#i always had a soft spot for him even though he was a terrible person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brynn-lear · 1 month ago

Text

Put Another "X" On The Calendar [Yandere Angel of Death!Sunday/Reader]

Unreliable Synopsis: To be rejected by the angel of death himself… you must be heaven's favorite chew toy if he won’t let you die as intended. But this year will be the last time you'd play with his games. [5.6k words]

CW/Tags: gn reader, explicit and detailed suicidal themes, alcohol, very soft yandere angel!Sunday, dead dove: do not eat. Please prioritize your mental health first; you matter more than you think. This is first and foremost an expression/vent of real struggles, not a romanticization of the tags mentioned nor does it promote it as a solution.

𝟒𝟑,𝟖𝟐𝟒 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐄. Nostalgia has grown unfamiliar for the past days— you can’t even fathom having the same bitter acknowledgement you had years prior. Someone once said a person shall always remain a stranger to themselves, and you dearly wish you still recall who that was so you could ask if it is in the same degree you feel now. Too often does the mind ask the necessity to get up every morning, until mornings become noons— and finally, evenings. Minimizing your waking hours as much as possible to avoid confronting the state of your own mind and body.

Today is Saturday. Or was it Sunday? You can’t remember. You only remember dates when there’s a deadline. And here you are, with another late submission.

Barely dressed for the snow, you leaned against the cold door.

“You’re here again? Why do I keep finding you here?”

The man turned around.

𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗜𝗔 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗢𝗖𝗢𝗟 (𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠)

I have read and understood this consent form, and I consent to the processing of my personal data. I agree to the inclusion of my anonymized data in research publications and understand I can withdraw my consent at any time. I acknowledge that confidentiality may be breached in cases of high self-harm or suicide risk to ensure my safety, which may involve sharing information with relevant professionals. I also understand that my consent does not affect other lawful grounds for data processing or waive my rights under the Data Privacy Act of ████ and applicable laws.

Client ID: ████████████

1) In the past month, have you wished you were dead or wished you could go to sleep and not wake up?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

It’s him again. The man that keeps hanging around your university’s Architecture Building rooftop.

He smiled softly. “I could say the same to you.”

Despite the coldness of December, you came here with nothing to shield from it but the blazer your mom bought years ago for her office presentation. This stranger was almost as terrible as you were, in an opposing sense. He was draped all over, but his style seemed almost more overprepared for fall when it’s winter.

You let out a soft noise.

Sometimes, you look forward to seeing this stranger on the rooftop.

Trudging towards him, you asked plainly. “Who are you even waiting for?”

“I usually tell people that it’s my sister.”

You decided to ignore his strange phrasing.

“Can’t you two meet elsewhere?” You spat, unable to hide the disdain. Your voice made you cringe. More than anyone, you know how vile and cynical you truly are, but to let it be known now is counterintuitive. “I’m sure there are better meeting spots. Dreamjolt Cafe’s just around the corner.”

The stranger looked down, his eyes almost fluttering shut with a tense gulp. “I suppose there are more convenient locations. But…”

“But?”

He stared at you. His bright golden eyes that many complimented in your view looked as dull as the snow. No doubt he’s beyond human. This handsome stranger has no right to exist. He only serves to remind you how much you lacked while also blocking the sweet release you’ve been chasing.

Sometimes, you wish he was as lonely as you.

“But to leave is to take away far more than just promise,” he whispered but no breath painted the air. “To leave is to let someone down. Somehow, I feel as though I do not need to explain this to you.”

“You don’t have to.” You said out of disinterest.

“Other than that, I enjoy coming here and staring at the sky. The sight here reminds me of my purpose.” He stared at you intensely. “There's always a paradise that needs to be built. That vow is like the sun in the sky— perhaps I'll melt and fall before reaching it... But some hardships I must endure."

He took off his scarf and reached it out to you.

You blinked, raising a hand in protest. “No need.”

“I need it the least. Take it. You’re cold.”

Most days, you wish you could make him as lonely as you.

“I don’t feel anything and I don’t like owing anyone anything.” The words slip out of you easily.

You don’t want to extend your time here for a random stranger.

“I know.” He muttered. “But still, take it. If I’m not careful, it may just be the only physical thing I can leave behind.”

For a moment, the sun and earth were silenced. You took the scarf, circling the soft fabric with your fingers. It was azure with speckled star patterns, ranging from complex to the most simple X-s and dots. You didn’t say another word. It was understood from then on that you both might’ve come here for the same reason. The rooftop was the haven for when the physical conditions that existence brings are met with crushing defeat. If he asked you the same question you had moments prior, you’d have but one reply:

It’s the tallest building on campus; I came here for the view.

With dissipating reluctance, he approached you and wrapped the scarf around your neck. His gloved fingers were shaking, but you made no comment. As you stare up, you’re greeted with the sight of his flushed cheeks and pursed lips. Yet, you’ve no motivation to return the scarf.

Maybe the frostbite makes him feel a little more alive too.

As if to affirm your suspicions, he took off his own gloves. The act made the skin he hid with the long sleeves of his jacket visible. It was not your intent to be nosy, yet you saw the bandages wrapped around him. Gauze pads in places you’d expect it to be. The sight must’ve distracted you long enough, since the moment you looked at your own hands— it wore the black gloves he donned.

You’re wearing his scarf and gloves— he has nothing. No fur, no anything. Just him and a black coat, white shirt, and pants. Yet his limbs did not tremble. The temperature had no effect on him.

Finally, he gave you his name.

“You can call me… Sunday. And you?”

Sunday.

You blinked. “Like the day after Saturday?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Exactly like the day after Saturday.”

With that, you decided you do not like him.

Call it competitiveness, call it frustration— name the emotion for whatever is convenient— but there’s no pleasant note to describe him. Objectively and instinctively, Sunday is predictably a good man. But the maggots that crawl inside you scream just how much he has no place in your life. They writhe behind your eyelids, burning with an unspoken illness that wanted him miserable.

“(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).” You answered. “Realbrook Dorms. Room 404.”

To die beautifully and meaningfully. You don’t have that privilege.

Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you tell me that?”

The dorm may just be the only physical thing you can leave behind.

“I don’t know.” You laughed, averting your gaze.

“Just in case you want your scarf back, I suppose.”

And you know what?

You’re sure he knows that you’re broken, too.

2) In the past month, have you actually had any thoughts about killing yourself?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

3) Have you been thinking about how you might do this?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧— but the higher beings routing out pest control. Entering the classroom filled with those bright and beautiful, those who were born to be who their program says they are, has patted you with the crown of envy.

No amount of pomodoros, no higher statistic in your Focus Plant app, can make you even a fraction of their genius. Depressing, but true.

How can you even compete with a room of intellectual gatekeepers?

You’d ask a question, hoping to learn, and all they hand out is a vague response. Not an explanation, but enough for them to say “oh, but I replied, haven’t I?”

These Penaconian Science High School graduates surely are the cream of the crop, and they won’t spare other people’s hopes and dreams to get what they want.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is a highly competitive university. You expected this. It has a name. Your tuition is free. Everyone is a scholar. You just have to hold your breath and live through this. For the future you promised your loved ones.

Of course, assuming you can exhale after 3 more years. Assuming you still have a beating heart inside.

You bought another notebook today after you lost your previous one. The old one’s probably hidden under your “organized mess”.

But at least you can force yourself to write good things again.

𝟷𝟸.𝟶��.𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺

𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝟼𝚔 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔.

Walking, not running or jogging, is the only healthy hobby you have. Writing consumes you while art reminds you of your worthlessness. It’s a short sentence, but that’s fine. That’s why you bought a pocket sized notebook in the first place.

Having that as a first entry is 3 miles better than a detailed plan of which sea you’ll last disappear to.

4) Have you had these thoughts and had some intention of acting on them?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲. You opened your dorm room. Thankfully, as it was the only stroke of luck you had that day, none of your roommates were around. You let your bag slid from your shoulders down with a loud thud.

For a few minutes, you squandered it salting the hard boiled eggs you bought with your own tears.On the floor no one was industrious enough to sweep, you sat. You had no energy to climb up your bed. It was just you and awkward silence.

It’s Christmas season.

You have no good memories of it. You barely left your room.

Maybe you should’ve known that every December would compete for which year was the worst. The best December had to be the year when you’d receive terrible exchange gift presents like cheap junk food while you and your mother chipped in to buy a great gun toy. Then the worst was your first christmas without that family member you were closest to. When you’re reminded how deeply grief can cut through while everyone’s in good cheer.

There’s a knock on your door.

Quickly, you put your jacket back on and wiped your nose. You twisted the doorknob open, already feeling terrible for the housekeepers. They often report to your parents when they decide to visit. So you’ll just slip in your excuse in the middle of the conversation.

