#have either of them ever thought that it’s actually harmful to their loved ones when they keep putting themselves in danger | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 7 months ago

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hey if ur requests are still open what do you think of an Arcane herald viktor turning reader into one of his hex angels on the rooftop thinking it will show them his vision of the ''glorious evokution'' only for it to turn reader into a empty husk and viktor realize in horror that he done goofed

Don’t we love a bit of angst here on this blog, especially when it concerns arcane Jesus.

‘Viktor, don’t.’ You pleaded, far too tired to keep up the fighting anymore, not against someone you once-no- still cared for deeply. ‘Please stop this madness.’ You add as you struggled weakly against his grasp on your chin, keeping you in place against him as he made sure to keep your head careened back, just so to keep you looking up at him as his other hand was etching closer towards your forehead.

Your heart was racing within your chest as your eyes tried to see for an opportunity out of Viktor’s grasp, only to see that your weapon -a crowbar- was too far from your reach, and even if you were able to break free form Viktor you still had to fight your way through the wave of Hex Angels to get to your weapon. All hope for you was lost in this moment and you knew that screaming for help wouldn’t help much either as you didn’t know if anyone who wasn’t turned into one of those humanoid creatures already.

‘Don’t fight against what is already predestined my dear.’ Viktor said, his distorted voice still calm and certain within his new form as it towered over you, orange eyes glaring down at you in a manner that made you feel over exposed. ‘I just wish for you to see what I see.’ He continued as his fingertips brushed against your forehead, startling you as you began to thrash in his arms once again, the urge to escape and stay who you were was strong but Viktor was stronger as he tightened his grip on you once more; a touch that once made you calm and reassured now only emphasised the hopelessness within your chest that only felt more and more inevitable than ever the more fingertips were pressed against your forehead.

‘Viktor I don’t want to go.’ You whimpered, pawing at his hand that held your chin but before you could continue to plead for your freedom, the last of Viktor’s fingers was pressed against your head and everything became blank as your eyes glazed over, mouth became agape in wordless babbling as your body underwent the same transformation as the other Hex Angels before you.

Viktor on the other hand was waiting for you within the star scattered astral plane, but when a couple of minutes have passed and you hadn’t appeared before him still he felt something was wrong, very wrong. You should’ve been here by now so that he could make you see what he could, the glorious evolution the he knew was destined to come about, hoping that you’d understand and willingly join by his side in his quest like you once did before he became…all this.

‘My dear?’ He calls aloud, his voice echoing throughout the star light space that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

‘My love? My muse?’ Viktor calls again as he felt what semblance of his heart remained tighten in pain and worry, all very human emotions that he thought he had forgone that were now rushing back when he couldn’t see you, nor feel you when he stretched his hand out in hopes of sensing you within the same plan of existence as him.

Nothing. You were nowhere to be found nor felt or even heard and that only made Viktor frown as his mind races with logical explanations as to what you were hiding from him. ‘I can’t feel you my beloved.’ He says to himself as he tries once again, this time more desperately to find you but only to have it come back the same as before, nothing. It was almost as if you didn’t want him to find you and if they were the case then why? Why hide from him? You knew he would never bring you to actual harm right?

Viktor was at a loss for words as he brought his hand back to his side. ‘I can’t feel you,’ he murmured to himself, ‘why can’t I feel you my heart?’ He furrows his brows as he continues to look for you within the astral plan, his thoughts getting worse when it looked like you never entered it in the first place. No. That couldn’t be, Viktor didn’t want to imagine it that way at all as he immediately resorted to denial that something horrible had happened to you. You were far stronger than that, Viktor knew this to be fact as the memories flooded to his head of the times where you’ve proven to be the strongest person he knew his entire life.

Look something within Viktor told him.

Look and see what has become of your beloved it said once again as Viktor looked and saw that where your beautiful face once looked up at him was now a sleek, lifeless golden accented mask with a golden webbing of a thorny crown that rested upon your head and a pair of unique golden streaks running down your mask from where your eyes would’ve been, almost like tear stains. You had become one of his hex angles, lifeless, devoid of all emotion; never to ever again utter a single word in protest or excitement for that was all stripped away from you; Just another husk of person that Viktor could use and his heart cracked in two.

You weren’t here in the astral plan either him because he might as well have killed you for there was not an ounce of you left that he could pick up on, you were gone and it was all because of him.

The machine herald cradled your skew sleek face between metallic hands, running his thumbs over where your cheeks once were as though reminiscent before leaning down to rest his head against your own and letting out a mournful sigh. ‘I’m sorry my beloved.’ His distorted voice murmured, waiting for a response that he’ll never get, which only seems to hurt him even more as was practically cradling your husk of a body to his own, in an all too human act for someone of his calibre. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He whispers as he’s brought to his knees, stilling holding on to you tightly but you didn’t rub his back nor cradled his face like you once did, you just stood there as you looked ahead as though awaiting orders.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to be! I just wanted to show you what we could’ve become!’ The herald cried but it was useless, anyone that was left to care was too far away to hear or was gone entirely due to the raging conflict below you both. ‘I didn’t mean it, I didn’t meant it. I can fix you I promise.’ Viktor didn’t know who he was promising this to anymore, you? No you were gone. Himself? He wasn’t quite sure if he could even reverse the damage already too far gone. So who was he truly fooling other than the his other Hex angels, who only stared blankly as their herald cradled one of their own within his arms, clearly in a state of mourning and utter regret.

All Viktor could do was say he was sorry over and over again as if that was going to help undo what he had done to you. His heart breaking over and over again when you didn’t do the things you would’ve done when he was like this, serving as a grim reminder that he had taken away the one person who cared about him for who he was, disease or not; He had taken away his own god given solace and now he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions as he held your hex angel form close, wishing to hear your heart beat again.

Bonus cuz I’m feeling evil;

In another reality, one where the hexcore has destroyed and consumed everyone, Viktor -now in a somewhat human body after some trial and tribulations- still sits with your hollowed corpse, resting his head against what once was your shoulder and closes his eyes as the pain still lingered within his chest that this was all his doing.

You have been gone for so long and yet the pain he felt still felt fresh, felt new as though he had just watched you die right before his eyes and in his arms no less. Yet viktor still couldn’t believe that you were gone, no longer with him to smile nor give your heart to him again, you were gone but Viktor was still within the bargaining stage of his grief. He wanted no- he needed you back in his life and he certainly didn’t want you in his life as a hollow corpse, overlooking the ruins of Piltover and Zaun in an eternal state of mourning.

‘I’m sorry my heart, for I still cannot feel you.’ He utters against your cold shoulder, looking at you with amber eyes but sighed when all he could gauge from you was the moss and algae making your golden thrones crown their home, the algae and moss it cascaded down the back of your head and back like a billowing cape or veil he’ll never get to see you wear. ‘But I would like to stay here with you…if that’s okay?’ He asks but got no response and so Viktor sat by your corpse for days on end, wishing to repent for his actions against you, wishing for another opportunity with you in another life or plan of existence.

Viktor could only hope his other variants of himself would never dare to make the same foolish mistake he did, loosing you was the utter most worst thing Viktor ever had to endure, and to be honest he was still paying the price.

#arcane #viktor arcane #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane imagines #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #viktor fluff #viktor imagines #viktor imagine #viktor x reader

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cartoon-cornplateur · 4 months ago

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Perry the Platypus Headcanons (with the Flynn-Fletchers)

Heinz gave perry an identical looking teddy bear as the one he has in the first London episode and perry sleeps with that ever since. Phineas and Ferb saw him cuddling with it. "What do you have there, boy? Oh a teddy bear? Well, as long as you didn't steal it..." Then ferb gives perry a thumbs up because he, for one, approves of stealing. Perry brings that even when he sleeps with the boys.

Whenever there's a family celebration, phineas and ferb dresses perry with a black bowtie and a top hat and calls him fancy perry. Whenever they enter the party phineas always says "Ready your jaws and excited hands for Fancy Perry!" or "And here we have the illustrious Fancy Perry gracing us with his presence in this lovely evening..." (yes, this is the black bow tie he frequently uses in the show. yes, the boys influenced most of his love of grandeur)

Post-secret identity reveal, perry shows off his athleticism with the boys whenever he can. God knows how long he wanted to. They never stop being impressed.

As a thank you for keeping his secret, Perry occassionally helps out Stacy with little favors (some she knows, some she doesn't). Oftentimes, perry leaves a "-P" note at the things he does for her so she doesn't think she has a stalker or something. They hang out sometimes and play video games.

After stacy got into politics, perry decided that he'll keep close attention to any assasination and harmful attempts on her under the radar. There were some and perry foils them everytime no matter how far stacy was from danville when they happened. Stacy caught up that perry was behind saving her and sends him gifts as thanks.

Perry has a gold card for auction uses (dont make me explain how that works) that he exclusively use to win ducky momo limited edition merch that he sends to candace under the guise of her winning them on never-been-heard-of raffles. She thinks it's suspicious after the fifth time it happened and decided it was either the boys or lawrence behind it and has been waiting for them to tell her.

Lawrence is a disaster magnet (not as much as the murphys ofc but relevant enough) and perry actually saved him more times he can count.

Linda never forgets to buy perry ultra soft brushes every few months that mostly SHE uses for him.

Post-identity reveal, perry plays 3d chess with phineas and ferb online while the two are away from home. The boys are aware perry can travel the distance in a short while through some weird secret agent logic, but they don't want him to get tired (not to mention they themselves can travel that distance through one of their inventions). They'll save that for something really important.

Those three love playing football, skateboarding, and the rest is extreme sports.

Perry has become the Flynn-Fletcher family's first emergency contact after the identity reveal for things that they don't want the other family members to panic about for the reason of having enough time to explain to them what happened (in times of hospitalization calls the call always gets forwarded to Linda, however). And perry's is doofenshmirtz first and secondly both the boys.

Everyone already made a lot of hcs with doof so I thought I should make one with these dorks

[Check out this art of the last hc!!]

#stacy is part of the flynn fletchers of course #perry the platypus #phineas and ferb #phineas flynn #ferb fletcher #candace flynn #stacy hirano #lawrence fletcher #linda flynn fletcher #flynn fletchers #gayuma evil inc #dwampyverse

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batsandbirdbrains · 2 months ago

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The one where Dick is actually the biological son of Bruce and Talia

So I like the young justice cartoon universe but I do love fucking with a timeline. So let’s say it’s set in season 1, perhaps just after that mission where Artemis, Conner, and M’gann have admitted to the rest of the team how they all had ties to various villains. And the whole time Dick feels like an asshole because he’s been keeping this secret that he’s actually the grandson of Ra’s al Ghul, but he’s been keeping it secret for so long and from so many people that even when he does want to tell his team, he feels like he’s choking and he can’t breathe and he panics, so he never tells them.

For background, Talia hides Dick away with the Graysons when he’s maybe 6 or 7 years old, faking his death so Ra’s can’t get to him. She still meets with Dick as often as she can, he knows his mother, he loves her, but his grandfather terrifies him. Then the Graysons die when he’s 8, and Bruce Wayne just happens to be there and see it and gets it in his head that he needs to take this kid in, and Dick knows he’s his father, but he can’t bring himself to tell him. He’s scared Bruce won’t want him, and then where will he go?

Only Alfred knows, because he found a 10 year old Dick having a panic attack over it and managed to get Dick to talk about what was wrong, but he swore Alfred to secrecy. Alfred tried to convince him to tell Bruce, but he doesn’t push too hard, seeing how much it freaks Dick out.

