amazing human being and I intend to show you how much I appreciate fate for blessing me with you.”

I smile up at Elijah, “You really have a way with words, y’know?”

Elijah lets out a deep chuckle, “Yes, I’ve been told this a few times before,” Elijah reaches a hand down and brushes a piece of hair behind my ear.

“How do you intend to show me?”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches and he brings his fingers down and lightly pinches my cheek, “As much as I’d love to show you, I don’t think I have enough time. And I promised to answer some of your questions.”

I let out a startled cough and nod my head, trying to act chill as hell. Oh lord, this man is freaky deeky.

“Oh ya, um, totally,” I stand up quickly and almost knock Elijah in the nose while doing so. He takes a quick step back in time and releases a chuckle.

“Okay, let me just collect myself real quick,” I take a deep breath as I start pacing my room, “Lots of emotions going around right now.’

“Take your time, Elskan.”

Elijah sits back in my armchair and I watch him. He’s back to his composed self and I wish I was able to be as calm and nonchalant as he is.

“So how old are you exactly?”

“Approximately, 1,200 years old.”

My mouth drops open.

“You’re old as fuck,” I blurt out.

Elijah raises an eyebrow, “You and that language,” He mutters while shaking his head, “But…yes. I am old as fuck.”

A loud snort escapes me and I quickly slap a hand to my mouth. I stare wide-eyed at Elijah, who appears to be quite entertained by my outburst. A light pink tinge covers his cheeks as he stares at me with a soft smile.

“Moving along…what’s your birthday?”

Elijah gives me a confused look, “Why do you ask?”

I put my hands on my hips, “Didn’t you agree to answer all of my questions,” I give him a pointed look and he smirks.

“Yes, I did. My apologies. But birthdays weren’t a big thing when I was born. So all I know was I was born sometime between November and January.”

A sense of sadness fills me, “So you really don’t know what day you were born?”

Elijah shakes his head.

“Alright…,” I tap my chin, “Then we’ll just have to give you one,” I squint my eyes and stare at him. He watches me with an unphased look, “Hmm. I don’t think you’d be a Sagittarius so that leaves either a Scorpio or Capricorn. Scorpio sounds better for you. How about November 15th?”

Elijah places one leg over the other and nods his head, “November 15th it is.”

I nod happily and then sit down on the floor across from him, “Next question…Klaus said that he was able to tell I was his soulmate by my eyes and that the soulmate thing works because I got your human soul. Is all this true?”

Elijah nods, “Like my brother I had dreams of your eyes. They gave me a sense of comfort in my moments of weakness. I knew that when I meant the person who they belonged to I would be wholly devoted to them. And I know for certain now that I was correct,” He smiles down at me but I can’t keep looking at him because I know if I do I’ll let out a stupid giggle. “Cool. Cool. Cool.,” I fiddle with my fingers, “So what exactly comes with this thing,” I gesture between us, “Like, I don’t feel like drinking any blood so I don’t think I’ve developed your hunger. And I’m not like super strong or fast so…that sucks.”

Elijah leans forward in his seat, “From what I’ve read over the years about the bond, you will not have to worry about developing a taste for blood. Nor, will you experience my speed or strength. There isn’t much about soulmates but what some witches have suspected is that when one of of feels a strong emotion, such as pain, our counterpart will also feel it.”

At his comment, I frown.

“Wait. Pain?” Elijah frowns deeply, “I would never want you to feel any pain because of me, Elskan.”

“While you were daggered…I got these strong pains in my chest. It would hurt so bad that sometimes I would pass out. Was that because of the bound?”

“Why did you never tell me about this?”

At Elijah’s concerned tone, I shrug.

“It’s not like we’ve had much time to hang out since you’ve been undaggered, dude.”

Elijah sighs and nods, “It is possible that is the reason.”

“Oh my god,” I jump up slightly, “During the ritual when you guys were trying to kill your brother,” Elijah slightly flinches at the recollection, “I felt like I was having a heart attack and I had blood gushing from my chest. Alaric said it was like I was dying, and honestly it felt like I was,” I cringe, “Was that the bond with Klaus?”

Elijah has a look of horror on his face, “I didn’t know I caused you such pain,” He stands up and rubs a hand over his face, “Elskan, I understand if you never forgive me, but you must know how truly sorry I am. I never wanted this to-.”

“Woah, Elijah. Chill,” I stand up and hold my hands up, “I don’t blame you for what happened. Like at all. I’m just relieved that I have an explanation for what was happening. You have no idea how many medical bills I racked up on Damon’s credit card for all the doctor’s appointments that we went to. I thought I was like actually dying from some unknown disease.”

Elijah looks at me with an odd look, “So you don’t hate me? And also…Damon went with you to the doctor’s?”

I nod, “Ya…it was a weird summer. Many trips upstate. Many diner stops with him as well. If you think his presence is a lot when you’re out in public with him, imagine being stuck in a car with him for hours,” I shiver.

“I will make sure to talk to him and have him send me the bills for your medical expenses so I can take responsibility for it.”

I shake my head and laugh, “Don’t worry about it, Lijah. I like draining him for his money, it pisses him off. Which gives me joy.”

Elijah’s dark mood seems to lighten at my joke.

“Do you have any other questions for me?”

“Ummm. Nope.”

Elijah raises an eyebrow in skepticism, “Really? You don’t seem so sure.”

“Well…there is one question that has been nagging at me,” I look at the wall in front of me and pretend to find the wood interesting.

“And what question would that be?”

“Um, well… I know you like to flirt or whatever, but um…soulmates is kinda a big thing if you didn’t know,” I look back to him and he nods.

“I did know.”

“Well, what exactly do you expect to happen here,” I gesture between him and I.

A look of realization comes over Elijah’s face as he realizes my apprehension.

Elijah releases a breath and stands up. I stand silently as he walks over to me with a soft smile on his face.

“I understand your confusion here. But, I want you to know this, Elskan,” Elijah uses his hand to brush my hair off my shoulder, “I will accept whatever you want. I have waited for you a thousand years, to be in your presence is enough for me. If you want a friend, then I will be a friend. Or,” He lets out a soft breath, “If one day you decide you would like to explore something…deeper. Then I’d be incredibly happy as well. I don’t want you to feel rushed or uncomfortable. So, whatever you decide, I will agree.”

A warmth flows through my chest at his confession.

I try to push back my smile but I can’t seem to help it as I look at the nervous look on his face.

“I’d like a friend,” I say and Elijah seems almost a bit upset.

“Then a friend I will be,” Elijah agrees.

“But…if in the future, after we get to know each other better,” Elijah's eyes widen slightly at what I’m saying, “Maybe we could revisit the idea of something…more.”

Elijah’s smile widens enough to where I can see his slight dimples, “I would like that…very much.”

“Great,” I bite my lip nervously.

“Great,” Elijah responds.

Elijah and I seem to be stuck in a staring contest until a chime from my phone interrupts us.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I pull my phone from my pocket. I frown as I read the text from Matt Donovan.

“What’s wrong?” I look up at Elijah after hearing his concerned voice.

“Someone called in sick for work and Matt needs me to come in and cover her shift,” I groan at the thought of going to work today.

“You have a job?”

“Sadly. But, if I want to pay for college I’m going to need to save up money,” I sigh as I walk over to my desk and start putting some mascara on.

“I’d pay for your college. You don’t need to worry about work,” Elijah’s comment has me turning over my shoulder to look at him.

“Like a sugar daddy?”

Elijah looks incredibly confused, “A what?”

I think it over a moment before shaking my head, “Never mind. But, I would never take your money.”

Elijah shakes his head, “You’re the only one I’d want to spend it on.”

I roll my eyes trying to hide the effect his words are having on me.

“That’s usually not how one friend talks to another,” I jest.

I turn back towards my mirror, that sits on my desk, and I put on some concealer. In the mirror I see Elijah behind me walk up towards me.

“And how exactly do friends talk to one another,” Elijah says and I smirk as I continue blending in my makeup. I feel him stand behind me and pull slightly on a piece of my hair that is hanging down my back. I turn to glare at him and see him smiling at me like the devil.

“Now I see where Kol gets it from,” I snark and Elijah releases a sound of annoyance.

“Please never compare me to my younger brother again,” Elijah says as he wraps a piece of my hair around his finger and twirls it.

I finish up my makeup, stand back up, and face Elijah who smiles down at me.

“Ok…first rule of us being just friends. You’ve got to stop looking at me like that.”

Elijah tilts his head, “Like what?”

I point at his face, “Like that! That handsome smirk you’ve always got on your face.”

“Handsome?”

I let out a frustrated noise, walk over to my sweater, and begin to put it on.

“You’re impossible.”

Elijah comes up behind me and takes my sweater from my hand and helps me put it on.

“Thanks…”

Elijah smiles at me, “What else are friends for?”

I let out a laugh, “Whatever. But…a friend would also give me a ride to work?”

Elijah smiles at me, “I’d be delighted to.”