“Hi, sorry Miss Rena, I’m sick right now— cold, really. Did I accidentally leave my water bottle on the study hall again—”

“Good evening, (Y/n). May I trouble you for a moment?”

You flinched at the familiar but oddly placed sound.

“Sunday?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “How did you— oh, right, I did tell you what my dorm was.”

Here he was again. You had half the mind to think he would only spawn on the rooftop, but you were wrong.

“It’s rather reckless of you, and I hope you will refrain from doing that to other men.”

There was a dark tilt in his tone and his gaze matched it perfectly. Years ago, that could’ve put shivers down your spine. But you no longer care for most things.

You can only mimic a nervous laugh. Mimicking what you would’ve sounded if you still cared for your own safety.

Sunday offered you a small smile.

“How many times do you walk per day this month?”

“Huh?”

What a strange question.

He looked at the window. “Let’s walk outside. You haven't done ten thousand steps in a day for quite a while now.”

“What a rude assumption.” You scoffed.

“Was I wrong?” He asked, but the innocent tone made you second guess the teasing nature of his words.

If you two were close, your roommate’s unsuspecting pillows would’ve hit him square on the face. Sunday opened your wardrobe and grabbed the scarf you gave him.

…Why does he know where you kept it?

He opened the door wider.

“Come on,” he replied. “Let’s take a walk.”

You don’t know why, but your guard is always down when you’re with him.

Maybe you no longer have any sense of self-preservation. Which makes sense, given your real goal. However, unlike most, you do not love being loved. Being cared for ultimately turns into a debt to be repaid in your eyes. Yet, you couldn’t stop Sunday when he wrapped the scarf snugly around your neck.

The two of you walked around the area. Sometimes, he’d talk about the people, animals, and objects of nature that piqued both your interest. Despite being nearly strangers, he was oddly calming to be around.

Sunday held your hand as you both walked, like it was a matter of time till it crumbled. His eyes had this persistent pleading you refused to acknowledge. Even in silence, it was asking you the worst request.

To stay alive.

“Why did I cross your mind?” You asked him. “Why did you suddenly visit my dorm?”

He stopped walking.

“... Instinct.”

“Instinct?”

“Just a feeling, that something might…” He muttered a word nearly inaudible. “If I was away. Humans are not perfect individuals. Quite the contrary, their hearts are filled with contradictions at every moment.”

Sunday’s gaze softened, hurt.

“Which is why, even if you tell me you are doing fine, I am inclined to believe that the opposite is the case.”

“...I see.”

You subtly tried to get out of his hold, but he didn’t let you go.

“Why do you care?” You continued walking, and he resumed too. He always matched your walking speed. That in itself felt nice. That someone would adjust for you, that is.

“I believe it’s… human nature to care.” Sunday hummed. “Listening has always been my job.”

You laughed. “I guess so.”

Quietly, you took note of that.

“Here.” Sunday pointed at the benches.”Let’s take a rest.”

The university nearby— not yours— just installed more carved wooden benches. When he sat down, it felt like it was made for him. Quietly, you sat down beside him. He sits up straight, unlike you. You’re hunched back, fiddling with your hands as though there was an invisible toy that stole your attention.

Sunday sighed softly. "The evening light does tend to settle the heart, does it not? A quiet reminder that even the longest days must come to their end."

You looked at the sky.

"I guess. The day ends, but what comes after doesn’t feel much different.” You chuckled. “Same old suffering.”

“Perhaps there is something in the simple act of continuing. Something... precious in that.” He said. “We all walk our own paths. Though it may be lonely, as long as we keep moving forward, we won't forget each other.”

"Sure, if you're feeling masochistic enough in waiting for something that never comes." You huffed. "I've grown past that phase. Multiple times."

“Life has a way of leading humans in circles, only to place us where they are meant to be, even if they cannot yet see it."

“And spoiler alert, I’m not meant much for anything.” You looked up to meet his gaze.

“But thank you, anyway. It’s nice to have a brief respite, even if it comes from the man I keep spotting on the rooftop.”

“And I’ll continue to materialize there if you refuse to have a truce with yourself.” He half-chided, half-teased. “I am the only one who truly understands you, who knows the depth of your heart, even when you can’t bear to look at it yourself. And until you no longer go to the roof to see the view from up there, I’ll continue to linger.”

There’s a blank expression on your face. An expression no human should be able to read.

But he can.

“(Y/n), if you need anything. I’ll be there. As I always have.” Sunday looked back at the winter sky.

“And I’ll remind you of that everyday if I have to. Because that is what I choose to do. If I’m forced to take you, I—” Sunday closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

You’re not smart, but you understood what this was about.

You’re his.

You may not "know" him, but you’re his reason. His only reason.

And wishing for death threatens all his plans.

5) Have you started to work out or worked out the details of how to kill yourself? Did you intend to carry out this plan?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 just as you were making weak attempts to tug the sleep you’ve been missing for 5 years. There’s supposed to be an Engineering BINGO event today. You skipped it and thanked the campus for once that there’s no classes. Your rough, useless hand frantically attempted to hang up as if it’s no different from snoozing an alarm. But it was Hailee. The only person who ever regularly talks to you.

You answered, voice groggy at 3 PM.

“Heyyy (Y/n), where are you?”

“Hail—” you muttered. “Just sleeping.”

“You’re not coming? Cocona just won an IPad!”

“Good for her, good for her.” You didn’t really register what she said. “Since there’s no class I figured I’d just sleep in, you know?”

“Ah, yeah, I get that. I lowkey wanna go home too, but Max is having fun.”

“Yeah.” You yawned.

“Hey, kinda random, but I just passed by Madeleine earlier.”

“Yeah well she’s always everywhere all at once.”

“Sure, but she was at the registrar.” Hailee paused. “She’s getting a transcript of records, I think.”

“What for?”

“I think she wants to transfer.”

You sat up.

“Really? Well, shit. I want in, too.”

“Yeah, same.” Hailee’s tone turned serious. “I want out of this hellhole too.”

“Hey Hailee?”

“Yuh?”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Oh, okay, sur—”

You messaged Madeleine.

You paused.

Why are you telling her this.

You and her barely talked.

You and Madeleine messaged each other more for a while. Each notif was a half-hearted argument against going through both plans. Words of how neither of you should go through it leaning as a suggestion rather than a real conviction. You'd agree, but you both know it’s just words.

She didn’t mention her reasons outside academics, and you didn’t mention yours.

The hesitation lingers, but you both danced around it, sending stickers of people hugging, pretending you'll back out, even though you know you both know you won’t. Neither of you is truly convinced, and yet, the conversation went on a seemingly positive note.

It’s fine.

At least now, you know, that you aren’t the only one who tried their hardest with nothing to return to.

But there’s a voice in your head telling you no.

It doesn’t belong to you. It is not your voice.

Yet it begged and begged.

Please, don’t do it.

And for now, you’ll pretend you’ll listen to him too.

6) Have you engaged in, attempted, or planned any actions with the intention of ending your life? Examples: Taking pills, attempting to shoot yourself, self-harm (e.g., cutting), attempting hanging, taking pills but not swallowing, holding a gun but changing your mind or having it taken away, going to a high place but not jumping, gathering pills, acquiring a weapon, giving away belongings, writing a will or suicide note, etc.

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠. No one asked you to draw, but you figured since the man on the chair heavily recommended you get back to your old hobbies, you’d draw the people who consider you as a friend. So, you strayed from sketching topics that lead the mind wandering.

You stared at the screen blankly.

Genuinely, you were caught off guard.

Careful. Don’t fool yourself that a small “thank you” means they would be there for you. You’ve been here before. Don’t be a pushover.

You closed your eyes.

No, thank you, Monica.

“Just a few more.” You muttered. “Just a few more portraits. Just one more holiday greeting. Just one more late video animatic birthday gift for Alex that I didn’t give weeks ago. And then—”

You can finally pardon yourself with the right to die.

Don’t.

Please don’t.

pleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon't-

…

Your messenger app crashed.

…

You turned off your phone.

7) If yes, was this within the past 3 months?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

You blinked.

A hand. A hand reaching out that isn’t “Sunday”?

Really?

You laughed.

You laughed so loudly, you’d be glad if you remembered the fact that no one was around.

It just feels so inhumane.

It is inhumane.

So inhumane, that you felt offended for the last shred of humanity you thought you no longer had.

You cackled, feeling a drop on the back of your wrist.

The one time someone actually noticed you did not feel well.

And they worry about someone else.

You are such a fucking joke.

Your body shook, laughing at this unintentional cruelty. Air-like bile rises up your throat— your eyes burning. A few more laughter escaped your turtle lipped mouth. You couldn’t tear your pained gaze away from the screen. You wiped your eyes.

The funniest bit?

Crying won’t change a damn thing.