So now the team is on a mission but all their intel was a trap, and it becomes very clear very quickly that the League of Shadows brought them here for something nefarious. And the whole time in his head Dick is going “shitshitshitshitshitshit” and he’s desperately trying to keep his panicked thoughts out of the mind link but the others do catch on to the fact that he’s acting real weird and they’re like hey man wtf.

But then Ra’s himself appears and perhaps a memory from his childhood surfaces and slips into the mindlink and it’s a memory of Ra’s threatening to slit his throat and toss him in a Lazarus Pit if he doesn’t start fighting back properly during training. And everyone is confused about who had that memory because they still don’t know Robin and Batman’s secret identities and also Dick’s face wasn’t really shown in the memory ANYWAY-

Ra’s is just very calm while his shadows subdue the team, they’re all kind of at a standoff, and he says quite clearly something along the lines of “Grandson, it’s time to stop this foolishness.”

And everyone is so confused bc who tf is he talking to, but Dick feels like he can’t breathe. Ra’s starts ranting about family obligations and unruly children who run away and hide and yadda yadda bad guy monologuing.

But then one of the shadows gets closer to Ra’s, and he hands off a little boy. It’s Damian, Dick’s little five year old baby brother. And Ra’s is holding a knife to his neck, threatening Dick with, “Come with my now, Grandson, and your precious brother wont be harmed. But continue to cower, and his blood is on your hands.”

Talia had been living away from the League of Shadows since becoming pregnant with Damian, trying to keep her youngest from ever having to experience what Dick had grown up with, trying to hide him from Ra’s. And in that moment, Dick realizes that his mother probably was never able to actually hide either of them, that Ra’s probably knew all along where both his grandsons were.

And a calmness sweeps over Dick as he watches his grandfather hold a knife to his baby brother’s throat, watches his baby brother struggle and cry out for his big brother. And then all the previous terror is replaced with fury.

“Don’t touch him!” Dick snaps, his voice cracking.

All the other team members look at him, so confused, until they start to realize that Robin is the grandson Ra’s has been talking to this whole time.

“I’ll go with you, just let him go,” Dick tells him. “But I swear to God if you hurt a single hair on his head I will fucking kill you!”

Ra’s just laughs at the idea of this scrawny thirteen year old threatening to kill him. His laugh is cold, amused, and it rings in Dick’s ears until suddenly it stops, and Ra’s is seething at him.

“Time to say goodbye to your little friends, Grandson. It’s time you come home.”

And he pushes Damian towards Dick, who is quick to catch him and hold him close, whispering, “Everything’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, brother’s here, I won’t let him hurt you I promise I love you so so much Dami, I’m so sorry.”

And the team is yelling through the mind link for Robin to explain what’s going on and telling him he doesn’t need to go with Ra’s, they can help, but Robin just ignores them. He knows they’re empty promises. They’re no match for Ra’s and a team of his closest shadows.

And as Dick carries Damian towards the helicopter Ra’s beckons them towards, he just chants over and over in the mind link, “Please tell Batman I’m sorry. I was going to tell him. I promise I was going to tell him. I’m sorry, I’m - I’m - tell him to find Talia. Please tell him to find Talia, she can explain. I’m sorry.”

And if they hear his last plea of “Please tell him I was scared” as the helicopter door slams closed, he doesn’t know. He just continues holding Damian close, hiding his face in his shoulder, not letting Damian even look in Ra’s direction.

And for three months, Ra’s all but tortures him under the guise of training. He’s barely allowed to see Damian at all, and when he does get to spend time with his baby brother, he’s always covered in bruises and he’s so sad and Dick can see him hardening and it kills him. Damian is only five. A five year old shouldn’t have that kind of look on his eyes.

But after three months of watching shift changes, tracking supply shipments, and putting together a go bag, Dick manages to smuggle himself and Damian away from Infinity Island on a tiny little boat he covers with a tarp to make it look like driftwood.

They spend weeks running from Shadows, constantly finding them on their tail, and Dick is trying desperately to get them somewhere safe. He’s scared to lead them to the manor though, not wanting to force Bruce to fight a hoard of shadows for kids he might not even want (and the thought of Bruce not wanting them makes his heart shatter, he tries not to think about it). But he’s running out of ideas on where to hide. He doesn’t know who his allies might be.

But after a grueling fight where Dick is pretty sure he broke a wrist and sprained a knee and has various other cuts and bruises at various stages of healing, not to mention a poorly bandaged stab wound from a couple days ago (a lucky shot, he’d been distracted), Dick finds a zeta transporter.

And he uses an override to beam him and Damian up to the Watchtower. It’s the only place he can think of that the shadows can’t follow them. Part of him is shocked an override Bruce gave him still works.

And they land in the Watchtower in a heap, their clothes dirty and cut up (mostly Dick’s, he’d be damned if he let them lay a hand on Damian), a domino mask hastily pasted to Dick’s face and a hand in the back of Damian’s head to keep his face pressed into Dick’s shoulder. Because as far he knows, Bruce still hasn’t revealed his identity to more than a handful of senior League members, and he refuses to be the reason his father’s secret identity is exposed. Even if Bruce decides he wants nothing to do with them, he owes him that much.

They’re both out of breath and panting and starving and dirty and as soon as Damian realizes they’re safe from the shadows, he cries into Dick’s shoulder, squeezing his arms tight around Dick’s neck.

And a bunch of League members are suddenly there, intruder alarms blaring and reverberating around Dick’s skull, and they’re telling him to stay where he is and freeze and tell them what he wants and what he’s doing there. And he realizes they think he’s a traitor, and his mind stops for a second.

“Where’s Batman?” he finally manages to choke out. “Please, where’s Batman? I need Batman.”

He can’t hear anything they’re saying, his mind preoccupied with trying to stay calm for Damian and comfort him as best he can while various heroes are pointing various weapons at them. He just keeps asking over and over for Batman until his mouth is dry and he feels like he can barely breathe.

And suddenly Batman is rushing in, cape billowing behind him, and he’s barking at the others to back off and what the hell do they think they’re doing, and he’s kneeling in front of Dick, his arms hovering, looking lost and like he’s afraid Dick will shatter if he touches him.

Dick looks at him, and he can see the way he hasn’t shaved and there’s lines on his face and he looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in weeks, months maybe. And he realizes Bruce has been looking for him - for both of them - and he still wants him and he isn’t sending them away or putting them in shackles or taking them to an interrogation room.

And finally, after months of having to be the strong one for Damian, Dick has someone who can be strong for him. Dick crumbles, letting out a strangled sob and falling into Bruce’s arms and not being able to do anything but cry. He’s hugging Damian so tight, and now Bruce is holding them both tight too.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries, his breath hitching, “I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t - I was scared you wouldn’t want me anymore. I didn’t think - I didn’t - he wasn’t supposed to-“

Bruce shushes him, calming him down, telling him in soft whispers that everything is okay, it’s okay, no one is mad at him, he loves him so much he could never not want him anymore.

After calming Dick down enough so he’s not on the brink of a panic attack anymore, Bruce picks up both his boys and holds them close, taking them to the med bay and basically telling anyone who tries to stop him that they can kick rocks.

#dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne #I read a fic similar to this ages ago and I CANT FIND IT #but now I’m obsessed with the idea of dick being Bruce and Talia’s secret oldest child #anyway I wrote half of this out while also listening in on a work meeting so apologies if it’s a little disjointed #fic ideas

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tkomptgoedluv · 2 months ago

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revenge.

tear you apart pt.2

pt.1 here | pt.2

grumpycafeworkervampire! joost x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, internetcafe & vampire au, reader doesn’t know how to cope very well, joost’s heart is too big for his body, they’re both desperate to be the other one’s peace, so much hurt, possibly even more comfort, plenty of angst, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 8,490.

warnings: very detailed descriptions of blood and self harm, descriptions of an un-specific mental illness, semi-heavy stalking, breaking and entering, mentions of gore, brief mentions of violence + abuse, rpf.

notes: hello my lovelies <3 thank you so much for being so patient with this one! it’s not only the longest fic that i’ve ever written, but also genuinely my pride and absolute joy. i fear that i might not ever be able to top this one, actually, so please enjoy it! just keep in mind that this fic comes with a MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING.

also once again, a big big shoutout to my BABY @joosthead for putting up with me constantly asking her to check the doc every time that i added something. please go check out her work if you haven’t already — she’s got some mad shit coming 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

you never really were too good at knowing when to stop, were you?

it’s always been easy for you to get lost in it, lost in the feeling of your old razor blades carving line after line into your skin. once you started, you just had to keep going until you physically couldn’t. not until you’d get too dizzy to focus, until you just couldn’t quite keep your grip tight enough on the razor anymore.

you never learned how to cope any other way; since you were fifteen, it had been your default. cutting yourself up whenever you started to feel too much, or whenever levi would push you too far. as a kid, it was more of a punishment but with him, it was your way of controlling all the pain that you felt.

that’s why you’d done it again, why it’s been the only thing that you’ve managed to do over the past five days or so. you were trying to control things, trying to come to terms with what you had seen and all the big feelings that came right along with it.

you’d spent so long wishing him away — daydreaming of all the terrible things that could happen so you’d finally be free of him. you never actually thought that it would happen, though. that you’d witness your own boyfriend get ripped apart limb from limb; devoured as if he was nothing more than a piece of meat.

you hated that some sick and twisted part of you deep down, missed him. that you just couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he was gone now. and you hated that when it came to joost, you weren’t quite sure what you felt. for less than a fucking hour he’d been the closest thing to a friend that you’d had in years, but then he’d gone and done that and —

blood dripped down from your wrists, the tops of your arms, and your thighs, and onto the dirty white tiles of your bathroom floor. you’d never gotten this carried away before, and you had made such a mess of it. all the cleaning up would have to be done tomorrow because right now you doubted that you’d even be able to stand.

at least you weren’t feeling quite so much anymore; only the stinging of each and every single one of the fresh cuts. it all hurt, but it was a better thing to feel than the guilt that had kept you confined inside the walls of your own home for so long. you couldn’t help but wonder if you would die here, alone and bleeding on your bathroom floor, or if the police would find you before you’d get the chance to.

you’ve seen bits and pieces of what his friends had been saying online— knew that they wanted to report levi as a missing person now. you wondered how long it would be before the police would come for you, either looking for him or his killer. then again, you weren’t actually sure if there was even a body left behind for them to find.

finally, after god knows how many, you put the razor blade down. it clattered against the linoleum and laid still in one of the few small pools of your own blood. honestly, you were a little proud of what you had done to yourself, even though it still felt like it wasn’t enough.

in a daze, you just sat there quietly as the time passed, as the blood slowly began to dry. you weren’t entirely sure of the time but it had to have been late from how dark it was outside. your phone was somewhere in your flat, having died a while ago after you neglected to charge it for a few days, but it’s time probably would’ve read something like one or two o’clock in the morning.

no one had been by to check on you, not that you had expected them to, especially not at a time like this, so you jumped when you heard a knock at your front door. silence rang out as you waited, too afraid to move, until you finally heard another one. only then did you get up.

it was with wobbly legs that you limped your way out of the bathroom and through your hallway, your heart hammering away inside your chest. you tried to peer out through your front room windows as you hobbled over to the door, certain that you’d see flashing blue lights or the silhouette of a police officer waiting for you on your doorstep.

but as you opened your front door just an inch, barely wide enough to peak your head around outside, all you saw was nothing. no cars going past, no people wandering by, nothing.

for just a moment, you could have laughed. because this was it now, surely; your breaking point. all that guilt, all of that paranoia — it was finally driving you mad.

the old hinges of your door squeaked as you went to close it again, turning on your heels as you did so. you glanced up as one of the floorboard creaked from behind you, the gloss in your eyes only slightly blurring the sight of him standing right there, somehow.

you went to scream, a high pitched, blood-curdling shriek right on the rip of your tongue when his hand came up to cup your mouth shut. he knocked you back into the door, slamming it shut as his entire body weight came down to have you pinned against it. you could feel just how hard he was shaking as he held you there, see how those big, panicked eyes of his were flickering between blue and red.