493 notes · View notes

onlyswan · 1 year ago

Text

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

2K notes · View notes

steddiehyperfixation · 4 months ago

Text

wrong again

wrote this in an hour in a sudden burst of inspiration lol. could be read as a kinda sorta part two to this, or completely standalone. @steddie-spooktober day 21: "it's warm in here" | 1,037 words | T | cw: mild description of an anxiety attack

Steve and Eddie haven’t talked about what they are. They kissed for the first time almost a month ago, the moment something sweet and unplanned. One kiss led to more, led to holding hands and cuddling and spending nights at each other’s places, led to gifts and pet names and taking each other out to dinners and movies. But they still haven’t talked about it. Not really. They don’t need to. What they are to each other, how they feel about each other, is clear enough in the things that they do. Steve pours all the depth of his affection into every kiss, every touch, every home-cooked meal and bouquet of flowers, and Eddie has matched him - even exceeded him sometimes - in his effort, his passion, his gentleness. So even without the words to prove it, there shouldn’t be any doubt that everything Steve feels for Eddie, Eddie feels the same for him.

Except, well…Steve’s been wrong before. Real life is not like a movie or a book of poetry, and the rose-colored clouds that cover the eyes of a hopeless romantic have led him astray in the past. He’s thought many previous relationships were something more than they were, that the other person cared as much as he did. And he’s been wrong.

He tries not to think about it, usually. Pushing those thoughts away hasn’t been too hard throughout the past month, when a smile or a kiss from Eddie has often been enough to dissipate them. But right now, sitting on a couch at a Halloween party watching Eddie grab a drink from the punch bowl, suddenly it’s all Steve can think about. He remembers the last time he was at a Halloween party, the worst time he was wrong. It encompasses his mind like a flashback, oppressing his present senses and filling them in with echoes of the past, Nancy’s drunken speech about their love being bullshit ringing in his ears.

His vision blurs like he’s had too much to drink and everything sounds like it’s underwater. When Eddie returns from the punch bowl and tucks himself back against Steve’s side, it doesn’t give him that easy warmth it usually does. Instead it just feels strange and suffocating. Because what if this doesn’t mean the same thing to him as it does to Steve? What if it’s all bullshit? He’s not sure he could survive this being bullshit. He needs Eddie too much, loves him too much. If he’s wrong again-

“Stevie,” that sweet voice breaks through his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve lies. He feels like he can’t breathe. “It’s just, uh-” He loosens his collar, makes up an excuse, “It’s warm in here.”

Eddie pulls away from him, studying him with worried eyes. He sets his drink down and stands before grabbing Steve by the hands to tug him to his feet. “Come on then, sweetheart, let’s get you some fresh air.”

Steve lets himself be led outside and guided to sit on the backyard’s wide porch step. He’s still struggling to take a proper breath. He yanks his hands away from Eddie’s, can’t bring himself to look at him, because what if he’s wrong what if he’s wrong what if

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to take you home?” Eddie’s still fretting over him, newly freed hands fluttering towards and then away from him like he isn’t quite sure what to do now, if he’s allowed to touch him or not.

Steve’s not sure either.

“Eddie, what are we doing?”

Eddie stills. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this, us.” Steve gestures between them, finally lifting his gaze to the boy sitting beside him. “What is this? What are we doing? Because I- I mean we’ve never talked about it, we’ve never said, and I don’t know. We’ve just- we’ve been doing all these things, acting like we’re in love and it’s all sweet and magical and we know what we’re doing, but I don’t-”

“‘Like we’re in love’?” Eddie echoes, and Steve’s stomach drops. The past has spun on its head and rushed into the present, distorted and disorienting. Steve opens his mouth to quickly stammer out an apology, to take it all back before Eddie can jump to the same devastating conclusion Steve had with Nancy all those years ago. But Eddie doesn’t seem to take it that way, because his frown is more confused than hurt, eyes more soft than accusing, and he says instead, “Steve, I do love you.”

Steve gapes at him, stunned into momentary silence. That was really, really not what he was expecting him to say. “You love me?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d been making that pretty obvious.” Eddie exhales a short breath of nervous laughter, worry and doubt only just now beginning to creep into the edges of his expression. “I thought we were boyfriends, I thought we were on the same page here…?”

“We are!” Steve hastily agrees. A wave of relief and joy rolls through him, providing him with a burst of energy that has him taking Eddie’s hands and pulling him into a short kiss. “We are on the same page. I love you too,” he tells him with a smile. “I just- I wasn’t sure. I need to hear the words sometimes.”

Eddie smiles back, so bright and beautiful. “Okay.” He squeezes Steve’s hands. “I’m sorry I never said it before. I’ll make sure to tell you more often now. I’ll say all the words all the time,” he promises, leaning playfully into Steve’s space. “I’ll say it so much you’ll get sick of me.”

Steve laughs. “Okay.”

“I mean it.” Eddie grins. “I’ll say it over and over. I’ll say: you’re my boyfriend and I love you.” He smacks a kiss to his cheek. “You’re my boyfriend and I love you.” He repeats it again and again between kisses as he peppers Steve’s face and neck with them, breath warm and ticklish against his skin.

Steve giggles and pretends to try to shove Eddie off of him, but it’s a weak effort. Really, he could stay right here in this moment forever, laughing and loved and not wrong at all.

(ao3)

#steddiespooktober #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #mine

337 notes · View notes

gingersxng · 2 months ago

Text

Who’s Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf pt.2

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi (ft. Yunho)

Genre: smut 18+, angst

WARNING: this contains abusive and inappropriate stuff that may be triggering or disturbing for some people. if you decide to read further then you’ve been warned!!

Notes: consensual until the end, sub!reader, mean rough dom!Mingi, big dick!Mingi, Mingi is violent, soft!Yunho, Yunho isn’t Mingi’s friend anymore, abusive relationship, possessiveness, lots of crying, cutting, mentions of SA, lying, pussy play, fingering, taking pictures, drunk!Mingi, breeding kink, perverted actions, blood, bruises, hickeys, unprotected sex (don’t), abusing, manhandling, Mingi calls reader whore, lamb & slut, slapping, dacryphilia, kissing, anxiety, depression, self harm, eating disorders, cum cum cum, degrading, spitting, slapping, may have forgot something!

a/n: finally able to post something, I may have went a little hard on this one but messed up minds creates messed up stories..

part one here!!

Words: 2.4k

This freaky toxic roller coaster had went on for a few months now, everything was the same as it always had been, it was part of your daily life now.

But not for everyone. Your friends got concerned when you kept disappearing all the time when they’d invited you to parties, dinners, shopping dates etc. Mingi always had his grip on you even though he wasn’t there, he always texted or called you when you were doing something that didn’t involve him.

Your friends followed you home one day. Mingi was gone for the weekend and you were all alone. Since they knew Mingi wasn’t there they wanted to talk about your so called “situation” but it only made you roll your eyes at them. You were tired of everyone having an opinion but yourself, everyone else’s opinions mattered but yours don’t, like it’s always been. That’s a reason you’re in this mess, because no matter how hard you’d try, you’d never received love, understanding or respect.

“Pls y/n, you have to understand he isn’t good for you.” Your friend Ella said. “I mean look at you! You’re bruised up, you’ve got fresh cuts on your thighs and you’ve become thinner again.” Your other friend Belle said and put a hand on your shoulder. You looked down at your bruised knees, you almost couldn’t hear what they were telling you, the noise in your head was being too loud.

“I love him…” you sniffed, a little tear rolled down your cheek. Anger was beginning to fill your body up, that was your response to everything, ever since your early traumatic experiences began. “We just wanna help you, we care so much about you and we’re worried” Belle said. You got up from the bed and looked at them both with teary eyes, your fists were curled up along your sides. “If you take him away from me… the only person I’ve felt loved and respected by, I’m ending this friendship right here!!” Your voice trembled and the tears flowed. The two friends looked at each other and then at you who once again disappeared right in front of them, you went out to get some fresh air and to clear your mind.

Before Belle and Ella went home they told you one last thing, they didn’t want to hurt you but they knew you had to find out yourself one day. “I think he should be arrested y/n…I’m not sure what he’s doing to you but it’s not okay” Ella said with a lump in her throat knowing it would hurt you more to hear that.

You spent the whole weekend locked up alone in your room crying, the pillows were stained from all the tears. It all felt hopeless, and yet no one cared about you being all alone 48 hours without getting out, not even your mom.

A buzzing sound from your phone woke you up after you’d cried yourself to sleep, it was Yunho, another good friend of yours but why did he try to reach you?

Yunho: Hi y/n! You alright? :)

You hadn’t been in contact with him for super long, and now all of a sudden he texts..

Me: Hi, I’m fine thanks :)

Yunho: Really?? I heard you weren’t.

Me: Who told you that, I’ve never been better.

Yunho: Belle and Ella texted me and said you’ve been spending too much time with Mingi and they wanted me to check on you.

Me: I’m fine, really! Don’t worry about me okay!

Yunho: Okay, just know that I’m here, deal?

Me: Thank you, deal!

“Of course they had told someone else, why drag in more people into this” you thought to yourself as you yet again began to cry.

Next day you got startled by a knock on your bedroom door. Your first guess was your mom who finally would come to visit you but instead you were met by a tall muscular, black spiky haired man. He looked at you with the same lust filled eyes and a smirk on his face, just like he always do.

Gasping, you looked up at him, but before you could get out a word he slammed his lips onto yours and forced you down on your bed again, he roamed your tiny body and placed his knee between your legs. Mingi nibbled on your earlobe and whispered “I heard you’ve told your friends about me..” your heart dropped to your stomach and you turned cold.