It’s nearly 2025, and no good thought crossed your mind.

Just like your father said: everything is evil, it’s only a question of how much you’ll let the devil consume you.

Today is Tuesday. Or was it Wednesday? The man doesn't care to remember. He only remembers dates when there’s a deadline. And here he was, arriving at 11:59 pm. Just in time to stop another would-be tragedy.

Barely dressed for the snow, “Sunday” leaned against the cold door, almost out of breath.

“You're here. Why must I keep finding you here…”

His purpose turned around.

It’s you. His ward that keeps hanging around the university’s Architecture Building rooftop… Now standing on top of your parents’ roof.

You frowned deeply, tipping your weight slightly. “I could say the same to you.”

Before Sunday could utter a word, your phone buzzed.

You grimaced as you saw the alarm. “Won't you look at thaaaat?! It's already 2 am. I'm so fucking stupid. I must've thought I set an alarm for 12 instead of 2.”

“Yes… Happy New Year, (Y/n). I hope your 2025 will be blessed.” Sunday spoke softly. His heart raced as he made slow movements to approach you. The man hoped he'd be close enough to pull you away from the edge.

“How much did you drink?”

You cackled.

“Weren't you already supposed to know the answer to that,” you slurred. “Septimus? THE Bronze Melodia?”

That was the exact moment… when your former guardian angel learned what it felt like for blood to run cold.

Once a guardian angel alongside his sister, Septimus was a protector of humanity, driven by a belief that he alone could heal the world’s ills. His perceived purpose blinded him of what was humanity’s true will, until the heavens cast him out for overstepping. Stripped of his former glory, he became the Angel of Death, his once-bright feathers now hidden in bandages. With each soul he reaped, the haunting melody of his fall lingers, a reminder of a savior who couldn't save himself.

And so, he only hoped that he could save you.

His one and lonely human.

Stirred awake were your memories when you first saw him on that rooftop. Even then, you knew who he was. It was the same fledgeling who kept you company in your silent home. The boy who listened to you talk for hours while everyone else “felt” a ghost.

No matter how much he tried to look like the image of comfort, he would never be the character you used to love, in the same vein you can never return to the bright cheer you used to have.

“(Y/n), please…” Sunday begged. “Get off the roof.”

“My parents are asleep.” You hummed. “It’s 2 am. I’m on liquid courage. This is the only chance I won’t chicken out.”

“H-How did you know?” He asked. “Who I am?”

“I’m smart when it comes to things that don’t matter,” you cackled. “But ask me how to draw up a diagram for a unit process and I got absolutely nothing.”

You took a step back, which made Sunday take one harsh step forward. “DON’T.”

“Septimus, is it true?” You laughed again. “That you’re an angel of death?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you taken me yet? Does God have other plans?”

“T… Truth is, you should’ve died long ago.”

You’re not surprised.

“When I tried to open my guts with scissors, or when I tried to hang myself?” You huffed.

“Longer than that. I had to always snatch you away from your fate so you could have the chance to live on.” The angel spoke, voice weary. “I want to see you live another day. It’s what stripped me out of your guardianship in the first place.”

Once again, you’re not surprised.

“So it’s you…”

The anger in your voice was almost tangible.

“So you’re the reason why I’m alive.” Your eyes twitched. “It’s you who kept stopping me.”

Sunday raised a hand. “I-I just, I want you to live long enough to see that a paradise can still be built—”

“My paradise is the ocean I want to drown myself in.” You spat. “Don’t talk about paradise when you know I can’t reach it.”

Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed. “That is not true—”

“Who else?”

“Who… else?”

He’s taking ragged breaths.

You knew it. Your hypothesis was right.

Keeping you alive is turning the angel of death human.

Many say angels do not have free will.

But this is what he chose to do.

Suddenly, his words on the roof made sense. Why he desperately wanted you to keep his scarf. Maybe there’s truth to it. Angels do not lie. Perhaps if he failed, he would’ve turned into ash and not human.

Most days, you wished you could make him as lonely as you.

Looks like in the end, you got what you wanted.

“Who else wants (Y/n) (L/n) to live to see another day?” You asked.

“Plen— some.” Septimus corrected his lie. “Some will want you to keep pushing forward.”

“Will, not would. Will is too late for anything.”

“Will because you don’t give them a chance to show they care.” He argued.

“They’d rather see me in a coffin than put in any real effort.”

“Why,” his voice croaked. “Why do you only assume the worst in people?”

“You know why. You know every ‘why’ there is.”

He inhaled sharply. They say to translate your thoughts and dreams into a creativity worth plagiarizing. Yet, when you’re one foot on the roof and one foot out the metaphorical door, you didn’t give a shit on becoming artistically verbose.

“No wonder I’ve never broken a bone.” You laughed. “And damn, I’d rather take a broken bone than whatever hell you’re putting me through.”

Sunday was close enough to touch you.

“Because despite everything, you are still you.” Sunday cooed, trapping you in his arms. “And as the being who loves you more than anyone—- who knows you when you are a stranger to your own self— I would know this.”

He pulled you closer by tugging your scarf. The same scarf he gave you.

And pushed you until you’re away from the edge.

“There is no sufficient reason enough for you to take your life.”

Sinfully, Sunday leaned your faces closer to once another. You smelled like wine. Sleep deprivation has made a lightweight out of you.

You shook, your voice taking a tone unfamiliar to you. Raw. Loud. There was frustration in it, which was the most harrowing emotion of all.

“And so what? My problems aren’t bad enough— that I’m just a fucking loser who can’t get their shit together like EVERYONE ELSE? THAT MY OWN BODY GIVES UP ON ME?! TO THE POINT I FIND MYSELF PASSED OUT SLEEPING ON THE DIRTY FLOOR OF OUR UNIVERSITY’S FUCKING DRAWING ROOM?!”

“I—”

“I know what you’re thinking, it’s either one of two things. If you’re anyone else, you think I’ve matured too early, too fast, and if you’re just like my father, then I haven’t matured fast enough for you— isn’t that right?! I know what the FUCK that look is!”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“No one— NO ONE— fucking truly cares for me. No one PRAYS for me. You know the only people that I talk to nowadays?! Pixels. Fucking. PIXELS!!! So called people with faces I’ve never seen, just texts I have to imagine— just voices I have to convince myself are real. A human connection but not quite. And you know the amount of fucks they actually give?!”

It’s only then that you noticed your hands shaking, but that awareness only tightened your hold.

“I can paint them a portrait as many as they want. I can greet them, make them laugh a bunch, but at the end of the day I’m hanging out where I don’t b-belong.” White knuckles. Short breaths. “I can listen, I can give people the time of day, but if you ask them what I’m going through, they don’t know jack shit. And there's my campus life, or lack thereof. Where do I even begin with that?!”

“I’ve sacrificed…” Your grip loosened. “I’ve sacrificed true friends, I’ve sacrificed time with family, sacrificed the remaining time I could’ve spent next to a dying loved one. I sacrificed my time, my literal blood, sweat, tears, and most importantly time— for a dream I was never meant to reach. Every morning I could’ve slept, every 6 hours I should’ve rested, there’s nothing. Nothing for a program I shouldn't have taken. And now they’re gone. One is even six feet under.”

You dropped your hold on him.

43,826 system hours.

“Let me through.”

Sunday breathed in shakily. “No.”

“Let me fucking through, Septimus.”

“Do you remember what I told you when we first had a proper conversion?” He retorted, breathless. “To leave is to let someone down, and I meant it literally. I shall not allow this. (Y/n), you just need someone to talk to.”

“And it’s not going to be you!” You laughed at his face. “Or anyone! There is NO ONE who can reach me, Septimus, there’s nothing that can fix THIS anymore.”

“Please, just hold on to me.” Sunday knew you were no longer hearing him. He knew there was nothing to be done. But he clung to your clothes— clawed your back— rested his face on your shoulder. “I have nothing to offer you but myself.”

“Let me destroy myself.” Palms clamming up. Heart racing. “Let me end this.”

“Please, just… █████ █.” He leaned in to a degree you can’t feel anything but inches of his skin. “Just give me till █████ █ to prove to you that each day is worth living. Don’t take your life away for me.”

Sunday cried. His tears were warm, normal.

“I-I would much rather be human than an angel of death, so I could take care of you.” He wept, holding you closer— back in his embrace. “For I love you with all I have. No other had made me feel this way.”

…

You fell silent.

“Until █████ █?”

With closed eyes and thin lips, he nodded reluctantly.

“Until █████ █.”

Your shoulders relaxed, and with a heavy chest, you felt like you regained the ability to cry again.

Thud… Thud… Thud...

Faint, but even faint is enough.