“no no no, please, please don’t scream. i’m not gonna hurt you.”

joost was frantic as he spoke, almost choking on each of his words, begging for you to keep quiet. no matter how desperately you were trying to fight against him, your nails clawing at his chest through his shirt as you fought to get him off of you, you weren’t going anywhere. the more that you struggled, the harder his grip on you got.

you had no way of knowing it yet, but this was killing him. seeing you so small like this, crying out, sobbing, against his hand as you used what little strength you had left to try and push him away — it was undoubtedly going to haunt him.

he knew that he shouldn't be here, not really. he shouldn’t know where you live, shouldn’t have followed you home that one night a couple months ago. it was just that there had been an attack in your city that week; some poor girl found dead in an alleyway, all bloody and beaten, barely clothed. he’d already had your routine memorised by then, so he knew that you’d be making your way back from the cafe alone, in the middle of the night.

joost had just wanted to protect you, he’d just wanted to make sure that you weren’t about to become the next headline in the local newspaper. at least, that was what he had told himself as he’d stayed hidden away in the shadows, his head down low and hood pulled up as he’d ‘escorted’ you home without you ever knowing it.

sure, it had definitely crossed some lines, him sneaking out of the cafe’s back door after you’d left that night to follow you, but the alternative was worse, right?

that’s what all this came down to, really. his insatiable need to know that you were safe. because last week, you’d ran from him that night with marks on your arm that your boyfriend hadn’t been the one to put there. and you’d ran from him, no less, scared out of your mind at the mere sight of him as he’d stood there pleading with you to stay.

and joost couldn’t stand that.

everyone else could view him as a monster and treat him as such, but not you.

never you.

that was the only reason why he’d ended up on your doorstep tonight. he needed to know that you were okay, that you were still alive, and that you understood that what he had done to levi, he would never, ever, do to you.

it was never his plan to ‘invite’ himself in the way that he had. he was going to knock on your door and wait for you to answer it, and he was prepared to spend the rest of the night out there, reasoning with you to just hear him out if he had to. and if by the end of it all you were to still cast him out with the promise of never wanting to see him again, he’d find a way to live with it. just as long as you’d be okay; he’d live with it.

it was never his plan to get to the top of your street and already be able to smell it. the thick, sweet, iron-heavy smell of your blood already so strong that he was gagging by the time he made it to your doorstep. hunched over and heaving, he’d stumbled up to your front door, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths through his mouth before finally knocking. it took everything in him, every little last bit of willpower, not to turn right then and there.

“lieverd, it’s okay. i promise it’s okay; i’m just here to talk. you…you don’t have to fight me.”

even as you were still thrashing, joost leant down to rest his forehead against yours. his eyes bore into yours as they continued to flash between the two different colours, a few tears of his own welling up behind his waterline. the last time that you were up this close, close enough to see the sweat shining on his temples, you were grasping onto his arm in such a feeble attempt to hide yourself from who you thought to be the only monster in the room.

the one whose blood you’d later seen dripping down from in between joost’s fingers, as he’d clutched onto his heart like a trophy.

he should be the real monster to you — a small part of you even wanted him to be. as terrible as levi truly was, he’d never bitten the head off of anyone, never ripped a heart straight out of someone’s chest. he was just…levi. he was your boyfriend and you hated him, but you never wanted him to die.

there was a bigger part inside of you, though, one that twisted up at the thought of joost being anything like one of the ‘bad guys’ from your old bedtime stories. because despite everything that you’d seen, despite how he’d found out where you lived, somehow, and now had you pinned up against your own front door with his hand holding your mouth shut, you knew that he wasn’t. he wasn’t evil, wasn’t dangerous like how your boyfriend had been, and you knew that. you just didn’t quite know it yet.

still, you began to relax. whether it was by choice or because you simply didn’t have any fight left in you anymore, you weren’t entirely sure. your whole body felt as though it was on fire from how several of your cuts had ripped open slightly from your struggle. small spots of blood started to seep through the thin, white cotton of your shorts as you almost went limp against joost; your eye-contact unbreaking.

there was just something about the way in which he was looking at you. it was the exact same one he gave you that night last week, when he was desperately trying to convince you not to go back home to levi. his hands had been cupping each one of your cheeks, his warm breath fanning across your face as he panted. seeing that same look on him now, it was enough for you.

joost had felt you start to ease, had heard the fast beating of your heart start to slow. his grip on your mouth loosened as he gently wiped away the wet from your face with his free hand, tucking the loose strands of your hair away from your eyes.

“i’m gonna let you go now, okay? then we can talk?”

you nodded, blinking away the tears from your eyes.

as he held back a breath, joost finally moved his hand away from your mouth and took a single step back — allowing you just enough space to stand up on your own. he still hadn’t looked away from your face, his eyes stuck on yours as he searched your features for any signs of fear, any signs that you were about to turn and run.

but instead you seemed…calm. still very much in shock; your hands still very much trembling as you wrapped your arms around your middle. but you were calm enough to stand your ground and not shrink underneath his gaze. you didn’t flinch when both of his hands came up to cup either side of your jaw, the pads of his thumbs caressing along the skin.

“are-are you okay? i’ve not seen you in…i thought that maybe you had…”

he couldn’t quite find it in him to finish his sentence. it wasn’t like he needed to, you already knew exactly what he was talking about, and now it all started to make sense.

that look in his eyes, the way his voice kept shaking every time that he spoke. he was here because he was scared, terrified even, that you’d done something to yourself. that night you’d told him, or rather shown him your secret so he knew what you were capable of now, and it had been driving him mad ever since you disappeared.

you hadn’t needed to say anything; the way you suddenly pulled yourself away from him had said enough. in all of the chaos he hadn’t thought to simply look down. if he had, he would have seen all the damage you’ve already done; every single one of the fresh cuts that you’ve given yourself tonight and all of the ones from the nights before. the old vest top and pyjama shorts that you were wearing weren’t hiding anything — from your shoulders down to your shins, he could see everything now that he had finally dropped his gaze.

with his head down, you couldn’t see his face but you could feel the way he tensed up. you could hear him sniff, cough, and swallow down the bile that was rising up in his throat as he stumbled back a few steps.

you were still bleeding.

it was making his teeth ache.

neither of you said anything for a while. you stood frozen by the door, your arms still wrapped around yourself as he just stared blankly at you with tears running down his cheeks.

he felt sick; sickened by the very thing he’d been so afraid of now staring at him right back in the face. he couldn’t stand the sight of it but couldn’t bring himself to look away, either — there was just so much red. long, neat lines of red that covered you almost completely from head to toe; no patch of skin left unmarked. it was vile, it was abhorrent, it was breaking his heart.

“why?”

that was all joost could muster. a pathetic, broken question as he tried so desperately to pull himself back together.

“i…i don’t know.” you paused only to wipe your teary eyes on the back of your hand. “i never know what else to do when i feel like this; it’s just been hard, joost -”

you trailed off, quickly losing your train of thought when you heard him sob all of a sudden. you hadn’t seen him start to crack because you’d been staring down at your feet, suddenly feeling too shy to meet his eyes. except now he was the one trying to hide, his arm coming up to cover his face as he cried hard enough to make his shoulders bounce.

he repeated ‘i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.’ like a mantra in between shallow gasps of breath and hiccups.

he was blaming himself for this because how could he not? all those cuts along your skin; you might have been the one behind the blade but he had been the one to do it. he’d been the one to scar you like this. that one irreversible act of his that he prayed would keep you safe had pushed you to an edge that he feared he wouldn’t be able to pull you back from.

it wasn’t even his responsibility to, not really. he didn’t know you and you didn’t know him, either. still, he found himself loving you in a way that didn’t make any sense.

and you loved him too, didn’t you? in a way that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around because of course you did. you proved that to both yourself and to him by how you finally moved from your spot by the door just so you could take his hands and pry his arms away from his face. you let him engulf you, cradling you close to his chest as he cried into your shoulder because you knew that he needed it.

you didn’t know who he was or even what he was, but you knew that he wasn’t something to truly fear. deep down you knew that you loved him in such an awfully twisted way, and you knew that he needed to feel you just to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

joost was still spilling out his apologies as you tried so hard to soothe him. you felt him shiver under your touch when you let your hands slip underneath the hem of his t-shirt to rub the hot skin of his sides, your soft little whispered assurances filling his ear.

it wasn’t his fault, nor was it levi’s or anyone else’s. you were like this long before he’d ever set his eyes on you and a part of you had already accepted that you always will be. the very last thing that you wanted was for it to be a burden someone else had to carry, let alone somebody like joost.

“you didn’t do this, okay? it’s alright. i’m gonna be alright.”

maybe it was cruel of you to try and calm him with words that even you didn’t fully believe in. what you had done to yourself only an hour ago, only you would ever be to blame for it, but you didn’t know if you were going to be alright in the end. you were still a witness to what he’d done and you were still doomed to live with the guilt of that.

“you don’t need to apologise for what i’ve done; you know that this is what i do. it’s not your fault.”

“but i fucked up, lieverd.” joost shuddered as he sucked in a sharp breath, sniffing. “i fucked up and i did this to you; you did it because of me.”

you hushed him, carefully stepping back just enough so that you had the room to cradle either side of his neck in your hands, urging him to look back at you. as soon as he did, you could see that his eyes were back to being just their usual sweet blue, nothing else.

“i did it because i was scared, joost. i didn’t know what else to do.”

“what, scared of me?”

his question was more like a punch to the gut than anything else. for just a moment it knocked the air out of you; left you winded and with no idea on how to go about answering it. truthfully, the answer was yes, but also no, because it was never actually him that you were so afraid of.

you were just afraid of what he did; what you know joost is truly capable of now. you were afraid of the part of you that was almost relieved to see levi suffer what he did, knowing that it meant that he wouldn’t be able to hurt you anymore. but again, you never wanted him to die. you never wanted to see him get torn apart, piece by piece.

joost whimpered out your name when you didn’t answer and instead just stood there with your mouth slightly agape. your lack of an actual, verbal answer was an answer in itself, really, and he knew that; knew that you were probably just too scared and too kind to tell him the truth. still he needed to hear you say it though, purely for his own sake, he needed to hear you say that he wasn’t just another monster to you.

but the longer that he waited, the weaker his knees started to feel. he kind of fell into you, in a way, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck as your arms came up to hold him against you. his hot tears ran down your skin and pooled together in the dip of your collarbone and it was right then that your own eyes started to burn.

slipping out from his grasp, you wordlessly led him by the hand over to your sofa. you watched him collapse onto it as you took a seat next to him, his elbows rested on his knees as his head hung low in between them. his shoulders were still shaking and you could still hear each of the muffled cries that were spilling from his lips.

“please, please, believe me, lieverd. what i did…i never wanted it to hurt you. i’m so sorry.”

you curled yourself into a tight little ball and let out a long, deep breath, one that you hadn’t even known you’d been holding. you had questions; so, so many questions that had been festering, growing like mould in the back of your head. and joost could almost feel you holding them back as he looked up at you with such watery eyes, the only red in them being the sore, puffy rings around them.

“ask me anything, whatever you wanna know.”