“It’s not what you think Mingi” you cried out. “Oh really, I heard I was gonna be arrested for SA?!” He growled in your ear, the words cut through you like a knife. The two of you stared at each other for what felt like eternity, it was almost as if your whole life flashed before your eyes, every experience you’ve been through. Mingi pushed his knee harder against your heat, waiting for you to say something, explain to him.

His eyes spotted the red lines on your thighs. “I see you’ve been playing with the razor again, my little slut” he caressed your fresh cuts. “Not talking huh? Maybe I have to fuck the words out of you, how about that” he growled, his cross necklace dangled inches from your face, you gently grabbed it and looked him straight into his dark eyes. “If you promise to change.. like they said” you softly spoke with a lump in your throat. “They wanna have you arrested Mingi..” you cried. If you only knew how much anger and rage was buried inside that man, he was about to boil over at this point. He was scared for getting caught but most of all he was scared of loosing you the most, sure he never showed his affection in any other form than rough sex but deep down he actually loved you. You’re the only girl he’d been with the longest, other girls were nothing more than air the morning after. Mingi bit his inner cheek and let go of you, he stood at the end of your bed and just stared down at you. You sat up, a little shocked by his sudden act, you dried your tears and fixed your top. “If you want me to change.. I will” he said with pain in his deep voice. “I don’t want you to change, they want it”.

A smirk slowly formed on his face, the hot blood pumping through his veins rushed down to his dick, it strained uncomfortably against his pants. He pushed you gently down onto your back and hovered over you again, making your heart skip a beat. One of his hands went down to cup your heat while the other one held him up so he wouldn’t collapse on you, he put some pressure on your pussy and you let out a moan. Just what he wanted to hear. Slowly he began to rub your clit through your sleeping shorts, he loved the way you closed your eyes and bit your lip.

“Right, you don’t want me to change” Mingi teased as his speed increased on your clit. “No I don’t mmh” you moaned. You laid spread out in the bed like a doll as Mingi abused your sensitive nub, the heat in your stomach was building up fast and you were almost at your peak of pleasure. He plunged two fingers into your pussy, his thumb continued rubbing your clit. Mingi absolutely loved watching you fall apart under him, no matter what nasty stuff he did to you, it always got his dick rock hard.

“Haha.. are you gonna cum for me, my little lamb?” He purred, smirking at you. “Pls Mingi I’m so close” you whined, you squirmed. He gave your thigh a hard stinging slap making you jolt, his big hand grabbed your chin and brought you in for a rough sloppy kiss, his long thick fingers pumping max speed into your gushy hole, curling them up to hit your spot. You moaned and cried into his mouth as you finally came on his fingers, a deep chuckle escaped his mouth when he felt your juices coat his digits.

After he was done with you he gave you a peck in your lips and went for a towel to get you all cleaned up, he never did something like that, he would never stop after he’d been fingering you. “What‘s all this?” You asked raising your eyebrows. He held the towel in his hands and gave you a smile, “Didn’t I say I would change?” He let out a small laugh. You couldn’t really believe your ears, someone couldn’t possibly change in just one day could they?

He got you cleaned up and even stayed for some cuddles afterwards, this night was really something new and special since you’d never get this kind of affection from your boyfriend, it almost felt fake..

It was past midnight when you’d fallen asleep in Mingis arms, he slowly rolled you over so you could lay down comfortably in your bed. Only when you landed down on your back your pyjamas top had rid up revealing your tits, he gulped and palmed his dick through his pants. All he wanted was to rip your shorts off and fuck you until you got knocked out but since he’d promised you he would change.. he couldn’t do that to you. Instead he took a pic of your naked sleeping form and tucked you under the covers before he headed back home.

Mingi told you he would get better for you only but your friends kept on telling you he was still an asshole to you and even his friends, you also knew it was all just a bunch of lies. His friends were nice to you, you loved them all. Especially Yunho, he always cared about you in the beginning of yours and Mingis “situationship”, but Mingi soon noticed you were getting texts from Yunho a little “too” often and forced you to cut the contact with him.

Mingi had kept his promise for about two weeks now and you still couldn’t believe it, it felt so different, it felt wrong yet right. Everything had been a dance on roses until one night when he went too far. It was a party like always but it was your first since a while because of your health and Mingi was drunk as hell and started quickly to get rough with you. You didn't know what to do, it was so sudden. He’d dragged you along with him to an empty room and threw you down on a dusty couch. He had a different look on his face this time and you actually got scared, as he gripped you harshly, placed marks all over your tiny body you began to cry. He lifted your legs up and pulled down your panties in a quick motion, he then unbuckled his belt and pulled out his leaking big cock.

He parted your pussy lips and spat down a big lump of saliva, he brought his aching cock to your entrance and didn’t give you time to adjust at all. “Take my cock you dirty whore!” He slurred, he began his abuse on your cunt and cervix. You couldn't push him off, your whole body felt light like you were non existent. You just laid there crying. He was yelling at you for no reason, he spit out all the bad and mean things about you he could possibly think about and for a second it felt like you died. What lasted 15 minutes felt like hours. You felt numb and used, you felt so stupid..maybe your friends were right after all.

Mingi came hard leaving a big load inside your pussy, it poured out down your ass cheeks, he slapped you across the face. “Look at your pretty pussy” he swept a hand across your clit. You cried more. “You’re only a fucktoy for me to use, to breed”.

Mingi fixed his pants and left the room to go party some more, leaving you full and bruised on the disgusting couch.

Everything went through your head as you laid there, how could you be so stupid, how could you accept this behaviour after all this time. He was lying…

You managed to grab your phone. You dialed the first number that came to mind.

You felt a tear fall down your face.

"Hello?"

"H-hey Yunho..."

"Hey y/n! How are you?"

"I- I'm fine..."

"Are you sure? You sound a little upset."

"Yeah I'm ok."

"Ok, if you say so. So what's up?"

"Uh I- well... can you come get me? Please?"

"Oh yeah sure! Are you at the party right now?"

"Y-yeah..."

"Ok give me like 10 minutes and I'll be there."

"Thank you Yunho..."

"No worries y/n. Bye."

"Bye."

You hung up and couldn’t hold in your tears any longer. It just flowed now. You waited a little longer, then you heard a knock on the door. Your heart dropped, he’s back.

"Mingi! Its open!"

The door opened.

"Y/n? What's going on?" Yunho asked with a worried look, watching you lay in front of him with your bottom half completely naked.

"Yunho help me please. Please!" You cried.

"W-what?"

Yunho rushed over and saw the bruises and marks on your body. He couldn’t stop looking at your cum covered pussy, his ears turned a dark shade of red.. but enough of that.

"Shit! Are you ok?!" His voice were soft.

"It hurts. I don't wanna do this anymore." You looked at him with red eyes, trying to cover yourself up with your shaky hands.

"Ok. Ok. Let's get you out of here."

Yunho wrapped his hoodie around your waist and picked you up bridal style and walked out of there. He put you in the car and drove away.

You woke up the next day with a terrible headache. You looked around and realized you were in a room you didn't recognize.

"Morning"

You turned to the door and saw Yunho.

"Yunho..."

"Y/n Please. Why are you with him? He is bad news."

"I- I... he said he'd get better."

"He won't."

You looked down.

"How long has this been going on?"

"4 months..."

Your voice trembled.

"Why didn't you tell us? Tell me?"

Yunho sat down on your bed and caressed your hand.

"I- I thought he could change." You sniffled.

"He won't."

"Yunho. Please. Can I stay with you for a while? I can't go home."

"Of course. Stay here." He smiled.

"Thank you."

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #kpop smut #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yungi #whosafraidofthebigbadwolf

204 notes · View notes

cursedonyx · 10 months ago

Text

HL Cast React to you Cradling Them When They’re Upset

Sebastian Sallow

Sebastian craves physical comfort like a starving man craves bread, but he’s very rarely had the opportunity to express it. Solomon was not the hugging sort, Ominis typically loathes physical contact unless it’s necessary, and Anne… well. The curse makes it hard for her to bear a cuddle for long. Sebastian has trained himself to give brief hugs and pats on the back, if anything at all, worrying that he’ll be seen as clingy, needy, or annoying if he holds on too tight, or too long. The last thing he wants to be is annoying, least of all to you. He has to be strong, he has to be cheerful, he has to be the one that everyone relies on. That means he’s useful, and people will stay by him. He can’t be a burden, or he’ll be abandoned.

So when you find him in the Restricted Section, surrounded by books and weeping into his hands at the sheer hopelessness of everything, he’s stunned when your immediate reaction is to pull him into your lap. He tenses, embarrassed by his display of emotion and afraid of needing you too much. But the longer you hold him, the more his defences crumble, and it’s not long before he’s sobbing into your shoulder, unable to speak, desperate to be held, to be loved, to be given the affection he’s been denied for so long. He clings to you for hours, alternately apologising and crying some more.

