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puffcap-factory · 5 months ago

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As night will find its day (Diluc x Reader)

Diluc x fem!reader; angst, established relationship, reader lost her memory ohno!, a little bit of comfort at the end but mostly angst (esp. on Diluc’s end) What if after an argument with Diluc, you fell into the abyss during your expedition not long after, and you went back to the surface after 6 months, but without your memory of him.

This story is based on the drabble I made (here). I used it as an introduction for this story as I prefer to post a completed version in one post, so some of you who had read the previous post can skip the first part if you like!

Words: 4.2k

Notes: Okay I clearly went overboard, I never thought I would write this long but I got carried away. At one point I really felt bad for Diluc and I even asked myself why. I've also set the reader into female because I felt like it somewhat refers a bit (if you squint hard enought tho... ) to the other Diluc fic I made. But of course, each story is separate and you can always enjoy each one separately.

So, is it really connected? is it not? who knows! haHaHA

As always, please enjoy the angst!

•~•~•~•

Where is this place…?

Your steps were heavy, each step sinking into the ground as you trudged along the ground. The rustling grass and the rich scent of soil tugged at something familiar inside you, whispering of a place you once knew. Perhaps, you had found your way back to your own world, after all?

With each step, you moved forward little by little, limping slightly, as you took your time to absorb the surroundings after being thrown out of a rift near the shores of Liyue. Your clothes were ragged after what had seemed like endless battles you had fought to survive in the abyss, and your body felt numb with exhaustion. Yet, in this moment of weariness, there was a bittersweet comfort in the familiar earth beneath your feet.

“I’m back…”

You mumbled, your voice barely audible. Your mind was like a blank canvas as your feet carried you aimlessly, trying to dig deep into the recesses of your memory. But, everything before the darkness in the abyss remained elusive. Everything was hazy, as if someone had locked your memory before your fall into the abyss in a box, with its key just out of reach.

Hours slipped by as you wandered, until you finally found yourself at the foot of a small hill. The wind brought a gentle breeze, tousling your hair, and you reached up to brush it from your face. Before you lay a field of grapevines, their leaves rustling softly in the wind. At the top of the hill, nestled among the vineyards, stood a mansion, and you were strangely pulled towards into it.

You slowly stepped forward onto the pathway leading to the mansion, when a man suddenly appeared in front of you, his face etched with shock as if he had just seen a ghost. His mouth fell open, and his arms hung limply at his sides as he tried to process the sight before him. There was a pause before he decided to speak.

“…y/n...?”

You looked up into his face, noticing his red hair pulled back into a ponytail. What a pretty sight, you thought, before realizing that he had called your name.

Y/n… Right, that’s my name. At least I remember that.

The man rushed to you, pulling you into a gentle hug, supporting you as you struggled to stand. You could feel his uneven breaths, hear the panic in his attempts to calm himself. His hand trembled against your back, offering support as he whispered fragmented apologies into your ear. Despite your confusion, there was a strange comfort in his embrace, a feeling of safety that allowed the fatigue to finally seize you.

He then pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed with worry as he noticed your dazed state. Despite the profound care you felt from his gaze, his face was a void in your memory. You tried to rake through your mind, but strangely found nothing. He lifted a trembling hand to your face, gently caressing your cheek, wishing at least you would somehow respond to his silent wail – call his name, anything.

You opened your mouth, and with the last of your strength, you finally asked.

“Who are you…?”

•~•~•~•

It had been almost half a year since you disappeared. Diluc had been restless, pacing back and forth at the guild, exhausting every resource and contact in his search for you. He had poured all his energy into finding you, but every lead ended in nothing.

Then, on that day you finally reappeared, relief washed over him at seeing you alive, but the first words you said to him had shattered him.

You had not recognized him, nor the place you should be familiar with.

How? Why? How could this happen? Is this even possible? Where does your memory stretch back to? This should be temporary, right…?

I haven’t lost you… have I?

Thousands of questions rushed through Diluc's mind, each one more painful than the last. He speculated endlessly, his thoughts spinning with countless what-ifs. However, the worst-case scenario, the thought he wouldn’t even dare to admit, scared him to the core. Recalling the moment he had held you in his arms and saw you looking at him as if he were a stranger, his heart sank deeper than it ever had before.

However, Diluc was quick with his action as to gather the servants to explain the situation after you were rested. While he acknowledged the possibility of memory loss, he instructed them to prioritize your care until you healed and not to push you. “Treat her like any guest with respect,” he had said, though uttering the word "guest" pained him deeply.

Diluc entered his bedroom to check on you, as he did every day. He sat next to the bed and gently lifted the cloth from your forehead to change it. His gaze lingered on your face, which seemed to be peacefully sleeping. Everything was still—the evening sun filtered through the window, casting a soft light around you, making you appear almost angelic, in contrast to the fear and anxiety gnawing at Diluc's mind.

He gently caressed your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin against his, as if trying to salvage any dear moment with you. But then, his mind wandered back to when he had let his anger overtake him, leading to this outcome.

The time, when you two were shouting at each other, and the look on your face, hurt by his words...

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the flashbacks from flooding his mind. A storm of regret built inside him, reminding him of his past actions.

He exhaled deeply and stood up, finding it difficult to tear his gaze from you. As he looked at you one last time, he silently prayed for you to wake up soon, longing for a chance to make things right... if that was even possible in the first place.

•~•~•~•

A few days later, one afternoon, Diluc returned from his own expedition from the guild. As soon as he entered, Adelinde rushed to him.

"Master Diluc, she's awake. She has been since early morning," she said, her voice filled with both relief and worry.

Diluc's heart quickly raced with anticipation hearing what Adelinde had said. But dread crept in when she added, "But… she doesn’t seem to recognize me—or this place."

So, his suspicion was true.

"Where is she now?" he asked.

"At the garden table, in the backyard," Adelinde responded.

Without wasting a moment, he rushed into the backyard. He found you seated at the table, your back facing him as you were seemingly admiring the landscape beyond. Diluc carefully approached you from the side, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone tile. Hearing the sound, you turned your head to see him coming towards you.

"Good afternoon," Diluc greeted, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Oh... good afternoon," you replied as he took a seat opposite you, facing the landscape.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, searching your face for any hint of recognition.

"I’m feeling… pretty well," you said hesitantly, clearly still confused. "The maid told me you rescued me when I fell unconscious. So... thank you."

“Don’t mention it, I did what I have to do,” he answered. You smiled weakly at him in response as he paused, contemplating his words whether to ask you about your past recollections. But you spoke first.

"To be honest, I barely remember anything about where I came from, in case you’re wondering. Everything is foggy… All I remember is a constant struggle for survival in the abyss, before I came to this place, I... I—" You paused, trying to gather your thoughts. "I feel afraid... of all this…uncertainty."

His worst fear was confirmed, and his heart shattered upon hearing what you just said. Seeing the confusion and fear in your eyes, imagining what you must have endured in the abyss, suffocated him. Yet, he tried his best to maintain his calm exterior.

"...But," you continued, momentarily bringing him back from his thoughts.

He looked up, meeting your eyes.

"There is something calming about this place... I feel somewhat... safe."

Upon hearing your words, there was a mixture of relief and sorrow washing over Diluc. One part was relieved that you felt safe, but he couldn’t deny the ache he felt in his heart, reminding him the painful reality that all the memories he once shared with you might now only reside within him. It took every ounce of strength not to crumble in front of you.

Yet, he reached out, his hand gently resting on yours. "You are safe here," he whispered, his voice weighted with thousands of emotions swirling inside him.

You looked at him rather curiously at first, taking in his genuine words, then gave a warm smile. “Thank you, I really do owe you.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything. Don’t worry about it,” he responded, shaking his head. “If you want to know about the city, I’d be glad to show you around. There are lots of good people there.”

Your face began to lit up at his offer, a smile widening across your face. “Really…? That would be great!”

Ah, how he had dearly missed that sight…

•~•~•~•

It had been almost three weeks since you began your stay at the Dawn Winery. Diluc had been treating you very well, helping you adjust to daily life, sometimes accompanying you to Mondstadt whenever he had spare time. Of course, the people who had apparently known you from before, already heard the story, as Diluc had already warned them not to scare you by overwhelming you with questions. You eventually learned that you were someone who had originally come from this very city. The people were warm and welcoming despite your inexistence of your past memories, much to your appreciation.

Today, you found yourself seated in the winery gardens, reading a book that Lisa, the librarian, had lent you. The title read ‘History of Mondstadt’ — Lisa had recommended a lighter book for you to read, but you had insisted on this one, determined to fill in the gaps in your memory. After all, you didn’t want to burden Diluc for too long; he had done more than enough for you, and you planned to live independently as soon as you were ready.

As you flipped through the middle pages, Adelinde called out to you.

“My lady, it’s lunchtime,” she gently called from the main door.

“Ah, coming!” You closed the book and went inside. The manor was quieter than usual, as Diluc had been out for work since the day before, so you found yourself eating alone at the table.

“Please, enjoy, and if you need anything, just call me, alright?” Adelinde said with a slight bow before returning to her duties.

You nodded in thanks, taking a moment to observe your food and your surroundings. There was always a strange tug on your memory about this place that you couldn’t quite explain, but the manor felt serene, as if your body was oddly accustomed to it. After enjoying your meal, you decided to roam around the house, indulging to your curiosities.

As you wandered, you noticed that Diluc’s office door was slightly open. You had never seen what was inside, but you knew you shouldn't pry—you wanted to respect his privacy, especially given how well he had treated you. But the glimpse of the room inside seemed to call to you, and your feet unconsciously brought you closer.

Slowly, you stepped inside, taking your time to observe the room. The room was unlit, but the sunlight casting through the window made it seem almost… ethereal. You saw wooden carved cabinets containing files and books, all sorted neatly, and another cabinet holding some antiques. His desk was not the tidiest, with documents sprawled across the surface. You noticed a paper on the floor near his seat, so you carefully picked it up. As you placed it on the desk, you noticed a slightly open drawer, and one item inside particularly drew your attention. The sunlight reflected on a metallic object, making it hard to miss.

You hesitated, knowing you were already prying more than you should. But your curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to take a peek. You opened the drawer a bit more and saw that the glowing item was a golden pocket watch. Intrigued, you picked it up, examining its intricate carvings closely. Carefully, you opened it, and a bittersweet melody began to play, revealing a tiny music box inside. The melody seemed to stir something deep within you, an emotion you couldn’t quite place, as if you’ve heard it somewhere before… from a place buried deep inside your forgotten memories. Your eyes, however, were drawn to the upper part of the watch, where a small photo was wedged.

The photo was small but clear, showing two people laughing lovingly. One of them was unmistakably Diluc, and the other... you let out a silent gasp. The other person standing next to him looked just like you. Your brows furrowed as you tried to process this revelation. The sight of the familiar face in the photo, sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you.

…Is this really… me? Why do I look so happy and close here? Who was I…?

You took a deep breath to quickly reassess yourself, realizing that up until now, there had been small things you found rather peculiar: the way the maids sometimes stumbled over their words, as if hiding something; the stock of female outfits in the manor that strangely suited your taste; the food, everything seemed to be in place to your liking. You had brushed these off before as mere coincidences, but now, seeing the photo, it all strangely began to make sense.

You stood silent at the room, observing the photo with the melody still playing on your hand. Questions rushed through your mind, and fear—of possibly having forgotten something important—slowly crept in.

To your surprise, the partially open door swung wider, revealing Adelinde’s rather shocked face, which quickly relaxed upon seeing you. You panickedly closed the pocket watch, abruptly cutting the music. “Ah, um—I…” you scrambled to explain, but she slowly approached you, gently taking your hand that held the pocket watch, and placed her other hand reassuringly on top.

“You see, I’ve known Master from his young age. He tends to keep his most cherished belongings hidden,” she smiled gently. “To think that you could find it…”

“I- I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to. Please don’t tell him,” you pleaded.

“No, don’t worry about that,” she paused, glancing at the pocket watch. “I’m the one who accidentally left the door open after cleaning the floor. I should be in the wrong.”

You were about to protest, but she continued calmly. “Master Diluc had warned us, the servants, not to tell you about your past status, given your situation, as he did not want to pressure you.”

You went silent, thinking back to how he had always been considerate and careful around you. If you were really someone that important to him—to think of what had been going through his mind all this time… words felt stuck in your throat.

“He isn’t the most expressive person, but he has been prioritizing your well-being above all else. He just wanted you to feel safe,” Adelinde added.

You took your time to process the information. It left you with one burning question. “…Then… who was I to him?”

Adelinde looked into your eyes. Though she kept her warm smile, her eyes masked a depth of emotion. “I believe that is a question Master himself should answer.” She paused before continuing. “I have desserts ready for you. Shall we?”

You nodded, placing the pocket watch back in the drawer, and instinctively followed her to the pantry. But your thoughts were tangled, processing all the information about your possible connection with Diluc. Everything in your mind was jumbled. You couldn’t find any memories to piece it all together, and you had even told him that you considered moving out at one point... but now, you felt like you couldn’t just leave now, not when you felt something tugging at your depths of your heart.

•~•~•~•

Diluc sighed as he headed back from his expedition, walking along the dirt path leading back to the winery. As much as he had wished to spend more time with you, some urgent tasks couldn’t be left unattended.

During the time of his absence, he desperately hoped that you might magically regain your memory, but he had seen the joy you found in the city, the spark of curiosity and happiness that had returned to your eyes. He couldn't bear the thought of selfishly forcing you to stay with him, tethered by a past you couldn’t remember. It felt unfair to you. To you now, he was just someone else—a kind stranger, perhaps.

The painful truth was, as much as he dreaded it, that sooner or later, he would have to part ways with you, letting you live your own free life. Although the thought of losing you all over again tore him deeply, he would always prioritize your well-being. What it matters now is that you are safe and sound, he thought repeatedly, as if to convince himself more than anything.

As he passed the sign for the winery, Diluc spotted you seated under a big tree, reading a book. You were quite far from him, too engrossed in your book to even notice him, but he recognized that the spot you had chosen instantly. It was your favorite place to spend time outside, a place where you had often had picnics with him in the past. A small, wistful smile curved the edge of his lips as he reminisced. Back then, he would simply walk up to you, and you would welcome him with a warm embrace. But now, the fear of facing the painful reality kept him rooted in place, unable bring himself to you. With a heavy heart, he turned towards the manor, leaving you to your peaceful solitude under the tree.

Even though you had lost your memory, Diluc noticed that some things about you hadn't changed. Somehow, without realizing it, you still found yourself to your favorite places and sometimes performed small, mundane actions that felt like déjà vu to him. These familiar gestures gave him a bittersweet sense of comfort, a reassurance that, despite everything, you were still… you.

That night, Diluc found himself seated in his office, the golden pocket watch in his hand as he stared at the picture inside. The gentle melody played, filling the room with its bittersweet tune. He was lost in thought, the memories of better times flooding his mind. The joy in your eyes, the warmth of your embrace—all now felt like distant memories of a past life.

A knock on the door, already slightly open, pulled him back to reality. “Yes?” he called out, hastily composing himself and halting the melody as he closed the watch.

You hesitantly peeked into the room, the soft tune having drawn you in as you passed by. “I’m sorry, I heard the music, and...”

He looked at you, a mix of surprise and apprehension in his eyes. “It’s alright. Please, come in.”

You stepped inside, glancing around the room before your gaze settled on him. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just... the melody sounded familiar.”

Diluc’s heart tightened at your words. He had hoped for a spark of recognition, a flicker of memory, but he knew better than to expect miracles. “It’s a keepsake,” he explained, his voice soft. “Something very dear to me.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of his words. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “There’s so much I don’t remember, and it’s been hard. But... I’ve felt strangely at home here. As if I belong.”

His eyes softened, and he motioned for you to sit. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “This place... it holds many memories.”

You took a seat, your curiosity and confusion evident in your eyes. "Adelinde mentioned that you didn’t want to overwhelm me with my past, and I really appreciate that. But I need to know...," you paused, your knuckles curling on top of your knees. "…Who was I to you?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with emotion. Diluc looked at you, his heart torn between the desire to protect you and the need to share the truth. “You were... you are someone very important to me,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion as he glanced to the side, trying to maintain his composure.

You fell silent, feeling a tightness in your chest and a lump in your throat. “…I—I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say,” you managed, your voice trembling. You couldn’t place where exactly it came from, but sadness washed over you, as the weight of forgotten memories pressing down on you, giving you the feeling as if you really had lost something very, very dear.

Diluc immediately turned back to you, realizing he had made you feel worse. He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly, feeling his own tears forming in his eyes. “Don’t apologize. It was never your fault to begin with.” He rose, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Oh, and I’ve talked to a landlord in Mondstadt. He said tomorrow—”

He tried to shift the topic to lighten the mood, but his words faltered as he noticed you still seated, head hung low, with tears silently dripping onto your clenched fists. His heart ached at the sight of you crying, his emotions threatening to spill over as his breathing grew ragged. He slowly went to your side and knelt beside you, his hand gently placed on your shoulder, as his gaze filled with deep concern.

Diluc’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly as words seemed to fail him, too fragile to contain the depth of his emotions. Instead, he moved closer, enveloping you in a gentle embrace.

You let your emotions spill over, leaning into his arms and crying on his shoulder. The warmth of his embrace was strangely familiar and comforting. Diluc, on the other hand, sensing the futility of words, sought to soothe you as his hand traced slow, calming circles on your back. He looked up, his gaze unfocused and distant, as he felt a single tear stroke down his cheek.

•~•~•~•

The sun streamed through the curtains, filling the living room with a warm, golden light as you descended the stairs. Diluc stood near the main exit door, waiting for you. Today was the day he had arranged for you to meet the landlord in Mondstadt. You had spent the night wide awake, drowning in your thoughts about the previous night.

As you reached the bottom, your eyes met his in a silent exchange. Diluc, composed as ever — befitting the master of the winery, but you noticed a fleeting softness in his gaze. Your steps slowed as you approached him, uncertainty weighing heavily on your heart.

You stopped at the edge of the stairs, gripping the rail and fidgeting with your hands. “Diluc, I…”

He turned his head towards you, his expression gentle. “What is it?” he asked softly, stepping closer, his voice filled with concern.

“…would you… have wished for me to stay rather than moving out?” you asked reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Diluc’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your question. He took a deep breath, his composure wavering for a moment. “If I were to be honest,” he began, his voice low and earnest, “I would wish for you to stay. But more than anything, I want you to find happiness and a sense of belonging, whether that’s here or in Mondstadt.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, again — as his words stirred a mix of emotions within you. The thought of leaving this place, leaving him, somewhat felt like abandoning a part of yourself, and you couldn't shake the desire to understand your past and your connection to him anymore.

Diluc reached out, gently taking your hands in his. “Your presence here has brought a light to this place, to my life,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours. “But I won't hold you back. The choice is yours, and I will support whatever you decide.”

Tears welled in your eyes, the weight of his words and the depth of his feelings finally enveloping you. For a moment, the world outside seemed distant, as if the only thing that mattered was the fragile bond that tethered you together, slowly finding its way back.

“Then…,” you began, your voice trembling, “I would like to stay a little longer. To understand more, to remember…”

Diluc’s expression softened, relief and gratitude shining in his eyes. “As long as you need,” he said, pulling you into a warm embrace.