“(Y/n).” Sunday— Septimus called out with a voice that finally reached you. With trembling lips, he cupped your cheeks. His golden eyes blocked the shade of the dullest moon. In that moment, he was the only light you cling to, and it will remain so until the date he has given. “Let me be your north star, your steady hand. Let me take care of you if you cannot take care of yourself.”

Wonderful, if true. But the maggots gnaw deep in your skin. Whatever affection he has for you must be unreal and unfounded. A dove catching a worm underneath its pointed claws when it was to crawl to the nearest cliff. There’s a glimmer so conflicted in his eyes. A lucid thought running in a path that circles both his ego and conscience. A truth he doesn’t speak aloud.

He’s selfish.

Sunday doesn’t want you alive for the sake of living. The still surface of the water should’ve moved if so. There would’ve been another angel— another song singing praises of life to lift you up. But it was only him. Always him.

He wants you to live for him.

He wants (Y/n) (L/n) to live for the angel of Death.

Selfish.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

But Sunday— Septimus— whatever this foul beast was— he knew that he’s wrong. He knows that what he has done has crossed another heavenly line. He knew that you were past your date. He knew he takes too much pleasure in seeing you alive because he allowed it.

Yet the heavens would rather see you suffer than have you take your life again.

(Y/n)...

He loves you. More than everyone in the world.

But even he doesn't PRAY for you.

You laughed again.

“█████ █.”

You leaned against his chest.

“You've set the date, and I'll patiently wait.” You replied. “By █████ █, you'll do the work, that was your promise. Septimus, I'm tired of taking my own life, so do your job.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry…” Sunday mumbled. His shaky breath was more human than you could ever be. “I won't prolong your suffering anymore. I'm sorry. I’ll hold your breath, just as the heavens intended.”

“It's fine.”

You've had your solace. The answer you've been looking for since you were young.

43,826 system hours.

And just 1,512 bit more.

“Cause every X on the calendar would make me feel a bit more okay.”

Hotline

164 notes · View notes

helluverse-rewrites · 2 months ago

Text

Rewriting Ars Goetia

That's right boisss we're gonna be talking about Stolass now 😎😎😎😎 and the others btw

Stolas

He is a villain. A bad guy. An antagonist. A big ol' bully

If Stolas was a villain, he would actually be a pretty good character me thinks

Like, he's manipulative, condescending, treats Blitzø like a worthless sex toy, shifts blame onto others, never takes responsibility, I could go on

So nothing about Stolas really changes actually. He's still the same but has a more sinister vibe going on. And he's going to be treated as if he's in the wrong. Because he is

Growing up, he was a sweet, naïve kid who just wanted to make his father proud. But no matter what he did, what he said, Paimon just wouldn't give him the time of day. He couldn't even remember his son's own name. His father's neglect mixed with the pressures of being in an arranged, loveless marriage, and the pressure that comes with being an heir to the Goetia throne. Made Stolas the person (or owl man) he is today

He has a lot of pent up anger that has been built up throughout his childhood all the way through his teens. And now as an adult he takes his anger out on those who don't deserve it

Whenever someone does confront him on his behavior, he often plays victim and gets all teary eyed and all that. He guilt trips, he lies, he manipulates. It's what he's best at

He👏should👏have👏been👏the👏main👏villain

Stella

Stella bbg I'm so sorry let me save you from this wretched show

The rewrite Stella is very different from canon Stella.

Stella, though very short tempered, has a huge soft spot for her daughter. No matter what happens, Octavia comes first. A killer breaks into the house but baby Octavia finally goes to sleep after hours of fussy crying! Stella will fend them off in the quietest way possible to avoid waking her up. You know what? That's a canon event in the rewrite now. Because I say so

Yeah but you get the point. Stella always puts Octavia first. At first Stella did try to make the marriage work, she really did! But Stolas just seems to find excuses to guilt trip her and make her the bad guy in the marriage. Despite what Stolas says, he did not try making the arrangement work in the slightest. It was always Stella doing everything and she's almost at her limit

Just one thing... it's not like she can just divorce Stolas. He's the biological heir to the Goetia throne for crying out loud! If she divorced him, it would be all over the news and everyone would just be real shitty about it. Not to mention Andrealphus won't be very happy to figure out his sister is no longer with Prince Stolas

So... she's stuck. Stuck with this life. This life of abuse and manipulation. But as long as nothing happens to Octavia, Stella is happy. As happy as she could be given her situation

She also had terrible parents that would belittle her and didn't give a shit about her feelings towards the forced marriage. So she vowed that she wouldn't be the same parent that they were to her

Octavia

Octavia is still relatively the same as in canon

But she does hide most of her life from Stolas, fearful that he'll be disapproving. But Octavia has a great relationship with her mother who has always been supportive of her interests

I think I'm gonna age her down a year and make her sixteen while Loona is seventeen because I want Loona to be kinda like an older sister

There might not be much for Octavia right now, but believe me, I have ideas

Paimon

Okay so I'm gonna be honest, Paimon doesn't do much. But I just put him here to say that a common thing among the Goetias is generational trauma

I like to imagine Paimon had a similar upbringing to Stolas and treated him the same way he was treated throughout his childhood

Of course he never took the time to realize that he was doing more harm than he could've imagined (because Stolas spreads his pain to other people and all that)

Andrealphus

Goddam I hate how long his name is

Anyways, along with Stolas, Andrealphus is the next big bad. He is a selfish, conniving bastard. He's Stella's older brother and a terrible one at that. He sees her as a moron and someone who doesn't even deserve the throne unlike him

While his parents also treated him horribly, it doesn't excuse his actions towards others. Remember that, kids

While his and Stella's parents did help arranging her and Stolas together, it was actually originally his idea to get them married. Just so he could have a chance of getting the Goetia throne

Andrealphus has made it explicitly clear to Stella that if she even thinks about divorcing Stolas, she'll regret it. And she doesn't, and he plans to keep it that way

Vassago

Vassago is a kindhearted and energetic bird.

Growing up, he always admired Stolas and loved everything about him. His looks, his intelligence, etc. Vassago has always wanted the young prince's attention and would try everything to get it, but Stolas just wouldn't pay him any mind. Discouraged, Vassago would stop his attempts at getting his attention and just stayed in the background. No point in trying to get acknowledgment if it'll never happen, right?

... Until something strange happens. So a conversation with a friend, they started to reminisce about Vassago's old crush on Stolas. Vassago was forced to laugh and joke along despite never losing his feelings

And the next day Stola came up to Vassago and started to... talk to him???? And make jokes???? AND COMPLEMENT HIM????? It doesn't occur to Vassago thinks about how it's a little strange that Stolas started talking to him only after the day where they were talking about his crush, but he ends up paying no mind to it. He's just being paranoid after all

#anti spindlehorse #anti vivziepop #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #spindlehorse criticism #helluva boss rewrite

241 notes · View notes

annefolklore · 1 year ago

Text

Just thinking about soft and loving sex with Bakugo.

Like just imagine he starts to softly cry because he’s never been genuinely praised (outside because of his quirk) and intimate like that with someone. Like when you say I love you while looking at him through his eyes, they actually start watering

Warnings: afab reader, you call him baby and he calls you sweetheart, missionary position if you squint.

! Minors dni !

“Katsuki?” You muttered when he backed up a bit to breath air.

The way his name rolled on your tongue on itself was enough for Bakugo to feel this strange but welcoming warm feeling in his stomach. Your puffy lips from kissing each other, were parted as you breathed and moaned at each of his slow but deep thrust into your heat and the blond couldn’t stop himself from pecking them before answering with his deep voice

“Yeah?”

But you were already zoning out because of his mesmerizing face, because let’s get this straight: Katsuki Bakugo is a beautiful man. Handsome or sexy weren’t good enough to capture his features. From the sharpness of his jawline, his plump pink lips to his captivating crimson eyes, he sure was a piece of art to look at. No wonder he has contracts with multiple modeling agencies for him to be their new front page on magazines.

But these photographers could never really capture you fiancé’s beauty. There is just something about him doing simply…nothing. It could be the way he adjust his glasses when answering emails on his laptop, or him ruffling his hair in the morning in front of the mirror with this tired expression. Or maybe how he smiles when you say terrible jokes while shaking his head. There’s just something with you man that’s breathtaking!

Let’s not even start about his personality! Everyone may describe him as this loud brute, but with you?…Girl that’s another story.

“I love you” you softly say, looking at the ruby orbs a few centimeters from your face.

Oh you love this man and he loves you more even if you guys playfully argues about which one of you loves the other more.

And Katsuki? He loves you so freaking much, he cannot explain it. At the beginning of the relationship, it even scared him a bit about how much he would think about you and care about you opinion on things.

He loves the way your eyes lit up when he shows you the new hairstyle he wants to try and how they sparkle when he comes back from the barber. He loves how you steal his shirts and hoodies to wear as if they’re your own. He loves how you’re always thoughtful about the gifts you give him even though your presence is the best gift he ever had.