Once he’s calmed down enough to think straight, he realises you’ve not let him go. He begins to worry, fretting that you’re only doing this to be nice, but you still don’t let him go. He begins to relax into you, accepting that finally, finally, he can hold and be held like he needs. He’s got years of missing affection to make up for, and this is only the start. From this moment, any moment not touching you is considered a moment wasted, and Sebastian will hold your hand, link your arms together, hook your ankle over his under the table, or simply sit close enough so his arm or leg is up against yours. That is, if he’s not outright hugging you or snuggling you. For the first few months, you’ll be lucky if you get five minutes to visit the loo alone, and he gets twitchy if you’re apart from him for too long.

He's yours for life. Treat him kindly.

Ominis Gaunt

Ominis isn’t really one for physical affection, especially if you’re only friends, or in the early stages of your relationship. He’s not used to it, almost afraid of it, having never really experienced it as a child, and disliking the rough, enthusiastic, inexperienced hugs his friends give. It’s nothing like the tender affection he craves, and ever the gentleman, he’s worried about overstepping his boundaries. Ever the traumatised soul, he’s afraid of asking for what he really wants. He knows this isn’t something he can demand, as he has been taught a Gaunt would.

He doesn’t emote much, especially negative emotions. He’s always been taught to hide negative feelings or any kind of extreme emotion, and he wears that self-control like armour. But he’s not infallible, things still get to him, especially as he bottles things up. So when a particularly barbed jab from another student gets under his skin, he retreats to the Undercroft to rant at the air. This is how you find him, striding up and down and shouting at nothing, as if he’s arguing with someone.

Of course, he’s very embarrassed to be found this way, and tries to cover it by sliding back into the careful neutrality he so often wears. You know better though. You sit behind him, slide your arms around his chest, and pull him into your lap, your hand at the back of his head, letting him rest against you.

It sparks a memory he thought he’d buried. He was four, he’d tripped over and scraped his knee. His parents had scolded him for crying, growing more irate as their harsh words upset him further, and then Aunt Noctua was there, lifting him into her arms and bearing him away from the pain and the anger that was all his parents ever gave him. She’d taken him to her rooms in the Manor and settled in a chair, holding his head to her chest and humming a lullaby, soothing him with a hand on the back of his head.

It’s one of the last memories he has of her, and as it surfaces, he breaks. No matter how much he tries to pull it back, he just can’t, and your arms are iron around him, like a cage. But it’s a cage he doesn’t want to be released from, craving the warmth of your embrace, longing for the love and safety that is such a distant, fragmented memory, something that seemed like an impossible dream until now. He feels he should be embarrassed by this horrendous display of failed control, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s a problem for future Ominis. Right now, all he cares about is the feel of your heartbeat against his cheek, the gentle scent of your skin, the feel of your body against his as you hold him so tenderly. To his utter disbelief, you hum a gentle melody. It’s not the lullaby Noctua used to sing, but it’s soft and warm and comforting.

After this, Ominis is much more free with his affection with you, though he still keeps it to a minimum around others. If he’s ever had a bad day, or just needs comforting, he leans into you in a particular way that you come to learn means he wants to be held like that again. He knows you’ll never judge him for it, and he loves you all the more because of it. He becomes increasingly protective of you, fearing losing you, but he is ever respectful of your boundaries.

When he thinks back over all the days you spent together, he realises the time you first held him like that was the moment his subconscious mind began planning your wedding, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

Garreth Weasley

Garreth is a naturally cheerful person, and while he can get irritable, it’s over quickly and he’s back to being happy. It’s very rare for him to get upset for any significant period of time, so it’s quite a shock when you find him in his dorm, head hanging, faded tear-tracks on his cheeks. He tries to brush it off, of course, to make a joke or try to make you laugh, but you know better. You sit beside him and ask, and he tries to change the subject. But with a little prodding, he eventually tells you, grudgingly, miserably, what's made him so down.

It doesn’t take much to convince him to curl up in your arms. Garreth has always been comfortable with affection, and would probably still climb in his mum’s lap if he didn’t worry that he’d flatten her. He’s worried that he’ll squash you and takes a good while for him to relax, but once he does, he fully flops on you, murmuring soft little sounds of contentment as you rub his back or play with his hair. If you try to pull away too soon, he pretends he’s still sad so you’ll cuddle him more, even if he’s feeling on top of the world that you’d be so kind to him.

It tells him that you’re just like him, happy to snuggle and happy to do what’s needed to make him feel good, as he would for you. He feels a deeper bond with you than before, and the rest of Hogwarts can expect to find the pair of you draped over each other in all corners of the castle after this.

Leander Prewett

It’s… a little awkward to begin with, especially because an upset Leander is often a hostile Leander, as it's the way he's learned how to protect himself. You eventually convince him to let you hold him, but it takes a while. Leander is very tall with rather long limbs, so getting him in your lap in the first place is a struggle, especially as he’s so resistant to begin with. He’s already embarrassed enough by being emotional then snappy in front of you, worried that you’re going to make fun of him or worse, pretend to be nice and tease him mercilessly later. It’s the last thing he needs. But, with a little coaxing (and a bit of tugging) you manage to settle him in your lap. Yeah, the height difference is even more noticeable now, but that doesn’t matter to you. You make sure he’s comfy and hold him tight, not saying a word, just letting your hug do the talking for you.

He doesn’t tell you what set him off this time, what made him so upset. But after a long while as he curls around you, his head on your shoulder, his legs dangling over the edge of the chair or bed on which you sit, he tells you little things about his past. Some of them are happy memories or silly stories. Some of them are not. Leander bears his soul to you in bits and pieces, every word he speaks the truth, and all you need to do is listen. This is the moment he truly falls for you, a helpless, headlong tumble, and he would fight a dragon with a wooden sword to keep you from this moment on.

Amit Thakkar

Amit has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and is free with his emotions around you once you two become firm friends, or a couple. He’s a gentleman through and through, though this is mostly down to his natural shyness. He prefers to focus on you and your problems than his own, assuring you that he’s perfectly alright if you find him feeling down. You find him one evening staring down at his telescope, on the verge of tears, as the lens has cracked. He doesn't mind telling you why it's so upsetting to him, expecting a hug or maybe a pat on the back. So it’s quite the surprise to him when you pull him into your lap and snuggle him close, and at first, he’s not sure what to do with himself. He holds himself very still and stiff, and you have to encourage him to relax more than once.

He soon finds himself sinking into your embrace, comforted by your presence and your kindness, the pair of you warming each other atop the chilly Astronomy Tower. He’ll freely admit to you what’s been preying on his mind as the lens was just the straw that broke the camel's back, and shyly admit he really enjoys this particular kind of cuddle. He’ll probably doze off in your lap if you sit like this too long, and Amit is a very heavy sleeper. If he manages to stay awake, he’ll run his hand over your back, trying to reciprocate some of the attention you’re giving him, trying to say without words just how much things like this mean to him.

He won’t indulge often, he likes to be the one holding you, but it’s comforting for him to know that it’s something he can enjoy if he truly needs a pick-me-up.

Andrew Larson

In all fairness, Andrew will be climbing into your lap the moment you give the barest hint that this is what you’re going to do when he’s upset. He’s free with his affection in a more subdued way than Garreth, perhaps, but he makes no secret of how much he loves being snuggled up in your lap. He loves the security of being held, especially if you play with his hair. It’s guaranteed to cheer him up in no time at all, no matter how low he’s feeling. He loves draping his head and arms over your shoulders, and if you’re strong enough to carry him, he’ll fall in love with you if you carry him to bed when he starts to drift off.

In fact, Andrew loves this attention and affection so much he might even make himself get all teary eyed if it means you’ll draw him into your lap and rock him back and forth, even if there’s nothing actually wrong. Once he learns you’ll cuddle him the way he wants regardless if whether he’s actually upset or not, he’ll quit with the crocodile tears and swap them for happy little giggles.

Poppy Sweeting

You’ve barely put your arms around her before Poppy has slung her arms around your neck, swinging her legs up and snuggling into your chest. It’s almost as if she’s been made to fit especially in your lap, her cheek fitting perfectly into the crook of your shoulder. She might play with your hair a little to distract herself from whatever it is that’s upset her, but she’ll be honest with you if you ask what the matter is. She’s always been a cuddly sort, and regardless of whether you’re simply friends or are dating, Poppy’s always going to be giving you hugs or asking for piggyback rides (or just climbing on you anyway). This is a natural progression for the both of you, though Poppy will most likely want to do the same for you the next time you’re upset.

She’s stronger than she looks, so don’t worry about squashing her.

Natsai Onai

Natsai has always been an affectionate soul, but she’s also tough as old iron and rarely shows when she’s upset unless it’s about to overcome her. She learned in her fifth year that she could always reach out to you when she was upset, so that’s what she does. It’s still a surprise for her when you pull her into your lap to hold her, she was only expecting a friendly pat on the back or perhaps a brief hug, but your gesture is welcome nonetheless. It reminds her of the way her father would hold her when she was little, and she takes great comfort in it. It’s not something Natsai will tolerate for long, as she’s always been good at recovering from upset quickly, and being an energetic soul, it’s not long before she’s fidgeting and wanting to move about. She prefers to be the one holding you at any rate, and can sit still for hours if she does. She’s always felt much more comfortable in giving affection than receiving it, though she really does enjoy it when you do.