In that moment, you felt a sense of peace, anxiety exiting your heart. You knew well that the journey ahead was uncertain, but for now, you were exactly where you needed to be.

“You’re always welcome here.”

•~•~•~•

Taglist: @coffeeisbehindyou @sandramalikstyles-blog @rebeccawinters @mis-disaster @definitelyatari @vintag3u @synqiri @distinguished-jeseter-things @eroxotckv

#diluc x reader angst #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin imagines #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc x fem!reader

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year ago

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(Hope you guys like this little drabble) Male Plague Doctor Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon/Dubcon, drugging, mentions of disease and treatment, kidnapping, tricked reader, general yandere behavior)

The kingdom was suffering a massive outbreak of fever, and not a normal one either. It was significantly more virulent and deadly than most others.

As in most times of disease healers had been dispatched to research, treat, and contain the illness.

A plague doctor passed through your humble village, which had remained pretty much unscathed, but had to be inspected for early signs of pestilence BEFORE it became a problem.

Over the course of a couple days the entire village had been looked at and given a clear bill of health. You were the last person to be seen.

You felt fine and you were sure you would be given a clean bill of health.

Oh how wrong you had been.

You shivered under the gaze of the masked man, Dr. Cheverell.

With just one look he knew he needed to have you, healthy or not.

“My GOD, I am afraid you are showing symptoms of a very deadly disease. There’s nothing for it, you will have to come with me to my lab immediately!”

You thought there must be a mistake, but you had no choice, he had nearly absolute authority in such matters.

The doctor had you lay in the back of his carriage and encouraged you to rest if you were able.

“You need to conserve your strength.”

Over the course of the next few weeks you grew weaker and your mind was often foggy. Maybe he was right, he was an expert after all.

He had administered drugs through your food so you would think yourself ill.

Once you were cooperative with your treatment you found yourself drugged more often than not.

He HAD to treat you. Had to listen to your relaxed breaths as the ether claimed your consciousness.

There were other treatments too, ones you could only remember hazily.

You could remember in those moments how he had to probe you. You were too weak to fight him. But you mildly protested as best you could.

“Don’t you want to feel better sweetheart?”

Then you’d acquiesce to Cheverell’s expertise.

It was all so hard to put together. Fragments of memory. Something long and warm slipped inside you, it moved back and forth rhythmically until some sort of fluid was pumped into you.

Surely some type of new treatment.

You were always so shaky, Cheverell often had to bathe and even sometimes feed you. You were glad he was so kind and didn’t see someone in your condition as a burden.

#yandere x reader #yandere doctor #yandere plague doctor #male yandere x reader #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #My OC Cheverell #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines

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runariya · 1 month ago

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happy national text your ex day to our ccl couple 🤍

https://x.com/popbase/status/1851477476373151860?s=46&t=Myz5IwgdPHSYvVsdYpYxhQ

Drabble • National 'Text Your Ex' Day

word count: 429

masterlist

Jungkook sits on the bed in a hotel room, in a country he’d once dreamed of exploring with you, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the send button.

It’s been over a year—over 365 days since he last saw your face, touched your hand, heard you laugh at something he said. By now, he reckons this year apart from you is worse than the year you were only friends. Having you in his life in any way possible would surely be better than nothing at all.

He’s sure you’ve moved on, somehow, though he didn’t. You’ve probably found someone who’s better for you, probably that Yoongi guy, someone who doesn’t stay up late debating if a simple text could somehow make everything better. But that doesn’t stop him from staring at his phone, just wondering.

There’s a photo still pinned in his gallery—a candid shot he took of you in a cafe, smiling at something he can’t remember anymore but wishes he could. He’s looked at it so many times it’s burned into his mind. If he closes his eyes, he can still see you, right there, clear as day. Maybe that’s the problem. Jungkook never really let you go, never gave himself the proper chance to.

His thumb drifts, almost hits the send button. His heart does this tiny, desperate lurch. God, he’s ridiculous, pathetic even, clutching onto memories he’s certain you’ve put behind you.

But then again, what if you haven’t? What if you’re somewhere out there, lying in bed, thinking about him too, wondering if he’s okay? Or maybe you’re lying next Yoongi, and he’s just a fragment of your past, someone you once loved but don’t anymore.

Over a year. It feels like forever, feels like he’s running again, can’t fucking breathe without you by his side.

Sometimes, he just wants to know if you’re happy. Not because he wants you to be miserable without him—no, he genuinely hopes you’re doing well. It’s just…he’d hoped you’d be doing well with him.

Jungkook sighs, thumb moving back and forth over the screen. One text. That’s all it would take. “Hi, how’ve you been?” or just a simple “I miss you so much…”

So simple, so easy.

But Jungkook knows that once he opens that door of hope, there’s no going back. And if you don’t respond? Or worse...if you do, and it’s painfully polite, as if he’s nothing more than a stranger now?

So, he shuts his phone off, tosses it aside. Maybe someday he’ll gather the courage.

Just…not today.

masterlist

taglist: @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @runariyaluvr, @blueofocean, @leah-rose03 , @httpjeonlicious , @futuristicenemychaos , @cryingoverpixelsetc , @variety-is-the-joy-of-life , @kawaiiisstuff , @delusionalsnack , @jaykay-world , @kookie-vuitton , @https-mei, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @avawants2havefun , @kawaiiisstuff, @ancagab16 , @lovingkoalaface , @lachimolalajeon , @jkslvsnella , @asimuss7 , @elinaki92 , @minghaosimp, @whoa-jo , @jaytheatiny , @winterbeartaehyungbestboy, @xsyruhh, @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92 , @junecat18 , @remgeolli , @kooloveys

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crystaldesiree · 6 months ago

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(i wanna request if u dont mind!! Blade head canons being nonchalant and stoic towards his gf/reader everytime we say "ily" or any romantic stuff and everytime we get clingy or cuddly but lowkey he likes it deep down but he just doesnt show it)

but seriously tho i wanted to say DAYUMM ur first writing was so good. and also I REALLY REALLY LOVE THE SOULMATE!BLADE 🤭🤭 or ur first drabble!!! i like the way u write u should write more of him and maybe other characters too!

anyways thanks for already reading my texts!! have a nice day!!

pairing: blade x gn!reader a.n. ahhh, thank you sm! it honestly took me a day to write that and i was fairly surprised that people liked it! but im really glad you requested, i hope you like what i wrote!

blade always struggled with emotions. especially with memory fragments that burned like fire, shoved into the back of his mind and long forgotten. so, when it came to you, he wasn't as open to reciprocating every special moment. in fear that they too, would become memories that left him awake at night, struggling to breathe. he didn't know how to react or what to say when the words 'i love you' fell from your lips. so he chose to stay silent, his expression remaining neutral. but deep down, those words stirred something in him, a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. he might give a brief nod or a fleeting smile, but he never let on how much they meant to him. when you got clingy or cuddly, blade maintained his apathetic facade, letting you snuggle up to him without protest. he appeared indifferent, but the truth was, he secretly enjoyed your warmth against his cool skin. the way you wrapped your arms around him, your body snug against his, brought him a sense of peace he couldn't find anywhere else. if you looked closely, you might catch a subtle softening in his eyes or a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. even when you reached up to plant a tender kiss on his lips, he found himself at a loss, unsure of how to respond. internally, he wrestled with the decision to either wrap his hands around your waist or let them remain motionless. your kisses, however, always sparked a fire within him, sending heat cascading through his veins and causing his hands to tremble like leaves caught in the wind. but, his affection appeared in small, almost unnoticeable ways. he'd adjust your blanket when you fell asleep next to him, make sure your accessories were always adjusted right, or stand silently by your side when you were upset. despite his collected attitude, he listened attentively whenever you talked about your day or shared your thoughts. his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding and a sincere effort to show just how much he valued your words. deep down, blade enjoyed the warmth and love you brought into his life. he might never openly admit it, but the comfort he found in your presence was something he cherished more than anything. on rare occasions, his facade would crack slightly. sometimes when you two are alone together, he might gently hold your hand or give you a soft kiss on the forehead, revealing a glimpse of the depth of how he really felt. he always tried to find a way to make you feel comfortable with him, without needing to express it verbally. there was an unspoken understanding between you two, even though he didn't often express his love verbally, you felt it in the way he stayed close, protected you, and allowed your affection without resistance.

#hsr blade #blade hsr #blade x reader #honkai star rail #blade x you #blade honkai #hsr x reader #blade x y/n #honkai star rail blade #hsr imagines #blade headcanons #hsr #hsr x you #blade x gender neutral reader #hsr headcanons

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mariasont · 8 months ago

Text

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11

MDNI-----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, youngest member

warnings: wet dream between 2 men, evelyn needs to be spayed or smth, fainting, creepy men

A/N: hiiiii gorgeous, lovely, beautiful human beings thank you so much for the support on this fic, I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! <3 let me know if you want to be adding to the tag list

ALSOOOOOO my requests are open for aaron hotchner and spencer reid!!! I would love to write some drabbles/one shots so shoot me a message! <3

HAPPY READING!

Chapter Ten:

Gasping for air, Evelyn emerged from the depths of her dream, the vividness of it lingering like a second reality. She swiftly pressed her back against the headboard, her fingers weaving through her sweat-soaked hair. The dream's details were smeared in her memory, but the visceral ache it left behind was crystal clear. Hotch and Spencer--their hands that were insistent upon her, their mouths that explored every inch of her. She scolded herself for the image--what is wrong with her? She felt like a pervert, imagining both men in such a way.

Her legs brushed against the fabric of the sheets, her actions freezing as she became aware of the dampness enveloping between her legs. Her mind turned to Spencer--his hair a soft curtain on her skin. His hands, always in motion, leaving no fragment of her unexplored. His mouth, the way his tongue felt inside her.

Evelyn's fingers instinctively started to play with the waist band of her pajama shorts, moving closer to the swollen bundle of nerves. Her thoughts drifted to Hotch--his shoulders and build, how easy it would be for him to overpower her, and she secretly wished he would. This was crazy, she thought. Despite her mind's protests, her fingers continue to wander, tracing gentle circle against her clit.

She let out a puff of air, her back arching slightly off the mattress as light began to seep into the room. She thought of Hotch positioned behind her, showing her no mercy, finally pounding her attitude out of her. She pictured Spencer before her, his cock working its way into her mouth. Her fingers pushed into her gently, her gasps coming out short and desperate as she pictured her own fingers being replaced by Hotch's.

The imagine coaxed a moan from her, a sound that seemed too loud in her own ears. The knock at the door was abrupt, freezing her in place, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Evelyn's heart hammered against her ribs, panic seizing her as she scrambled out of bed. Her feet barely touched the carpet as she rushed to the door, flinging it open with a force that echoed through the silent hallway.

Hotch, a study in precision, stood there--impeccable in a charcoal-gray suit that made her want to drool. And his tie, a navy silk affair that lay flat against the white shirt, hinted at meticulous order. But it was his face that betrayed him--a subtle furrow of his brow, the pinch of annoyance around his mouth that suggested he'd been waiting longer than he card to admit.

Evelyn's heart did a clumsy somersault, her cheeks betraying her, turning a shade that rivaled a traffic light. One-half of her fantasy--or rather, the less enthusiastic version--stood there. "Hotch," she managed, "what are you doing here? And, um, what time is it?"

Evelyn's heart-shaped pajamas clung to her, the soft fabric revealing more than it concealed. Her cheeks flushed with urgency, mirrored to disarray of her hair. The hallway light caught the faint smattering of freckles across her nose, delicate constellations that bloomed when she eschewed makeup.

Hotch's annoyance ebbed, replaced by a reluctant fondness. What had she been doing? Hotch's gaze lingered on her--no makeup, no artifice--just raw, unfiltered beauty. He was unsettled by how much the sight affected him. The flush in her cheeks, the softness in her eyes.

Hotch willed his demeanor to snap back into place, his voice clipped. "Evelyn," he said, each syllable a warning. "I've called you five times. We need to be downstairs in 15 minutes."

Her pulse raced, and her tongue tripped over her words. "Oh, shoot, sorry," she blurted out, her voice echoing in the narrow hallway. The disheveled room behind her seemed to mock her--sheets tangled, alarm clock blinking accusatorily. "My alarm must've never gone off." She gestured toward the half-open door. "Do you want to come in and wait? I promise I'll be super speedy."

Evelyn's cheeks were ablaze, a canvas of mortification. She could feel Hotch's scrutiny lingering, a laser beam that could dissect her every flaw. She ushered him inside, the hallway suddenly too narrow, too confining. She slipped into the bathroom and shed the pajamas. Her fingers waged a silent war with buttons and zippers, a clumsy ballet of haste. Each click and snap was a resounding echo of the dream that clung to her thoughts. She tried to shove the images aside, to bury them under layers of fabric, but it seemed inescapable. Because now, he stood outside, annoyance etched in every line of his impeccable suit.

"Hotch," she began as she waved at the alarm clock, its digital numbers blinking like a guilty accomplice. She pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail, the elastic snapping against her skin. "I'm convinced my alarm clock is broken." The words tumbled out, a desperate attempt at distraction. "But hey," she continued, her eyes meeting his, "I think I just won that bet--the one where the team bet you'd never get mad at me." Her lips curved into a half-teasing smile, her nose scrunching at the action. "Soft spot, my friend."

Hotch said nothing as his gaze followed the hurried sway of her movements. Stepping closer, he surveyed the bed's solitary disarray amidst the room's order. The blankets lay in a tangle of turmoil. How much does she move in her sleep? he wondered. His eyes honed in on a small corner of fabric peeking out from under the pillows.

There, nestled among the tangled sheets, sat a small teddy bear, its pink bow a splash of color against the tan. Hotch's expression softened as he lifted the plush toy, turning it over in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips. Of course she slept with a stuffed animal.

The warmth of mortification spread across Evelyn's face. "Oh, um," she mumbled with a forced chuckle, plucking the bear from Hotch's grasp. "That's my... strategic sleep ally. Because, you know, every good agent needs a backup. Totally standard-issue."

"We'll circle back to your... bedtime tactics," he said with a hint of a smirk. "For now, conference room. Let's go."

Evelyn and Hotch made their way down to the conference area. The room hummed with anticipation, bathed in the soft glow of fluorescent lights. Rows of round tables faced a raised stage, where a large screen displayed the conference logo. Agents in crisp suits mingled with academics in tweed jackets. Some wore glasses, other carried tablets or leather-bound notebooks.

A spark of excitement ignited within Evelyn, her gaze darting from face to face, recognizing those who were like celebrities of their field.

"Hotch, do you see who that is?" Evelyn's voice was on of awe as she nudged Hotch, her gaze fixed on the figure across the room.

Hotch's eyes followed her line of sight and landed on a distinguished-looking woman who, upon noticing Hotch, raised her hand in a casual wave. "I do," Hotch confirmed with a nod, acknowledging the silent greeting with a subtle nod of his head.

Evelyn's mouth fell open slightly. "You're actually so cool," she said, the words slipping out before she could filter them, a smile spreading across her face.

Hotch's mouth twitched in a semblance of a smile. "I'm going to choose to not take that as an insult," he replied, his eyebrow arching in mock offense. "Stay here, I'm going to check us in."

Evelyn acknowledged Hotch's departure with a quick nod and an 'okay boss'. She was still orienting herself in the conference's bustling atmosphere when two familiar faces approached from the crowed. Mr. Weller, his suit a bit worn at the elbows, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a practiced gesture. Dr. Reeves, his hair slightly disheveled, was animatedly discussing some policy change in data privacy. He quickly roped Evelyn into the conversation who listened intently, interjecting only with thoughtful nods.

Evelyn's muscles relaxed slightly as Hotch returned to her side. His hand rested momentarily on her back, a professional gesture by all accounts, but Evelyn couldn't help but feel a spark of awareness ignite. She fastened the name tag he handed her with fingers that suddenly seemed less steady, the metal's chill doing little to dispel the soft heat that had settled between her shoulder blades.

As Professor Lewis swept in, she bypassed Evelyn's attempted greeting as if it and her were invisible. The professor's laser focus cut her off with surgical precision as it landed on Hotch.

Her voice carried an urgent edge as she addressed Hotch. "Aaron, can I pick you brain about something?"

Evelyn's greeting hung suspended, and a familiar twinge of frustration pricked at her--the kind that came from being eclipsed again by the professor's selective attention. With a quick nod, Hotch vanished into the crowd with Professor Lewis, leaving Evelyn grappling with a sudden, unsettling sensation in her chest. She exchanged pleasantries with the two men before her, their words weaving through her consciousness without taking hold.

Her gaze, however, was glued to the sight of Hotch and the professor, their heads bowed in earnest conversation. A surge of jealously, uninvited and irrational, twisted inside her. It was a confusing betrayal of emotion, given her casual relationship with Spencer. But she realized if it was Spencer in that Hotch's position, she'd feel the same about the professor, if not worse. The dream from last night was the culprit, she decided.

Left alone as Dr. Reeves and Mr. Weller departed, Evelyn sank into the chair at her table. The sight of Professor Lewis, so at ease with Hotch, gnawed at her. Why did it bother her so much? Maybe she just needed a nap.

As if summoned by the sheer force of her thoughts, Hotch appeared, his presence a sudden weight beside her. The question erupted from Evelyn before she could stop herself. "What did she want?"

His eyes took on a discerning quality, the subtle narrowing revealing his assessment. "She asked for my opinion on a theory."

"Hmm," came a soft murmur from Evelyn, her lips briefly pressing together in contemplation.

Hotch's gaze drilled into hers, probing. "What?"

"Nothing," Evelyn dismissed, her shoulders lifting in an indifferent shrug.

The morning's panel had unfolded with a deceptive ease, allowing Evelyn to shelve her simmering jealously. Yet, as the shadows shifted to signal the afternoon's approach, her anxiety crept back, an unwelcome companion.

In a separate room, she paced, her fingers tracing over her notes, each word etched into memory. "You've got this, Evelyn," she murmured, a mantra against the fatigue that seemed to drape over her. "You are prepared. You are intelligent."

Evelyn's grasp to the chair became white-knuckled as a sudden dizziness swept over her, unannounced and unwelcome. The room swirled into a blur, the ground beneath her seemingly shifting as her breathing became uneven and rapid. She looked up to see Hotch. Caught mid-affirmation and near-collapse, a rush of warmth flooded Evelyn's face. She righted herself with a silent plea, willing the black dots to vanish from her vision.

His eyes locked onto hers with a piercing intensity, studying her--the subtle shift in her posture, the way her hands trembled. "Evelyn," he said, reaching out to steady her with a firm hand. "What's wrong?"

Her words stumbled out, a clumsy cascade of denial. "Just nerves," she claimed, offering a faltering smile and a brittle laugh to conceal the tightening in her throat. Hotch's steady, searching gaze didn't waver, his disbelief hanging silently in the air.

His voice held a note of insistence. "Have you eaten today?"

Evelyn blinked, realization dawning. "It slipped my mind," she admitted.

Hotch's next words were lost on her as darkness seeped into her field of view. She felt the world tilt, her knees buckling as she was swiftly cradled in a secure, urgent grasp. Blinking away the disorientation, Evelyn found herself cradled in Hotch's panic-stricken gaze. His eyes were wide with alarm, his cool facade shattered as his hand hovered over 911.

"Hotch," she managed, her voice soft but her sarcasm intact. "Impeccable timing as always."