But what Bakugo love the most about you isn’t even your features. It’s how you’re always praising him even for the smallest things and how it’s not often about his ability to make explosions.

“You love me?” He echoes and his voice cracks a little.

It wasn’t a secret that Bakugo’s quirk was powerful and that’s why people even talk to him in the first place. “You’re so strong” they said. “I wish I had your quirk” they said. And Katsuki had grown tired of it. Yes, he’s impressive and mighty…but what else? No one tells him how they appreciate him. No one put his name and funny in the same sentence, unlike his friend Kaminari. No one calls him sweet like any other heroes…but you.

You nod your head and your eyes were filling with water, encircling his neck with your arms . “So so much” you continue before joining your lips with his again for a delicate kiss and his tongue immediately went to yours.

Why you were crying? Because you couldn’t understand how nobody ever saw Katsuki as him. He’s so much more than being Dynamight and it just breaks your heart how he never heard such endearing words from somebody else.

“I love you so much, baby” you moan when he perfectly hit again your spongey spot inside of you.

No matter how many times you’d say that sentence in a day, Bakugo will never grow bored of it. He finally has someone who loves him. His warm and calloused hands quickly enveloped your own when he felt his own eyes starting to water. It wasn’t like when he was a teenager, crying late at night because he wasn’t enough. No, this time, it was because he realised that he finally has what he wishes for the most: someone that truly loves him.

“I love you too sweetheart” he whimpers in your ear, at the edge of his orgasm and he could feel you being there too. “So fucking fucking m-much” he moans as he makes his last thrust harder.

He moans your name as he comes inside of you and your heat spasm around his thick member. Katsuki continues to thrust into you to make the pleasure last longer before he lets himself fall on top of you.

Deep breathing was the only sound in the room as you guys catch your breath.

2K notes · View notes

theonotti · 9 months ago

Text

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Years have past since the Battle of Hogwarts, and through his grief and desperation, Theo fights to get back every second lost since then.

Warnings: Major Character Death (Not Theo), it's just angst lads

Notes: Been a while! But I'm back with some writing! This fic will be 3 parts in total. Shoutout to @classyartisanpizza for letting me write this idea! <3

Masterlist

The nightmares are the worst part.

It's always the nightmares.

Theo wakes with a start, his chest heaving as he abruptly sits up. It takes a moment of his eyes darting around in fear for him to realise he's simply in bed. No battle. No green bursts of light flying inches from his head. No bodies dropping around him.

He closes his eyes, running his hand down his face to rid the beads of sweat rolling down his skin. Though he forces himself to take deep breaths, his heart continues to race. The room feels so warm. Why does the room feel so warm? His chestnut curls fall over his eyes, slightly matted to his forehead, and for the briefest of moments, he considers shaving his head.

The vivid technicolor of the nightmares always gets him. Blaring realism and exaggerated memories have him waking in a panic without fail.

A hand runs up Theo's lower back, followed by a soft voice speaking in tongues and distortion. A chill runs up his spine as his fight or flight kicks into high gear, causing him to jump off the bed and point his wand directly at the perpetrator.

Daphne Greengrass stares back at him, looking mainly annoyed yet mildly confused as she wraps the sheet around her naked form. There's a long, tense silence as the two of them stare at each other, and despite knowing there's no threat, Theo doesn't bother to lower his wand.

"I thought I said no sleeping over."

His voice is clipped, a stark contrast from the sultry tone he had taken with her the night before. Then again, he doesn't ever have to work in order for Daphne to become putty in his hands. Not really. Him putting on the show just makes him feel better about using her.

She sits up slightly, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. Even in the dark, the blush that fills her cheeks is unmissable.

"You fell asleep and I-"

"That's not an invitation."

You're such an asshole, He tells himself. But he can't help it. The point of the rule was so that he'd never have to wake up to Daphne. She's not ugly, or entirely terrible to be around. But his care for her only extends to the point of what she does for him. A means to an end. And the end is to distract him from the never ending abyss of his mind and the standing void in his chest.

Besides, that spot in the bed belongs to someone else.

Belonged-

No. Belongs.

Another beat passes before Theo realises that his wand is still raised, and he finally lowers it to his side. Although he should feel worse about his overreaction, he's only a slight tinged embarrassed. It's being overshadowed by his annoyance.

Daphne takes a moment to stare at him, her eyes searching his face for the humour that never comes. A quiet sigh of relief escapes his mouth when she finally climbs out of his bed and starts to get dressed.

"What are you doing later?" She asks while pulling her shirt over her head.

The clock on the wall reads quarter till three in the morning.

Theo tries to hide his smug irritation at the fact that she's already trying to plan when she sees him again, despite his complete disregard for her only moments ago.

When he doesn't respond right away, Daphne looks over at him, throwing a sock off his floor right at his face. In another life, with another person, Theo would've found this gesture amusing, but right now, he just stares at her in exasperation.

"I'm busy."

Merlin, you're a fucking asshole.

But Daphne remains unfazed as she pulls her jeans up her legs and fastens them.

"Maybe next week then? I'm working all weekend."

And despite his self awareness, Theo just can't fucking help himself.

"I'll call you."

Now he's done it. The sting ripples through her face as she pauses all movement, her eyes falling back on him. Under her confused gaze, the temperature in the room falls, but Theo keeps his expression neutral. For a long moment, they just stare at each other in tense silence, before finally Daphne breaks the prolonged eye contact to finish putting her trainers on.

"I don't understand why we keep doing this, Theo," She says in a low voice as she ties her right shoe. It's clear she's trying to be more confident in her words than hurt, but she's failing. "You clearly don't want to commit to me or even care about me. Why do you keep phoning if you can't be bothered?"

Theo leans his back against the wall, his shoulder brushing the door frame of his bedroom. The words leave his mouth before he's able to process them, or to consider not saying them.

"Because you always come running."

Twenty years on this planet and you still don't know when to shut your bloody mouth.

Daphne looks appalled as the words hang in the air. Despite the fact that Theo's guilt is radiating off of him and filling the room at a suffocating rate, he continues to say nothing else. An eternity later, she snatches her coat off the floor and storms out of the room, slamming Theo's bedroom door so loudly that he flinches, followed by the slamming of the front door of his flat.

Silence.

Theo pushes off the wall, walking over to his bed and collapsing on top of the covers.

Silence.

As he buries his face in the pillow, desperate to go back to sleep, his mind starts to drift back to the nightmare that started the domino effect events of the evening. A chill runs up his spine for a second time as he dives head first into the dreams that haunt his subconscious damn near every time he closes his eyes.

The falling bodies.

The walls crumbling down.

The flashes of bright green flying passed his head.

The set of eyes. His favourites. Watching as the life drains out of them.

Theo abruptly jumps out of his bed, his hands trembling slightly as he walks briskly to the door and throws it open. His flat is dead silent, save the sound of his footsteps across the hardwood floor. Through the darkness, he can make out the faint outline of his black cat moving quickly across the floor towards him.

"Piss off, Shadow," He mutters to the cat. She doesn't seem to notice his hostility as she continues to move between his legs. But he's quite rehearsed in this dance at this point, and manages to cross the pitch black living room without tripping over her and falling on his face. He makes his way to the spare bedroom, the room that used to be where he worked on his potions.

That is, until more important projects grabbed Theo in a chokehold.

Unlocking the door with his wand, he quickly goes inside quickly, making sure the cat didn't follow him through before shutting the door behind him.

"Mattheo, I'm fine."

"Is the kidnapper in the room with you and forcing you to say that?"

Theo rolls his eyes, rubbing his right eyelid with his free hand as his other one stirs the brewing potion in the cauldron in front of him. His phone rests on the desk next to him with his best friend's display name taking over the screen, the call on speaker.

"You think a kidnapper would willingly keep me?" He asks as he lets his free hand drop back to his wooden desk, accidentally into a puddle of spilled potion that had toppled from the cauldron. Making a face, Theo instinctively wipes his fingers off on his jeans. "They'd return me before you'd even realised I'm gone."

Mattheo lets out a quiet laugh before saying, "You're right. I'd say we could use the break, but no one's seen you in weeks."

Theo lets his other hand drop to the desk, sighing exasperatedly.

"Mate. We've just hung out. At the Leaky Cauldron, yeah? When Malfoy got so piss drunk, he fell in the toilets and smacked his face on a sink."

The memory causes a ghost of a smile to form on Theo's face, but the silence on the other end of the phone causes it to fade just as quickly.

"Hello? Did I lose you, Riddle?"

When Mattheo speaks, his voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

"That was two months ago."

Every single muscle in Theo's face slackens.

"What? No. That can't be right. It was just two weeks ago, yeah?"