“why did you do it?”

there was no emotion in your voice and you kept your face blank as you spoke — it was only the slight quiver of your bottom lip that gave you away.

“he was going to hurt you, schatje.”

“but how…how were you even…?”

it had happened decades ago, back when internet cafes were still just your average libraries and when only the rich could afford to have their own mobile phones.

joost had been young, living off the high of infamy and adoration that came with being in one of the best punk bands in the scene at the time. him and his friends, they’d been something of local legends; for good and for bad, it just depended on who you asked. those that loved them deemed them god-like in their old denim and rusted chains, and those that hated them, simply feared them.

he’s not proud of it, how they spent day after day rotting away in a garage, doing whatever drugs they could get their hands on and writing songs just to spend night after night playing shows at only the worst bars they could find. how they’d get even more off their faces afterwards and start fights, smashing up the venues and spray-painting anarchy symbols anywhere and everywhere that they could. how if the night didn’t end with them running away from the cops then it would end with them in the bed of anything with a pretty face, two legs, and a heartbeat.

and then what was supposed to be the best night of the band’s life, the biggest show they’d ever played to a crowd that already knew all the words to their songs, became nothing more than the beginning of the end. it’d happened after they’d all really outdone themselves, whilst those so-called ‘friends’ of his that only ever brought out the worst of him were all passed out somewhere, and joost had decided to go out for a little wander.

still to this day, he can’t remember the face of who had jumped him. the alleyway had been too dark and he’d been too drunk to even know where he was, so all that truly stuck with him was the agony of it all. the searing pain of a pair of fangs plunging deep into the side of his neck, the gradual, stinging cold he’d felt as the life was almost all but drained from him. whoever it was, they’d left him there to die afterwards — still to this day, a part of him wishes that he had.

waking up that next morning something so much worse than human, consumed by an appetite so uncontrollable that he just couldn’t help himself when he came across that lone jogger whilst on his way back to his friends. surely it had to have been worse than death. he’d torn that poor guy to shreds as if it was nothing, as if he was just pulling chicken off the bone.

but he hadn’t stopped there, had he? he couldn’t, he didn’t know how to. even after he’d shown up on his drummer’s doorstep covered in blood and crying his eyes out, he had to keep going, keep feeding. because joost wasn’t too good at knowing when to stop, either, was he?

it had taken him years to figure it out, actually. years of mindless, reckless slaughter to realise that he actually hated what he was now, and that his ‘friends’ weren’t ever really his friends. from the moment he’d shown up that day, all stained red and babbling about the man he’d just killed, the band played him like a puppet simply because they knew that they could.

regardless of the change, he was still joost. they knew that it really wouldn’t take much to get inside of his head, to spin whatever that had happened to him into something almost profitable for them all. and it hadn’t, because everything they had him do was always ‘for the band’, so really, how could he have said no?

besides, he would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t come to enjoy it, after a while. seeing the life drain from their eyes as they’d beg for mercy, pleading with him, promising him that they’d do whatever he wanted if he’d just let them go. he’d always laugh then, before sinking his teeth into their throats.

and it helped that these people also happened to be nobodies, too. from shitty bar owners that wouldn’t let them play to members of a rival band that had just gotten a little too cocky for their own good. no one ever missed them, most hardly noticed that they were gone.

joost was never a monster to them, to the band, just an over-glamorised attack dog that could do a lot more than just bite.

it had taken him far too many years to realise it.

“that’s how i ended up with the cafe…i wanted to get away; i didn’t want to be like that anymore.” he paused only to gauge your reaction, or more so your lack of one. you hadn’t said a word the entire time, hadn’t flinched or pulled a face; you had barely even blinked.

“what did you do with the body?…his body?”

the sudden sound of your voice, it made him glance back up at you with a small quiver in his lip. you were still staring blankly at the wall ahead, your expression borderline unreadable, but your words hadn’t cracked and your hands weren’t shaking anymore, either.

“i know some people that are…like me; they handled it.” when you fell quiet again, joost continued, wiping the snot from his nose as he did so. “i’ve done a lot of bad things, lieverd. what i did to levi, fuck, that’s not even the worst of it. you should be scared of me; i’m scared of me.”

“i’m not.”

“why?”

“because if you were still the monster that you think you are, i wouldn’t have even made it halfway out the door that night.”

after only another moment or two of silence had passed did you finally look down to meet his eyes again. whilst there was a shine in yours that definitely matched his own, there was something so soft about the way you were gazing at him. it made the muscles beneath his shoulders relax and drop down as he breathed out a quiet sigh of relief.

you didn’t need to elaborate any further, didn’t need to say anything else to prove to him that you knew he wasn’t that person anymore. he could tell simply from the hint of a smile that was tugging at the corners of your mouth. from how it was with careful, delicate movements that you moved to crawl onto his lap and hugged him, nuzzling your face into the curve of his neck.

the large, warm palms of joost’s hands slid underneath the cotton of your tank top and soothed the cool skin of your spine as he rested his head against yours. instead of asking how you were even real, how someone so undeniably good was able to look past each and every single one of his sins, he kept quiet to let the last few tears of his fall.

but if he had in fact asked, then you would’ve told him that truly, you couldn’t hold any of it against him.

of course it was all awful, from the countless faces he’d torn apart to the people that he terrorised even before the change. your skin had been crawling as joost had spoken and you just couldn’t ignore the fact that anyone else in your position probably would’ve taken off running by now. that, and that they’d have every right to.

except you weren’t just anyone, were you? as far as you were concerned, those old so-called ‘friends’ of his were the real monsters, because you of all people knew what it was like to be hurt by those you trusted most. to have someone so deep inside your mind that you quickly became blind to everything else. you couldn’t hold it against him because in your heart, you got it. you could feel that, that wasn’t who joost was anymore.

“can you stay tonight? for a little while?”

you felt his hands trail down to the side of your hips and squeeze as you pulled away just enough to see his face, your own two hands falling down to rest against his stomach.

“i’ll stay for as long as you want me to, schatje. i’m here.”

being on the brink of almost giddiness as you nodded, that small smile of yours twisting up into an almost grin, you hadn’t realised how his fingers were starting to roam. that his hands were gently moving around, rubbing up and down the flesh of your waist until they reached the very front of your hips.

you hadn’t been fast enough, hadn’t been able to take hold of his wrists to stop him before the soft pads of his thumbs could find the aching, bumpy lines of the cuts you’d put there a few days ago. as you froze, you watched his own sweet smile drop and his eyebrows furrow, and felt him slowly lift up the hem of your top just enough to see the true extent of it.

even in the low light of your living room, even if his eyesight wasn’t as unnaturally good as it was, he still wouldn’t have been able to miss it. just like the rest of you was, the tight skin of your stomach and all the way across to your hips were marked with the same harsh, red gashes. most were scabbed over but a couple were sprouting fresh drops of blood from where you’d been moving around so much, pulling them apart at the seams.

you went to stand and then tried to simply twist yourself away when you couldn’t, but even then joost’s hold on you was too strong. his touches were feather-soft as he traced the tips of his fingers along every single one, following them down to the ones on your things and then back up along the ones on your arms. by the time that he reached your eyes again they were already scrunched up closed, hiding from him.

“because of me.”

it was more of a statement than a question, partly because he already knew the answer, and partly because he knew that you’d still deny it if he asked.

“joost -”

“- you have a first aid kid somewhere, right? lemme help.”

you shook your head as you went to tug your vest top back down, only to freeze when you finally caught a glimpse of all the little spots of blood that had seeped through your clothes. you stopped and stared at them for longer than you meant to, your hands trembling as you toyed with the material between your fingers.

the blood was always your favourite part. how it would slowly peek through the small breaks in your skin before oozing out, running down your body until the drops would fall and hit the floor. it had a way of hypnotising you every single time, making you want to keep going and going just so you could see it happen over again and again. even now, when the tiny red polka dots were nothing more than just a few sticky stains on your top, turning the tips of your fingers a deep pink.

it took joost gently prying your hands away for you to snap out of it.

“n-no, no, i can’t let you do that. it wouldn’t be fair, not when there’s so much blood and you’re…”

“i’ll be fine, lieverd, i promise.” you felt him give your hands a soft squeeze as he paused, “let me help you.”

there was no point in trying to change his mind. once you lifted your head back up and saw how those big blue eyes of his were staring back at you, the smudged, dark makeup around them making them seem so might brighter, you no longer had the heart to tell him no again. he could have asked anything of you, and you would’ve said yes.

“it’s in the bathroom.”

without warning, joost moved to grip the backs of each of your thighs and stood up, smiling when you squealed as you wrapped your arms and legs around him. it baffled you for a moment how it seemed as though he already knew where to go, that he already knew that your bathroom was all the way down the hall, last door on the left. you chalked his strong sense of direction up to it just being another one of the many perks that came along with being…well, him.

and whilst that was true, maybe it wasn’t the only reason why he specifically knew the layout of your home already. maybe he’s escorted you home more than just the once, twice, three times. maybe this wasn’t actually his first time walking down your hallway at all.

the cold of your bathroom counter underneath you made you jump slightly as joost carefully set you down on it. you’d left the light on from when you were in here earlier; your razor still laying discarded on the floor, coated in a drying layer of your own blood. you hadn’t even thought he’d seen it until he was picking it up and tossing it in the bin as if it was just a piece of rubbish that he’d dropped.

neither of you were saying anything. joost had fallen uncharacteristically quiet, breathing somewhat heavily through his mouth as he dug through your cabinets until he finally found that little green box with the red cross on on the front. his hands were shaking as he opened it, pulling out the countless packets of alcohol wipes and plasters, dropping a few things as he did so.

had you been paying more attention, then you would’ve noticed that actually, this was taking quite the toll on him. but you couldn’t shift your eyes away from the bin, the one that now contained the very last one of your razor blades amongst a small collection of used tissues and tampon wrappers. joost had thrown away your last one, and now you had none.

“okay, i’m sorry if this stings, schat. let me know if you need me to stop, okay?”

it was as you were nodding that you suddenly hissed, your leg jolting from the pain of the alcohol wipe joost had used to clean the first of the cuts on your upper thigh. on instinct you tried to pull away, fighting against the grip that he held on you to keep your leg still against the counter.

you weren’t expecting it to hurt as much as it did. considering how many times that you’ve been here before, cleaning yourself up because you didn’t always have someone around that cared enough to want to do it for you, you thought you would have been used to it by now. you never would have guessed that it would have you in near tears all over again, gripping the edge of the bathroom counter until your knuckles slowly started to turn white.

maybe this was just the price you had to pay for going a little deeper than you meant to.

“hey, do you think you could just…i don’t know, talk, for a while? tell me something about yourself?” at the look of confusion on your face joost just smiled, raising his hands a little to show you just how hard they were shaking. “it’ll help me concentrate.”

he was struggling more than he thought he’d be.

except how could he not be? this was a lot for him. all that blood of yours smeared and stained across his fingers aside, simply just being this close to you was enough to somehow make him feel lightheaded. feeling your knees on either side of his thighs as he stood in between your legs, so close to you in fact that he could hear your heartbeat louder than anything else.

he just needed to hear your voice, needed something else to focus on besides your blood that now laid underneath his fingernails.