There was a softening in Hotch's gaze, a subtle shift from concern to mild exasperation. "Evelyn," he chided softly, his finger's tap on her hip a punctuation to his words. "You're anemic. You can't just skip meals like they're optional."

Evelyn's effort to sit up sent the room into a dizzying tailspin, each movement threatening to yank her back down. They found themselves grounded in an intimate proximity--she, half-laying in a disoriented haze, and he, crouching by her side, arms wrapped around her in a secure hold, one hand cupping her head to shield her from the hard ground, the other laid upon her waist.

"Didn't event cross my mind," she confessed, her voice a fragile thread. "Been so busy."

Hotch's hand emerged from his pocket, clutching a compact, foil-wrapped package. "Here," he urged, extending the snack towards her with a gentle authority. "It's good for anemia."

She squinted at the package. "Do you always carry this around?" she questioned, her voice tinged with genuine surprise.

He nodded, no-nonsense. "Yes."

Inside, her heart did an unexpected leap, touched by his silent care.

"You're a sap, Hotch," she teased, her voice light. "Who knew? I bet you've got a whole stash in that suit."

His eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, the room dissolved and the air thickened. And despite her playful words, Evelyn's fingertips tingled, her skin hyper-aware of every pore. The anemia-induced weakness faded into insignificance all because of a stupid snack he carried around. A snack he had thought to carry for her, based on a single, fleeting confession.

"Stop talking and eat."

And so, she did.

Evelyn's body protested with each step towards her room. She'd argued, of course--pleaded about missing her speech, about the importance of being present. But Hotch, with his hands guided her with a careful touch, wore an expression that left no room for debate. The lines of his face were drawn tight, a clear reflection of the worry that silenced her objections.

"Rest," was a firm directive, and though Evelyn balked, she ultimately yielded to his authoritative concern. Promptly, room service materialized at her door, courtesy of her favorite unit chief. The tray was abundant with foods rich in iron, and she'd devoured it with an eagerness, only pausing for sips of water.

As the sun made its descent beyond the horizon, its lingering rays casted a golden spotlight on the outdoor hot tub. Evelyn's silhouette blurred against the steam rising from the water, her skin kissed by the fading light. Her hair, a cascade of disobedient curls, crowned her head and softened the contours of her face. The night air nipped playfully at her heated skin, a refreshing counterpoint to the liquid warmth that welcomed her as she dipped into the water.

As her gaze lifted, her room came into view--the curtains drawn, the soft glow of lamplight seeping through. But then she turned her head, and there he was.

Hotch stood on his balcony, his gaze fixed on her. His expression was inscrutable, and for a moment, Evelyn's heart raced. She could sense it--the unspoken command that she should be in her room resting. But her half-wave was genuine, a flicker of happiness at seeing him. He acknowledged her with a curt nod. Evelyn's gaze returned to her book, her fingers tracing the book's creases, her focus slipping.

A stranger's appearance disrupted her quietude. He had a tailored physique, the kind that hinted at gym memberships and expensive cologne. His eyes, though--too probing--made her uneasy. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, easing into the water.

Evelyn's responses were polite, but she kept her distance. Yet, he persisted, inching closer with every comment. Evelyn's spine prickled, a frosty warning that crawled from nape to tailbone. The book now lay abandoned on the tub's edge. The distant city lights blurred as she feigned interest, but his nearness--his breath, his questions--made her skin crawl.

Evelyn's eyes scanned the balcony, hoping to see the reassuring figure of her unit chief. But it was empty--the moon's glow casting eerie shadows on the tiles.

And then, as if summoned, he materialized. Hotch stood there, his expression unreadable. The moon's glow painted his features--sharp jawline, a hint of stubble. But it was the swimsuit--a sinuous second skin--that stole her breath. The fabric of his shorts traced every contour, leaving little to imagination. Evelyn's gaze lingered on his chest, the hair that spread across of it, the rugged masculinity that defied office walls. Her mouth went dry, pulse racing.

"There you are, babe," she murmured, her tone laced with artificial sweetness. Her pulse raced, her eyes seeking Hotch's with an intensity that begged him to read between the lines.

Confusion creased Hotch's forehead as he processed the scene, his eyes flitting from Evelyn to the stranger, the gears turning. "Sorry honey," he said, his voice a low rumble as he approached the water's edge. "Had to take a call. Work stuff."

The word 'honey' lingered in the air, sweet and potent, leaving Evelyn lightheaded. She felt a flutter in her chest, a realization dawning that with the use of such a word, she'd gladly drawn in paperwork if he asked.

With Hotch's arrival, the water created ripples that reached Evelyn. His eyes, deep and searching, locked onto hers with an immediacy that bridged the distance between them. As he settled next to her, the subtle heat of his presence enveloped her. She nestled against him, her whispered explanation cut off by his lips grazing her ear.

"I know," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down her spine. Evelyn's heart stumbled over itself, a drumbeat out of sync. "You look so good tonight, honey," he announced, ensuring the words reached beyond their intimate circle. His eyes darted to the supple swell of her breasts on display, a quick, silent exchange that left her heart fluttering wildly, even as her mind reminded her it was just an act.

The man's eyes widened, bouncing from Evelyn and Hotch like a pinball. "Oh," he stuttered, a hint of embarrassment coloring his tone, "I didn't realize you were with someone."

"Yeah," Evelyn said, her voice a soft murmur as she settled into the curve of Hotch's lap, her ass planted firmly against his front. The warmth of his body seeped through the thin veil of her bathing suit, causing her cheeks to set flame. Her heart skipped, reveling in the proximity she knew was off-limits. Hotch's arms, both protective and dangerously intimate, encircled her waist.

"This is my husband," she introduced, the word foreign on her tongue. "Aaron, meet...?" His first name rolled of her tongue, a sweet liberty taken in a moment of pretense, as she left the space open for the stranger to introduce himself.

The barest hint of a smile threatened to disrupt the stoic lines of Hotch's mouth, a silent admission of pleasure of the sound of his name from Evelyn's lips. The intimacy of the act, hidden behind the guise of necessity, wasn't lost on him. He should have been irked by the ruse, yet he found himself savoring the moment. He cleared his throat, a quiet struggle for detachment, even as her voice echoed in his ears.

"Nathan."

Hotch extended his hand with a blend of authority and subtle warning, introducing himself, "nice to meet you," with a tone that cloaked none of his conviction.

Meanwhile, Evelyn's touch traced a path over his chest, a touch that betrayed the unfamiliarity of the act. Her other hand tangled gently in the hair at his nape, a tender exploration that drew an involuntary shiver from him.

Hotch's voice was hushed against her ear. "You're laying it on thick," he murmured, his breath a warm caress that belied the sternness of his words. His grip on her hip tightened imperceptibly.

Evelyn's lips quirked, a silent acknowledgement of her tactic. "Necessary," she whispered back, her voice a playful lilt. "For my safety."

Nathan persisted, undeterred. "So, what are you two down here for?"

Hotch's face remained impassive. "A work conference," he stated, the intensity of his eyes fixed on Evelyn.

"So you both work together?" Nathan asked, his tone probing. "Is that how you met?"

Evelyn's smile unfurled like a victory flag. "Oh, yes," she purred, his voice dripping with faux innocence. "He's my boss actually--totally inappropriate, I know. But bless him, the poor man never stood a chance from the moment he laid eyes on me. He just couldn't help himself. It was a HR disaster, of course, but it all worked out."

Hotch's brow furrowed in disapproval, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curling into a reluctant grin. "That's true," he conceded, his voice gruff. "She's... something else, a handful to say the least."

"That's what hands are for!"

Nathan fidgeted uncomfortably as he gave the couple a tight-lipped smile. "Well, I ought to head out," he declared, darting glances between Evelyn and Hotch. "Aaron, you've hit the jackpot, my man."

Hotch's voice was tight, barely containing his exasperation. "No doubt," he managed, "I'm living the dream."

Once Nathan had disappeared, Evelyn leaned closer, her voice a soft, playful murmur. "Guess I owe you one," she teased. "You really sold that doting husband role."

Hotch's response was a single raised brow, his face a mask of feigned solemnity. "Necessary," he echoed, the word rolling of his tongue with a hint of irony. "For your safety."

"You caught the weird vibes he was giving off, right?" she prodded, her elbow gently jabbing his side. "I mean, talk about strange, huh?"

"You're like a magnet for guys like that," Hotch observed, his mouth curving into a half-smile "but, yes, you made the right call."

Her grin was infectious. "Always do," she said with a wink. "You know we make a pretty good team, don't you think? Maybe we should look into undercover work."

"A good team, yes," Hotch agreed, his tone dry. "But undercover? I'd have to start practicing my 'shushing' gestures now."

"Aaron Hotchner, did you just make a joke? Where's my notebook?" Evelyn's giggle rang out, loud and unrestrained as she clutched his shoulders. "And if I talk too much, it's only to balance out your brooding silence."

Her laughter was a living thing, wrapping around Hotch, nudging at the corners of his usually impassive facade. The sheer delight in her voice, planted a seed of contemplation in Hotch, a consideration that maybe, just maybe, a joke here and there wouldn't be such a bad thing, especially if it elicited such a reaction from her.

For a fleeting moment, a genuine, toothy smile flashed across Hotch's face, an uncommon display that he quickly concealed with a downward shake of his head, not wanting to boost her ego any more than necessary.

"You know, aren't you supposed to be resting up in your room?"

Evelyn's gaze lingered on him, savoring the rarity of his wide smile. She couldn't help but marvel at the sight and it stirred in her an urge to see it again and again.

"I don't know, Hotch," Evelyn replied, her voice as light as the air around them. A stray lock of hair drifted across her face, and she huffed it away with a puff of breath. "I'm quite content right here."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, disbelief playing on his words. "Oh, really?"

Suddenly, Evelyn's casual demeanor crumbled, replaced by a flustered clarity as she realized her position, perched unceremoniously upon his lap. "Oh, um," she murmured, her voice trailing off into a stammer as a warm flush of embarrassment spread across her face. "I mean, not in an inappropriate way! That came out wrong, sir. I just meant the hot tub is relaxing--like a warm hug for my muscles. Not that I'm hugging you. I mean, I am, but not intentionally. It's just the--"

The shrill ring of Hotch's phone sliced through the air, a timely interruption to Evelyn's frenzied monologue. He leaned subtly to the side, his hand extending towards the intrusive device, his movements fluid and composed. Meanwhile, Evelyn's departure from his lap was anything but graceful; her cheeks burned with a fiery blush as she mumbled an apology, her limbs betraying her as she hastily disentangled herself.

"Sorry," she stammered, her words trailing off into the chaos of her movement. "I'll just--"

With a simple lift of his hand, Hotch stilled her spiraling apologies, his attention shifting seamlessly to the caller on the line. Evelyn perched beside him, her cheeks still painted with the flush of embarrassment, feeling the residual heat from their embrace. His voice was the epitome of calm and control, his gaze lingering on her as he spoke into the phone.

"Hotchner," he announced into the phone, his voice a steady command. Evelyn breath steadied, her hands playing at her bikini strings as she willed calm to wash over her. The call ended with a decisive click, and she tensed anticipating his next words. "We have a case. We're going to meet the team in Somerville, Massachusetts."

taglist: @aceofspades190 @nonamevenus @lukesaprince @doigettokeepyou @tequilya

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couldsewyouastitchandsavenine · 6 months ago

Text

Burn [Joel Miller]

this is my entry to Em's On Repeat Drabble Challenge by @dancingtotuyo. thank you so much for letting me be part of this and I am sorry for this took so long—life kinda got in the way—anyway, thanks for introducing me to Zach Bryan and for doing this amazing challenge.

Inspired by Burn, Burn, Burn by Zach Bryan

pairing: joel miller x reader

wordcount: 1K

warnings: none really

Joel Miller hasn’t let himself feel anything for a long while—not like this.

For years he’s been a fortress of solitude—feelings locked away, emotions a luxury he couldn’t afford. Yet, in the midst of the chaos and the infected, moments slipped through—fragments that caught him off guard. Moments that reminded him he was still human, with a heart capable of beating.

Moments that often revolved around you.

When he met you, Joel wasn’t on a quest for companionship nor was he seeking an ally. Yet, there you were, bathed in the early spring mist—your presence painted with a brush of quiet desperation he knew all too well. Bruised and with a limp, you had asked him for help. And for some goddamn reason he couldn’t—wouldn’t—send you away.

Thus, you stayed, just long enough to recover, or so the plan went.

But plans, in times like these, are as fickle as a sudden summer breeze rustling the treetops.

Joel quickly learned that you were resourceful, observant, unassuming, and quiet on your feet, yet spectacularly precise with a rifle—a skill he discovered only days later when you came to his aid.

Since then, the two of you had faced near-death scrapes, saving each other’s lives more times than he cared to count in the short span you’ve traversed the landscapes together. This proximity, this forced closeness—it’s only natural that he finds himself curious.

It’s normal that most evenings, Joel finds himself watching you. The way the campfire light dances across your focused face, the methodical way you clean your gear. It’s calming, he finds, and scarily comforting. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t wanted it—perhaps that’s what makes it all the more dangerous.

Still, Joel can’t help it.

So, he observes and he wonders—if circumstances were different, if life had been kinder—would he have noticed someone like you? His old ideals of types and attraction have dissolved, and he hadn’t been in the company of someone for a long time, but Christ, you were beautiful.

And, Joel likes to imagine that yes, he would have noticed someone like you, would’ve asked you out, drawn you close, spun his favourite vinyls in his living room just to lure you into a dance, see if jazz sounded as good as he remembers it.

But not here. Not now.

So, Joel fights it, fights you, fights himself. Fights fights that leave him breathless—not from extortion but from the unspoken words that fill his lungs like smoke.

You don’t talk a lot, but he thinks that if he wasn’t the way he was—if he appeared less guarded, if his smiles came easier—you might share the slice of thoughts he often sees flickering behind your eyes ever so often. He knows this because he had watched you almost speak, lips parting, only to catch yourself with a fleeting glance his way a subdued smile before your eyes drop to your scuffed boots.

And he knows he isn’t an easy man to keep as a company. He had always been a man of few words, and with or without you, his silence somehow often stretches into days, creating a chasm that’s hard to bridge. He’s haunted by memories, shadows of the past that linger just out of reach but always present. Nightmares plague his sleep, and when he wakes, he’s more withdrawn, the walls around him fortified. His anger, though controlled, simmers beneath the surface, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

Yet, despite all this, you still stay.

But there comes a night, one unlike the others, when the stars hang heavy in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the world. The campfire crackles softly, and the usual weight of silence feels different, charged with something unsaid.

Joel sits across from you, eyes flickering between the flames and your profile, bathed in the soft light.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and for once, you don’t look away. The moment stretches, and something inside him softens, a wall beginning to crumble.

“Can you do something for me?” he asks, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

You nod slowly, curiosity and something else—hope?—lighting your eyes.

“Talk to me,” he says, voice a low murmur, almost lost in the night’s quiet. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

You hesitate, glancing at the fire, before meeting his gaze again. “I think... I think I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Joel’s breath hitches. The openness in your voice, the raw vulnerability, seeps into him, warming the cold recesses of his heart. He moves closer, the distance between you shrinking, the fire casting dancing shadows on his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he confesses, his voice rough. “But I want to try.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. He takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might disappear.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The silence is no longer a barrier but a shared space, filled with the unspoken understanding that something has shifted. Joel’s thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, a soothing, grounding motion.

“I’ve been scared,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of feelin’... of losin’...”

You squeeze his hand, offering silent reassurance. “You don’t have to be scared alone,” you reply softly. “We can face it together.”

He looks at you then, and something within him clicks into place. The fortress he’s built around his heart begins to dissolve, brick by brick. He pulls you closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “Please.”

Your answer is a soft whisper against his lips as you close the distance, and he allows himself to feel—fully and completely.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure he minded.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #tlou #pedrostories #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble

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chigirisprincess · 4 months ago

Text

Vanilla Baby ⊹ . ࿐࿔

— Chigiri Hyōma + Nagi Seishiro

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, reader is an author insert, they/them pronouns used to refer to reader, they are afab, they wear a dress and heels, wear makeup, have long curled hair, and fair skin. Threesomes, love confessions, hookups, alcohol consumption, reader is tipsy, trans masc!nagi, oral (reader receiving), teasing, hair pulling, fingering, strap on sex, double penetration, anal, creampies, reader is called puppy, past relationships, established relationships, Nagi and Chigiri are queer. ⊹ Run time. 7.5k ⊹ Note. I swear this was just supposed to be a smutty drabble I don't know what happened! But! Please enjoy!

❝Drunken confessions and the ghosts of days gone past bubble over into something neither of you could have anticipated.❞

Bits and pieces of that night return to your fragmented memories through Hyōma’s teasing lilt and Seishiro’s knowing gaze. They make idle chit chat with reference to something you’re supposed to know. Like, an inside secret shared amongst the best of friends. You wouldn’t call Seishiro a friend. He was Hyōma’s teammate, colleague, and friend from high school. Whatever he was to you, he reached through Hyōma to you and nothing more.

That’s why you numbed the pit of anxiety weighing you down with one too many espresso martinis. The heat on your skin and the buzz that thrummed against your rib cage distracted you from the nerves that tickled your belly and made your hands tremble. Seishiro’s languid gaze made you nervous. He studied you the same way he did the opposing team on the field. And he watched the way you squirm while holding conversation with Hyōma. You felt as though you were placed beneath a microscope to be inspected. For what? You couldn’t discern.

Your tongue liked to loosen when warmth spread through your cheeks and your head felt pleasantly fuzzy.

Hyōma learned many of your secrets drunkenly whispered across your pillow as he tucked you in for the night. Like your embarrassing John Green phase and the Edgar Allan Poe poetry you wrote whilst drowning within teenage angst. You were too nervous to admit them otherwise, always afraid that a big shot soccer player like him might find you too dorky or even weird if you were to confess all the little things that made you, you. Though sometimes you despised your propensity for growing so lax when you drank a little too much.

The thought of confessing something to both Hyōma and Seishiro made your stomach turn uncomfortably and yet, the vision was so crystal clear in your head. You remember sitting between them on Seishiro’s sofa long after the evening had dwindled to a close. Your skin was warm and buzzing, your head lolled back as you gazed at Hyōma. They spoke words you didn’t understand. It wasn’t Japanese but your swimming mind struggled to follow.

“Can I tell you something, baby,” you giggled while sliding your hand up Hyōma’s arm, “Pretty please?”

His piercing ruby gaze shifted from Seishiro to you, “Of course,” he murmured, you remember him looking concerned, “You can tell me anything, my love.”

Your other hand grazed the length of Seishiro’s thigh, bringing his attention to you. Sleep had been in his eyes but he couldn’t bring himself to kick the two of you out. You weren’t sure why.

“It’s always been my biggest fantasy to be with two guys at the same time.”

You nodded your head like you were proud of yourself, a small “mhm” pressed against your lips as you allowed your eyes to fall shut. The memory made your face burn. You must have said something else, a comment insinuating the small crush you used to harbour on your boyfriend's teammate, or the very real and ever present attraction you felt for him. The thought made your stomach roll, in discomfort and in excitement.