"No, Theo. It was two months ago."

Shaking his head, Theo grabs his phone, switching to check the date as he stammers whispered denials, more to himself than anything. But Mattheo is right. Two months have passed since that last hangout, and besides the occasional mess around with Daphne, which he assumes are now over since the debacle a few nights prior, Theo hasn't seen anyone else since.

Where did the time go?

You know where the time went.

"We're really worried, mate," Mattheo says in a soft voice. "I know it's been hard, but-"

"Don't," Theo barks, almost instinctively as he sets his phone back on the desk. He knows where this conversation is going, because this is where the conversation always goes.

"It's been almost three years, Theo."

Theo shakes his head, his eyes closing as the air slowly starts to syphon from the room.

"It's not- Surely I can't be expected to just forget."

A quiet sigh rings out from the other side of the phone, as Theo fights to keep his rising emotions in check.

"Of course you wouldn't forget. We just-"

Theo quickly shakes his head, not wanting to hear the same things he always here's when one of his friends decides to play therapist for him.

"Oh shit, I've just remembered I have better things to do than have this conversation."

Theo lifts his hand towards his phone, with the intent to hang up, when he heard Mattheo's desperate voice quickly calling to him.

"Meet in the Three Broomsticks tonight!"

Theo pauses, staring at his phone as his brain starts its usual war on itself whenever someone wants him to do anything that isn't rotting at home. On one hand, going out with his friends would placate them for long enough that they won't have yet another conversation like this one. But on the other handâ€¦

He's close. He's so close to figuring it out. And any time that isn't dedicated to figuring it out is, in his eyes, a complete waste.

But as he stares down at his best friend's name on his phone, he lets out a heavy sigh.

"Piss off."

He can practically hear Mattheo's smug grin in his voice.

"See you there," He says, before promptly hanging up the phone.

A heavy sigh forcing its way out of his mouth, Theo turns back to the cauldron in front of him.

You need a break.

Maybe stepping back for a night and coming back will trigger an epiphany.

Theo lets out a resigned sigh. The last thing he wants to do is step away. When he's away from the work room, he feels like he can't breathe. When he's not working or researching or planning or even contemplating, he feels like he's drowning.

In his head, he's running out of time. But with every centimetre closer he gets to the finish line, he gets another centimetre closer to getting every lost moment back.

The remaining butterbeer swishes circles at the bottom of the glass as Theo twists it with his wrist. A quiet yet fake laugh comes out of his mouth, if only to mix in with the loud, howl-like laughter surrounding him from whatever funny thing Blaise just said.

Merlin, I should've gotten a firewhiskey.

Though, he knows it would've been a bad idea. His tolerance for alcohol has grown concerningly high over the last few years, and he doesn't want to explain why he would've been fully functional after seven hard drinks while his friends would be well beyond wasted.

So he sips his butterbeer under the guise that he has an early morning the next day. If he had more observant friends, they would see through this excuse, but fortunately for him, they tend to miss a lot when it comes down to the quiet, chestnut haired lad whose mind is rarely on planet Earth.

"Oi. Space Cadet. Can you join us for a moment?"

Theo takes a casual drink from his glass as his eyes land on Malfoy.

"Give me something worth joining in on," He quips as he gently sets the glass back down on the table. The blond rolls his eyes as Mattheo and Blaise both let out a chuckle.

"We were just talking about the Harpies. Whether they'll make the cup," Mattheo explains just as the barmaid approaches with their refills. The fresh butterbeer is set down in front of Theo at the same time as he lets out his own laugh. A genuine one, this time.

"The Harpies will make the Cup the same day Malfoy stops bleaching his hair."

Now it's howling laughter from the two other lads as Malfoy slams his mug down on the table, pointing at Theo maliciously.

"Don't start your bullshit, Nott."

"I saw the bottle in your trunk, Malfoy. Third year. One never forgets."

"I don't bleach my fucking hair, and if you say it again, I'll make sure you can't see it ever again."

Theo doesn't miss a beat.

"Is that a promise?"

As Riddle and Zabini keep giggling, the alcohol already to their heads, Theo keeps his wits about him as he stares at the tip of Draco's finger that's still only inches from his face.

"Stand down, Malfoy," Blaise finally interjects. "You've become entirely too serious since getting hitched."

The silver band on that left fourth finger glints in the dim lighting as Draco pulls his arm back down towards his lap. Despite his recoil at the scolding, his eyes don't quite stop glaring their daggers towards Theo, who takes another unbothered sip of his drink.

"Maybe it helped me grow up. Someone should take a page out of that book."

Theo feels his fingers tense around the glass, the heat rushing to his cheeks.

Prick.

Absolute wanker.

Dead man walking.

If my life hadn't fallen apart, I would've been married by now. Maybe I'd even have kids.

A wave of nausea hits him at the thought. Instinctively, his eyes shift to look at the door, as his mind searches for his excuse to leave. If his shift in demeanour isn't obvious to every person at the table, it definitely is to Mattheo, who quickly clears his throat.

"Anyone hear about the hunt for whoever's trying to replicate the time turners?"

Theo's entire body ceases, his throat trapping any sound or breath from escaping, meanwhile his brain starts to race at speeds he has never experienced before. The conversation shifts to this topic as Theo desperately tries to remember how to breathe.

"What's the hold up?" Blaise questions before he empties his glass. Mattheo does the same while lifting his shoulders into a shrug.

"Whoever is doing it, they've covered their tracks quite well. But the Ministry has their best people trying to find them before they're able to muck up anything."

A quiet murmur fills the silence of the table. Sweat beads Theo's forehead as he accidentally chugs his entire glass. No one appears to notice, to his relief.

"How are they able to track that?" Malfoy asks curiously as he drums his fingers against the wood top table.

"A time turner has an Hour Reversal charm encased in the centre," Mattheo explains. "The Ministry is alerted every time one is cast, but whoever is doing it has protected themselves so much that their location is damn near impossible to track." Mattheo pauses to take a drink before he continues. "If it wasn't so infuriating, I'd be impressed."

A slight smirk crosses Malfoy's face before he says, "I take it the 'Ministry's best people' includes your team?"

Mattheo rolls his eyes, though the slight pink hue that covers his cheeks is unmissable. Despite him being nothing like his father, Mattheo has always been slightly embarrassed by his position in the Ministry. While Zabini, Malfoy and Theo all view it as a growth and a middle finger to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, Mattheo sometimes views it as a betrayal, though he only mentions it after he's hit a certain point of inebriation.

"It is a job for the Misuse of Magic department, in my opinion. So yeah, the best people include my team."

Silence fills the table as everyone takes a sip of their drinks. Theo swallows the lump in his throat.

And then he speaks.

"Any evidence that they've been successful?"

The table turns to look at him, and he does his best to appear casual when he shrugs.

"Just curious."

Mattheo shakes his head.

"We'll be alerted if they actually go back," He explains. "Which will lead to their arrest, if they continue to use the Hour Reversal charm."

"Doesn't that only go back five hours?" Blaise asks, receiving a nod from the curly haired man to his right. Theo can feel the impending panic rising in his chest, but he swallows it down.

In theory, it's only five hours.

But with a little tampering, it's longer.

Not that I would know.

No sir.

"Not unless they do something to strengthen the spell," Mattheo says casually. "Like some sort of potion. Or enchanting the sand in the Hourglass."

Theo's face goes slack, and it feels like his entire body grows hot.

There it is.

That epiphany.

His eyes fall back onto Mattheo, the room glowing in a new light as a chill slowly trails down through his extremities and his fingers and toes.

Instinctively, Theo tries to stand before he realises he's in the corner seat of the booth. The rest of the table looks at him in surprise.

"Nott?" Malfoy asks as Theo uses the table and the ledge behind the seat to launch himself over Mattheo and the booth, out into the aisle, only making their shock grow further.

"Fuck, sorry I forgot. I need to- I have-" He stammers, knowing full well nothing he says will be able to explain his sudden change in demeanour. The looks on their faces are the same sort of looks they'd have if he had stripped down in front of them and started screaming like a banshee. He closes his eyes, putting his hands out in front of him as he takes a second to calm down. When he speaks again, it's with less urgency. "I need to go."

And with that, Theo turns and sprints out of the Three Broomsticks.

Before the door swings shut behind him, he can make out Mattheo's distant voice shouting his name. But if any of the lads make any attempt to follow, Theo moves too fast for them to have any sort of success. Once out of the village, Theo apparates back home.

Where he stays for almost ninety six straight hours.

He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. He barely leaves his office to use the bathroom. And he definitely doesn't shower.

Theo's marathon is filled with work. The spell strengthening potion alone takes sixteen hours to brew, needing close management. And that was after all of the work he needed to put in in order to put the potion together. Meanwhile, he does an appalling amount of research, scouring text upon text about how one would enchant the sand. When he comes up with next to nothing after twelve hours worth of reading, he moves on to Plan B.