Imelda Reyes

Lol are you joking? When Imelda’s upset she wants to be alone, and if you try and intrude on her when she’s having a bad day or worse, actually crying, she’ll chase you all through the Highlands just to beat you up. Sure, she’ll probably apologise afterwards when she’s calmed down, but she’s got a reputation to uphold as Hogwarts’ baddest bitch, and she won’t ever let anyone see her cry, let alone in anyone’s lap. Now, if it’s you that’s upset? You can bet your arse she won’t let you get off her lap unless you’re about to pass out or are busting for a piss.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #poppy sweeting #leander prewett #natsai onai #amit thakkar #andrew larson #imelda reyes #lil bit angsty #lil bit fluffy #cuddles #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy reactions

450 notes · View notes

desos-records · 2 years ago

Text

The part I appreciate the most in the Lockwood and Co show is how it handles depression and suicidal thoughts in teenagers. As a theme, it’s not often (ever) done well. Lockwood and Co is the only story I can think of that depicts it in a nuanced, realistic, non-romanticized way

but first, before I get into it: [if you’re in crisis or need someone to talk to and don’t want to/can’t use your national hotline, highly recommend Samaritans, genuinely saved my life] okay, let’s go

Lockwood is the most obvious, with his general disregard for his own life and admitted suicidal ideation. Lucy struggles with her self-worth and the intensity of the emotions she’s subjected to. George worries that he doesn’t belong, that there’s something useless or wrong about him. The show depicts these thoughts and feelings in a way that isn’t overblown or dramatized, it’s all but casual. Which is how it happens. Depression or suicidal thoughts don’t crash into you all at once, they creep into your life without you noticing

But more importantly (and again, something I’ve never seen anywhere else), the show also offers counterpoints to those thoughts and feelings. It shows that there is a way out, even though you may feel trapped and hopeless. This is crucial for the show’s target demographic. Bad media depictions of depression or suicide get internalized, contribute to the stigma, and make it harder for people to ask for help. This show doesn’t do that. This show tells its audience that, yes, things are scary and painful and it fucking sucks, but it’s not hopeless. And it says it so well

In the second episode, when Lucy wants to quit, she admits something that I’m almost certain she’s never told anyone

“sometimes I just think I’d be better off dead”

And when I watched this the first time, I expected Lockwood to react the way I’ve seen people react in my own life; with silence or panic or downright dismissal. But he didn’t. He stays calm and he says something that is so so important to hear when you’re struggling under the weight of feelings like this

“I understand that”

Saying this tells someone several things: that you’re on their side, they aren’t strange or monstrous for feeling like this, and that you’re not going to attack or abandon them because of it. And you can see the impact it has on Lucy, the way her face clears. She went from struggling to breathe and near tears to calm and steady. It’s no mistake that in this moment we hear his and Lucy’s theme for the first time (those simple, beautiful guitar strings)

The next thing he says is also important

“and it’s not true”

Simple, to the point, directly addressing her feelings, and (the most common mistake) doesn’t make it about him. Telling someone that you love them or that they’d be upset to lose you might sound nice, and it can be later on in the conversation, but in a moment like this, it’s infinitely more helpful to confront the thought itself

A similar moment in the first book stuck with me too, when they’re underneath Combe Carey Hall and Lucy almost steps into the well. What she’s hearing in her head (and the general phenomenon of malaise that ghosts produce) is very similar to depressive or suicidal thoughts. Before she can fall, Lockwood pulls her back

“no, Lucy, that’s not the way it’s going to be”

Depressive and suicidal thoughts deal in absolutes, so sometimes it takes an absolute to counter it

In the last episode, George has that heart-breaking moment where he says all the awful things he thinks about himself, partly because of the influence of the boneglass and Bickerstaff, but it’s also been building up, there in the background. Increasingly, it’s Lockwood and Lucy working together and George working on his own, which picks at old wounds (engineer, engineer, engineer, weirdo). He bonds with Joplin because he feels like she understands him in a way the others don’t

“it’s nice to have someone to show off to”

But Lucy pushes back against all that because she sees herself in all the ugly things George is saying, because she’s felt that way too. She understands that. She’s so surprised and horrified to hear him saying those things, resigning himself to dying down there, she’s not going to let him go on believing them

“you’re not a third wheel or an oddball or whatever it is that you think you are”

“you’re the best of us”

“we are not losing you, Georgie”

Flo called him that earlier too, but Lucy wasn’t there for that and coming unprompted from her it sounds so much like something you might call your slightly annoying younger brother. She’s so absolute about it all, with no opening for doubt, and you can see something like surprise on George’s face (but also pain because now Lucy’s in danger too)

For all Lucy knows, the boneglass will kill her. I don’t think for a second she genuinely believes her talent will protect her; she told Joplin that to protect George. It’s unclear when exactly she came up with the plan to use the skull, but she was willing to risk it anyway. And she knows, she knows, George will blame himself for this (because she would too, if it were the other way around), but even then, she’s very clear

“this isn’t your fault”

Their whole scene down in the catacombs is two kids trying to keep each other alive, physically obviously, but on the inside as well. And, oh god, George almost crashing down next to Lucy after he’s knocked over the boneglass, trying to wake her up. His voice

“Lucy, Lucy, it’s me, it’s me, say something, speak to me”

I think it’s down in those catacombs that George and Lucy really understand each other for the first time. In their own ways, they’re both curious and suspicious about the Problem and what causes it, trying to learn more about it (and stressing Lockwood out in the process). They both left their families; they both struggle with feeling strange and different than everyone around them. That connection pulls them both back from the edge

Lockwood, for all his confidence, is practically in crisis or was fairly recently (I suspect living with George helped). It’s fairly common, actually, for someone suicidal to overcompensate with an exterior shell to hide it, which can manifest in different ways depending on the person (they may not even realize they’re doing it, I didn’t)

And I love how the show handles it. He’s not made into this dark, tragic figure. He’s so full of life it hurts. He jokes around with George and Flo, fights with Kipps, admires Fairfax. He has dreams (plans) for the future. He’s struggling with trauma, they all are, but he’s not Broken™ in the way similar leading characters are often made out to be, in the way we often fear we are

And, of course, there’s Lucy, a wreaking ball through the precarious balance of Lockwood’s life. It’s not so much that she gives him a reason to live (although she definitely helps), but she holds him accountable in a way no one else does. This is the difficult part of recovery that no one talks about. Having people care for you (George) and sympathize with you (Flo) is great and necessary, especially early on. But at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself and the noise in your head (you have to open your door on the landing)

What that looks like is complicated and messy and different for every person, but seeing it played out in a story is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. This is a difficult thing for anyone to learn (many adults never even try)

That shot of George, Lucy, Lockwood (and Kipps) rising up on the catafalque sums it all up for me. Each of them fell into darkness alone and rose out of it together. They inspired each other to fight and win their individual battles, even when they couldn’t be there to help

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #quill kipps #lockwood and lucy #lucy and lockwood #locklyle #lockwood netflix #flo bones #She speaks!

3K notes · View notes

makethemhoesmad · 5 months ago

Text

for the most part

paige b x reader

—

you never really love someone until you can’t , is what paige thinks after you’ve stormed out of her apartment, screaming at her that she never cared, that you understand that she needs to “focus on basketball,” but you’ve heard that bullshit excuse about a billion times over and it isn’t working for a billion and one.

you never really worry unless you need to, is the thought that runs through paige’s mind when she gets a call, and someone from the hospital starts talking. paige is holding the arm of the couch, leaving fingernail marks in it while a paramedic explains that you got into a car crash, and she told them to “call paige” before she passed out, blood loss. blood loss blood lossbloodlossloss

you don’t speed, unless you have to. paige is flying down the road to get to the hospital, get there in time. because there might not be enough time

and she can’t help but think it’s her fault, because she knows you’re reckless when you’re angry. she knows, she knows she should have grabbed your wrist and begged before it was too late it’s not too late yet

you always know what to say until you don’t have time you’re listening, or paige thinks you’re listening. you’re staring at the ceiling, body stuck looking up while you wait to be wheeled into life-saving surgery. yes, wait, for life saving surgery. but as she talks, tells you that it’s gonna be alright, she loves you, she’ll see you when you’re done, she thinks you squeeze her hand, just a little

it’s hard not to feel hopeless when there’s no hope the doctor comes out, face neutral. “it’s 70/30,” she starts, watching paige’s face fall and drain of color. “30 percent chance says she pulls through. she’s strong, that’s for sure. but, her injuries were intensive. 70 percent says she’ll pass tonight. if she makes it to the morning, her survival percentage goes up.” paige thanks to doctor, and nods at the nurse’s offer to add a cot to your room. then, she goes to the little single bathroom in the corner and lets out one sob. how dare they talk about you in statistics like you’re not a living, breathing, loving girl.

wake up she’s the only one awake when it happens. she hears the heart monitor, it’s steady beeping the only thing that lulled her to sleep, knowing your heart was still holding out. but then it stopped beeping for a second too long. then two seconds, then three. then it stopped for so many seconds she stood up and rushed over to you, trying to feel your breath fanning onto her face. she hears a series of quick, erratic beeps, and then the long, you-only-hear-it-in-movies sound of a heart monitor flatlining. in that moment everything stops.

you never really miss someone until they’re gone

paige will relive that moment over and over for the rest of her life, but she will never be able to fully recall what she felt right after. maybe it’s the brain’s way of helping, dulling those memories so you don’t have to live them again and again, for the most part

for the most part became paige’s anthem

she’s okay, for the most part

she can move on, love someone else, for the most part

she can be happy when she wins the 2025 natty, for the most part

maybe not that last one, actually, because maybe if she hadn’t had to focus on basketball so much to win it, you’d have been there to celebrate next to her

#paige bueckers #mutuals💀#uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #angst #sorry #i couldn’t not #im feeling emo

216 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 1 year ago

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [8] - Bells

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some decisions require late night visits.