Hyōma wasn’t a stranger to fluidity, he indulged your curiosity on his past relationships more times than you could count. You had always been quite the opposite of him, calm and level headed whereas his blood pumped and rushed adrenaline through his body at the first sight of a challenge. Everything you had ever done was carefully planned out and meticulously imagined, you were made for monogamy and didn’t much like sharing but, there was something about Seishiro that felt a bit like fatal attraction. And, you liked it.

No matter how much you wracked your brain for anything more from that night, you couldn’t remember the expression Hyōma wore from your confession. Seishiro’s presence was like a gaping black hole in your brain. You remembered how big and rough his hands were, how warm it felt to be pressed in between the both of them, how his hair tickled your cheeks when he rested his head on your shoulder but nothing more. If you spilled your guts further, had named the man who was occupying the fantasies that played in your head on lonely nights, you couldn’t know, not if neither of them spoke a word to you.

That’s why you wilted at the latest gala Hyōma had invited you to, a sad and pathetic wallflower whose roots were beginning to rot.

The glass of champagne you kept clutched in your hands had warmed considerably after each fake sip you had taken from it. You didn’t want to worry Hyōma with your incessant waves of anxiety that made your knees feel weak and threatened to have you tumble to the floor if you took another step in those platform heels that were supposed to have been a source of comfort. The material of your silk gold gown clung to your sweat-dabbled skin uncomfortably. Images of clawing out of your skin flashed behind your eyelids with each blink you took. Your cheeks ached from the faux smile you glued to your lips but the thought of embarrassing your boyfriend was far too strong to force your mouth into the frown you wished to wear.

Reo gave you a strange look as he passed by, his arm wrapped firmly around the waist of his latest date but he said nothing. Shaking your head, you pushed yourself off the wall in search of the table you’d been assigned. Passing through throngs of bodies made your head spin. Heavy, heedy perfumes and colognes prickle your nostrils and feed the growing nausea in your belly. Your glass of champagne finds itself handed to the first waiter you see, an apologetic smile on your lips and a small “thank you” whispered into the crowd.

Your glass of wine is filled to the brim. It sits neatly on the table beside your half picked at plate of hors d’oeuvres. An aperol spritz with mostly melted ice is placed beside your shiny gold clutch. Your plum hued lipstick sits around the rim. You don’t think before reaching out to grab it and down it all in a few gulps and procure your clutch once the glass is slammed back on the table. The low, warm lighting that filled the room felt romantic at the start of the night now just feels like a nuisance as you are shuffling through the galleria in search of a bathroom. Your heels click against the floor in an angry rhythm, your hair a tangled mess of curls that sticks to your lipgloss no matter how many times you push it over your shoulders.

The bathroom is stupidly ornate. With marble floors and counters, accented by gold and emerald encrusted mirrors, you feel small when you finally step into it. Thankfully, you find it empty and plop into the first chaise lounge you find. Your heart races and your chest feels uncomfortably tight. You haven't spoken much to Hyōma or Seishiro in the past few weeks. They had been busy with brand deals, training, and other public appearances. You had been sequestered in your apartment, staring at the half written paragraph of your latest novel. But, now that you were here with them even if it were at arms length, you couldn’t help but drift back to that night.

Memories of the past bleed with the scenes playing out in front of your eyes. With Hyōma in his rich, deep magenta shirt that had somehow begun to be slowly unbuttoned as the night progressed, and Seishiro in a pair of stupidly tight black dress pants, it became harder to deny the selfish, greedy little wants that ate away at your common sense. They looked good and smelled divine. You cunt throbbed with want, your head dizzy with arousal that you couldn't shake no matter how many times you pinched your thigh or dug your nails into the palms of your hand. It clung to you like a devious parasite, only to be satiated by giving into the carnal desires that you tried to keep at bay.

Pressing your thighs together, you shook your head in frustration, “This is so stupid!” You cursed to yourself, your voice bouncing off the lifeless white walls.

“What’s stupid?” a familiar voice asks, the bathroom door squealing open as they slide in, “Why are you hiding in here? Did something happen?

Concern laces Hyōma’s voice as he walks into view. His shirt has become even messier. Once pressed and steamed to perfection, was wrinkled with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His chest, gleaming in the bright light with sweat was in view, his shirt unbuttoned all the way to his belly button. The sparse beginnings of his happy trail peek through the opening. With a sigh, you press your hands to your forehead, forcing yourself to look away from him.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Hyōma kneels in front of you, his warm palms rest on your knees as he cranes his neck to get a good look at your hidden expression. Your body burns with shame and embarrassment. It stirs a pathetic whimper that you’re unable to suppress. His hands are soft, they slide beneath the hem of your dress as he coos to draw your attention. You don’t mean to do it, but your thighs part ever so slightly.

“It’s nothing, I'm just hot and my shoes are uncomfortable,” you whine, a half truth wasn’t a complete lie, “And I’m tired, the music is too loud, but I don’t want to make you leave early.”

Hyōma sighs softly, “If you’re not having a good time, then we can leave,” he peers up at you, eyes rounded and wide, “If my manager chews me out come Monday, I don’t care.”

“You should care.”

Your mouth dips into a pout, brows knitted together as you peer at him.

“I do, about you,” he says your name softly, pressing his thumbs into the fat of your thighs, “He’s always yelling at me about something or other, like the fact that I don’t post enough online.”

Cupping his cheeks, you lean down until your nose brushes against his, “I love you,” you whisper, your hair slipping over your shoulder as you inch closer to him. Your breath fans across his face and his lips part in anticipation.

Hyōma’s eyes flutter shut when your lips brush against his. A needy whine bubbles up and slips into his mouth as you kiss him, a shiver dancing up your spine. The few loose strands that have slipped past his neatly styled bun tickle your fingers which ache to tangle themselves within his hair, but had spent so much time getting pretty for you. He slides the skirt of your dress further up your thighs where the fabric bunches to expose the slightest bit of your frilly, lace panties. Panting into your mouth, Hyōma slots himself between your legs, pressing closer until he’s flush against you.

You’re vaguely aware that the door is unlocked. Anyone could walk in. With the music and conversation dulled by marble walls, you find yourself getting lost in Hyōma’s touch, searching for relief from weeks worth of tension that gathered in your belly. Without thinking, you slide your hand down his shoulder and the length of his arm and wrap your fingers around wrist, bringing his hand between your thighs.

“I love you too,” he says before nipping at your bottom lip.

His fingers glide across the seam of your cunt, pushing against the fabric to rub a circle into your stiff clit. Your nails bite into scalp as you thread your fingers into his hair for purchase. The loud, heedy moan that pours past your lips effortlessly smothers the sound of the bathroom door slowly creaking open and then, gently clicking shut. It’s not the sound of dress shoes dragged against marble or even the sharp breath that rouses you; it’s the feeling of eyes, heavy on your figure. You know it well. Languid, yet startlingly intense, turning soft brown irises piercing. It was Seishiro.

Your eyes snap open, meeting Seishiro’s in a heated exchange, “Hyōma,” you call, the last syllables of his name curling into a moan, “Baby, Sei- He’s…”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Seishiro murmurs, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Hyōma curses under his breath, peeling back to peer up at Seishiro. He has to crane his neck uncomfortably upward to meet Seishiro’s gaze. He stares languidly down at your boyfriend for a moment before settling back onto you, grazing over the sight of your hiked up dress and bare thighs. Licking his lips, Seishiro lets out a chuckle.

“Seriously, don’t stop.”

You wilt under his stare, your face warming in embarrassment, “Don’t be mean Seishiro,” you mumble, pulling your dress down to preserve some modicum of modesty.

He exchanges a look with Hyōma as if to speak silently, leaving you looking between the two like a gaping fish in search of water.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Hyōma is quick to interject, crowding into your vision, “Seishiro was just going to leave.”

Your mouth drops into a frown, your brows pinching together, “No,” you protest, crossing your arms over your chest, “What was that look?”

“What look?” Hyōma sheepishly asks, wearing his guilt like an accessory.

“The look you gave Seishiro, the two of you have been looking at eachother like that since the last time we all got together,” you accuse, your pointed stare darting between the two of them, “Did I say something stupid? I’ve been racking my brain for weeks but all I remember is mentioning that I want to have a threesome.”

Seishiro snorts out a laugh, “You don’t remember what you said afterward?” You shake your head, “no,” nervously tugging at the hem of your dress.

“Seishiro don’t,” Hyōma cuts in, “They’re already embarrassed enough.”

“No, I wanna know.”

Rarely, does Hyōma get worked up or frustrated off the soccer pitch. The look he sends Seishiro is enough to send a shiver down your spine. His usually gentle fuschia eyes narrowed and filled with the same fury you often see directed towards his rivals. Seishiro seems unbothered, running his fingers through his pale blonde hair with an eye roll.

“You told us that your ideal threeway would be the three of us,” he smoothly explains, his lips quirking up into a smirk, “You really don’t remember this?”

“Obviously not,” Hyōma sneers before turning back to you, squeezing your thighs to put your attention onto him, “Why don’t we get out of here hm, baby? Forget about all this?”

“I told you, I don’t want you to get in trouble, you’re supposed to be getting sponsors for the football club.”

Your answer doesn’t seem to placate your boyfriend. Biting down on your bottom lip, your frown presses deeper into your face. Your belly lurches with uncertainty as Hyōma sighs.

“They’re not wrong,” Seishiro points out, rocking on the balls of his feet, “I only followed you guys ‘cause our club manager wanted us to thank the owner of this place.”

Rising to his full height, Hyōma stands before you with his hands crossed over his chest, “Do you want to fuck my fiancé?” He asks, pointedly, “Because we agreed we wouldn’t mention it unless they brought it up first.”

“I must’ve forgotten.”

Seishiro shrugs his shoulders without a care in the world. His lazy smile growing wider by the second as Hyōma’s hackles rise.

“Bullshit,” he says, taking a step closer to the other man.

“Fine, I didn’t,” Seishrio confesses, his hands held up in mock surrender, “I wanna fuck your fiancée … And I want to fuck you, Hyōma.”

Hyōma baulks in shock, swallowing thickly, “Sei…” He mutters, “Stop messing around.”

They had history. It was often left unspoken, gifted to the wind and sands of time. Whatever it was, it was meant to die with the thousand other secrets buried in the back of locker rooms and in the middle of grassy fields. The tension was palpable even when you found yourself stepping into the picture, it only intensified, never able to dissipate no matter how entangled you became with Hyōma.

“I’m not.”

Swallowing, with shaky legs you force yourself to stand and step between them, “Stop bickering like children,” you hiss, wobbling a bit as you try to stay balanced on your heels, “Stop bickering and … and fuck me.”

Your chest heaves, nerves prickle beneath your blazing skin. Seishiro looms over you, stupidly tall, gangly, and scarily silent. Hyōma watches the two of you with wide eyes, his plush lip pressed between the blunt edge of his teeth. A gasp is wretched from your throat as Seishiro’s fingers glide up the length of your throat to the underside of your jaw, tipping your head back until your eyes meet. His muddy grey irises bore into you, searching for something you’re quite unsure of.

You can’t help but squirm as he tilts his head down, his breath fanning across your face before he takes the plunge and kisses you.

A full body shiver rolls through you and spurs you to twist your body out of his grasp, pushing your chest flush against his. Your hands find his hair without a second thought, tangling into the surprisingly soft, fluffy white strands. Seishiro moans into your mouth, his large, rough hands desperately grasping the fat of your hips. Hyōma saddles up behind you, his cock pressed snug against your ass. He pushes your hair away from your shoulder, exposing your sweat dabbled skin to him, pressing a balmy kiss to the flesh.

“Hyōma,” your whimper into Seishiro’s mouth, “Be gentle, please.”

“Mhm,” he hums before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, hard enough that it’ll surely leave a mark.

Seishiro reaches past you to grab a fistful of Hyōma’s crisp shirt, furling the fabric around his fingers as if to meld the three of you together. Your cunt clenches with need, there's a thigh between your legs, you’re unsure whose it is but the pressure feels heavenly against your tender, aching clit.

The sound of pounding fists against the bathroom draws you from your stupor.

“Hey! Is anyone in there, the doors locked?”

“You locked the door, Sei?” You question, slipping out from between them to find your clutch, “Good, ‘cause I really don’t want a picture of the three of us being sold to the tabloids.”

Hyōma runs his fingers through his hair, “It’d be good publicity for your upcoming novel.”

Seishiro nods in agreement.

“Mm yes ‘cause getting caught in the bathroom at a soccer gala for underprivileged kids is going to make people wanna read sapphic courtly love.”

Brushing them off, you saunter up to the door, your clutch in tow, “Hey! The door won’t open. Can you find someone to come let me out?”

At the muffled sound of their agreement and trailing footsteps you gesture for your two men to follow you out.

“I’ll go grab our coats, Sei go call a car to take us back to mine,” Hyōma instructs, already two steps toward the main ballroom.

“On it!” Seishiro mumbles with a slight salute.

The two of you walk silently outside the venue, occasionally bumping elbows. The gust of cool evening air does little to soothe the flames that lap at your inner thighs. Your need only grows stronger as Seishiro slumps against you, his rich cologne crowding your senses.

He hums a bit, nuzzling his face into your hair, “You’re so warm,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around your belly, “‘N smell so nice, like vanilla.”

You giggle, your head feeling dizzy from the attention.

“I’m already gonna sleep with you, you don’t have to sweet talk me,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “But … I won’t stop you if you wanna, I like it.”

“‘M not sweet talking you, it’s the truth.”

The bubbly feeling that tickles your chest has you idly realising why he had so many fans. He didn’t speak much in interviews, he much preferred to slink away to the locker room to shower and get home for a nap, but when he did he laid it on thick. Even the most professional journalists blushed and fluttered under his languid gaze. Honeyed words all too easy to slip off his tongue. Your heart jumped as your thoughts drifted into indecent territory.

“Are you taking good care of my baby?” Hyōma asks as he bounds down the stairs, his arms filled with coats and goody bags, “Are you cold sweetheart?”

You shake your head, offering him a small smile.

“I’m cold, come warm me up,” you can hear the pout in voice, his arms wrapping around you just a little bit tighter.

“The car should be here any minute, you’ll be nice and warm soon enough.”

Still, Hyōma does his best to wrap his arms around the both of you, leaving on hand to cradle all the odds and ends in his possession. Seishiro purrs in contentment, like a sweet kitten only to sour when he sees the uber pull up to the curb. You find yourself squished between the two of them in the backseat, though the passenger side was empty save for their jackets.

The thirty minute ride to your shared apartment with Hyōma feels more like an hour. Their hands wonder. Fingers poke and prod at your thighs, flitting up the hem of your dress until they were flashed with a bit of panty. Warm palms pressed on your shoulders and snaked their way beneath your top to feel up your tits. Blood pooled along the length of your bottom lip, the skin broken and raw from how your teeth dug into the flesh to smother any pesky moans that threatened to escape.

In the five minutes it takes to walk from the curb to the front door, you find yourself aching, hardly able to push Seishiro away. His palm was pressed against your cunt, humming to himself as Hyōma fumble around with the keys. Your shoes were kicked off into some dark corner, left to be found tomorrow afternoon, the moment the door flew open. Belts, socks, and shirts were discarded somewhere on the staircase. You feel suffocated by your nerves once you enter your bedroom, so exposed as you make yourself comfortable by the headboard.

Hyōma and Seishiro sit across from you, waiting for you to make the next move.

Maybe it was the fresh air that sobered you up, or if being inside your home made the precarious nature of this situation feel real. You decide to throw caution to the wind and pull off your slip dress. The intensity of their stares make you burn from the inside out. Hyōma’s gaze is filled with familiarity as he roves over each curve and dimple he knew all too well. Seishiro explores your body with all the eagerness of an untrained house puppy, drinking in the sight of your beauty marks and long since healed scars.

You’ve Seishiro half dressed before, but the sight of flushed skin and kiss bitten lips are new. You liked it more than you thought you would.

“You are so fucking pretty,” Seishiro mumbles, his eyes darting from your chest to face in a matter of seconds.

“Thank you, Sei, you’re not too bad yourself.”

Hyōma rolls his eyes, laughing, “What they mean to say is you look good,” he murmurs, biting his lip.

“You think so, pretty boy?”

He nods, a retort balanced precariously on the tip of his tongue.

“You should know better than anyone that Hyōma only ever says what he means,” you quip, sucking in a shaky breath.

The two men stare at each other for a moment. Another silent conversation but this time you’re able to read it a bit better. Years worth of tension and denied feelings bubble up to the surface, it's palpable and steals the breath from your lungs. You’re unsure who leans in first but soon enough, their hands are tangled in one another's hair, a grunt and a groan melting into the other's mouths as they kiss. It’s intimate, just as intimate as the kisses you share with Hyōma, you almost want to look away but you can’t. Your eyes refused to be pulled away. Their tongues taste and their teeth bite, lapping ichor and sweat, and the final years of their youth.

You only blink when your eyes begin to burn. It is then that you remember you were sitting across from them, not simply a voyeur intruding with their peering when your name is passed between their mouths like a soccer ball. You're unsure who it comes from and who it is that echoes the sentiments with his own throaty groan.

Your palms begin to sweat. They turn your attention to you almost as if it were instinctive. Perhaps you squeaked or let out a throaty groan of your own, the sheer eroticism too much for your feeble body to handle.. You feel like prey, pinned between too hungry predators doused in blood and too tempting for them to ignore. Hyōma strikes first, laying one open palm upon the swell of your knee, smoothing his calloused fingers around the flesh as if to sample before tasting. Seishiro hangs back, apprehensive and calculated. He’s trying to pick the situation apart and find the best angle of attack.

“I like this set,” Hyōma murmurs, his back arching as he splays his body across the bed, “So soft, hugs everything just right, did you wanna look pretty for us?”

You find yourself nodding even though it wasn’t true, puffing your chest out a little but more as if to put yourself on display. Seishiro nods too, shuffling closer. The bed creaks under his weight, the old iron wrought metal as loud and squeaky as it always is. Perhaps, it’s louder amid the pregnant pause that hangs in the air.

“Wanna take it off for us?”

Seishiro swallows when he’s finished speaking, draping himself across Hyōma’s body. Hyōma’s calf rests between Seishiro’s thighs. You don’t miss the pleased little sigh he releases.

Using your index finger, you slowly slide one bra strap down your shoulder blade. They watch with bated breath as you expose more of your sunkissed skin, and the tanlines you tried so hard to hide with your outfit for the evening. The other strap comes off faster, Hyōma’s squeezed your thigh in encouragement. Adoration swims in his irises. Somehow, it’s even stronger than it typically is, as if at any moment it’d leap out from his eyes and wrap itself around you.

Being watched makes you simper demurely, shyly using your hair to cover your breasts when you’re finally able to get the bra clasp undone. You don’t know who to look at, Seishiro who grinds himself into Hyōma, or Hyōma who touches you like you’re the finest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes upon.

Summer’s treated you well. It’s evident in how you glow in spite of your frayed nerves.

“Should I keep going?” You timidly ask, placing your hand overtop of Hyōma’s.

He shakes his head, tangling his fingers with yours, “No, let Sei take your panties off.”

Seishiro perks up like a puppy at the sound of his name, nodding his head before he’s fully registered what was being suggested.

“I wanna take ‘em off … Maybe keep ‘em too? You won’t mind right sweetheart?”

“No, you can keep them,” you mumble without missing a beat, laying further back against the headboard, some of your catches on the swirling metal but you pay it no mind and melt into the cushions. Your legs spread, “If you get me another pair.”