He starts to create his own spells.

It's not the first time Theo's dabbled in spell creation, but it is the first time it's something that's more serious than trying to make Malfoy's farts come out as actual bubbles. (A failed experiment, much to his thirteen year old self's detriment.) But this time is different. Hanging over the desk where he works is the picture of his motivation. And every time he starts to feel like he's failing, he looks up at the picture and a new resolve fills him.

Because he can't fail.

Failing isn't and never will be an option.

Every botched attempt leads to more research. Every new piece of information brings him that much closer.

Until, after almost ninety six hours of what he thought was going to lead to nothing, the moment is here.

He pulls the time turner out of the cauldron, and he can feel it. Despite having used the tongs to pull it out from the potion, Theo can feel the silver metals vibrating with magic, and that's how he knew.

It worked.

His hands tremble in the same manner as he reaches to touch it, almost hesitant from the anxiety that is running rampant in his head. But when his fingertips graze the warmth of the metal, nothing happens. Nothing changes. He looks around the room for a brief moment before looking back down at the makeshift Time Turner in his hands.

Spinning his chair around and leaning back, he examines the creation. His mind is quick to resume his doubts that it didn't work, despite the pure confidence he had just a moment before. Couldn't have worked. Because nothing he's done in the last few years has.

And yet.

There's only one way to find out.

Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he props it up on his knee before he turns the screen on.

And then, he gives the spindle in his hand a turn to the right.

Theo can feel his heart stop as he watches the minutes on his phone go down with every tick of the Time Turner.

It worked.

It actually fucking worked.

A tsunami of emotions runs through Theo, overwhelming him so strongly that he has to turn back around to lean on his desk. For a moment, he lays his head on the desk, in the cradle that is his arms, basking in the darkness as he takes three long, deep breaths.

And then he looks up to the picture on the wall.

To his motivation. To the one he's been working for.

To the picture of you.

"Did you see that, pretty girl?" He asks in a gentle voice.

The spell hits your chest.

And the life leaves your eyes.

His voice is a little choked as he raises the Time Turner to the picture on the wall, wishing once again it was actually you and not just a moving idea behind a piece of paper.

"I'm coming for you."

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #harry potter #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fanfiction #golden trio era #golden trio era fanfiction

345 notes · View notes

pixiefelixie · 1 year ago

Text

"Real smooth, Seungmin"

pairing — bf!seungmin x f!reader; established relationship

word count — 1.8k

warnings — she/her reader, flirty seungmin, terrible jokes

summary — you and seungmin's main love language has always being sarcasm and jokes. a tired day from work can't even stop you two.

"Seungmin," a gentle voice called, coaxing him out of his slumber. "We've arrived."

Seungmin's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the comforting sight of his home through the windshield. Glancing around, he spotted his manager wearing a warm smile. With a slight pout, Seungmin leaned onto his manager's shoulder, who affectionately patted the puppy's head as though he were his beloved little brother.

"So tired," Seungmin mumbled, still half-asleep, his eyes remaining closed.

His manager chuckled, causing his body to shake against Seungmin's head.

"M' sorry you had to drive me home so late," Seungmin added.

"Don't worry about it; I'm a night person," the manager replied.

"I know you're just saying that," Seungmin laughed.

His manager rolled his eyes. "Go inside now and get some rest in a real bed," he urged, shooing Seungmin away.

Seungmin nodded, grabbing his backpack before exiting the car. Leaning down towards the window, he gave his manager a playful wave. The manager patiently waited until Seungmin safely entered the house before driving away.

As Seungmin stepped inside the house, he was greeted by the glow of lights that immediately made him squint. The stark contrast between the darkness outside and the awakening played tricks on his eyes.

"Seungmin?" your voice called from the kitchen.

You approached the front door with a glass of water in hand. As Seungmin's eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, you became clear to his view. His gaze swept over you, taking in the unexpected sight of your figure adorned in a short tight dark dress, unfamiliar jewelry, and styled hair.

"Y/n, I thought you'd be asleep," Seungmin remarked.

"No, I actually just got back home," you replied with an awkward smile.

"Where did you go?"

"I was kind of bored at home, so I went out to the club with friends."

"Ah, I see," he nodded, setting his things down.

Although you shared a living space, the hectic schedule of the comeback season had kept you apart for about two weeks. He returned home late and left early, your paths crossing only while you were asleep. Observing him now, it seemed like he had lost the sparkle in his eyes, his complexion was paler, and his voice carried an air of exhaustion.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Make sure to sing while you're at it," you grinned, as if you were the world's funniest person.

He shot you a look that suggested otherwise.

"Cause you're Seungmin—" you started explaining your terrible joke.

"Yeah, I got that," he chuckled, walking past you and ruffling your hair.

Following him upstairs, you parted ways as he headed to the bathroom. In your bedroom, you changed out of your uncomfortable dress into pyjamas. You then entered the bathroom, where Seungmin was showering, and the humid air hit you. you were a suddenly met with Seungmin singing his heart out in random vowels that didn't sound like words. You stifled a laugh as you started removing your makeup, doing your skincare routine, and brushing your hair. You kept on having to wipe the mirror repeatedly due to the steam from Seungmin's shower.

When Seungmin finally turned off the water and emerged from the shower, he shrieked upon seeing you, prompting a giggle from you.

"You can't just pop in like this; you scared me," he complained while towel-drying his hair.

You looked down, smiling to yourself at his reaction. Your gaze lifted when he wrapped a towel around his bare hips. He came up beside you as you patted moisturizer into your skin.

"Gimme some," he whispered.

You squeezed a bit out of the container, and he turned to face you. Applying little dabs of it across his soft face, you began to rub it in gently with your fingers. Once it was absorbed, you used the excess cream on your hands to glide along his bare neck and shoulders.

Seungmin continued to stand there, eyes closed, as you gently massaged his muscles. As your fingers traced along his features, he let out a content sigh, and leaned his head against your shoulder.

You chuckled, "Feeling tired, are we?"

"I might be more exhausted than I thought," he admitted with a small smile.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a gentle hug. "Well, you're home now. You can relax."

He mumbled, "I missed this."

"What, my amazing skincare routine?" you teased.

"No, the shoulder to lean on," he replied, opening his eyes to meet yours.

"Real smooth, Seungmin." you smirked, patting his back. "But you're lucky I enjoy having you around."

Seungmin scoffed playfully, "Who wouldn't? I'm a delight."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," you retorted, continuing to pat his back.

You two stayed like that for a while, the warmth of the hug and the soft hum of the bathroom fan creating a comforting atmosphere. You felt Seungmin's weight against you grow heavier, and a soft snore escaped his lips. You couldn't help but laugh quietly.

"Fallen asleep in a bathroom, huh?" you whispered, gently patting his back.

"No, I'm not," he mumbled, clearly half-asleep.

"You're too tired," you replied, your voice gentle. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

You managed to guide Seungmin to the bedroom, his arm draped over your shoulder. As you helped him settle into bed, you threw him a pair of boxers to sleep in.

While putting them on after removing his towel, he muttered, "You're like my mom, aren't you?"

"Someone has to take care of you," you teased.

"Guess I'm lucky it's you," he said with a sleepy smile.

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Get some rest, Seungmin."

"Goodnight, Y/n," he murmured, already drifting off.

"Goodnight, Seungmin," you whispered pressing a light kiss on his lips.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Seungmin's phone emitted a soft ding. You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to disturb his peace, but concern won over. You approached the bedside table, intending to turn off notifications, when you noticed a message from Chan on the screen.

Of course, Chan wasn't asleep yet. You didn't want to disturb Seungmin, but the possibility of it being something important nagged at you. Carefully, you leaned over and softly mentioned, "Chan texted you, by the way."

Seungmin, still half-asleep, hummed in acknowledgment, turning his body towards his phone. Satisfied that you did your part, you quietly left the room, closing the door behind you and making your way into your room.

As you sat on the bed, reaching over to turn off the lamp, the door suddenly burst open. Seungmin walked in, smiling widely, and you couldn't help but be both confused and amused at his unexpected burst of energy.

You couldn't help but laugh along with Seungmin, his infectious giggles breaking the silence of the room. "What's going on? Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

Seungmin, still chuckling, tried to compose himself. "The 7 am show got cancelled."

"Is that a good thing?" you inquired.

"Silly you, of course it is! That means I'm free the whole day!" He exclaimed, collapsing on the bed with you.

"Poor them. What if something happened? It's a little mean that you're celebrating." you said, half teasing.