“oh shit, uh, okay….um…”

you weren’t sure why you started to chuckle, almost, stumbling over these noises that barely even resembled words. you wanted to come up with something to talk about fast, to help get joost’s mind off of what he was actually doing, but the harder you thought the quicker your mind went blank. nobody’s ever really asked you to talk about yourself before; you had no idea what to say.

there wasn’t a whole lot to say, really. you used to have interests; hobbies that you used to put your heart and soul into, dreams that you were so determined to make a reality for yourself. levi had, had other plans for you, though. either, he would simply take up too much of your time, or he’d be so insistent that those hobbies of yours were ‘pointless’, that eventually you grew to lose interest in them. since day one of the relationship, everything about you had to be about him.

you used to think that it was probably for the best, that maybe he was right and you really were just wasting your time. but now that he’s gone for good, and you’re stuck with someone in front of you that genuinely wants to get to know you, you realise now that there’s nothing for you to tell them. there’s nothing of who you used to be left.

joost gave your knee a quick squeeze before turning his attention onto your arms, having slowly picked up on the fact that once again, your lack of an answer told him far more than you wanted it to.

“okay, let’s start with the easy stuff — what did you want to be when you were growing up?”

“i wanted to be a painter.”

you hissed again at the burn of one of the alcohol wipes against your skin; smiling softly when he reassured you of just how brave you were being.

“a painter? that’s sick! did that happen?”

“almost. i went to school for it, got a degree and everything, but uh, levi always said that it’s not a ‘real job’ so…”

joost’s frown was immediate. he was shaking his head, the lines in his forehead already so prominent. “did you really give it all up because of that? that’s bullshit.”

“i didn’t really have much of a choice, joostie.”

you both fell quiet again after that.

he felt horrible for reacting like that, fearing that you mistook all of his anger towards levi and each of the silly little ideas that the guy had planted in your head to be aimed at you. you’d sounded so defeated as your shoulders slumped, your voice falling to a near-whisper as you moved your gaze onto the floor. of course you didn’t have a choice; that much should’ve already been obvious.

and it was the look on your face now that was hurting him the most. a look of mourning as you pondered the life that you almost had, had it not been for that asshole and the hold that he’d once had over you. as joost wiped another cut clean, he regretted for just a moment not going back for seconds that night — it would’ve been the least that levi deserved.

“what kind of art did you do?”

that brought something of a smile back to your face as your mind drifted back to all of the scrapbooks you had hidden underneath your bed. old, dust-covered notebooks filled to the brim with page after page of everything from doodles to full-fledged paintings. your bottom lip wobbled when you thought of all the canvases though, the same ones you once watched levi destroy one night just because he’d wanted to see you cry after a fight.

“everything — oil paint, acrylics, watercolour. i really loved chalk, though. seeing all the stains it would leave behind made it feel like it meant something more, you know? like i was really creating something.”

a gentle grin curled the corners of your mouth up as you spoke, beginning to ramble so passionately about what you loved that joost really did almost forget what he was doing. he had to stop for a second just so that he could witness that smile of yours, see that gleam in your eyes that he’d once had himself back when he was just kid writing songs in his bedroom. in a blink of an eye, you had suddenly become so alive and it had him floored.

it had him captivated, actually; irrevocably wrapped around your finger.

his hands weren’t shaking so much anymore.

“i have a friend that’s a painter; he mainly does the oil stuff, i think, but maybe i could introduce the two of you one day? he’ll probably have some chalk laying around somewhere.”

“is he…?”

“no, he’s not like me. can i lift your shirt up a little bit? we’re almost done, i’ve just got to get the last ones.”

you nodded, wondering how it was that his skin felt so warm against yours, all things considered.

“it wouldn’t have mattered to me if he was.”

joost knew that you were telling the truth, could hear it in the way that your heartbeat kept its rhythm.

and the conversation continued to flow as joost patched up the last few cuts of yours, sticking little hello kitty plasters delicately across your hip bones. he told you all about this oil-painter friend of his, ‘daan’ — how he’d been the first genuine friend that joost had made after the change, how he never would’ve been able to get away from the band if it wasn’t for him.

joost even opened up to you about his family, his parents. even after so many years, you still had to help him breathe through it as he told you their story with tears all in his eyes. it was only fair that you did the same after that; he almost couldn’t believe it when you’d said you'd lost your parents when you were younger too, spent some time in the system just as he had. after all, that was how you met levi.

and he told you all about another friend of his, ‘lenny’, how it’s because of her that he likes foreign graphic novels so much. whenever he’s not reading those porn mags that he swears he only picks up for the articles, he’s reading and then re-reading her old japanese comic books. you were never much of a comic book kid yourself, having always preferred to lose yourself inside the pages of a stephen king or a neil gaiman instead, so you promised to read ‘death note’ if joost read ‘the shining’.

by the time that he was pulling your shirt back down and chucking away all of the used, bloodied wipes that had accumulated, you were fighting to keep your eyes open. joost could tell that he was losing you just from the way that you kept swaying from side to side and nodding your head slightly even when he hadn’t asked you a question. it made his heart ache, knowing that you were so, so exhausted but still so unwilling to sleep because you wanted to keep the conversation going.

he hadn’t told you his favourite colour yet.

“cmon you, i think it's bedtime.”

you were yawning before you could argue, letting your head fall back against the cabinet behind you. the thought of your bed was undeniably heavenly; the feeling of your mattress dipping below your weight as you curl yourself into a ball beneath your blankets. the only problem was that you were just as comfy here as you would be over there, though, perched on the edge of your bathroom countertop with joost still standing in between your legs, his hands resting on each of your thighs.

this bubble you had created with him — it wasn’t one you were ready to leave quite just yet. there was still that fear of waking up alone again lurking in the back of your mind.

and it was before you could argue that joost was also scooping you up again, holding you up by the backs of your thighs as he began to carry you back down the hall. you let your head fall to rest against his shoulder, your arms draped loosely around his neck. if it wasn’t for that fear of yours twisting your insides and rotting your brain from the inside out, you could have fallen asleep right there.

you probably would have.

“you’re gonna stay with me, right?”

joost glanced down at the top of your head with a crease in his eyebrows, carefully nudging your bedroom door open with his foot. “i already told you, lieverd, i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

“no, i know that. i just mean -” you paused when he gently set you down just beside your bed, only stepping away to turn on the light until you made a sudden, desperate reach for his wrist.

when the warm glow of the lamp flooded the room, you could see that he wasn’t smiling anymore. instead there was worry in his eyes as he took that step back closer to you again, his hands coming up to tuck loose strands of hair behind your ears.

“what’s wrong?”

“- i meant that you’re not gonna exile yourself to the sofa or anything, right? you’ll stay with me?”

it finally clicked in his head what you were asking.

and it definitely felt like a lot to be asking of him, again all things considered. you just couldn’t do it though, you couldn’t handle the idea of being by yourself anymore. it was why you always stayed in the end, with levi, why a part of you couldn’t help but miss him. his presence would be chilling but his side of the bed would always be warm when you would wake up in the mornings.

you didn’t want to start crying when you felt as though it was taking joost too long to answer. you didn’t want to guilt trip him like that, make him feel as though he had to even if he didn’t want to. but it was just another thing that you couldn’t help, because you were so tired and so afraid that you just didn’t know what else to do besides sit down and cry.

he copied you by sinking down into a squat, placing both of his hands onto each one of your knees. since you kept your eyes focused on the ceiling, trying and failing at trying to blink away your tears as you hiccuped, it was from the corners of your sight that you saw joost reach up to wipe them away himself. the pads of his thumbs stroked along the skin of your cheekbone and lingered there for a moment or two before he spoke.

“can you look at me, schatje?”

you did so almost reluctantly.

“i’m not going anywhere, alright? i’m not gonna leave you.”

nodding as you sniffled, you kept your eyes locked with his as you crawled back onto your bed and pulled back the covers. neither of you said anything nor dared to look away from the other as joost kicked off his shoes and undid the clasp of his watch, slipping it off of his wrist to leave it on your bedside table.

that was all he did before he climbed into bed with you, still dressed in the same hoodie and sweatpants that he’s had on all night. you let his arms wrap around you and tug you up into his chest as you grabbed onto fistfalls of his sweatshirt, trusting that he meant it when he said he’d stay with you but still feeling too afraid to let go.

more tears began to fall from your eyes, your shoulders wracking against him as you cried. soft, gentle circles were drawn anywhere on your skin that he could reach; your shoulders, your hips, your sides, and he murmured sweet little assurances into your ear.

“i mean it, okay? i’ve got you. i’m right here.”

it was with your whole heart that you believed him. with your tears slowly soaking through the cotton of his jumper, you believed that he’ll still be here when you wake up, all curled up with you with his hand still rubbing up and down your back.

“i’m here.”

#joost klein x reader #joost klein x f!reader #luvvergirlwrites

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bluehoodiewoozi · 10 months ago

Text

If You Want Me

Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1,881

Warnings: lots of crying. (y/n)’s not the sharpest tool.

[Established Relationship AU] You find a strange box in your boyfriend’s drawer and it brings forth a life-changing event.

You were buzzing with unburnt energy, itching for something – anything – to do.

It was just one of those days where you couldn’t sit still. It wasn’t that you hadn’t already done much: the standard 8-hour work day was already finished and you still felt like you needed to be useful. There was so much to do and you were excited to get to it.

It was a blur of productivity. The speakers filled the apartment with the melodies of a playlist Jihoon had once made for you (you had lost track of what he made the playlist for; he had simply made you so many) as you practically waltzed around, finishing chore after chore at near magical speeds: the dishes, the laundry, the windows, the curtains. You watered the plants and gave their big green leaves a good wipe-down.

Around 11 pm, a text chimed on your phone. It was Jihoon, a heart emoji proudly on display by his contact name.

“Want anything to eat?” he asked, ever so thoughtful – or perhaps trying to avoid the awkwardness of eating alone.

You gladly replied to him, practically begging for your favourite noodle dish, and returned to organising your wardrobe. Even that task was done soon and you were once again left with a strange itch to just do something else. Literally any chore. But you had done them all already.

Well. Except Jihoon’s side of the wardrobe.

The half-wrinkled black and white t-shirts on the shelves and a random pair of sandals shoved in there was an eyesore compared to your perfectly folded blouses. He wasn’t the messiest person you had met, but he rarely had time to actually keep his closet as neat as he or you would’ve liked.

Usually you left his side for him to deal with, but – you thought to yourself – there’s no harm in helping out.

You folded his shirts properly, throwing a few stained ones to the laundry bin. You organised his jackets and sweaters by colour. You began organising his underwear drawer – the messiest of them all – when you found something curious.

It was a box. A very small one, covered in a velvety material. You thought, perhaps in a tired daze, it looked like something a piece of jewellery might come in. Earrings? Or a ring perhaps?

But why would he keep his rings in a box? He had a perfectly good jewellery tray on the nightstand – one you had handmade for him in a pottery class on a double date night. And the box couldn’t have been for you either – you rarely wore rings or jewellery of any kind and he knew that.

So what was in this box?

You tried so hard to fight the curiosity and just leave it be. You loved and trusted your boyfriend. You knew he wouldn’t hide things from you. Maybe it was a gift from someone. Maybe the box was empty and he had simply forgotten to throw it out.

But you had come this far and you were getting tired and you just had to find out. One little peek wouldn’t hurt, right? It surely couldn’t.

Against the warnings of your last rational braincells, you opened the box. Your jaw dropped in surprise.

It was, indeed, a ring. A pretty one at that. With an intricate golden band and a heart-shaped ruby in the middle. You thought to yourself that even you wouldn’t mind wearing something as beautiful as this.

But it wasn’t your ring. And, frankly, you wondered if it was really his either. Suspicions and curiosity grew and when you snapped back to reality you had already sent a photo to your friends’ chat, asking what they thought it was.

The answer was immediate and loud: “??? THAT’S CLEARLY AN ENGAGEMENT RING, YOU IDIOT?!”