Your inner thighs feel sticky. Surely, the pale white lace has gone translucent exposing your tender clit and the pink of your pussy hidden behind your bush. The gust of air that hits your cunt makes you tremble. Seishiro’s hands warm you right back up as they trail up your thighs, his thumbs effortlessly hooking around the waistband. Your heart drops and all the air in your lung evaporates as Sei’ shamelessly burrows his nose into your cunt and takes a deep breath before he peels the fabric away.

He hums happily to himself, pocketing your underwear without hesitation, “Can I taste you?” He asks with big, round eyes, “Pretty please?”

“You’re devilish Sei’, you know they can’t say no to your puppy eyes.”

Hyōma laughs but joins Seishiro between your legs, his long red hair spilling across thigh, “Let us taste you my love.”

Not that you were in any position to deny them, so badly wanting more than just a whisper of a touch, but Hyōma didn’t ask. He was telling you. Your chest fluttered, making you feel weightless as you spread your thighs a bit wider to accommodate them.

“Please,” you whimper, your hips twitching upwards, “Eat me out, my pussy’s so needy.”

“I know baby, I know.”

Hyōma cradles the back of Seishiro’s head, his nails pressing into his scalp, pushing his face into your cunt. Sei moans unabashedly into you, the reverberation sending pleasure zipping up your spine.

“Taste good, don’t they?” Hyōma asks, his lips against the shell of Sei’s ear.

You think he nods his head, but it’s difficult to tell as he sucks your clit into his mouth, his nose deeply buried in the thatch of curls. All you see is tousled white hair and Hyōma’s smirking visage.

“Yeah, that’s it, good boy Sei.”

“Oh fuck,” you groan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your nails scrape against your bed sheets as you fail to gain purchase. Grounding yourself is a fruitless endeavour because Hyōma is quick to brush his lips along the length of your inner thigh, savouring how your soft skin feels against him. Your arousal and Seishiro’s spit slowly oozes between your cheeks, soaking the fabric beneath you. It feels obscene. Your chest might burst any moment from how your heart races so roughly, rattling your ribcage. When Hyōma’s tongue slips out from between his lips you fear you may have died and splayed before you was something out of your wildest fantasies.

Hyōma’s tongue joins Seishiro’s in lapping up the taste of you.

Their tongues slide against one another, up and down the length of your slit before settling on your clit. It’s wet, you’re wet, incredibly so. Your pussy pulses as your orgasm builds, your body growing taunt. The bedframe jiggles and squeaks when you throw your head back, the dull thrum of pain is hardly registered. Your mind’s a shifting sea of rapturous pleasure that blinds you of anything else.

There isn’t an inch of you left untouched.

Hyōma’s nails pierce your doughy thighs, little crescent moons blossom on the surface of your skin. Pink and pulsating from where it’s broken and begun to bleed. Seishiro strokes your hip and the underside of your knee, coiled around your body like he’s afraid you’re a mirage that’ll fade away before his very eyes. Your body feels as though it's been dosed in hot lava, it swirls along the dip of your belly button and seeps between your organs until you squirm in search of reprieve.

A soft jumble of their names drips down your tongue and oozes past your lips, “Right there, right there please,” you pleaded to no one in particular, “Please, I wanna cum.”

They melted into a singularity. Their touch and quick pants of heady breath indiscernible as you squeezed your eyes shut. Tongues swirl around your clit, drool and slick drip down their chins. With sloppy slurps and obscene moans, you find yourself on the precipice of completion. Tiptoeing closer and closer with each flit of their tongue, and the sloppy kisses that are pressed around your slit.

Somehow, your hands find their hair.

Tired of uselessly grappling with your duvet, your fingers dig into their scalps. Eliciting even more debauched groans, a myriad of them fall right into you. Your thighs twitch and seize, your body growing stiff as pleasure bleeds down your torso and seeps through every pore, every piece of you. The fluttering feeling in your chest intensifies as your orgasm crashes into you. You release a wanton whimper, you cunt throbbing as you cum.

Your back arches off the bed almost painfully, only to give way as your muscles turn to jello. You collapse against the bed with a huffy moan, a giggle bubbling up at the sight of Hyōma and Seishiro’s tousled hair.

“What’s so funny, baby?” Sei asks, peering up at you from between your legs, “We made you cum and you’re laughing at us?”

Slick and spit make his lips and chin shiny, “Aren’t they such a brat?” Hyōma murmurs, resting his chin on Sei’s shoulder, “They should be thanking us for making them feel so good.”

Seishiro nods in agreement, a sly smirk growing on his lips, “You should be thanking us like this,” clearing his throat, he puts on a terrible impression of you, “Thank you Hyō, thank you Sei for making me cum soooo hard!”

“I don’t sound like that!” You pout with an eye roll, “I was laughing because you guys look cute all messy like this.”

Hyōma leans forward, his half clothed body pressing against your tender bare skin, “You think we’re cute? Well I think you’re absolutely adorable, puppy.”

“Hyō…. Not in front of Sei!”

Your embarrassed whines are smothered by the gentle kiss he pressing into your mouth. The taste of you lingering on his tongue fills your senses. Salted skin and the bitter tinge of your essence is laved over you. Your tongues meld against one another, desperate heady moans clashing with each.

“What? Embarrassed that you like being called puppy?”

Seishiro sits up, stretching his arms above his head. His unbuttoned dress pants sit low on his hips, exposing the wispy tendrils of his happy trail. He laughs at your expression, filled with mirth. Slipping his hand beneath the waistband of his underwear, he curses beneath his breath.

“I think it’s cute, puppy,” he murmurs, biting his lip, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The wink he sends you distracts you from Hyōma who’s weaved his fingers into your knotted curls and begun to suckle on your neck. His cock strains against his pants, his pre leaking through the fabric and smearing on your skin.

“You guys are the worst!”

“Don’t be a brat,” Hyōma mutters, before turning to Seishiro, “Can you come help be unzip, Sei?”

They hover above you, their hands roaming over each other's bodies. Clothing is tugged off on and thrown carelessly to the floor. Hyōma’s flushed, weeping cock stands stiffly to attention and drips precum all over your blanket. Seishiro’s wispy little happy trail leads your eyes to the fluffy blush that adorned his pelvis. Arousal hung like webs around the thatch of hair, his puffy, throbbing t-dick just barely peeking out.

You trail your fingertips along the length of Seishiro’s torso, gently following along the scar that runs beneath his chest. His body is quick to react to your touch, he shivers, the muscles in his tummy fluttering ever so slightly. He moans when Hyōma gently combs his fingers through his pubes, just barely touching his dick.

“You’re so wet Sei,” he comments with a smirk, “Did eating out my sweet puppy out really turn you on that much?”

Seishiro nods, his hand shooting out to curl around Hyōma’s bicep.

“You’re so sensitive, baby.”

He nods again, pressing his body lip between his teeth. His grey eyes darken with, lust and urgency swim amongst his irises, “Don’t tease me,” he grits, frowning, “I’ll cum.”

“Just from that?” You ask, shifting to sit on your knees, “You really are so sensitive Sei, that’s really hot.”

Brushing the tip of your finger around his areola, you tentatively give his nipple a tweak. Seishiro jolts into your touch, “If you keep doing that, I-,” he warns before clamping his lips shut.

“Just from a little bit of touching?”

The corner of your mouth quirks upward as you peer at him, watching as his mouth falls open and out comes a coquettish whimper that makes your blood run hot with desire. His sloppy cunt squelches obscenely as Hyōma jerks him off, his neck bared to you as he throws his head back in ecstasy. Tweaking his nipples, you graze the tender skin of his jugular before planting a soft kiss to blossoming bruises.

“‘M sensitive,” he moans your name with a pathetic little expression adorning his features.

Seishiro falls apart under your ministrations quickly. He gushes all over Hyōma’s hand, his body twitching with pleasure from each brush and tug of your hands. Slumping against you, Seishiro lets out a quiet little mewl, tears of pleasure prickling at the corner of his eyes and dripping down your shoulder.

“We know baby,” Hyōma coos passively, soothing to Sei’s scrambled brain, “We know you are.”

Giving his cock a swift tug, Hyōma grunts prettily, using his precum to lube up his cock. A whine builds at the back of your throat, so quickly you can hardly stop it from spilling out and drifting over to Hyōma and Seishiro’s ears.

“You want us inside you puppy?”

You nod, afraid and untrusting of your voice.

“Go get Sei your strap-on,” he instructs, nodding his head towards the bedside table on your side of the bed.

Your strap on, lacked any straps or harness in the traditional sense. It’s sleek and silicon, rosy pink in colour, and sometimes vibrates if you remember where you put the remote. Grabbing the bottle of strawberry scented lube, you sat in between Hyōma and Seishiro.

“Spread your legs for me Sei,” you whisper, tentatively stroking his pelvis, “That’s it, that’s a good boy.”

A shudder wracks through Seishiro as you gently push the bulbous end of the feeldoe into him, gathering up his arousal to guide it inside with ease. He groans as the flared tip sits snug against his engorged, throbbing dick. Squirting a bit of lube into the palm of your hand, you stroke the strap, watching with a pleased smirk as Seishiro’s eyes grow lidded.

“Fuck,” he curses beneath his breath.

Batting your lashes at him you murmur in a sultry tone “Can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you state, giggling at the Japanese he spits out in response.

“Don’t tease him too much,” Hyōma chides with a smug expression, “He won’t hesitate to return it tenfold, my love.”

“Just like you do?”

He hums in agreement,“Come suck me off?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

“Help me Sei!”

Hyōma’s fingertips follow the length of your spine as you sink into all fours before him. He traces shapes into your skin and drags his nails against the flesh until you shiver. Seishiro mirrors your position, eager and awaiting your instruction. Drawing him in for a kiss, you wrap your hand around Hyō’s cock, languidly drawing your hand up and down.

Seishiro chases your kiss, following as you bring your head in front of Hyōma’s weeping tip. Sliding your tongue along the underside you follow the throbbing, prominent vein. Sei is sloppy but his fervent pursuit of pleasure makes up for it tenfold. He kisses your mouth over Hyōma’s cock, his free hand gently fondling his full balls.

Above you, Hyōma mutters something in Japanese. It’s not a phrase you recognise, no matter how you strain your ears you can’t begin to discern what it is he may have said. Whatever it is, it makes Seishiro flush, drool slipping down his chin as he suckles on Hyōma’s cock. He presses his eyes shut, embarrassment written across every inch of his skin.

“Open your eyes baby,” you coo, tugging on Seishiro’s messy white hair, “Want you to see me, Sei.”

His eyes flutter open, almost at your command. Large, slate grey irises tentatively peer back at you, mouth full of cock.

“I need to be inside you,” Hyōma moans, his nails digging into your flesh.

“Please.”

You murmur around his cock, your eyes turned upward. Hyōma’s throat bobs as he swallows. Sweat drips down his lush body, his skin glistens deliciously. Sei mirrors you, gazing up at him with wide eyes and blush kissed cheeks.

Pulling off his cock with a pop, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Lipstick is smudged across, you notice it’s smeared across Hyōma’s dick, his lips, his neck, Sei’s too.

“I need you both inside me.”

Hyōma lays against the pillows, pulling you by the hips to settle in his lap. His cock slides across your slick folds and you can’t help but moan. Seishiro kneels behind you, quiet and tender. The strap-on nudges against your ass cheek as he grabs your hips, his face nuzzling into your shoulder.

More lube is squirted between your cheeks and along Seishiro’s length. Bracing yourself against Hyōma’s shoulders, you bite your lip as his cock is nudged against your drooling hole. He sinks you down slowly, your walls stretching open to accommodate his girth. Your mouth falls open in a gasp, your heart skipping a beat as you’re filled.

Seishiro plunged his pointer finger into your ass, slowly working you open.

“Sei, please I need you,” you beg, twisting your neck around to look at him, “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

“You heard them, be a good boy and fill them up, Seishiro.”

Seishiro snorts a laugh, “You’re so needy huh,” he quips, “All bark and no bite.”

Whatever witty retort you might have had dies before it can reach your tongue. Your breath and words are stolen from you with a swift quickness as Seishiro eases the tip of his strap against your asshole. The stretch burns but the pain effortlessly melds into pleasure. Hyōma’s fingers play with your clit, rolling soothing circles that make your head spin around and round.

“Shut up, Sei!” You grit with a pant of breath, your eyes rolling back into your skull as he bottoms out.

You’re full, incredibly so.

Your limbs feel as though they’ve turned into led and weigh a hundred more pounds. You rest your head upon Hyōma’s chest, you can hear his stuttering heartbeat erratically pound against his ribcage as he slowly lifts your hip upwards until only their tips remain inside of you.

“You feel so good around me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Gonna make me cum, God I’m so hard for you.”

The fluttery feeling makes a home in your chest, wrapping around your sternum and melting all the way down to your toes. Their cocks grind against each other whilst inside you, the feeling of it makes you stupid. There isn’t a single thought that fills your head, just pleasure. Heavy, thick sea of mind numbing pleasure that you wouldn’t dare to find yourself out from.

Hyōma throbs within you, Seishiro’s slick drips onto your ass as they drill into you at a surprisingly even pace. You vaguely register the sound of them kissing above you, you’re too fucked out to lift your head and watch.

“Please,” you mumble into Hyōma’s skin for no reason in particular, “Please baby.”

The tension in your belly bursts quickly, your cunt squirt and throbbing as you cum. You feel it gush out of you, soaking both men and the blankets below you. Seishiro lets out a muffled sound of surprise, it’s followed by a chuckle and then a grunt. Hyōma twitches inside you, he’s on the bring too, cooing words in Japanese that cause Sei to move faster, fucking into you like it was his goal to make you addicted to the feeling of him driving his cock into you.

“That’s it, good boy Sei,” Hyōma grunts, biting Seishiro’s bottom lip, “Good puppy, squeezing my cock so tight.”

Warmth spreads through you as he fills you up with his cum. Your head feels dizzy as you lay flat against him, your thighs twitching and inky darkness edging at the corners of your vision. His hips stutter for a moment as he chases his release, pumping his seed back into your hole. Seishiro pushes your hair to the side and plants a sloppy kiss to the nape of your neck. He collapses onto you, crushing you between the two of them.

“Fuck, I love you guys,” Sei murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso.

Your body breaks out in goosebumps, shock thrumming through your veins. Did he just say that? Did he mean it? Or, was it just the post orgasm bliss speaking? Sometimes, he and Isagi joked that stupid often fell out of their mouths when they spoke before thinking.

“I love you guys,” you find yourself saying, linking your fingers with Hyōma’s he gives you a squeeze before humming.

“I love you two.”

networks: @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

#chigiri hyoma smut #nagi seishiro smut #chigiri hyoma x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #bllk x reader

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planet-marz1 · 1 year ago

Text

Is It Over Now?

Summary: Still reeling from Joel's revelation, you find solace in someone new. Pairing: Joel x F!Reader Word Count: ~7.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, jackson!joel, established relationship, angst, somewhat? happy ending, infidelity, joel just kinda sucks honestly,alcohol consumption, implied smut (not with joel), lots of joel tears, pet names (sweetheart), jealousy, insecurities, self doubt, reader is in her healing era, reader slaps a bitch (it's deserved, I swear)

A/N: Hi! This is the second, and final part of this series, though I have a few more drabbles & oneshots planned to write and post. This is dedicated to my love @kajashe 💗 and thank you to my beloved @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this for me! and yet another thank you to all of my friends who listened to me ramble on about this for the past several days in discord 💜

beautiful dividers by @/saradika

follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

| part i | series masterlist | main masterlist |

The passing weeks were a blur of emotional turmoil and quiet introspection. The once-familiar routines of life felt like a distant memory, replaced by a persistent ache that accompanied every moment of solitude. Your days were marked by the slow process of healing, a journey undertaken one painful step at a time.

Joel had respected your request for space, retreating to the refuge of his brother Tommy's home. The absence of his presence in your shared space only served as a constant reminder of the void that had opened up in your life. Jackson carried on with its daily rhythm, oblivious to the personal upheaval that had unfolded within its walls.

Nights were the hardest. The quiet darkness seemed to amplify the echoes of the past, and sleep became an elusive visitor. The couch where you had waited for Joel that fateful night became a throne of solitude, the cushions bearing silent witness to the nights spent wrestling with the fragments of a broken heart.

In moments of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to revisit the memories of the life you had built together. Photographs adorned the walls, frozen moments in time that now carried the weight of bittersweet nostalgia. The laughter, the shared dreams, and the quiet moments of connection—all now tainted by the knowledge of his betrayal.

The settlement's whispers reached your ears—a mix of sympathy, curiosity, and the well-intentioned attempts of friends trying to fill the void left by Joel's absence. Their concern was palpable, but the wounds were still fresh, the healing a slow and arduous process.

Alone in the quiet living room, the remnants of your shattered relationship lingered like ghosts in the air. The moon cast a cold glow through the window, illuminating the space where the truth had been laid bare. The weight of Joel's confession hung heavy in the room, and you were left grappling with a mix of emotions that threatened to consume you.

You sat on the couch, staring into the darkness outside, your mind racing to make sense of the betrayal. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with the whispers of the life you thought you knew, now tainted by the harsh reality of Joel's infidelity.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside. You replayed the moments leading up to this revelation, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that could have prepared you for the storm that had now engulfed your relationship.

The ache in your chest deepened, and you could feel the hot prickle of tears threatening to spill over. Anguish, betrayal, and confusion mingled in a tumultuous storm within you. You wanted answers, an explanation that could somehow make sense of the wreckage now surrounding you.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, marking the passage of time in a world that suddenly felt unfamiliar. As you sat there in the quiet, you wondered how the foundation of your life had crumbled so swiftly, like sand slipping through your fingers.

Outside, the settlement continued its slumber, blissfully unaware of the personal cataclysm unfolding within your home. You needed time to process the truth, to navigate the emotional minefield that now lay before you.

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped back into the room, his eyes filled with regret. The air tensed as he hesitated, unsure of his place in this shattered reality. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the words.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a vast chasm that had opened up in the wake of his betrayal. "I need time to figure this out," you said, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions within you.

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the consequences he had brought upon himself. As he left the room again, the door closing softly behind him, you were left alone with the wreckage of a love that had weathered countless storms, only to be undone by the tempest within.

So here you are now, at the Tipsy Bison, with its low hum of conversations and the comforting clink of glasses, served as a temporary escape from the turmoil within. The dimly lit bar offered a semblance of solace, a place to drown the sorrows that had become constant companions.

You sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight. The weight of recent events lingered, a heavy burden you sought to momentarily cast aside. The soft music in the background provided a melancholic soundtrack to the evening.

As you stared into the depths of your drink, Noah took the seat next to you—a familiar face in the crowd, someone you'd seen around the settlement but never really paid much attention to. His attempts at small talk were met with your usual indifference. In the past, your loyalty to Joel had been unwavering, and the idea of entertaining advances from others never crossed your mind.

Tonight, however, the rules had shifted. The wounds of heartbreak were still raw, and the empty space beside you echoed the absence of a familiar presence. Noah persisted, undeterred by your initial disinterest.

"Rough night?" he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

You looked at him, a mixture of exhaustion and pain in your eyes. "You could say that."

Noah nodded, understanding glinting in his eyes. "Sometimes a drink is the only company we've got."