Word Count: 2600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You didn’t think the rest of the week would be peaceful in any way but even you couldn’t guess just how tense it would be.

“This is insane,” Becca pointed out, crossing her arms and leaning back on her seat. You had decided to meet up for brunch but this time, two other tables in the café were also reserved for your and Becca’s multiple bodyguards who were enjoying their coffees. You stole a look at them, then turned to Becca.

“You’re telling me,” you said. “Four bodyguards everywhere I go. It sounds absurd.”

“And this is Barnes territory!” Becca hissed. “I’ve never ever needed bodyguards in our territory, and all of a sudden...”

“How stressed out is everyone?” you asked and she shook her head with a sigh.

“I could barely see Bucky in these last couple of days,” she said. “My dad said I have nothing to worry about, but you know how he is. It’s kind of condescending, honestly.”

“And your mom?”

“She has this bright idea to send me off to vacation to Zürich until the dust settles here.”

You pulled your brows together. “Will you?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “I’m not leaving any of you here.”

You reached out to squeeze at her hand before grabbing your coffee to take a sip.

“How about you?”

“I think I will get the same speech tonight,” you said. “My dad wants to talk to me.”

“And?”

“I’ll make a counter offer.”

“To?”

“To help out,” you said. “With this situation. Besides, me leaving in a time like this would be basically handing Ian the heir position, and I’m not doing that.”

“Do you think your father will accept that offer though?”

“We’ll see,” you said, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a flip. “I’d be better than Ian than handling this, he has to see that.”

“Bucky says Ian isn’t even carrying a gun anymore,” Becca said with a small laugh and you tilted your head.

“What?”

“Yeah. Apparently he says no one can get to him with his men around him. I guess it’s his way of making them think he trusts them with his life.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right.”

“As much as I hate to admit, it looks like it’s working,” Becca admitted. “He looks pretty confident.”

“Confidence can lead to very huge mistakes,” you said and cleared your throat. “Ugh, let’s talk about something else. How’s everything with Leila?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you!” Becca said, snapping her fingers. “Do you think it’s still too early to ask her to marry me?”

You blinked a couple of times. “Becca, you two started dating less than a week ago.”

“Yeah but I could still ask her!”

“That’s the hopeless romantic in you speaking.”

“That’s the orgasms speaking actually,” she corrected you, making you grin.

“Either way, neither of those make you think logical.”

“Logical is overrated,” she pointed out. “How about you?”

“Me?”

“You and Ethan?”

“We’re not doing anything,” you said slowly. “I did hire some bodyguards for him though, just in case.”

“Maybe you should take the first step.”

“I’m not going to do that,” you said, shaking your head fervently and she hummed.

“Don’t tell me Bucky’s proposal affected you like that.”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, scrunching up your face. “Why would you say that?”

Becca rolled her eyes.

“Maybe because I’ve known you two my whole life?”

Your frown deepened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Please,” she said, shooting you a look. “All those glances and so much bickering, it’s obvious something is there—”

“Hate,” you cut her off. “Hate is what’s there.”

Becca gave you a mischievous smile, then sipped her coffee.

“Whatever you say.”

“Bucky and I could never work,” you insisted and Becca hummed.

“What about you and Ethan?”

“Ethan is—” you paused for a moment. “Dating him would be incredibly simple. You know, no ulterior motives, no strategies, nothing complex.”

“That would be so convincing if you could deal with simple more than just a couple of months.”

“You can,” you said and Becca waved a hand in the air.

“I was never promised the heir position,” she said. “It was always Bucky. That’s why I’ve never had that…that burning ambition both of you have. At the end of the day, I do want a simple life Y/N but you’ve never been that type. I don’t think you could actually be happy in a simple relationship.”

You clicked your tongue and leaned back in your chair.

“Well then that complicates things,” you said. “I don’t think I would be happy with someone in the business either.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding?” you said with a laugh. “Come on, you know how spouses are treated in the business. You’re just—you’re there as the arm candy, they never let you get involved—”

“That’s the generation before us.”

“Did Bucky put you up to this?” you asked and she huffed out a laugh.

“I didn’t say you should marry my brother,” she pointed out. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t force yourself to like a simple life if you want more than that. Especially if you’re basing your decision on some ancient bullshit rule our families decided to follow.”

You heaved a sigh and took a sip of your coffee.

“Didn’t you just say logical is overrated?” you asked. “Since when are you so logical?”

“I have my moments,” Becca grinned at you. “So. Can we talk about my love life now?”

“Yes but you can’t ask her to marry you.”

“I can ask her to be my fiancée,” Becca stated and you tilted your head.

“That’s…that’s basically the same, Becca.”

Becca rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Fine!” she said. “Can I at least ask her if we should move in together?”

You bit back a smile.

“I’ll give you my permission for that once you two reach the third month.”

“Oh we will,” Becca said with a bright smile. “Great. I’ll send you the house warming party gift list when I get home then.”

You had assumed your father would see you and gave you the same speech Becca got from her parents at home, but apparently he was swamped with work so he had asked you to come to the company. When you got there, your father’s assistant told you he was in the middle of a meeting with Ian and Stark, so you took a seat in the waiting area and stole a look at Ryan who was no doubt waiting for Ian.

“Hi Ryan.”

“Ma’am,” he greeted you, his tone rough but respectful. You smiled at him, crossing your arms.

“Waiting for my cousin?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” you asked and he paused for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Why are you working for him?” you asked. “He’s an asshole.”

Ryan didn’t even dignify that with an answer as he looked at you, his expression completely calm like he was very used to not giving answers.

“Riveting conversation as always,” you teased him and he bit back a small smile.

“I respect your family, ma’am.”

“I mean you don’t really have to respect Ian though, God knows he does nothing to earn that,” you pointed out. “You know he’s looking forward to starting a war, right?”

“He’s ready to see you,” the assistant said before Ryan could answer you, and you nodded your head, then stood up from the couch.

“Have a nice evening Ryan.”

“You too ma’am,” he said and you followed the assistant to your father’s office.

“Y/N sweetheart, hello,” he said as he walked to you to press a kiss on your cheek. “Sit down, sit down!”

“How was your meeting?” you asked and he waved a hand in the air.

“The usual,” he said. “I have four other meetings after this.”

“Daddy—”

“I will rest when I get home, I promise,” he said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s just that I don’t know when they will be finished, and I figured you’d be asleep by the time I got home,” he said. “Y/N listen—”

“Don’t bother giving me that speech, I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off and he frowned.

“How did you…?”

“Winnifred gave the same speech to Becca. She tried to send her to Zürich, where are you trying to send me?”

“Wherever you want,” your father said. “I was thinking Florence but…”

“Florence is a gorgeous city,” you said. “I’d love to see it sometime, maybe next Christmas.”

“Y/N.”

You gave him a small grin. “Hm?”

“It’s going to be safer for you if you just go away from the city for a while.”

“While you and Ian handle things?”

“While I handle things.”

“But Ian stays?” you insisted and he ran a hand over his face.

“Yes, but—”

“I’m not going,” you said, your voice firm. “Send him away if you want, but I’m not leaving the city when there’s a war coming.”

“I feel like you need to think about this,” your father said and you shook your head.

“I did think about it.”

“Y/N, I will feel much better if I know you’re away from danger, at least until the dust settles here.”

You sat up straighter, your heart pacing in your chest.

“Dad I can help,” you said. “With all this. You know I can.”

A look of realization dawned on his face.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“No we haven’t,” you insisted. “Not really. We keep ignoring it, ignoring the fact that you haven’t named a successor—”

“That’s because I’m not planning on retiring soon.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Others might believe that lie, but I do not.”

Your father heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off of his seat to come closer to you, then leaned back to his desk, crossing his arms.

“And please tell me, what is it that you want to hear from me right now?” he asked you and you shook your head.

“Don’t patronize me,” you said through your teeth. “You know what I’m capable of, you trained me for times like these. You know I’d make a much better heir than Ian—”

“Y/N, enough.”

“Just give me a chance to prove myself,” you insisted. “That’s all I’m asking. You don’t have to make me the head of all operations, but give me a chance to show you I can do this. I’ve already prepared a plan—”

“Let me stop you right there,” he said. “What you’re suggesting is absolutely out of question.”

Your jaw clenched. “Why?”

“We already have a plan.”

“Okay,” you let out an impatient breath. “Then you can tell me the plan and I’ll help.”

“No need, we have everything covered.”

You could feel the anger bubbling in your stomach but you dug your fingernails into your palm, reminding yourself to stay calm.

“Dad,” you said slowly. “You promised me.”