Your heart dropped. Your body felt hot all over. You worried you might faint from shock.

Could it be? Was this really what they thought it was? Had you just accidentally ruined your boyfriend’s plans to propose?

And even more importantly – you thought, brain fully going into overdrive now, not even caring that the box sharply closed on your thumb as you clutched it to your chest and sunk to sit on the floor, tears burning in your eyes –, your boyfriend was going to propose? He actually wanted to marry you? It wasn’t just a tired fantasy he joked about with you late at night, giggling and joking about growing old together. He had bought a ring – an engagement ring.

Overwhelmed by your joyous feelings and the guilt of ruining what was clearly meant to be a surprise, you began to cry. Tears blurred your vision, mascara you should’ve washed off hours ago was smudging off your lashes, snot ran down your nose – you were certain you looked absolutely horrendous but you had bigger things to worry about for now.

Practically sobbing, you didn’t hear the front door opening and closing or Jihoon calling out to you from the front door, his melodious voice so full of love as he greeted you. You didn’t notice the rustling of the takeout bag or tired footsteps echoing in the apartment, nearing your location.

He walked into the bedroom, expecting to find you soundly asleep or maybe scrolling on Tiktok, ready to show him some nonsensical meme again. Even if he made fun of you for showing them to him, he greatly cherished the fact that your first thought was to share these things with him.

Instead he found you curled up in front of the closet, sobbing with a velvet box in hand. He froze. "Fuck."

Realising he’d come home, you scrambled to put the box back where you had found it and wiped your tears and runny mascara and apologised and hid your face and said, "Sorry. Don’t look at me. I’m a mess."

Jihoon only chuckled somewhat uneasily and slowly came closer, reaching out a hand to place it onto your shoulder before pulling you into a gentle hug. It was comforting. He was always comforting.

“Why are you crying?” he asked as if he wasn’t fully aware already.

"I–"

"You found the ring, right?"

"How'd you know?" you worried, eyes wide. Was he upset with you? Was he disappointed? Angry? Sad? You couldn’t live with yourself if you had made him feel bad when he had put so much thought into a future with you.

"I saw you put it away,” he pointed out so calmly that it almost lulled you into a false sense of serenity.

"Oh. That was something else,” you lied horribly. You were never a great liar, at least not to him. “What ring? I don’t know about any ring–"

"I think I know what the box of the ring I had made for you looks like, baby," he told you with a slight laugh before reaching into the drawer with his free hand and taking out the very box. Hesitating for just a moment, he then held it out for you, nodding for you to take it.

With shaking hands, you did as told. "It's for me?"

"If you want it," he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but his bright red ears and oddly glimmering eyes say he's about five seconds away from a mental breakdown of his own. He coughed to clear his throat before adding, "If you want me."

"What?"

"I– This wasn't how I planned this but," Jihoon ran a hand through his hair, “but I guess the cat's out of the bag.”

He let out a nervous laugh – the one he always did when Soonyoung or Jeonghan convinced him to do something dumb or embarrassing – before dropping to one knee right there, in front of the closet, in front of you – his girlfriend who he thought looked like a sad panda in the best way possible.

He closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath as you waited, holding your own breath. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed and gentle, as if he feared speaking any louder would give away how nervous he was feeling.

“I know this is kind of sudden and you probably weren’t expecting it,” he started, voice wavering, “but I feel like I’ll go crazy if I avoid my feelings for much longer. When I first met you, I knew I’d want you in my life for a long time – whether as a friend or as something more I didn’t know yet.

“But now I know,” Jihoon had begun crying, wiping his tears between anxious giggles when he saw your tear-stained but bright smile – an encouragement –, “I want you as my home, as my everything, as my wife. I’d sooner go insane than live a single day without calling you mine and myself yours. So,” he took the ring in one hand and your hand in his other, “I'm asking you to make me the happiest man alive and accept this ring and marry me. Will you have me?"

There was not a single doubt or even an echo of one in your mind.

“Yes. Yes!”

Nodding rapidly, almost frantically even, you semi-patiently watched him smile the brightest you had seen him do in weeks and gently place the ring around your finger. Before he could even admire the jewellery on your hand, your arms were wrapped around him, lips reaching for his to kiss him as flustered and silly as he had made you with his words.

“I love you,” you heard him whisper against your lips as he pulled you closer until there wasn’t even a molecule of air between the two of you.

You hummed and pulled back just enough to whisper back, “I love you too, future husband.”

He groaned at the words, a dumb grin on his face. “I can’t wait to marry you, seriously.”

“There’s a chapel down the street,” you half-joked (half- because you were so overcome with love for him that you wouldn’t have even mildly protested if he had gone along with the joke and made it a reality).

To your amusement, he was the one to protest, a grumpy frown taking over his previously bright and awestruck face. “I had an entire picnic planned with fairy lights and cake and live music and I even had Mingyu convinced to take photos for us, and instead I ended up proposing to you,” he glanced around the room almost judgmentally, “crying in front of the closet in our apartment, with my underwear drawer open.” He forcefully shut the offending drawer, earning a chuckle from you, before letting out a firm loud hum of protest and pulling you back into a tight hug. “I’m not letting the same happen to our wedding. You deserve the world and I’ll give it to you.”

“... So we’re not eloping then?”

“Not a chance,” he insisted, face scrunching up as if the very idea was offensive, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’re already missing out on engagement photos. Imagine how upset our moms will be if they don’t even get wedding photos.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you chuckled, pausing before adding on, “future husband.”

He tensed for a moment. Then he spoke, “So about that chapel – do you think they take last minute walk-ins, or…?”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #woozi scenarios #woozi x reader #woozi fluff #lee jihoon scenarios #lee jihoon x reader #seventeen fluff

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azulsluver · 6 months ago

Note

Can i get yandere Floyd, jade and Azul with reader that keep getting save by rsa student? You know how heroine in most otome gamd usually got saved by this protagonist and fall for them?

I wonder how they will react knowing that the stupid cliche is actually happening and in this one, they're the villain.

My lovely trio! I love cliche scenarios like these, but there’s never a good ending to them in this blog..

You’ve ever seen a jealous Floyd? Now the word jealous and Floyd shouldn’t be in the same sentence. The look on his face is one of disbelief as an rsa student hold you close while checking over your injuries. The pristine white uniform and silky voice is enough for him to get up and personal.

Floyd expects you to pull away. Come back to him by his side so he can snidely tell Prince Charming that you’re alright. Failing to meet these expectations are met with a heavy tension brewing. A fight is bound to happen. If you curry in favor of another’s well being you would get the message, it’s hard not to, not when Floyd is hunching and gritting his teeth.

But to have this done multiple times pisses him off. He doesn’t want to share, it’s his turn to play with you. It honestly overstimulates him a lot, you get your injuries sorted AFTER he’s done.

Whether you put him as the protective type, or he doesn’t actually see you as a person but his ‘thing’ to play until he’s bored. Floyd enjoys reminding you on just why he keeps you around. See, he jabs and nags you like an annoying brother in public, a bit extreme since he has no problem letting you humiliate yourself. But when he’s got you cornered and alone he’s much more needy and serious. Somewhere away from everyone, away from people who sympathize you, give you looks of pity, they don’t matter. And he hates nothing more than people getting into business they shouldn’t bother themselves with.

Jade holds up his hands in fake surrender as you’re swept off your feet and into the arms of another. Not just a student, an rsa student. Jade is caught off guard at being confronted so boldly but easily masks it with a narrowed closed eye smile. He meant no harm, just fun poking. But the student isn’t convinced when you’re practically on the verge of a panic attack.

Annoying. Jade confidently uses his status and height to intimidate people around him. He’s so used to people just watching. Watching and shutting up. But this idiot wasn’t doing either. But he can’t be brash now. Smoothing out his tie, he gets right on to justify his actions. A story that comes out of his mouth is too convincing, and just a small glance towards you he expects you to follow along. He expected one day someone would have the guts to call him out on his cruelty. That’s why he trained you to swallow and nod.

He’s pulling you away from the student with a gentle tug, you’re even heartbroken at how easily they bought it as your face collides with his chest. He’s sorry he’s scared you to death, he’ll brew you some tea and get your favorite snacks, so bury your face in his chest quickly and let out a small okay. You earned yourself a more comfortable day with Jade.

Jade is very, very unhappy with this incident. And many more to come with these snobby rsa students. He won’t let them touch a hair on your head again. As long as you continue to stay by his side, he’s much more kind. Not in the way you would want. The subtle possessiveness is hard to convey under his gentlemen like face.

Where Azul watches from afar in the midst of chaos, he’s more stuck into his studies and work. He refuses to engage with you or those hooligans, whatever happens to you isn’t his problem. Drowning over deals, during times of interrogation he’s more violent and demanding, slipping away from his calm and calculating manner. Just when he thought he could go on with his day, he’s too busy laying in bed with the image of you with a good boy.

An over thinker. Because people don’t help you, he won’t help you, yet it makes him pull at his hair when he recalls your face of shock. Gentleness. It’s almost enough to make him vomit from the sheer stress, if he wasn’t such a stuck up you could look at him just like that. Lean into his touch with a shudder and pout in relief.

It takes a long time before Azul could step up. Snapping at anyone getting close to you or showing an ounce of respect. You learn to fear, fear feeds and he wants to protect you. Azul Ashengrotto wants to keep you. Do you hear how stupid that sounds? He’s a hypocrite, a selfish lowlife who thinks he deserves your affection. But you don’t have much of a choice to begin with.

A tug and push. He’s always indifferent about your sad reality. He wants no trouble but would like to stick his nose in places, but to be outshined through something a child would think of, playing knight in shining armor when he’s no better than the rest. Azul would imagine that it’s he who you could relax around. You’re the only person he has trouble keeping up with his big boss personage. Jealous, jealous, jealous, even he won’t deny it.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere floyd leech x reader #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere floyd leech #yandere jade leech #bully!au

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sugudoe · 1 year ago

Text

❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck — both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

#♱ 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ on stage ! ᯤ #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo

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writingwisterias · 6 months ago

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I have been eating up your leon stuff, HE IS MY WIFE 👹👹👹 BAHAHAHAA

Could I get something for leon where when he gets home, his s/o gets like happy aggression when he gets home from an especially long mission? Never like in a genuinely hurtful or harmful way, but they just like, flip out, from joy

I hope you have been well-fed with all the Leon content! I've done a drabble of it because I think it's cute! Coming from someone that loves loudly lmao!!

Warnings: Fluff, Comfort, Tired Leon GN! Reader

Having a younger girlfriend wasn't something Leon ever thought he would have. He always imagined either being single for the rest of his life due to his work nature or finding someone that actually understood what he did. That was until you ran into his life. Literally ran into his life. He remembered that day clearly a fresh hot coffee in one hand and croissant in the other. His day started off fine, the fact he was happily eating his breakfast was proof enough; something he rarely got the privilege of doing. Perhaps it was going to be too perfect because you ran into him. A full body collides in the street. His drink was well everywhere, his croissant knocked into the road and there was you on top of him, cushioned from the fall.

You spoke a mile a minute, he barely heard what you were saying as you apologized. The look of concern on your face was so sweet even when you were now covered in black coffee. It was cute, the attraction was instant for the two of you. To his surprise you worked well together; your chaotic nature was different from what he was used to...it was a welcome distraction. That's why you moved in, had that ring on your finger and why he loved coming home to you.

The keys jingling caused an instant smile on your face like it always did. His arms were already spread in greeting as he opened the door. His feet spread out ready to catch you. You heard his air escape out of his chest as you collided with him. His laughter filling your ears. He enjoyed seeing you like this, loving him endlessly. Unconditionally.