A subtle smile played on your lips as you reciprocated his banter. "Seems like you're here for more than just the drinks."

He chuckled, a warmth in his voice. "Well, it's not every night I get to share the bar with someone as intriguing as you, sweetheart"

The dance of flirtation continued, the bar becoming a stage where you and Noah played out a scene of shared laughter and camaraderie. The soft music provided a backdrop to the banter, a temporary escape from the weight that had settled on your shoulders.

Noah leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "You know, I've seen you around, but we've never really talked. What brings you here tonight?"

You sighed, a moment of vulnerability slipping through. "Just trying to forget for a little while, I guess."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Sometimes, a little distraction is all we need."

As the night wore on, the boundaries between reality and the fleeting connection blurred. Noah became a temporary ally in a battle against the memories that threatened to engulf you. In the shadows of the Tipsy Bison, you allowed yourself a momentary escape, a reprieve from the heartache that still clung to the edges of your world.

The hours passed in a haze of shared stories and laughter. Noah proved to be an unexpected source of comfort, his presence a balm to the wounds that had yet to fully heal. The Tipsy Bison became a refuge, a sanctuary where, for a brief moment, the weight of heartbreak was lifted.

As the night progressed, Noah's conversation turned more earnest, his gaze holding a sincerity that resonated with you. "You know," he said, his voice softened by the dim ambiance of the bar, "Sometimes it helps to talk about what's going on. You don't have to carry it all alone."

The vulnerability in his words echoed the vulnerability you had been avoiding. The temptation to open up, to share the burden, tugged at the edges of your restraint. "It's just been a tough time," you admitted, a hint of gratitude in your voice.

Noah nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I get that. Life has a way of throwing curveballs when we least expect it."

The moment stretched, the connection between you deepening. The bar, once a backdrop for distraction, now felt like a space where two people navigating the complexities of life found common ground.

As the night neared its end, Noah leaned in, his voice a whisper. "I'm not an expert in fixing things, but if you ever need someone to listen, I'm here."

His sincerity resonated, and you nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Noah. It means more than you know."

The Tipsy Bison, with its flickering lights and the hum of conversations, witnessed a different side of you that night—a side that embraced vulnerability and sought solace in unexpected places. As you parted ways, the weight on your shoulders felt a bit lighter, and the bar's exit became a threshold to a world where healing, though uncertain, seemed a little more attainable.

The night air felt cool as you and Noah stepped out of the bar, the soft glow from the neon sign casting a gentle halo around you. The settlement slept in the quiet darkness, oblivious to the shared moments of connection that had unfolded within the bar's walls.

The walk back to your house was a journey through silent streets, the hushed conversations between you and Noah punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. The weight of the evening's revelations lingered, but in Noah's company, it felt less burdensome.

As you approached the front door, you turned to him, a newfound warmth in your eyes. "Do you want to come in? Maybe have another drink?" The invitation hung in the air, a testament to the unexpected bond that had formed between you.

Noah's response was a gentle smile "I'd like that," he said, his voice carrying a sense of genuine camaraderie.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the familiar comfort of your home greeted you both. The living room, once a witness to heartache, now seemed to hold the promise of shared moments and tentative healing.

You settled on the couch, the echoes of the night's laughter still lingering. The air felt charged with the unspoken, a connection that transcended the confines of mere friendship. As you poured another round of drinks, the silence between you felt comfortable, a space where words were unnecessary.

Noah's eyes met yours, and in that shared gaze, there was an understanding that words could not fully capture. The vulnerability of the evening had laid bare the complexities of your heart, and Noah, in his quiet way, seemed to offer a respite from the storm.

As the night unfolded, the connection deepened. Laughter, shared stories, and the gentle ebb and flow of conversation filled the room. In that unexpected companionship, you found solace—a reminder that, even in the aftermath of heartbreak, there were still moments of connection waiting to be discovered.

The time you two had spent together at the bar had been a catalyst for change, and now, in the quietude of your home, you allowed the night to unfold, unsure of where it might lead but grateful for the warmth that had found its way into the cracks of a wounded heart.

The ambiance in the room shifted subtly, the air thickening with a newfound energy that danced between you and Noah. The shared laughter and easy conversation took on a softer note, and the space on the couch seemed to shrink, drawing you both closer.

You caught Noah's gaze lingering, his eyes holding a warmth that went beyond mere camaraderie. The flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes. A charged silence settled between you, one that spoke volumes without the need for words.

As you sipped your drinks, the magnetic pull of the moment intensified. The shared vulnerability of the evening had forged a connection that transcended the ordinary, and in the quietude of the living room, the boundaries between friendship and something more blurred.

Noah's fingers traced absentminded patterns on the rim of his glass, and his gaze met yours with a subtle intensity. The unspoken tension hung in the air, a delicate dance that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

The air seemed to hum with anticipation as you leaned in, drawn by an invisible force that defied explanation. The room held its breath, and in that suspended moment, your lips brushed against each other in a gentle, tentative kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the kiss deepened, the warmth of Noah's touch sending a current of electricity through you. The weight of heartbreak momentarily lifted, replaced by the promise of something new, something uncharted.

You don’t care about anything else but losing yourself in the feeling of being loved even if just for tonight. As the passion between you continues to escalate with each passing second, all thoughts of tomorrow fade away into oblivion leaving only this one perfect moment stretching out endlessly before the two of you like an eternal embrace.

The air in your home was filled with a mix of holiday scents — the piney aroma of the Christmas tree, the faint whiff of cinnamon from the candles scattered around the room. It was Christmas Eve, and the settlement was adorned with festive lights and decorations.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of the deep green dress you had chosen for the occasion. Despite the outward festivities, a quiet melancholy clung to you, a reminder of the heartbreak that still lingered beneath the surface.

As you finished getting ready, the soft knock on the door signaled Noah's arrival. His presence, a comforting constant in the weeks that followed that unexpected encounter, had become a source of solace. Tonight, however, the prospect of a Christmas party loomed, and the idea of celebrating seemed to clash with the healing wounds of your past.

Noah entered, a warm smile on his face as he took in your appearance. "You look stunning," he remarked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and concern.

You managed a small smile in return, the weight of your unspoken thoughts evident in your eyes. "Thanks, Noah. I'm just not sure I'm in the festive mood, you know?"

He approached and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I understand. But Maria insisted, and maybe being around people, even for a little while, might help."

Reluctantly, you nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. Maria had been a steadfast presence in your life, offering support and encouragement as you navigated the aftermath of heartbreak. Tonight's Christmas party was her attempt to bring a glimmer of joy into your world.

Together, you and Noah made your way through the decorated streets toward the town center. The settlement buzzed with festive energy — laughter, music, and the scent of holiday treats wafting through the air. As you approached the venue, the warm glow of lights spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming glow.

The Christmas Eve party in town was in full swing, with the warm glow of lights and the spirited energy of the season enveloping the settlement. As you navigated the festive atmosphere with Noah at your side, the subtle shift in your mood was palpable. The healing process was slow, but the comfort of friends and the shared moments of celebration were working their magic.

As you entered the bustling venue, your eyes caught a familiar figure across the room — Joel. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, the shock of seeing him after weeks of absence coursing through your veins. His presence cast a shadow over the festive scene, and the room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken history.

Noah sensed your tension, his grip on your hand tightening in a silent reassurance. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

You nodded, attempting to mask the surprise that rippled beneath the surface. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect to see him here."

Noah glanced toward Joel, his expression thoughtful. "Do you want to leave? We can go somewhere quieter."

You considered the offer, but something in you resisted the impulse to retreat. "No, let's stay. I need to face this."

Together, you and Noah approached the gathering. As Joel noticed your presence, his eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and a hint of remorse flickering in his gaze. The air crackled with the unspoken tension of past wounds and unanswered questions.

Maria, ever perceptive, approached, greeting you with an exuberant hug, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. Her warm smile faltered as she sensed the dynamics at play. "I didn't know he would be here. I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you."

You offered a tight smile, the weight of the situation settling around you. "It's okay, Maria. I can handle it."

The party unfolded with the spirited energy of the season — people dancing, laughter filling the air, and the exchange of heartfelt wishes. As you moved through the festivities, Noah's hand found yours, a subtle reassurance in the midst of the crowd.

The night progressed, and despite your initial hesitations, a subtle shift occurred. The music, the laughter, and the shared moments with friends began to chip away at the walls around your heart. The healing process was ongoing, and in the company of those who cared, the weight of heartbreak felt a little lighter.

A moment of stillness settled over the room. In that quiet pause, your eyes met Joel's once more. The unspoken history, the shattered pieces of a relationship, and the complexity of emotions were etched in that shared gaze. Noah's hand found yours again, a grounding force amidst the emotional storm.

As you navigated the remainder of the Christmas party, the unspoken tension with Joel remained, but in the company of friends and the warmth of the season, you found solace. The dance of emotions continued, and as the night unfolded, you carried with you a newfound resilience, a testament to the strength found in facing the unexpected and the hope that lingers in the aftermath of heartbreak.

Amidst the swirl of holiday festivities, your eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of Veronica across the room. Her presence, unexpected yet inevitable in a close-knit settlement, stirred a complex mix of emotions within you. As she engaged in conversation with others, a subtle ache of self-doubt crept into your thoughts.

What did she have that made Joel cheat on me with her?

The question lingered, not born out of jealousy, but rather a yearning for understanding. The doubts festered like quiet shadows in the corners of your mind, threatening to overshadow the celebratory atmosphere.

Noah sensed the shift in your demeanor, his grip on your hand tightening as a silent gesture of support. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You forced a small smile, attempting to dispel the doubts that threatened to cloud the festive evening. "Yeah, just unexpected seeing her here, you know?"

Noah nodded in understanding, his gaze a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions. "You're stronger than you think. Remember that."

As you continued to navigate the party, the glimpses of Veronica sparked moments of introspection. The dance of doubt and self-reflection unfolded, but amidst it all, a deeper truth emerged — the strength to confront insecurities and the resilience to rise above the echoes of past heartbreak.

Joel remained on the periphery, a figure in the background of the unfolding drama. The unspoken tension with Veronica echoed the complexities of relationships, and in the midst of the holiday cheer, you found a quiet resolve to focus on the present and the connections that mattered most.

As the party continued, a lingering curiosity pulled you toward Veronica. The desire for closure and understanding overshadowed the self-doubt that had surfaced. The pulsating beat of the Christmas music seemed to align with the tension in the air as you approached Veronica. The crowd hushed in the wake of your confrontation, and even the festive decorations couldn't quite drown out the charged atmosphere.

This is it, you thought, your fists clenched by your sides. Time to confront the source of this mess. "Veronica," you said, your voice edged with a simmering anger. "We need to talk."

She turned, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Well, look who decided to show up. Didn't think I'd see you here."

Hold it together, you reminded yourself, swallowing the initial surge of rage. She's not worth it. Ignoring the jab, you pressed on. "Cut the crap. What happened between you and Joel?"

Veronica chuckled, a snarky glint in her eyes. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he's got his version of the story."

Like I haven't already tried, you thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But I want to hear it from her.Your patience wore thin, and a flash of anger ignited. "I'm asking you. What did you think you were doing?"

Veronica rolled her eyes, an unapologetic tone lacing her words. "Oh, please. Don't act clueless in all of this. Joel and I, we had our reasons."

Reasons? The word echoed in your mind, a bitter taste settling on your tongue. The retort stung, and you shot back,"What reasons could there possibly be to betray someone like that?"

Keep her on the defensive, you urged yourself. Make her face the consequences of her actions.

Veronica's smirk persisted, her snarky demeanor unyielding. "Maybe you should ask Joel what he was missing at home."

No. Don't let her deflect the blame. The anger surged again, a tempest threatening to consume reason.

The words hung in the air, a venomous revelation that fueled the anger within. The crowd around you seemed to blur as the confrontation intensified, each word exchanged an arrow that pierced through the facade of festive cheer.

Everyone knew, you mused bitterly. The whole damn town knew you and Joel were together.

As the exchange reached its peak, the energy between you and Veronica crackled with unresolved emotions. The pulsating beat of the music in the background seemed to align with the tension in the air, the crowd still hushed in the wake of your confrontation. Each word exchanged felt like a seismic tremor, shaking the foundations of the festive atmosphere.

"You're unbelievable," you seethed, the anger boiling over. "I hope you're proud of yourself." Stay strong, you reminded yourself, fighting against the torrent of emotions. You've got this.

Veronica shrugged, a nonchalant expression masking any hint of remorse. "I did what I wanted. Life's too short for regrets."

Regrets, the word echoed in your mind. Is she really that callous? Keep it together, you urged yourself, clenching your fists by your sides. Don't let her see how much she's getting to you.

Noah, sensing the escalating tension, remained by your side, a silent pillar of support. The confrontation with Veronica had become a battleground of emotions, a clash between hurt and defiance.

This is it. The moment of truth.

In a flash, the weight of anger, frustration, and betrayal coalesced into a surge of raw emotion. Without a second thought, your hand connected with Veronica's cheek in a resounding slap. The crowd, which had been observing in a stunned silence, erupted into gasps and whispers.

Veronica stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and indignation. The slap reverberated through the room, a cathartic release of the pent-up emotions that had been building since the revelation.

"You deserved that," you declared, your voice steady, though your heart pounded with the intensity of the moment.

As Noah guided you away from the charged atmosphere, the weight of the confrontation lingered. The Christmas party resumed its festive cheer, but the encounter with Veronica had become a defining chapter, a moment where you asserted your strength and reclaimed a sense of control in the aftermath of betrayal.

The brisk night air greeted you as you and Noah stepped out of the lively Christmas party. The settlement was adorned with a soft blanket of snow, and the crunch of each footstep echoed in the quiet winter night. The atmosphere outside was a stark contrast to the charged energy that had filled the party just moments before.

Noah kept a reassuring arm around you as you navigated the snowy path toward your house. The silence between you was a comforting one, a respite from the emotional turbulence of the evening. The distant sounds of laughter from the party gradually faded into the serene stillness of the snowy landscape.

The glow of the settlement's lights reflected off the pristine snow, casting a soft illumination on the familiar path. The events of the night lingered in the air, and as you reached your doorstep, you turned to Noah with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion.

"Thanks for being there," you said, your voice carrying the weight of the emotions that had unfolded.

Noah nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime. You handled that with a lot of strength."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "I just want to move forward, you know? Leave all this behind."

The snowflakes continued to fall, adding a sense of serenity to the moment. As you opened the door to your home, the warmth inside offered a stark contrast to the chilly night. The familiar surroundings provided a sense of solace, a haven away from the echoes of the confrontation.

The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken tension as you confronted Joel about his infidelity. The harsh reality of betrayal lingered, casting a shadow over the relationship you had thought was secure.

"Why, Joel?" you demanded, your voice a mix of pain and anger. "Who was it? Who did you cheat on me with?"

Joel hesitated, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze with a mixture of regret and guilt. "It was Veronica," he confessed, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air.

Veronica's name echoed in your mind, a face from the town, someone you had known, someone whose presence had been intertwined with your life in the settlement. The shock of the revelation was like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to spin.

"Veronica?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The name felt like a betrayal in itself, a person who had shared the same space as you, someone you had considered a part of the community.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of remorse and desperation. "I messed up, It wasn't about her. It was about me, about the mistakes I made."

The words did little to ease the pain, and the room became a battleground of conflicting emotions. Anguish, betrayal, and disbelief swirled within you, a storm of feelings that threatened to overwhelm.

As you absorbed the revelation, the weight of the truth settled. Veronica, a name that had been a mere background detail in the tapestry of your life, now held a significance that cut deep. The confrontation with Joel had peeled back the layers of the facade, revealing a reality you had never anticipated.

In the midst of the emotional maelstrom, you took a step back, needing distance to process the harsh truth. The room, once a sanctuary, felt foreign and unwelcoming. The echoes of the revelation hung in the air, and as Joel sought words of apology, you grappled with the shattered pieces of a relationship that had crumbled in the wake of betrayal.

The weight of that night lingered in your thoughts. Veronica's presence, once a casual detail in the fabric of your life, had become a symbol of a painful chapter in your past. The journey of healing continued, marked by the scars of the confrontation and the resolve to move forward, one step at a time.

The soft murmur of pages turning and the hushed whispers of readers created a peaceful ambiance in the small settlement's library. As the librarian, you were engrossed in arranging the shelves when the door creaked open. A tall, rugged man entered, a hint of unfamiliarity etched into the lines of his face.

Joel, a newcomer to the community, you’d seen him around town with a young girl practically attached at his hip. He cast an assessing glance around the room before approaching the counter where you stood. His eyes, weathered and guarded, met yours as he cleared his throat, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I'm lookin' for books about space."

You looked up from your task, offering a warm smile. "Space, huh? Planning a journey to the stars?" you teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Joel's lips twitched into a small smile, a rare expression on his usually stoic face. "Not exactly. Got a kid back home who's mighty interested in space. Wants to know everything there is."

Interest sparked in your eyes as you couldn't help but inquire, "Your daughter, then?"

He hesitated, a subtle shift in his gaze, but he didn't correct you. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Your smile widened. "Well, you've come to the right place. We've got a stellar collection—pun intended."

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your attempt at humor. "Good to know."

As you led him through the aisles, the conversation flowed easily. He shared stories of Ellie, a girl he watched over, protected, and cared for deeply. The love in his words painted a vivid picture, and when you mentioned how wonderful it was that he and his "daughter" shared such interests, he didn't correct you.

"So, what's her favorite subject?" you asked, your tone playfully nudging towards the unspoken connection.

He chuckled, a soft warmth in his eyes. "Space, definitely. She's got a million questions about stars, planets, you name it."

You grinned, leaning slightly closer. "Well, Joel, it seems you've got a budding astronomer on your hands. Lucky for you, I'm an expert in celestial matters."

Joel's expression remained stoic, but there was a subtle glint of amusement in his eyes. "Is that so?"

You nodded, your gaze meeting his with a hint of mischief. "Absolutely. But my expertise doesn't come cheap. I'll need payment in the form of a good conversation and maybe a coffee sometime."

Joel's chuckle deepened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Coffee, huh? You got yourself a deal."

As Joel left the library with a stack of books, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth. The door closed behind him, leaving you with the subtle hum of excitement and the gentle echo of playful banter that seemed to linger in the air. The library, once a quiet haven of solitude, now held the promise of a story unfolding—one with celestial wonders and perhaps a touch of romance.

in the quiet moments of reflection, your mind often wandered to the time when you and Joel first met. The memory used to bring a warm smile to your face—the genuine laughter, the shared dreams, the promise of a future entwined with his. But now, each recollection was tainted by the bitter sting of betrayal, and the nostalgia had become a source of pain.

As you sat alone in the dimly lit room, the flickering shadows seemed to mimic the turbulence within your heart. The memory of your first meeting played in your mind like a melancholy film—a reminder of the love that had once been untarnished. The weight of what had transpired since then pressed down on you, leaving a bitter aftertaste to a memory that had once been so sweet.

The soft hum of a distant song, a melody you both used to share, brought a wave of conflicting emotions. Your mind wandered back to that day—the laughter, the stolen glances, the electric feeling of a connection that transcended words. It was a time when you looked into his eyes and felt like you had found something extraordinary.