“And I promised your mother!” he snapped, making you stop talking. “I promised your mother that I would keep you safe, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

The bridge of your nose along with the back of your eyes started burning, a sure sign that the tears were on their way but you blinked fast a couple of times, biting at your tongue.

“That was your mother’s dying wish,” he said, looking you in the eye. “I’m not going to break my promise to her.”

You swallowed thickly. “Mom would want me to be happy.”

“And you think this life would make you happy?” he asked you. “All this bloodshed, this violence?”

“I was born into bloodshed and violence,” you reminded him. “I’ve spent all my life in it. What, you think you can keep me safe by pushing me out of the picture?”

“It’s much safer than being in the middle of it.”

“For now,” you pointed out. “What about the future? I already know three families that will refuse to do business with Ian.”

Your father shrugged his shoulders. “It’s too early to worry about that. I’m not retiring anytime soon.”

“Dad, he wants to start a war.”

“He will see that war isn’t good for business,” he brushed you off. “He’s just very eager to prove himself right now, that’s all. He’s not going to start a war, don’t worry.”

You gritted your teeth and pursed your lips, glaring at him.

“You got your fire from me, your mother was much calmer,” he said with a small smile. “So I swear to you, I understand your frustration and anger very well. The crown you think you want right now? It’s way too dangerous sweetheart. You’ll see it in time that I’m making the right choice.”

The tears blurred your sight for a moment before you blinked them away and wetted your lips, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

“You’re not going to name me as your successor, are you?” you rasped out. “Nor will you let me prove myself.”

Your father held your gaze in his for a second, then shook his head.

“No.”

The disappointment hit you so hard that it made your head spin. This wasn’t news to you in any way, you had spent years watching your father treat Ian like his successor but actually hearing it from him was enough to make you want to scream. Anger rushed through you, boiling your blood and you bit your tongue hard enough to hurt, and nodded slowly.

“Okay,” you heard yourself say as you stood up, not even looking him in the eye and he took a deep breath.

“Honey…” he started but you walked out of his office without sparing him a glance, your whole body moving as if it was on autopilot. You got to the elevator and pressed the button, then stepped inside and watched the doors close, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes.

Very well then.

If your father didn’t want to give you power, you were going to take it for yourself.

The address wasn’t exactly familiar to you seeing that you hadn’t been there before, but your driver knew the way. When you walked into the building and gave the reception your name, it took them less than a minute to guide you to the elevator, everyone around you rushing like they were instructed not to make you wait even for a second. When the elevator stopped at the top floor, a bodyguard led you to the door of the penthouse to knock on the door and you heard the footsteps coming closer before the door opened.

It looked like Bucky had dashed through the apartment to put his jeans on when they told him you were there, seeing that he was breathing quite fast. You let yourself run your gaze over his bare muscular torso, the tattoos over his chest catching your attention before your eyes snapped up to his, your heart skipping a beat.

God damn it, you almost forgot just how handsome he was.

“Charm,” he said, offering you a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hey there,” you said as you walked past him into the penthouse before he could invite you inside and he closed the door behind you.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said while you glanced around. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You took a deep breath and turned around to look at him better, your heart beating in your ears.

“Get rid of whoever is in your bedroom,” you said and shot him a sarcastic smile as you crossed your arms. “We need to talk about the wedding.”

Chapter 9

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #mob boss!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob au

449 notes · View notes

enchantedtomeetyou1113 · 24 days ago

Text

dancing with your ghost

levi x reader

hi! okay so this isn’t my first work but it’s my first in over 5 years. i guess aot brought out my old ways (pray for me 🙏🏻) this is just something stuck in my head inspired by the song ‘dancing with your ghost’ by Sasha alex sloan im sorry if this sucks 😔

SFW !!! 🤍🤍🤍

WARNINGS: angsty but happy ending! mentions of death. female reader!

———————————————————————

“Do you promise you’ll come back?”

“I already said yes 5 times.”

“Yeah but-“

“Y/n,calm down.”

I heard his sigh before I felt his hand on my shoulder. A small gesture that felt a lot bigger in the moment. “I promise I’ll try my hardest to come back.” His grey eyes locked on my own wide eyed stare.

“Fine,” I sigh deeply. Bringing my little finger up I feel a small smile creep onto my lips. “Solemnly swear it?” The look on Levi’s face turned into a stoic one. “I’m not pinky promising, what are you 5?”

“This is a deliciously Levi.” I grin twirling my pinky. He rolls his eyes before bringing up his own little finger to wrap around mine.

“I take this very seriously. Don’t you dare do something stupid and wind up dead out there.” My gaze turned serious one last time. The thought of him not coming back sent a shiver down my spine.

“Yeah yeah I heard you the last time.” He looks towards the rest of the scouts and the commander getting on their horses. I follow his gaze feeling uneasy. “I mean it Levi.” “I know.” “Then you better listen.” He flicks my forehead.

“Are you giving me orders?” I heard the amusement in his voice. I roll my eyes “better get going captain, they wouldn’t want their strongest soldier to be late.” I watch him nod before taking a few steps backwards. He holds up his pinky reminding me of our promise and before I know it I’m watching him ride off with the rest of the scouts.

So what? He’s only gonna be gone 2 weeks. It’s an easy mission right?

Right?

A month passed. One whole month. The scouts never arrived back. Some say the mission is just taking longer than they expected. Others say the mission probably failed and all scouts are dead somewhere.

Me? I spent the first 3 in a panic state. Everyone knew better then to mention the words ‘failed’ ‘missing ’ or ‘dead’ to me. I wouldn’t listen when they did anyways. I merely brushed it off and other times I yelled and told them off saying something along the lines of ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about!” And “You don’t know Levi,”

I spent the next 3 days staying up all night telling myself he’s alright.

On week two I was sleep deprived with bags under my eyes darker then the night sky I stay staring at until my body shuts down. I wake up after hours that feel like mere seconds. I can barely sleep with the thoughts racing in my mind. It feels like an eternity of worrying and fear. My friends all tried reassuring me and they checked on me enough times for me to get annoyed. Telling me stupid things like I should sleep more.

“Don’t worry okay? We know Levi he’s humanity’s strongest for a reason, and if I know that man he’d let the whole world be a snack for a titan before he gave up on coming back to you.” Hanges words helped. They did really, until I was alone. At night. In my bed staring at the ceiling. I wanted to scream at the world. ‘Heaven only knows where you are now’ I think to myself. Every passing minute the pit in my stomach grew and the pain grew sharper.

I stare at the walls. A new habit I picked up on day 3. I think to myself how my room is dirty and Levi wouldn’t approve or appreciate the lack of cleaning I’ve been doing. He’d probably flick my forehead and call me a ‘messy brat’ before sterilizing it for me and calling me hopeless under his breath.

“You pinky promised you jerk.” I say to the ceiling.

2 weeks easily turned into 2 months.

Easily is a weird way to put it considering it was the hardest 2 months of my damn life. I began having dreams. Detailed dreams that felt more real than any current reality. More real than any memory or waking moment. Dreams of him coming back. Embracing me telling me the mission took a turn and it lasted longer then it was supposed to. I wake up to those dreams with the biggest smile on my face every damn time.

Of course the smile turns into to tears and eye bags.

If I thought people were telling me to move on before then boy was i wrong. How do I let it go? Move on and forget him? How do I love again? How am I supposed to trust again?

I think about what I’d say to him if he appeared infront of me more then I’d like to admit. A lot of name calling. I’m planning on slapping him across his beautiful face. His face that I miss more than anything, his face I wish I could hold in my palm and smother in kisses.

But I guess that moment hasn’t come yet and I’m not sure anymore if it will.

People talk…they tell me I should focus on myself and other stupid things like he’s gone.

It was another slow week and I’ve gone too many sleepless nights staring at the same ceiling I can’t seem to look away from.

I heard a creek in the floor. The floorboard I always avoid because the sound is annoying and wakes Levi up at night. I look towards the sound and before I can open my mouth,

“Tch, did you forget how to clean while I was gone?”

My heart missed a beat. And then another.

“Levi?”

“You know anyone else who’d be this revolted by this mess?”

I stood up so quickly I felt dizzy.

“Where-where were you?! What took you so long-you jerk! I’ve been waiting! Everyone told me to move on and that you were dead! I knew it I knew you were-“

“It’s okay,” he stops me with his cold hand on my cheek. Despite the coldness of his finger tips it was the warmest touch I’ve ever felt.

“I’m okay. You’re okay. That’s all that matters I’ll tell you later.”

I nod reluctantly

we spent what felt like hours dancing. He spun me around enough times for me to feel dizzy. I couldn’t stop the endless giggles that caused me physical pain in my ribs and the smile that hurt my cheeks. We listened to the same songs on repeat on my record player.

I closed my eyes feeling the music and just letting myself be happy for the first time in ages as he spun me.

I open my eyes and blink a countless amount of times hoping the sight would change. Not this damn ceiling again.

Of course It was a dream, it always was. Dancing with your ghost..

I lost track of the time honestly I have. 4 months? 5? You’re a damn liar Levi Ackerman that’s all you are.

Even if you’re really gone I don’t care. I’m still your girl and everyone knows it-hange tried setting me up with someone a few times. I bet you could imagine how that went. ‘I’m taken.’