Your kisses were hard as you pressed them into his cheek, each one making sure no slither of skin was uncovered. His stubble stung your lips as you pressed them down his jaw. "Someone's happy to see me" he laughed as his arms tightened around you, holding you close as he carried you through the door. "You were gone for so long"

"I went to the store"

"And took too long"

He landed you both on the sofa, your back hitting the cushions first. Your love whilst child-like was refreshing to him. Something he would never want to get rid of, actively encouraging it instead of allowing it to diminish inside of you. He attacked you with a set of his own kisses, your giggles and weak protests only fueling it more. You made him feel alive...wanted.

#~mads rambles #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #~mads~mail💌#leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x you

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spread-the-influence · 5 months ago

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I know its never gonna happen ever not ever, and that you only got the ragatha brainworms, but its been stuck in my brain since the jax murder.

if ragatha hadn’t been virus’ed, yet somehow still got to the point where jax says “to have a friend” (unlikely), would jax have actually opened up, or just shuttered himself as soon as the concept of being open sets back in? Could he have improved had he not been ganked?

forgive me for the essay below . ragatha may be rotting my brain but i still have elaborate thoughts on the other characters , even if i don't go to the levels of insanity i go for ragatha .

jax , to me , is a deeply lonely and miserable person , and i will say here that the line was kind of more ' a person that'll see and understand me ' . my interpretation of jax is not as charitable as most interpretations of him i've seen , though — he's not a jerk with a heart of gold or is secretly protecting everybody . he's just someone with a very destructive coping mechanism that harms everybody and himself .

he doesn't really see the cast as People , he sees them as Characters . a Cast in the big theater stage that is the circus . he prefers to do what's not boring by going off-script . this means making a mess out of the stage set , bothering the characters , and doing what he's Not supposed to do . it's entertaining ! it distracts him from how ... he's stuck in this stage forever . if he goes with the script , that fact would weigh on him . it's better that he does Not think about that . everyone would be surprised by how quickly that would make him lose his mind .

but it isn't fulfilling . it's a Distraction , an Avoidance . it's something that he does to Not confront his issues . my interpretation of jax at least puts up an emotional wall not Just because he doesn't want people to see his vulnerable side ( i like to think that the one thing he hates is being Wronged , and there's a certain level of suspicion that someone in the cast would do it if he lowers his guard ) but because he thinks there's No reason to put it down .

jax , like a lot of people , craves a community . he wants to be Wanted and Loved . but it's hard for him to get both of those things when these people are just ... Not real to him . what he wants most is That realness . he wants to know that in this big stage he's stuck in , there's someone else who is just as lost as him . someone that also isn't playing by the script . someone that's not a Character .

... and ragatha really doesn't fit those , as much as i'd hate to admit it . she is a Character . she plays the role of the optimistic and caring ragdoll . she is Far from fitting the image of a real person in jax's eyes . that conversation would naturally end in jax realizing he's opening up and shutting himself off — most likely Even more than he already does . basically he wouldn't improve ... with ragatha .

if there's someone that might fit the above paragraph , it's either pomni or zooble . i feel like these two would have better chances of making jax slowly open up with that kind of conversation , since they're both the most grounded and Real people in the circus .

i do not think that it would make jax instantly accept into the community of the circus — years of bad habits are Not easy to drop — but it'll be like a hand being extended to him . he sees that there's a world beyond the stage , and he takes it . and that's a lot more fulfilling than distracting himself .

lord i feel like this post is a contender enough to warrant a second ESSAY WARNING tag but yeah , jaxxle thoughts ! he's not in my top three favorites ( those respectively go to caine and zooble ) but i still find him interesting to think about .

#>>MISC;#WARNING: ESSAY

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veganineden · 2 years ago

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On the Evolution of “Happily Ever After” and Why “Nothing Lasts Forever”

A reflection inspired by Good Omens 2

One of my favorite Tumblr posts on the second season of Good Omens 2 was actually not about the series at all, but our reaction to it, primarily the ending. @zehwulf wrote, “I think a lot of us—myself included—got a little too comfortable with assuming [Aziraphale and Crowley would] work on their issues right away post-Armageddon.” We did the work for them through meta, fanfiction, fanart, and building a plethora of headcanons. Who among us AO3-surfing fans didn’t read and love Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm?

In the 4 long years since season one was released, we did more than seek to understand and repair rifts between two fictional beings: we were forced to reckon with ourselves too. We faced a global pandemic, suffered traumatizing losses and isolation, and were forced to really and truly look into the face of our atrocities-ridden and capitalistic world. The mainstream rise of Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Justice work, and our participation in this work, showed us that the systems in place were built to oppress and harm most of us, and they are.

So, what does this have to do with the evolution of “happily ever after”?

My friend put it best in a conversation we had following the season finale, when she pointed out a shift in media focus. The “happy end” in old stories about wars and kingdoms used to be “we killed the evil old king and put a noble young king in his place and now citizens can live in peace” and we’re transitioning into a period of “we tore down the whole fucking monarchy.”

If we look at season one, written to follow the beats of a love story, it comforted us by offering a pretty traditional happy ending pattern: you get your fancy dinner with your special someone, the romantic music plays, and you have a place to call your own. Season one’s finale provided a temporary freedom for Aziraphale and Crowley, the “breathing room,” but it didn't solve the problem that was Heaven and Hell, or the agendas belonging to those systems of oppression.

Is it good enough to keep our heads down, pretend the bad stuff isn’t happening, and live our own personal happy endings until we die? Moral quandaries aside, if you don't die (or if you care about the generations after you), then, like Aziraphale said, it “can’t last forever.” There’s a clear unpleasant end to the “happily ever after” that’s based on ignoring our problems– it’s the destruction of our relationships, and humanity.

Ineffable Bureaucracy can go off into the stars because they do not care about humanity.

You know who does?

Aziraphale.

And Aziraphale knows that Crowley cares about humanity too. (He knows because Crowley was the one who proposed sabotaging Armageddon in the first place, who only invited him to the stars when he thought all was lost, because Crowley would save humanity if he thought it was possible, and Aziraphale knows Crowley has survived losing Everything before, and he will do all in his power so that Crowley does not need to experience that again.)

In season one and two, we see how much they care about humanity, beyond their orders, to the point The Systems begin to frown at them. Aziraphale hears Crowley’s offer to run away together in the final episode of season two, to leave Earth behind, and just like the first time that offer was made in season one, he declines. He knows choosing only “us” is not a choice either of them can live with for the rest of eternity.

I believe season 3 will provide an opportunity to “dismantle the system,” but I don’t know how it will play out. I worry that Aziraphale has put himself in the now-dead trope of the “young noble king.” (I wish Crowley had told him why Gabriel was dismissed from his duties.) I worry that he would martyr himself as a sole agent for change. I worry that he doesn’t actually know how to dismantle anything by himself: because you can’t. He needs Crowley. He DOES. He needs Crowley, and Muriel, and other angels and demons and humans without fixed mindsets to help him. Only by learning to listen and making room at the table for all can they (and we) move past personal satisfaction to collective liberation.

Crowley was right when he said that Aziraphale had discovered his “civic obligations.”

So, I think we will get our modern-day happy ending– and it’s going to involve a lot of pain and discomfort, communication, healing and teamwork– and in the end, it’ll all be okay. There will be a time for rest and a time for “us.”

And most likely a cottage.

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

- Maya Angelou

#good omens 2 #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #good omens 2 meta #ineffable advocacy #ineffable partners #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #gos2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #nothing lasts forever #liked by Neil Gaiman

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

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hi hiii its my first time ever asking anyone idk how this works ( ;｀Д´)

i rlly love your writing, i often find myself staying up late reading through your blogs!! funny bcs u were the one who got me into jason todd (ФωФ)

anyways!!! i was hoping you could pls pls pls pls plssssss write smth about Jason Todd who has a lover thats a sleep-deprived uni student having a hell week and jason is like "bitch put google docs down and get some sleep, ur ass has been awake for 48 hours" all worried and wanting them to rest and reader is like "correction, 50 hours."

i hope it makes sense (´ 3｀)

tyyyyy!!! woopee woopee

Sorry this took so long to get to anon, I hope you liked it either way. And don’t stay up too late reading fics but I truly appreciate you reading my stuff, I’m glad you like them 🦦🐿️

A week.

An entire week Jason had noticed you have been forcing yourself to stay up at the dead of night, glued to your laptop all the while chugging energy drinks and cups of coffee as though they were going out of style, and for what? An assignment that determined your future at uni should you not get straight marks.

Jason thought it ridiculous that you made yourself sleep deprived over this but he knew that if he didn’t do anything about it, then you’ll continue this habit until you were well out of university, struggling to come to terms that you had well and truly burnt yourself out before you could properly start living.

So when Jason couldn’t fell you next to him in bed one night, like you promised him you would, and groaned as he got himself out of bed before making his way towards the kitchen where he’d knew you’d be.

‘What time do you call this?’ Jason asked when he saw you in your usual spot at the kitchen counter, hunched over your laptop with a thin blanket frapped over your shoulders and a can of energy drink on one side of the laptop and a cup of coffee on the other side. He hated what this stupid university has made you do just in order to get good grades, it was harmful, damaging and it would inevitably lead to health complications later on in life; If he could Jason would more then gladly march down there and threaten the professors to stop shoving a boatload of work onto their students, but firstly he has to get you away from that damn laptop and learn how to take a fucking break.

‘Mid-afternoon?’ You asked, not looking up from the bright screen of your laptop, where the words scrawled across it in an incoherent mess for your overworked brain to comprehend.

‘It’s actually 3:30 in the morning.’ Jason replied unamused as he crossed his arms over his chest and you winced when you saw that he was indeed right about it being three thirty in the morning. ‘Don’t you think it’s time that you shut the laptop off and get some sleep?’

‘But I-‘

‘Actually sleep.’ Jason cuts you off as you slumped back into your chair, unable to come up with a decent enough response to defend yourself with because deep down you knew Jason was right, you’ve hadn’t had a decent sleep in a long while and it was definitely taking it’s toll with how lightheaded you’ve become as of late.

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. ‘Jason I can’t, I’ve got-‘

‘An assignment to complete for tomorrow I know.’ Jason cuts you off again as he crossed the room to put his hand over the top of your coffee cup upon noticing that you were intending to take another drink from it. ‘But I look at you and can tell you can barely keep your eyes open for more than five minutes.’ He adds and upon your silence, he puts the cup aside as far as he could before doing the same with the half empty energy drink, and then finally shutting the laptop close despite your weak protests for him not to.

‘No, Jason my assignment, I need to finish it.’ You told him with slow, sluggish movements as you tried to pry his hand off of your laptop, all the while biting back a yawn. ‘Just give me five more minutes please and I’ll come to bed, promise.’

Jason had enough of this habit of sleepless nights, it ends now, the professors will have to understand and extend the due date for your sake as he remembered how often you had harped on about how important this assignment was for your overall grade; However Jason didn’t take neglecting your bodily needs lightly and would prioritise that over anything else,you could hate him all you wanted but he was only looking out for you and your wellbeing.

‘Sorry chipmunk but I can’t watch you do this to yourself for any longer than I already have.’ Was all Jason said as he then lifted you out of your chair suddenly causing you to yelp in surprise and cling onto him for dear life, now being more awake then you ever have been five minutes ago, as he then proceeded to carry you back towards the bedroom before unceremoniously dropping you onto the bed.