But now, those memories were haunted by the echoes of his infidelity, and the rose-tinted glasses you once wore shattered, revealing the painful truth beneath. The laughter had become an echo, the glances a cruel reminder, and the connection a frayed thread threatening to unravel.

In the midst of the emotional turmoil, you found yourself thinking, almost wistfully, about what life would have been like if you'd never met Joel. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the depth of the wounds inflicted.

You replayed the scenes of your shared history—the highs and the lows, the joy and the heartbreak. The almost-wish lingered in the recesses of your mind, a testament to the profound impact of betrayal on the once cherished memories.

Joel has shown up at your door, trying to extend a tentative olive branch, an attempt to breach the chasm that had widened between you. His words were carefully chosen, an apology that carried the weight of remorse. He expressed a longing for resolution, a desire to face the consequences of his actions and rebuild what had been lost. “Can I come in?” he says hesitantly, trying to gauge your emotional state.

Reluctantly you nod, and step aside, allowing him into the house.

The weight of Joel's confession hung in the air. The room steeped in a heavy silence, and charged with the weight of unresolved emotions as you and Joel sat facing each other. The revelation of his infidelity with Veronica had unearthed a raw vulnerability. It had left your relationship hanging in the balance.You needed answers that transcended the initial betrayal. You both needed to confront the difficult question of where to go from here.

"Why, Joel?" you questioned, your voice steady but edged with a yearning for understanding. "I get that you were lost, but why did you keep cheating with her after the first time? Why not just admit it to me after it happened once?"

Joel's gaze met yours, his eyes carrying the weight of guilt. He took a moment before responding, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

"I didn't know how to face it," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "The shame, the guilt—it overwhelmed me. And every time it happened again, the weight of that guilt just grew. I was trapped in a cycle, and I couldn't find a way out."

Your brow furrowed, a mix of frustration and disbelief settling within you. "So, instead of admitting your mistake and trying to make amends, you kept it a secret and continued to betray our relationship?"

Joel nodded, the admission heavy on his conscience. "I thought if I could just stop, if I could find a way to break free from that cycle, I could spare you the pain of knowing. But each time, I failed. It became a vicious cycle I couldn't escape."

The room seemed to close in as the gravity of his words sank in. The cycle of betrayal, a web of lies and shame, had perpetuated itself, leaving both of you ensnared in the consequences.

"But why?" you pressed, your voice a mixture of frustration and sadness. "Why not face the consequences and be honest with me? We could have worked through it together, Joel."

His eyes reflected the internal struggle, a war between the truth and the self-imposed isolation he had subjected himself to. "I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of facing disappointment. It was a selfish choice, and I see that now."

The admission hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the choices that had led to the fracture of trust. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a battlefield of emotions.

"So, you kept hurting me to protect yourself," you whispered, the weight of the realization settling on your shoulders.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his silence confirming the painful truth. The unraveling of the secrets and the depths of his struggles became a sobering reality, and as you navigated the aftermath of betrayal, the room seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken regrets and the yearning for a path forward.

The room felt like a suffocating space, each revelation adding weight to the heavy air. Joel's admission of infidelity hung between you, a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge. After a moment of tense silence, you found the strength to voice the truth that had been echoing in your heart.

After a moment, you gathered the courage to voice the question that lingered in the room like an unspoken specter. "What now, Joel? What does this mean for us?"

Joel looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of desperation and remorse. "I messed up. I know I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. If you're willing to give me another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the memories of a time when love flowed effortlessly between you resurfaced. There had been a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn’t imagine a future, a universe, where you didn’t stare into them for eternity. The love you had for him was one like no other, the strongest you’d ever felt for someone, for something.

But now, those eyes hold the weight of betrayal, and the road ahead seems uncertain. You took a deep breath, searching for the right words to navigate the delicate conversation.

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but the wounds were fresh, and the scars of betrayal ran deep. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting your response.

"I can't, Joel," you said, your voice steady but laced with a profound sadness. "This-

It's too much. I can't see a way forward for us."

Joel's eyes pleaded with a mix of regret and desperation, but the gulf between you seemed insurmountable. "I messed up, I know I did, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

The sincerity in his voice clashed with the shattered trust, and you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, Joel. It's not just about saying sorry or making things right. It's not just about the mistake," you began, your voice measured but carrying the depth of your emotions.

"It's about the trust we had, and that trust has been shattered. This is a betrayal that cuts deep, and I don't think we can come back from it."

His face fell, the weight of realization settling in. "We've been through so much together. Please, don't end us because of one mistake."

The room seemed to close in as you grappled with the heartbreaking decision. "It's not just one mistake, Joel. It's a pattern of choices that shattered the foundation of trust we had. I can't continue a relationship where I constantly question if I'll be cheated on again.”

Joel's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his voice wavered with a mix of remorse and desperation. "I'll change, I'll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance."

But the echoes of his pleas couldn't drown out the resolute decision forming in your heart. "I'm sorry, Joel. It's best for both of us to move on. This is too much of a betrayal, and I need to prioritize my own well-being."

As you spoke those words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuating the end of a chapter in your lives. The pain of parting, though agonizing, seemed to carry a semblance of closure. The room, once a space of shared dreams and memories, now bore witness to the painful conclusion of a relationship that had weathered too many storms.

He nodded, a somber acknowledgment of the consequences of his actions. "I know. I never meant to hurt you like this. If I could take it back, I would."

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of a relationship on the precipice of its demise. Joel's desperate plea for forgiveness echoed in the silence, but the wounds were too fresh, and the trust too shattered to rebuild easily. You took a deep breath, a heaviness settling in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice steady but tinged with the pain of realization, "I appreciate your willingness to make amends, but the truth is, I can't see a way forward for us."

His eyes, once a source of comfort and love, now mirrored the anguish of a relationship slipping away. "I messed up, and I understand if you can't forgive me. But please, don't end us like this."

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but you knew you couldn’t continue a relationship with him. You met his gaze, a mix of sadness and resolve in your eyes. "Joel, we had something special, something I cherished more than anything. But what we had is broken now. I can't ignore the betrayal, and I can't keep holding onto a past that's been tainted."

He reached for your hand, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing distance between you. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, anything. I just can't imagine a future without you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be transported back to a time when the future seemed boundless, and his gaze was a promise of forever. There was a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn't imagine a future where he wasn't a central part of it. But now, the love that had once felt unbreakable had shattered, leaving a void you weren't sure could be filled.

"I need to let go, Joel," you said, the weight of those words lingering in the room. "For my own sake, and for yours. We both need a chance to heal and find our own paths forward."

He nodded, a defeated acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. "I never thought we'd come to this," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

As the words settled, the room seemed to hold its breath. The love that had once been the anchor of your world now existed as a bittersweet memory. Joel, his gaze lowered, nodded with a heavy understanding.

"I won't forget what we had," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I'll always love you."

And with that, you uttered the finality that had been hanging between you. "Goodbye, Joel."

The door closed behind him, marking the end of a chapter that had once been a love story. The room, once a sanctuary for shared dreams, now bore witness to the closing of a door that could no longer be left ajar. In the aftermath of goodbye, the echoes of a love that once lingered, a poignant reminder of the fragility of connection and the resilience required to forge a new path forward.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @bastardmandennis @catchallfangirl @chaotic-mystery @beskarandblasters @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @cool-iguana @pascalpvnk @alwaysmicado @lovers-liability @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @janaispunk @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @maximoff-forevermore @atinylittlepain @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @honey-dip-24 @hiroikegawa @mcira @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic

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lunaetis · 1 year ago

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

can't breathe.

it felt like drowning, but instead of water, it was nothingness. endless emptiness wrapped around the throat, its pressure enclosing around the form that laid unmoving. can't breathe. in the vast nothingness, there was, as the word suggested, nothing. no sign of light, no sign of hope, not a ounce of air. endless, endless, endless. it was darkness, it was void.

NO LIFE. NULL.

does it hurt ? was that a question ? who asked it ? there was no one there, nothing there, then where did the question came from ? why was it that she couldn't make out the sound of the person who posed the inquiry.

person ? was it a person ? no, it didn't hurt. in fact, she couldn't feel anything. in the middle of OBLIVION, of nihility, there was a consciousness floating. name. name. name. what was ... ? what ... she had a name. she ? was it a she, now ? another choke, but there was no words coming out. not a sound. nothing. she struggled to move, yet her fingers wouldn't obey. it was as though her whole body wasn't hers to control anymore. it was then that fear started to creep in.

fear ? are you capable of experiencing emotion ? again. questions. who asked that ? who was that ? it didn't hurt, but why was she feeling the BURN prickling at the bottom of her eyes. was she closing her eyes ? she couldn't see anything. nothing. no one. it wouldn't have mattered if her eyes were opened or not. she couldn't move, after all. she couldn't —

fear.

are you scared ? i am. i am. i am. but of what ? she didn't know. the cold pang running down her spine, the knifing pain in her chest, the throbbing of her head as though it was going to split into two. it hurts now. it hurts. but why was it that she felt relieved ? mouth opened, and no sounds were made. even when she was trying to call out A NAME, nothing came out. not a single syllable. she tried again, this time, louder, more desperate. the bottom of her eyes were beginning to sear even deeper. it hurts. it burns. were these tears ? how could it be —

— how could you feel anything if you were simply created for one purpose and one purpose only.

as a vessel to house the stellaron. that's it. that's all you were, all you are, all you could ever be. nothing more, nothing less. that's wrong. that's not true. i'm ...

my name ... what is it ... ?

can't breathe. you don't need air. i do. no you don't. you only need air if you're alive. you're not even alive. so why would you need it ?

THAT'S NOT TRUE ! I'M — I'M ALIVE. I'M RIGHT HERE. THIS IS ME. I'M —

" eden. "

golden hues snapped open, and searing droplets streamed down her face. instinctively, she clung to the other person, grabbling at the sleeve so hard that it could almost bruise. she stared, wide-eyed, through the curtain of tears as though trying to make sense of reality, as though the other was her LIFELINE.

she stared and held tight, like the other was the only one that could confirm her existence.

like the other was the only one who knew that she was alive.

i'm alive. i'm alive. i'm alive. right ? please tell me i am. please —

" call my name ... " she asked, pleaded, begged. " ... please, call my name. "

remind me who i am. remind me that i'm alive. that i'm here. that i'm real.

" eden. " the voice made her fingers shake uncontrollably, and she placed that hand against her cheek, closed her eyes, as the tears stained the skin. the trailblazer inhaled sharply, lips trembling. " my eden. " her heart thumped. it pulsed, it answered.

that's right.

she curled towards the other, like a lost puppy having found her home.

" i'm your eden. "

#.memory fragments #.long post #.[ eden | trailblazer ]#[ this isn't as angsty as i imagined but it was still okay i suppose #but i've been wanting to write what she saw in her nightmare #that caused me to write that open about two weeks back #& tying in to the hc about why she likes her name being called #the other party in the drabble is left vague on purpose #bc no one had ever said ' my eden ' yet & i think it's extremely powerful way to anchor her to present time #so i have to include it #but real talk #who's going to call her their eden tho ]

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least-carpet · 1 year ago

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'replacing jc in someone's affection' I am crying! wwx doesn't do it once but twice! It's fascinating! Also, this makes me understand why some people, reading the novel, come to the conclusion that wwx doesn't care anymore about jc. Yeah, it's a valid interpretation!

Listen, I just rotated, and rotated, and rotated this scenario (—because, like, both child and adult Wei Wuxian are sincerely in need of support and affection, but I think receiving it as a child while it was withheld from someone he loved, what might have seemed like taking it away from someone who also needed it, also contributed to his boundary problems and self-sacrificial tendencies and eventual resentment—like he needs it but it hurts someone he loves deeply when he gets it but he still needs it, how can he reconcile these conflicting truths?? OK I will stop now—) and, uh, have a tiny little sketch of that zhanchengxian fic concept below, with which I will exorcise my sad past chengxian/past zhancheng/current wangxian thoughts.

It was going to be a perfect triple triple drabble but I needed 80 more words in the centre section to describe Jiang Cheng's tears. You know how it is.

Pursued by Lesser Ghosts

At first he was busy and grateful for it.

Then, Jin Ling settled, elders cowed, sect in order, Jiang Cheng was forced to returned to Lotus Pier. Empty, now.

His sect ran as it always did. He slept poorly. He dreamed often. He walked up and down the pier at night, pursued by lesser ghosts, echoes of people who were alive, just gone. His own life closed around him as tight as any noose, one long merciless sequence of work, sleep, work.

He had a minor qi deviation.

“Go back to dual cultivation,” said the doctor.

“That’s no longer possible,” he said.

The doctor looked up. When Jiang Cheng didn’t say anything else, she said, “Well. Come here for acupuncture once a week. Consider visiting Jin Ling.”

Relax, she didn’t bother to say.

Jiang Ping, his one surviving cousin, took tea with him, and said: “I know things have been stressful. Perhaps you would consider marriage now?”

“I didn’t think marriage was relaxing,” said Jiang Cheng, drily.

“It can be. After everything, well… it’s nice to have someone there.” Jiang Ping looked up, thinking. “Having someone there and working a lot. I don’t think it’s possible for Sect Leader to work harder, so you’ll have to try the other thing.”

Jiang Cheng let out a snort despite himself. Jiang Ping grinned at him.

He could get married, he supposed. What was there to prevent him?

He didn’t call for a matchmaker. He worked harder, kept himself so busy he could hardly think, but at night, laying in his bed, he ached with loneliness before sleep. And in sleep, he saw them, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian both, invariably walking away from him, hand in hand.

Sometimes he was silent; sometimes he called to them. It didn’t matter. They never turned around.

In Wei Wuxian’s dream, it was high summer, air as thick as syrup, and he was lying under the trees along the riverbank with his head in Jiang Cheng’s lap.

Above him, Jiang Cheng was eating tanghulu. Playfully, Wei Wuxian opened his mouth like a baby bird, and Jiang Cheng, rolling his eyes, took a piece of fruit and fed it to him, red and almost glowing. His index finger brushed against Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

Sometimes, he dreamed and he didn’t know whether it was just a dream or a fragment of a memory. He thought this might have happened—he faintly remembered begging Jiang Cheng to let him rest his head in his lap, across his narrow, muscled thighs.

Suddenly it was night, and Jiang Cheng was gone.

“Jiang Cheng?” called Wei Wuxian, and found his voice was a child’s voice, high-pitched and nervous. “Jiang Cheng?”

He rushed through Lotus Pier, now dark and empty, towards Jiang Cheng’s room. Then, in the way of dreams, Jiang Cheng was in front of him, a child again, too, face swollen with tears as he wept alone on the pier.

Wei Wuxian froze, panicked.

Someone picked him up; Uncle Jiang had appeared. But instead of saying anything, he turned and walked away. “Uncle Jiang,” Wei Wuxian whispered, but Jiang Fengmian didn’t respond.

All Wei Wuxian could do was look over Uncle Jiang’s shoulder at Jiang Cheng, at his crumpled, sobbing face. You don’t understand, he thought, suddenly, I love you but I need this, I need it, I need it.

That face changed again, blurred into Jiang Cheng's adult face, still weeping as he knelt on the pier. And then the strong arms around him weren’t Uncle Jiang’s but Lan Zhan’s, holding him tight in a bridal carry, taking him away as he squirmed to look back, to not look away from Jiang Cheng’s face, they had been so happy only a moment ago—

Wei Wuxian woke late, his face wet. Went to look for a handkerchief. Opened a drawer he hadn’t looked in before to find: two purple hair ribbons. An open jar of salve, carved with the insignia of a well-known Yunmeng herbalist. And a lavender handkerchief, embroidered with a little frog. Wei Wuxian traced it gently with his thumb.

The day was a little crisp, but bright and beautiful. Lan Wangji had risen at the appointed time, eaten breakfast serenely with the sect, and taught some advanced guqin lessons. Lan Sizhui was coming along beautifully, playing more delicate and precise every day, a delight to teach.

Everything was just as it should be in the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji was still somehow uneasy.

He had gained everything he had dreamed of as a teenager, in one bewildering fell swoop. His life had been overturned, but for the better, the man he had wanted for so long delivered to him on a silver platter. He was unbelievably lucky.

Of course, he grieved what had happened to his brother. Lan Xichen deserved only good things. It was bitter to find out someone you had loved so deeply had deceived you—had failed you—had abandoned you.

But with the exception of that dark spot, the suffering and absence of his brother, his life was everything he had ever asked for, wasn’t it? A pristine life, on the surface.

If there was a dark shadow underneath, the ripple of something passing through a lake on a sunny day—something slipping out of an incautious hand, lost to the water—that too was life, wasn’t it?

He had never been so happy in his life. He had never before been so happy in his life, as he had once imagined it.

He averted his eyes from that shadow.

Until, one day, he returned home, and found Wei Ying, sitting at the room’s low table, holding a handkerchief in one hand. Remnants of a different life that had collected in his home. No—that he had kept. Gripped tightly.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, brightly, face stretched in a brittle smile. “What’s this?”

#jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #zhanchengxian #chengxian #zhancheng #wangxian #asks #my fanfic #mdzs +#least-carpet thoughts #ONCE AGAIN HERE'S HOW ZHANCHENGXIAN CAN STILL WIN #and by “win” I mean “suffer”

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naboman · 7 months ago

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Ma Chérie Synopsis: There's something about the memories I ramble that makes my heart ache. Ma chérie, are you missing me? pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer + Fem!Reader. Genres: Angst, memories of the past, drabbles.

There is some beauty in the act of "losing what is essentially important", something tragic, worthy of being portrayed on a movie screen and transposed into soft, nostalgic melodies, films he would watch and music he would allow himself to enjoy. Although Chrollo found it a captivating subject, he never liked to imagine losing what was important to him. He had never had anything, his life had never had any purpose or meaning to adhere to. Always so much less than the others, always an inconvenience, that is, until the Troupe was formed. So why would he want to lose the only things that make him who he is?

Well, he lost someone important, someone whose existential value could never be measured in words. Someone who was… Everything.

Sweet memories are the only thing he has left, memories of a sugary tone, accompanied by a bad scenario and inhuman situations, but he had her. So none of that mattered.

No matter how many times he faced death, whether from hunger or illness after so long inhaling the infectious air of the dump, he knew that he would never receive a "goodbye", but a warm squeeze of the hands.

Her hands were not soft, on the contrary, they were calloused and rough, like sandpaper, her touch was rough, but he would never refuse, because it was affectionate. Affection he would never deny, not hers. This led him to wonder at the time, if he hadn't been in such a despicable situation, what would the real texture of her hands have been? Oh Lord, he would give the world to her if he could.

He regrets questioning it so much, regrets being so ungrateful, because soon, the thing that once stroked his face and rubbed his fingers with affection, the warmth of a sincere caress, was gone. As quickly as it came. The precious priceless thing talked about in movies and songs had been forcibly taken from him.

It was unfair. And to Chrollo's displeasure, there was no one to blame. He knew that she was sick and fragile, he knew the risks of exposing her to danger, to the petty crimes she committed for the sake of survival, he knew that he had something to lose if he decided to risk her health in order to have something to eat for one more day. He was already familiar with contempt, but the pain of loss was as acute as the pain of hunger. Even if he had eaten an entire can of canned peaches, the sharp pain that vibrated in his core would not go away.

He was cold, so cold that his bones ached. And unfortunately, she wasn't there to rub his cold hands.