Stupid boys come up to me in teashops and in the streets with stupid one liners and stupid compliments and I tell them all the same thing. “My boyfriend’s waiting for me.”

It’s more like I’m waiting for my boyfriend..

And my friends talk, they always do.

‘Come on y/n you gotta move on!’

But it hurts to try.

It’s all stupid.

8 months pass. That ceiling is my new best friend and I appreciate it more than the real people in my life. The ceiling can’t tell me he’s gone. The ceiling can’t set me up on stupid dates and try and force me to sleep.

My heads always in the clouds and my dreams have gotten worse and end up with a bloody Levi and floods from my eyes.

I speak to myself pretending you can hear. Honestly I’ve started to believe you can. Sometimes I tell you about my shitty day or how I miss you, other times I scream about how you left me and how I hate you, but those times I end up begging for you to just come back already.

I don’t talk to my friends anymore, something about I only care about you and it’s exhausting dealing with me. Who cares I don’t need them,I only need you. Where are you?

“The scouts! They’re back!”

That bell. I know that bell.

“No way I thought they were all dead!”

“Is that captain Levi?!”

Whatever was in my hand now long gone in my path I barely felt the wind pushing me backwards as I ran towards the yelling.

And I seen him. The real him after all this time after all those dreams after the stupid remarks from my stupid friends after all the prayers and all the tears.

“Levi!” My voice sounded a lot more shaky than it did in my head.

I seen him on his horse. It don’t matter if he was a little farther back I seen it.

He wiggled his pinky.

———————————————————————-

A/n Pls don’t ask me where the scouts went for 8 months i literally don’t know just pretend and pretend i know how to write while your at it 🥰

Thank you for reading <3

#levi ackerman #levi aot #Levi x reader #captain levi #levi x you #attack on titan #aot x reader

59 notes · View notes

imsofreakingtired · 7 days ago

Note

idk if this might be off the table but can you write about sevika finding reader on the bridge about to jump off of it but she gets there just in time

Feel free to ignore if you don’t like it !

thank you for the request anon </3

disclaimer: this piece is not meant to trivialize, romanticize, or dramatize mental illness. i write these to cope and draw the content matter from my own experiences. if you are personally going through something like this, please please reach out and seek help!! tumblr is not a viable replacement for therapy!! and as always if this content is triggering or upsetting for you, pls scroll away and take care of yourself 💙💙

don't let me go

content warning(s): heavy angst, depictions of depression and self-destructive ideation (hurt/COMFORT this time tho trust 🙏)

"this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow if it weren't for you, i'd be here all alone i know in my heart this is where we belong this world is a wasteland... don't let me go."

~~~

*context: reader and sevika have been friends since childhood and now both work under silco.*

~~~

“Sevika,” you say.

She grunts.

“What’s your dream?”

“My dream?”

“What do you want. I mean really want.”

Sevika rolls a broken bottle under her boot before pulling back her foot and kicking it into the river. It takes off with a sharp clinking sound, the music of breaking glass, before sailing through the air and plunging into the river water.

“Kill my old man,” she says.

“Okay, second to that.”

She looks at you. “What d’you mean?”

You stare back. She is only eighteen but looks older than her years, already tired of the world and its cruelties. She has grown too quickly for her young mind. Her body is hardened to the undercity. You love her with a hopelessness deeper than the black river dividing Zaun and Piltover.

You ask again, “what do you want?”

She flashes you a rare crooked smile. “To live with you up there.” Pointing in the direction of Piltover.

“In Topside?”

“No. In the sky.”

There’s a pause. Then you say to her, “you’re so stupid.”

“What do you want?” She returns.

“Me?” I want you. The unspoken words tumble to the tip of your tongue, and you swallow them again.

“I want a fucking break,” you say instead.

“Hunh.” She kicks another bottle. “We’ll get it. When Zaun is free, we’ll get it.”

It isn’t quite what you mean, but you don’t try to explain yourself. You don’t tell her that she is the only reason you’re here, even when it sometimes feels like your will to live is clinging on by the fingernails. You don’t tell her that the sound of her voice anchors you when you start spiralling, guilt-ridden and full of self-hatred. You don’t tell her that the greatest fight in your life is not against the enforcers but with yourself. You don’t tell her that you fight every day because of her.

Because you know she doesn’t fight for you. She fights for Zaun.

~~~

Sevika watches you closely, though you never realize it. You have been acting strange nowadays, working for days on end without sleep or not coming into work at all. Silco has said nothing about it, because you’re one of his most prized henchwomen, but Sevika can sense something is off. You barely speak two words together unless it’s necessary, and when you do it sounds like your mind is far away. You look tired all the time and sometimes you disappear altogether, returning an hour later as if nothing had happened. And only Sevika notices the bloody cuticles, the swelling around your eyelids.

One day she corners you in the passageway outside Silco’s office.

“Are you sick?” she demands. It comes out more brusquely than she intends. She is mortified at her own concern for you. She doesn’t want you to see how much she worries for you, the effect you have on her.

You look up at her in alarm. “No,” you say quickly. Too quickly.

“Then why…” she searches for the right words, struggling not to betray herself. “Don’t lie to me,” she says at last. “Something’s wrong.”

You can see right through her tough façade. You can see the concern in her frowning eyes. And all of a sudden you’re filled with deadly hope and an overwhelming desire to let go. Break down. Tell her everything.

But then you remember that most likely, she’s only concerned with the impact this may have on your usefulness to Silco—to Zaun. You’re terrified she might discover your condition and tell Silco to fire you, that you might be holding them back, that your emotional instability might make your jobs sloppy.

So you do what you do best. You swallow your words.

“I’m fine,” you say. “I’m sorry.”

Her frown deepens. “I said don’t lie.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, either.”

“I have work to do, Sevika.” You try to move past her but she reaches out and stops you with her mechanical arm.

“You used to tell me everything,” Sevika says. Was that a trace of sadness in her tone? Was it your imagination, or was there a softer look in her eyes?

“There’s nothing to tell,” you say, and each word feels like a dagger in your own heart. “I swear.”

You duck under her arm and walk swiftly away from her.

~~~

It is a clear night and you and Sevika are on the rooftop of the Last Drop, sharing a bottle of wine. You can hear Vander and Silco arguing inside the bar, most likely on the topic of politics. They are already dreaming big, thinking past the long fight to overcome, visualizing a brilliant and abstract future.

You do not see a future. On bad days you see nothing.

On the good days…

Sevika takes a drink from the bottle and slings an arm around your shoulder. She can be casually affectionate when she’s in the mood, and you cherish these moments. You lean your head on her shoulder. Her skin is warm under her shirt.

“What would you do if I died?” you ask her.

Sevika doesn’t answer right away. But you feel her grip on you tighten.

“If I lost you,” she says finally, “how do you think I’ll go on?”

~~~

When Sevika finds your note, the first thing she thinks of is that conversation on the roof, years ago. She has not forgotten a single thing you ever told her, and the recollection fills her with a terror she’s never known before.

The slip of paper in her hand reads, you don’t need me anymore. Thank you. For all the moments you gave me before.

Sevika doesn’t even stop to put on her cloak. She just turns around and runs.

She’s too late. She’s too late. She’s too late.

She tears down the street, pushing people carelessly out of the way. As she runs she activates the Shimmer cartridge in her mechanical arm. A hot rush, the familiar jolt, the searing pink in her vision. She runs faster, faster until the buildings are a blur around her, until the sweat flicks off her face.

Between gasping breaths, like a mantra to you, she whispers, “Please. Please. Please.”

~~~

It is too late to cry, it is too late to turn back, it is too late to think. Your chest is tight with all you remember. The waters churn under you.

The only person in the world you have hung on for is Sevika. You tell yourself she will move on quickly. You tell yourself that your death would not make much of a difference to her. What was one person lost in the grand cause? Silco would be able to find a replacement in no time, and the great machinery of Zaun will continue to turn its weary gears.

Sevika is now a part of that machine. Sevika will not miss you.

You close your eyes and let your body fall forward.

Someone screams your name, a raw desperate sound that doesn’t even sound human.

A flash of rippling pink, a burning sensation around your waist, and then suddenly you’re on the ground. Someone’s arms are wrapped around you, someone’s voice is in your ear, and someone’s hot tears are falling into your hair.

Sevika.

Your eyes are shut because you’re afraid you’re already gone. You’re afraid if you open your eyes your senses will catch up with you, and Sevika will be replaced by the cold embrace of water, Sevika’s voice will become the rushing waves over your head.

But she’s holding you still. She’s holding you so tight you can hardly breathe. She’s saying, over and over, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

And you can feel her heart pounding wildly against your ear, which is the only indication of how scared she actually is.

You free your arms and wrap them around her neck. You let yourself break down. You cry until your chest feels like it’s tearing apart. She’s still holding you, her mech arm pressed into your back like a brace, and you cling to her tighter.

“Don’t let me go,” you beg. “Oh god, don’t let me go.”

“I won’t,” she says roughly, her voice shaking. “I never will.”

~~~

note: dear readers, i am sorry. 🥲

#tw sui ideation #tw sui attempt #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika angst #hurt/comfort #sevika fanfic #arcane #song: wasteland by royal & the serpent

260 notes · View notes