‘Jason, I seriously needed to get that assignment-‘

‘We are going to sleep, end of discussion.’ Jason said with finality as he crawled under the covers and quickly held you against his chest as tightly as he could, rubbing his hands up and down your back soothingly. ‘I know how important this assignment was for you sweetheart but I’d much rather have you well rested, clear minded and healthy than to ever to have you pass out in my arms from exhaustion. I want my baby happy and healthy and you are neither of those things right now.’ Jason whispers into your ear, kissing the side of your head a couple of times before resting his forehead against yours so that he was looking into your weary half lidded eyes.

‘Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open.’ He spoke with worry laced in his words.

‘You’re really warm and comfy jay birdie.’ You murmured, feeling the need for sleep grow ever stronger the longer you stayed in his arms as it fogged your mind.

‘I know, so please we can talk to the professor in the morning and sort something out, but until then no more late nights understand?’ Jason said firmly as he held you a little tighter, he just wanted you to get a decent nights sleep and be looked after properly but all these late nights weren’t cutting it and were making your situation worse, how were you meant to get anything done when you were half out of it due to overworking and lack of a sleep schedule? Were the professors at your university thinking they were teaching robots instead of humans with breaking limits?

‘Okay I understand, I love you.’ You replied sleepily as you burrowed your head into his neck, falling asleep in record time as Jason stayed awake a little longer as to make sure you were properly asleep before following suit, watching over you in the dream realm as he did the waking one.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

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mysicklove · 2 years ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

DAY 3: ORAL FIXATION + FACE FUCKING

With: Rin Itoshi

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Sub! Rin, reader is fem coded, gagging, lots of drool and saliva, unrealistic potrayal of oral fixations, cringey dialogue in beginning, tears, reader spits in his mouth, cumming in pants, biting

A/N: this is gross. also, i have a oral fixation and i know this is not how it works, but whatever this is fanFICTION let me live lol

Rin Itoshi has a bad mouth. Sure, his vocabulary is not too full of curse words, but by god he insults people way too much. Whats crazy about it, is he actually believes what he says, and often times you have to cover his mouth before he accidentally picks a fight with someone. He is cool and collected 90% of the time, and because of his aloof attitude, it drives people insane when they hear his rude, blunt words.

You are working on it with him, or at least trying to. Whenever he is rude to someone, you quickly scramble to apologize and reassure that he meant nothing harmful. By the end of it, he always gives you the strangest stares, wondering why you care enough to explain himself to the other person. But you were kind, and he…had other good qualities about him.

He discovered something new about himself during this time as well. You were sitting on his lap, talking to some guests at the two of yours apartment, when one of the guys teased Rin’s cold personality just a tad. Before your lovely boyfriend could bark back a probably way too passive aggressive reply, you covered his mouth with your hand, accidentally slipping one of your fingers into his mouth.

He stared at you in silence while the others gently laughed, and moved away from the conversation. He teasingly licked at the digit, and your smile widened to hide back a shiver, pretending nothing is amiss to the others. You pulled your hand away a couple seconds later, and he unconsciously followed it, blinking at you when you stared at him in confusion.

And ever since that day, Rin found himself feeling…strange. It didn't affect his day to day life, but he realized that having stuff in his mouth, made him feel strangely calm. After a quick google search, he realized he must have an oral fixation that he has not discovered until now.

He took to lollipops for a week, justifying himself to you by blaming it on his sweetooth (that he doesn't have). Once you teased him about ruining his teeth from all the sugar, and he stopped. He bit his nails for two days, and even if it did help him focus on the task at hand, it made him feel unsanitary and gross. He considered trying smoking, but his career depended on his lungs, so he threw that thought away.

Toothpicks and gum are his savior currently. With either of the two in his mouth, he finds himself less uptight, and it calmed his day to day nerves. It made him feel better all and all, and it didn't hurt him, so he was fine with his fixation.

But, ever since that day where he felt your finger in his mouth, he has been daydreaming about it. Two, or three of your digits would make his mouth completely occupied, and with them, he probably wouldn't be lost in his thoughts. It was just a passing thought in the beginning, thinking that maybe he nonchalantly ask you to put your (clean, he would specify) fingers into his mouth, but recently, the thoughts have gotten more lewd.

What would it be like to have your fingers forcefully roam his mouth while he blinks back tears from the roughness? What would it be like for you to gag him when you reach too far in his throat? Would you laugh at the noise, or would you coo at him? What would it be like for you to spit in his mouth? After that thought, he decided to never talk to you about it. He had a pride to withhold.

But you quickly noticed your boyfriends new found stress reducer. He didn't necessarily hide it, but when you ask about it, he always deflects the conversation and then gets cranky when you don't let it go. You know Rin’s ridiculous behavior by heart now, so you know he is hiding something.

So, on the one day off he has from practice, you decided to confront him on whatever the hell was going on. With gifts.

“What the fuck is this?”

You cringe, and let out a breath. You definitely shouldn't have bought that. “Uh…A pacifier?”

Rin raises his eyebrows, peering into the plastic bag with a frown on his face. “Why did you bring home a bunch of gum, butterscotch, toothpicks, are these cigarettes? Really? And a pacifier.”

You probably should have just stuck with the gum. Even the toothpicks would be pushing it. “Suprise..?” You meekishly let out, afraid of the outcome.

“This is for me?” Rin questions, setting the bag down with a sigh, and turning to you with a blank stare.

“Well one of us has an oral fixation, and its not me,” You say, watching the way your boyfriend immediately flushes red, and looks away.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “And where did you get that idea?”

You lean in closer to him, grabbing the bag with a huff. “From the weeks of you constantly having something in your mouth. After the fourth time of you pulling away from me, mid makeout session to spit out your gum, I figured something was up. And the internet is free you know.”

He peers at you, and doesn't say anything. You were right of course, but he was too embarrassed to admit it. Nor the idea of where this innocent fidgeting thing led to. “So you bought me cigarettes and a pacifier?” He accuses, tone harsher than before. It was unexpected how angry he got over something like this.

“I'm just trying to help you. What do you want me to do, stick my fingers in your mouth or something? Fuck, you dont got to be an asshole about it,” You quip back, growing annoyed at his behavior. He was being a brat for no reason, and although you did give him stupid gifts, he didn't have to be rude about it.

He glares at you, taking a step forward toward you. “Yeah? Maybe you should. Stick your fingers in my mouth, like the disgusting pervert you are.”

You bark a laugh at him. “Of course you make this sexual! Maybe I should, shows how desperate you are for a little attention,” You hiss, grabbing at his shirt and pulling you closer to you. You forcefully open his mouth and shove two of your fingers in. He gags, glaring up at you from under has lashes from the mere forcefulness.

You press the pads of your fingers to the roof of his mouth, his head tilting upward from the pressure. “Does this fucking help? Maybe I should just do this for….” You trail off, the bite in you dying down when you feel his tongue graze your finger. You begin to pull away, but he grabs onto your wrist, forcing it inside. “You really…Wow, okay,” You mumble, staring at your boyfriends now half lidded eyes.

He glances up at you, cheeks slightly flushed from embarrassment, but he would never admit that to you. Instead, he just mumbles, “Shut up.” which comes out a little garbled, making the complaint just sound cute.

You lead him to the couch, and motion for him to kneel on the carpet below. He glares at you, nipping gently on the tips of your fingers at the idea. “What? Obviously you are enjoying this way too much. So if you want my fingers in your mouth, then you can sit on the floor. You are too tall, I'll grow tired from reaching up,” You reason, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes as he continues to gnaw on your fingers in complaint.

He thinks about it for a second, and finally decides that you are right, so he takes his spot in between your legs, still holding onto your wrist like he is afraid that you are going to pull your fingers away. You pet his head, and finally relax your hand, your fingers falling limp on his tongue.

It doesnt take him long to start gently suckling on them, his tongue gently roaming around the two digits. You watch with amusement as his eyes grow heavy, and the thoughts seem to leave his brain. He looked so content like this, it was fascinating. The usual frown on his face gone, and drool beginning to bead at the corner of his lips.

“Mwove ‘em,” he demands not after long, and you bite back a laugh, knowing that his personality hasnt done a complete shift. But you abide to the command, and drag your fingers over his teeth, pressing them against the wall of his cheek, admiring how cute he looks when his lips are forcefully dragged to the side.

He takes notice to this and bites you again in warning, and this time you do laugh. “So temperamental, Rin. Thought you wanted me to move them around?”

“Dont make fwun of me.”

You hum, and use your hand to brush away his bangs. Then, you continue your exploration in his mouth, accidentally jabbing your fingers too far back, making him gag. You wince, apologizing immediately, but he doesn't say anything, gripping onto your wrists and pulling them deeper into his mouth. “Fuck Rin…This is....Kinda hot,” You murmur, cupping his cheek with one hand and plunging your other fingers deep into his mouth just to watch him gag again.

At your words his blue eyes flicker downward to his pants, and you follow them to see his hard on pressed against the fabric. You let out a breathless laugh, and put your finger to the top of his mouth again, forcing him to look up at you. His eyes are watery from the gagging, but other than that, he looks completely blissful, staring at you with hearts in his eyes. “Aw, this isn't bout your little oral fixation anymore, is it?" You taunt, narrowing your eyes at him. "You just wanna be face fucked, yeah Rin? Want me to abuse your pretty mouth until your throat is all bruised up and you are drooling all over the place?”

He gags again when your fingers travel back deeper in his mouth, but he doesn't say anything. He looks at you again, flushed in the face, and nods once, looking away immediately after. You play with his bottom lip, and grin at him. “God you're so pretty,” You praise, and he gulps, cock twitching in his pants.

Your fingers seem to travel every inch of his mouth, and his tongue follows them around, licking at them, even when you scold him to relax. Then, you begin to move your fingers in and out, and he gags with each thrust, tears dripping down his face as he forces his eyes shut. You listen to the gross sound of his throat being abused, and stare at him, completely fascinated about how hard he is right now. How something as strange as this could turn him on so much.

Suddenly, you grab his tongue and pull it out of his mouth. He winces at the harshness, and stares at you, slightly afraid of what's to come next. He feels vulnerable in this position, which he rarely feels, so he begins to squirm unconsciously. You lean forward, curling yourself over your legs and just above his face, the shadow of your frame darkening his face. “Hey Rin?” You whisper darkly, running your thumb over his tongue teasingly.

“Hmm?” He tries to hum, fists clutching onto your pants. He feels his tongue begin to dry up, and the force of your hold is uncomfortable, but he can't help but be extremely turned on. It was better than he imagined.

“Can I spit in your mouth?”

His eyes widen slightly, and his dick twitches in his pants. He takes a deep breath through his nose, and then tilts his head back, trying to open his mouth wider, but failing considering your hold on his tongue.

You grin at the action and lean forward just above his mouth, letting a glob of saliva fall from your mouth and into his. You release his tongue, and he immediately swallows, shivering at the feeling and the act of this really happening, all the while you coo at him. A couple seconds go by and he opens his mouth again, and you smile, seeing his tongue bare.

He trembles, repeating the scene in his head. Tears drip down his cheek, and drool coats his bottom lip, but he doesnt take notice to it, because all he can think about is how wet he is now.

“Oh Rin, did you soil your pants?” You laugh, and he grinds his teeth together, rushing to cover himself with his hands.

You grab his arms, forcefully pulling them to the side to see the noticeably dark spot directly above his crotch. Sure enough, Rin came from you spitting in his mouth. You feel blood rush to your groin, and you blink at him. “Oh god Rin, you fucking pervert.”

But before he could deny anything, you shove two fingers back into his mouth, and almost instinctually he begins to melt, already forgetting about the warm sticky feeling in his pants.

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