In the cold early hours, he found himself filtering the information, digesting the facts and staring at them. He'd seen people die before, he'd seen the worst of humanity in such a short space of time that it didn't even make him frown, because disgust had already seeped into his daily life. He just wanted to know why it didn't let him rest when he lay on the moldy mattresses.

It was driving him crazy, and he must have been 14? Or 15? Going mad at 15 wasn't the best strategy someone like him could have.

Like Prometheus, Chrollo was having his wounds reopened on a daily basis, from the moment he went to sleep until the hour of sun began to show its first signs in the Meteor City.

So, in order to obscure these memories, for the sake of his newly formed troupe of thieves, he decided to infuse them into the back of his mind, for as long as it took, until the memories became nothing more than a small fragment, of something that Chrollo Lucilfer believes to be nothing more than a bad dream.

An unreal delusion.

The night in York seemed turbulent, hectic and with a touch of danger in the air, not the frightening kind, but the kind that gets your blood pumping, makes a delicious adrenaline rush through your veins, as if even the most ordinary of girls could experience a mind-blowing adventure. But Chrollo's blood wasn't pumping wildly, and he certainly wasn't a girl looking for an exciting, euphoric adventure. He was quite sober, in fact.

Chrollo put his hands in the pockets of his coat, it was a bit different from the long coat he wore, this one was brown and rather ordinary, but still a good coat. He stabilized his posture, there was something in his thoughts that trapped him in the subconscious of ideas, a trance of nostalgia, something he didn't like, but found difficult to disengage from at this point.

He should just stick to the original plan and rent a small cubicle to hide out in with the rest of the troupe, he thought as he eyed the hotel's battered sign, a clear blur between the words in large cursive letters, the coloring was faded and yellowish, but if he had to guess, he would guess that it was something like 'Hotel of Sleeping Beauties!' with several exclamations in a row.

He entered the hotel without any expectations, he didn't need to be smart to understand that the outside was just a glimpse of the inside. His pre-judgments weren't wrong, it wasn't a good dump, but it would do for now. The corners of the walls were moldy and the air was rather damp, and he could feel it when the dust unceremoniously entered his nostrils.

A receptionist, maybe 22 years old at the most, stood on the other side of the counter, he had a bunch of cigarette butts in an ashtray, and one more between his lips, the slow passage to death on the lips of a young man, who stared at him with nothing but boredom. The kind of employee who doesn't receive commissions and neglects his clientele. But to be fair, Chrollo had to admit that his uniform was rather pompous for such a shabby place; red with silver details on his hat.

"[Name], we have a gentleman waiting at reception to be attended to… I suggest you hasten your steps," he said rather loudly into the intercom, almost like a threat, followed by an exhausted sigh.

Chrollo approached the counter with an unreadable expression, and could tell that neither of them would make any further moves unless necessary.

"I'm sorry for the delay, Eddy"

Chrollo raised his eyes to look at the newcomer and, for a moment, he thought he had gone back in time.

His face, his voice, his rigid mannerisms. The perfectly sculpted creature, identical even down to the smallest details of his face. It was perfect. So perfectly the same that it was frightening. Just like the sight of a zombie preserved only to haunt he.

"We still have a few rooms available, sir, I think you'll want to take a look." She sounded professional, neutral and infused, as if Chrollo were just another face among the many she must have seen that evening. Just someone else to serve. A stranger.

Her tone was unapproachable; on the contrary, it was distant, disguised by a cordial kindness.

"Sir?" The woman in question approached with her eyes flashing in curiosity, an essential customer care.

"Forgive me, I'm getting distracted," Chrollo approached, making her step back.

She was so close, so close that he feared he would be blown away with the dust if he tried to touch her.

"It's okay, don't worry," [Name] nodded in agreement, as resigned as a doll kept in the darkest corner of the closet, but still smiling with disdain. That smile that didn't reach her eyes to express anything, only carved to be etched into her flesh and her manners. His gracious appreciation was a sham. "Shall we go ahead? I'll show you the way."

"I appreciate that" Chrollo just nodded, unable to formulate a flattering response, following her as she took the bunch of keys out of one of her pockets.

You should be dead.

You should be dead…

That's what was going through his mind as he stared into her doll-like eyes.

Inspiration from the tale Ma chérie . Thank you for read <3

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x reader #phantom troupe #hxh chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer x reader #kuroro #angst #maybe a part2?#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader

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gracieeem · 7 months ago

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Really just a memory?

💫

Emperor!Gojo Satoru x FEM!Reader

—Short little angst drabble!! Might turn into a oneshot later on><

WC//TW: 531 words, no warnings!!

Amidst the vast expanse, moonfall shone brightly against the inky skies of black—engulfing all presence of light—but painting supernova reminiscences like littered kisses against the tapestry of dark fields. Alike these references, emulating sets of sapphire and void-like irises stared into the other's eyesight with intent, as though maintaining a glaring peer that sent shivers up your spines. Your presence whose figure stood atop a balcony—expression joyful, features adorned with a bright beam, and eyes all soft—longed for the silverette fae who maintained a distance with you.

Walking back to the four-walls of the bedroom chamber, you briefed yourself for the upcoming embrace, when the warmth of your lover provided a soft caress against the raven tresses that adorned your head. Mumbling an incoherently subconscious thought, Satoru smiled softly upon himself before pressing a sweet kiss against your temple. Eyes sparkling, he peered down to his love's view—opting to capture the sweet expression plastered on your face.

"Will you count the stars for me?" Satoru spoke in a light manner, tone all soft and per word uttered was breathy. Swiftly, he turned the figure of yours to face the open balcony, where the beauty of the moon was showcased for all peering eyes to ravage on. Such pale quantity bloomed yellow almost abruptly, making yourself turn amongst your heel and back to your fae.

"Huh? How is that possible..?" As you uttered these words, Satoru could only shake his head before resting it against the very crevice of your bare shoulder.

"The day these stars are wiped from the face of the sky we so adore— our love goes with it. May we join millennia together even as stardust,"

"Why dwell on unbelievable such?" Muttering soft words, you peered sideways view—hoping to catch a glance of He, who stood beside. In the following events, Satoru could only embrace his sweetheart—a heavy sigh releasing itself from the cavity of his mouth trap.

"Those poetry writings you so love have taken effect on me," Satoru stopped for a small cackle, before continuing his sentencing. "My Callis.. I only wish to enjoy this fragment of my life with you. I despise how the gods have given your life many limitations, and destined so, when I've finally found my happiness."

Sucking in a quiet breath, you began fidgeting with your pointer digits. "Have— uhm..." you spoke, but briefly stopped with a shake to your head.

Providing comfort, the male lead ran his fingers through your tresses. "Have you.. ever regretted the decision of making me yours, knowing I was not so immortal like you?"

"How could I regret the sun of my life?" Satoru smiled to himself before pressing an oh so sweet kiss against your head. "Don't ever doubt yourself; you know that you're all I'll ever want," Just as feelings sparked from the simple wordings, the moon's gleam brightened amongst the cue.

Beneath the luminescence of the moon's peer, your figures were showcased as trapped in a tight embrace—as if serving a way to provide comfort knowing that forever would not be true—and happiness shall not be granted.

He might've been your whole life, but you were only a mere memory in his.

—Vintazia✭

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME.

Copying, Publishing, Copy Pasting, and Exploiting my work(s) are not allowed, and may not be published on other social media accounts nor on other social media platforms.

This work is made of pure fiction, so coinciding events are not on purpose.

All rights and credits of mentioned Jujutsu Kaisen character(s), music link(s), and used image(s), all belong to their original owners respectively.

Mwamwa!!! <3 <3 <3

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year ago

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ode to the queen of hearts

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x gn!reader

Synopsis: others called him a tyrant, but he was your dearest lover

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for riddle

Word count: 607

Notes: happy belated birthday riddle! you might not be my favourite, but i appreciate how earnest and caring you are!! also how dare you come home when it should have been Halloween jade ಠ⁠ಗ⁠ಠ

Masterlist

Your lover possesses an extraordinary memory, a vault meticulously organized to house every minuscule fragment of the Queen's rules. Every rule, no matter how absurd or whimsical, finds its place within the labyrinth of his thoughts. He upholds them with a fervor that seems almost divine, each one a thread in the tapestry of his unyielding commitment.

Your lover how he seeks perfection in all he does, his devotion to his studies echoing in every corner of mind. His pursuit of excellence becomes a magnetic force, pulling you closer to his world. His irritable moments, the ones that seem to sprout from thin air, only make you want to unravel their origins, to soothe them away.

Your lover is a moral compass, his values etched in stone, guiding his every step. It's his unwavering belief that his way is the right way that both intrigues and challenges you. You find yourself falling for the way he stands his ground, a steadfast mountain amidst shifting sands. You admire how he channels his disagreements into fierce convictions, a tempest of righteousness.

Your lover is a remarkable leader, a beacon of guidance within the dormitory's walls. His dedication to maintaining order seamlessly extends to a genuine care for each of his dorm mates. You witness him stepping into a role that transcends strictness, where his commitment to the Queen's rules blends harmoniously with his nurturing nature. His devotion to helping any and every student who struggles never ceases to amaze you.

Your lover's sensitivity about his height and petite stature adds another layer of charm to him. It's truly endearing the way his cheeks flush with a hint of red when the topic surfaces, a slight defensiveness in his voice as he confidently predicts an impending growth spurt. However, you hold the sentiment that his physical appearance is of no consequence to your affection. His stature only enhances his uniqueness in your eyes, making him all the more special.

Your lover has a childish side that you find incredibly endearing. When it comes to matters unrelated to academics, he transforms into a surprising realm of childlike wonder. The strictness dissipates, and you witness a playful spirit that dances like sunlight on water. It's in the way he eagerly explores the new found subject, his eyes sparkling with pure delight. His laughter, like the tinkling of wind chimes, fills the air as he accomplishes his goals others would breeze through. The weight of rules and obligations momentarily lifts, revealing a heart unburdened, ready to revel in the simple joys of life. It's these glimpses of his carefree essence that remind you that beneath the veneer of severity, a gentle and childlike soul resides, seeking respite from the demands of a world that expects him to be stern and unyielding.

You love how his strict demeanor melts into delight in the delicate sweetness of a strawberry tart. The way he savors each bite, as if savoring a rare moment of respite from his strict world, speaks volumes. The flaky pastry and the burst of tangy-sweet strawberries seem to momentarily unravel the layers of duty that enshroud him, allowing him to revel in a simple pleasure. In those moments, you witness the vulnerability he so carefully conceals, and promise to yourself to improving your culinary skills.

You love every facet of him, from the stern enforcer of rules to the hidden vulnerabilities he guards. And as your affection deepens, you find yourself wanting to be the exception to his ironclad regulations, the one who shows him that love can bloom in the most unexpected places.

Your lover, is none other than Riddle Rosehearts.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland riddle

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headingalaxys-sweet · 2 months ago

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Dreaming of Spades (America x Reader) Drabble

This was just a Drabble / Oneshot that came to me while I was faded as hell enjoy the fluff!

Magic! You felt like pure magic!

You know that sugary type of love you’re told about in fairytales when you’re young?

You’d never felt like this before. It felt like your heart had grown time ten. It felt like you’d found the love you’d always yearned for. You’d been lost in a powerful trance thinking about someday you’d be proposed to by the man or merely the idea you were in love with. It didn’t matter which because it felt so real. It felt right. You were at a level of euphoria that was entirely new to you. You wanted- No, you Knew with a level of certainty that this daydream was absolute. Your eyes fluttered from a screen to your art to other parts of the room. Listlessly, your eyes were filled to the brim with shards of stars and vibrant flowers against a dark abyss. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. You drift off to another reality, or was it a different part of the current timeline?

You didn’t know but were curious to find out. As your mind became more comfortable with being adrift within the indigo blackness that now enveloped you, your mind did its best to concentrate on the millions of microscopic stars. As you drifted back to the dream of whence you came, your presence did not go unnoticed.

“Where is that energy wave coming from?” Said a lonely King who was draped in nothing but sapphire hues. His outfit was adorned with multitudes of Spades. He wandered away from his throne to take a look outside the window. There against the darkened sky was a figure of a woman floating down from the sky. A bright pink glow was emanating from you. That energy that came from you made him feel at ease and wonderful.

It felt as though he’d been through something like this before. Was it a daydream come to life or another teasing Deja Vu? King Alfred knew that he’d seen or even met someone like you once before. He was just bemused that he couldn’t seem to remember.

It felt as though the doldrum spell had been broken. As soon as you were about to touch the ground, a decrepit black hand had sprung from the ground and dragged you under. It needed a fresh new human that had plenty of love energy to give.

“Oh no! That woman needs help!” He was unable to currently remember your name. As soon as the ground swallowed you whole, King Alfred’s heart sank along with you. He had an urgent need to know why you made him feel this way. The sudden burst of energy that he received from you gave him enough of a boost to come and search for you in the Hollow Realm.

Briskly, he picked up his sword from the mantle above the fireplace and ran down to the deep depths of the cold dungeon. There stood a mirror that acted as a portal to different dimensions. He placed his hand firmly on the clear surface. All he had to do was concentrate and say aloud where he wanted to go.

“TO THE HOLLOW REALM!” With that, he was engulfed with light and taken to his desired location. The place was dreary and painted pitch black. Alfred had to ignite a dim fairy light so he wouldn’t draw too much attention to himself. He didn’t want creatures of this realm to hinder him.

King Alfred tracked you down by following the intensity of the energy you continued to give off. The spark you emitted got stronger the deeper into the Hollow Realm he traveled. He began to have fragments of memories that floated into his consciousness.

Holding hands as you strolled through sunflowers.

Hiked through pink hydrangeas.

Milled among red peonies.

He remembers your face among the flowers and remembers it well. His heart began to race as it was tantalized by vivid memories of a vibrant love story that he knew had to exist.

As the spark within him began to grow into a flame he looked up to see you were sealed away in a translucent glass bubble with spellbinding flora that was draining the life from you. Little by little, the rosy light began to diminish. King Alfred was hit with a lightning bolt of horror that shook his entire body.

“No!!!” Just as he was about to rush up the stairs to break you free, a bush of petunias had punched him in the gut. It prevented him from even taking a step on the stairs that led to you.

“I’m not going to let some stupid plants stop me!” He shouted as fragments of shattered stars infused themselves with yellow carnations, orange lilies, & black roses. Each was filled with a strong potency or resentment, rejection, anger, and hate. They turned into bush monsters of varying sizes. The beasts growled at him giving a final warning to back away from their latest victim.

King Alfred didn’t back down. He was hardly afraid. He readied his blade and stared down the monsters. He began to chop them down into nothing but pitiful petals & shredded leaves. He was able to secure his path that led to you.

King Alfred was overflowing with emotion when he was able to look at your face up close. He knows it was you. That you were real and his memories weren’t from some far off dream.

Y/N the human, who’d fallen into the river of space and time. You just so happened to fall into his kingdom from the fast-moving waters. Even though the first time you were only there for a short time, you’d made an everlasting mark on his heart. He could never forget. He could never let go, and that’s why your energies could connect.

The flagitious flora of the hollow realm wouldn’t keep you away from him. No matter how many times it liked to keep you away from him. No amount of throwing you into unseen portals and kidnapping you through the underground would keep you away from him. Nothing ever would. Not from the Mighty King of Spades.

King Alfred promised you that he’d be your prince while your pinky was intertwined with his…right before you’d be able to seal the deal with a kiss. Water, bubbles, and tears had blurred your vision and you were suddenly back to the life you loathed most of the time. Was it a dream? Or was it real, you constantly asked yourself. You swear you could hear your heart yell at you & tell you all of it was indeed true. But you couldn’t remember how you got there in the first place, much less how you’d be able to get back. Life went on doldrums, and slowly you began to forget about the royal man who was dressed in nothing but sapphire hues. You could only ever remember when your eyelids were shut.

When Alfred tried to stab the bubble, you were encased in a blowback of epic proportions that repelled him away.

“Ah!” His voice echoed into the darkness. This had awakened the monster that was using you as a battery.

“Let her go, you fowl beast!” It kicked Alfred off the plateau of where he once stood. The thing was decorated in sprightly flowers that expressed disdain. Alfred conjured up all his strength, and he got an added dose just from being close to you. He recovered his sword and summoned his wand.

King Alfred enchanted his sword so he could subdue the evil Flora beast. He began to cut it down to its roots, removing its ability to regrow anymore. It all came tumbling down. The petunias that glowed an angry scarlet turned into cherry-colored roses that sang cheerfully. The orange lilies that radiated with hate transformed into bright yellow sunflower petals, symbolizing positivity and strength. The sour lemon carnations converted into sweet pink peonies.

Everything felt like it was that day he had lived through before. Petals enveloping his senses with–

“Y/N!!!” He shouted as you came crashing to the ground. Your bubble had burst when he’d defeated the monster. King Alfred had caught you in the nick of time.

“Y/N!!! Y/N!!! I’m glad you’re safe!” He planted a kiss on your awakening eyes. When he came into full view of your vision, your eyes were wide with pleasant surprise.

“I…I am too. Are you the reason why it felt as though magic was coursing through my veins? Why it feels as though I’ve met you before?”

“Sometimes, when a dream is kept a light in your heart, it can come true when you believe that it can be real. It may seem only to be a dream for a while or a vision; either way, a human heart can make something real just as you have.” He placed another kiss on your forehead.

“It’s just great to finally see you again.” You smile warmly at him.

“Likewise, I knew my dreams had been too lucid not to be real. Since it took me a while to find my way back here…I started to believe that the days we spent together in the gardens and on the streets in the Kingdom of Spades were nothing more than sweet lies that my mind had spun up.”

You gently placed your hand on his cheek to reassure yourself that he was truly there, that he was truly real.

King Alfred took that as his chance to grab your hand and kiss it.

“Let’s get out of this dark place Y/N.” He carried you back to the portal and, with a shout:

“BACK TO THE KINGDOM OF SPADES!”

Glittering silver light flooded your vision for a few moments. You were back in that familiar palace your heart had dreamt of for long periods of the night.

King Alfred set you down & let you in the care of his servants.

“I’ll see you in a little while, okay? They’ll help you clean up after that ordeal.” Vaguely gesturing to your dirty and slightly torn clothes.

“Glad to see you back here, Princess Y/N. Do you remember us from your previous dreams?”

“I do. I think my memories are slowly coming back to me.”

“That’s good; now let's get you presentable. The King has a special proposal for you.”

You donned a coruscating rainbow dress with blue as the overtone. Your (hair color) was pinned up into a high bun. Your heart was beating fast. The magical feeling was tingling your insides again. It felt as though tons of butterflies would burst out from underneath your skin.

As you made your way to the throne room where King Alfred resided, he, too, was somewhat nervous, but he could feel that your hearts beat in harmony. As you made your way through the double doors in your beautiful gown, Alfred was once again struck by Cupid's arrow. He gripped the small box in his pocket as he descended the steps to greet you. King Alfred was utterly silent as his cerulean eyes never left you once you entered the room. He got down on one knee right in front of you as he asked with his whole kingdom watching:

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fluff #hws cardverse #ヘタリア #hws #hws america #aph america #hetalia fandom #headingalaxys sweet #headingalaxys writes stuff #hetalia #hetalia x you #hetalia x reader #alfred f jones

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