"Oh, shut up, Y/n!" he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

You couldn't resist pushing the playful banter a little further. "Oh Seungmin, what are you going to do with a whole day off anyways? Besides napping—"

Before you could fire back another teasing remark, Seungmin surprised you by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, effectively silencing any further banter. Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and then you couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

Seungmin pulled away with a smirk, "I'll spend the day bickering like an old couple with you."

You chuckled, "Fair enough."

But Seungmin wasn't done. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he pushed you down against the bed, capturing your lips in another kiss. This time, he laughed into the kiss, and you couldn't help but join in, the light and joyous sound creating a playful and affectionate atmosphere.

As the laughter subsided, Seungmin propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with a teasing grin. "You know, you looked really hot in that dress tonight."

You gave him a sly smile. "Flattery won't get you out of chores tomorrow, you know."

Seungmin chuckled, undeterred. "I'd say it was worth a shot, though.” He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "But seriously, you must've turned heads."

You feigned surprise. "How'd you know? Some guy actually did hit on me at the club."

Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, a touch of possessiveness flickering in his eyes. "Really? What did he do?"

You laughed, "Oh, the usual stuff."

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, "Spill."

"How are you suddenly alert, Seungmin? Weren't falling asleep on me a few minutes ago."

"I got excited so I'm wide awake." He paused. "Now tell me what happened, darling".

Rolling your eyes, you gave in to his curiosity. "Let's just say he tried to dance on me. But I handled it. He was bad at dancing too."

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, “I’m glad you’re okay.” He said while gently rubbing your arm. “But bad dancing? Now that's a crime."

You laughed, "Well, at least he's a better dancer than you." You (obviously) joked.

He put his hand against his chest, taken aback. "Wow, I'm jealous of this guy, Y/n. He's stealing you away from me." He said, almost way too sarcastically.

You nudged him, "Oh, please. As if you're the jealous type."

Seungmin leaned in closer, his tone low and teasing. "Maybe you just haven't given me a reason to be jealous yet."

"Real smooth, Seungmin." You commented as he chuckled.

Seungmin's gaze softened, and he hesitated for a moment before asking, "Y/n, can I stay here tonight?"

You looked at him, your expression a mix of surprise and amusement. "Why tonight?"

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Cause it's my day off tomorrow."

"Okay? That doesn't explain much," you remarked, raising an eyebrow. "Why not on your work nights?"

Seungmin, always quick with his words, leaned in a bit closer, a smooth smile playing on his lips. "Because I wouldn't be able to get out of bed every morning if you were next to me."

You blinked, caught off guard by his unexpectedly sweet words. "Well, someone's turning on the charm tonight."

Seungmin chuckled, "Say it, Y/n."

"Real smooth, Seungmin," you teased, unable to hide the smile on your face.

He playfully rolled his eyes, "I try my best."

1K notes · View notes

lennadanvers · 1 year ago

Text

Three times Simon wanted to hug you (and the one time he did)

I wrote this for ao3 originally. I'm working on the final part, so I thought I'd start reposting here in the meantime. I hope someone likes it. I feed on comments btw. Just leaving that there.

Ghost’d had missions go badly before… No, scratch that. He had been part of missions that had gone terribly. Some he had barely survived. A lot had failed. That just happens.

Still, he felt like shit.

He was familiar with the feeling. He didn’t understand it, though. Everyone in his team had made it out alive. Even more than that, there had been only a couple minor injuries. That was a luxury he had learned to appreciate. Yes, the target they were supposed to find and bring back to base was laying, dead, on the floor of the helicopter. It wasn’t an especially gruesome sight, either. One shot at the back, most of the blood was still wet on the floor of the enemy base. Ghost had seen people practically turned inside out; this was almost as pleasant at it could get.

He had been dragging the target. The target, because they didn’t have a name. They never did. It had been a person. A very well informed person, if he had to guess, based on the urgency to get them back. Now they were a corpse. They had made the transition in his arms. He hadn’t even realized the target had bled out until they were already flying back.

Price wasn’t going to be happy, but he knew how the job was. Casualties were expected. At least the target wasn’t in anybody else’s hands.

Ghost looked down at his own. His gloves were dirty. If he flexed his fingers, he’d feel the stickiness of the blood. He knew the feeling well enough to be certain that the burning of the cold water of the sink wouldn’t erase it.

The movement of the helicopter landing made him look up. He jumped over the body of the target and stepped out. The sun didn’t touch his skin, completely covered in military grade fabric. But he felt it nonetheless.

His eyes, used to scanning his surroundings, had found you standing at the edge of the helipad. You were right next to the medics, ready to help save the corpse he had dragged here. Suddenly, Ghost became aware of every little sore and tense spot in his body. He had always thought you were capable. Your hands were smaller than his, more delicate- everyone’s were- but still ruthless and unwavering. He took a deep breath and wondered how long it would take you to get rid of all the knots in his back.

Your neck looked pretty, too. No, not pretty. He almost shook his head. Inviting. Warm. Your blood was close to the surface there, but still hidden. Where it belonged. He tore his gloves off, struggling with the stickiness.

Ghost didn’t cry. It wasn’t a matter of pride, or toughness. He had simply forgotten how to. But he started to walk towards you and felt the heat flooding his throat. The closer he got, the smaller you looked and the more pathetic he felt. His boots dragged him across the cement; yours were steady, still. Clean. He was covered in dirt. Another step and he was almost at arms reach. His uniform was itchy. He hadn’t noticed that since he was a rookie. And his holsters were tight, Ghost made sure of that.

Would you hold him tighter?

Would you be warm? Warmer than the target? You’d feel alive.

You’d smell of your shampoo- he had grown used to its fragrance in the showers: it lingered and overpowered his unscented one, even if you had left hours ago. It reminded him of warm, cleansing water. Of the feeling of being bare.

He shook his head. The mask was getting uncomfortable. Your skin looked so soft, though. He blinked. Your collarbone against his lashes. The idea made him inhale deeply.

Another step and he was next to you. You smiled at him; not a big smile, rather a small, confused one. Ghost stared at you for a second, the tears stabbing his throat. All he could do, head ducking as if aiming to hide in your neck, was to shake his head.

Then another step and he kept walking to his barracks: back still tense, nose still burning with the smell of gunpowder, hands itching with dry blood.

Part 2

#cod #fanfiction #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #ao3 #hug #simon needs a hug #poor gigantic military man is touch deprived #and emotionally constipated

482 notes · View notes

xo-cod · 1 year ago

Note

Cockwarming simon and having a casual conversation but can't stop kissing and touching each other and moving a little bit so it's just talking about the most mundane stuff while kissing and moaning mid convo

i fell in love w this and it's so :") i hope you enjoy love.

cw: cockwarming, ooc/soft simon, rushed (but i can def go into more detail if you want 😵‍💫)

nothing in the world belongs to me but my love is mine, all mine

work had been tough.

it always was but this week had been incredibly difficult on him. not to mention with the fact that both of you had been so busy there hadn't been time for much of anything. he didn't think he could miss a person more, didn't think he could desire a person more than you. he all but rushed home, ignoring the looks from price and gaz and the call from johnny. he could deal with it all tomorrow, his mind and heart were after one thing. after one person.

and there you were, cuddled on the bed the remote in your hands as your eyes watched the movie mindlessly. the light illuminating your features making the moment that much more intimate. he definitely broke some rules on his drive over back home but it was all worth it, for this beautiful moment here.

"what's on?" his deep voice fills the air and your head turns, a soft chuckle leaving your lips when you see him pad through and feel the bed shift underneath his weight to come closer to you

"some rom com" came your answer and a soft laugh falls from his scarred lips, settling in right beside you.

"should've waited for me" he hummed, his fingers pulling off his skull balaclava as he took a soft breath in. humming in contentment when his lips meet your warm skin, nuzzling deep into your neck. you figured he would settle down, turn his tired eyes to the tv and watch with you until sleep ultimately claimed his body. though in your arms now, he was fidgeting and fussing unable to get close. somehow he couldn't seem to get comfortable and with a soft grunt, pulled back a little and eyed your pajamas as if they had offended him terribly

"can you... take these off, love? please?" he asked tiredly, already tugging on the hem of your top while his eyes flicked back to yours again

"you want it off?" you clarify and he nods, brown eyes burning with emotion while he shifts further into you even if he had been pressed so close to your body there hadn't been a slither of space available. and when you give him the nod of approval, his hands reach out and gently pull your top over your head. his palms skimming your warm body with delight, pressing his face closer as he peppers lazy kisses all across your chest and neck

"long day?" your tone is gentle, your arms around his neck as they gently scratch the back of his neck making him shiver with bliss. it had been one of weak spots and he adored how much you used it to your advantage

"long long day" came his response, a soft groan falling from his lips when he stretches his back a little, big hands roaming every expanse of skin he could reach. but still, even this wasn't enough for him.

"need you, need to be inside you lovie" he murmured softly, caging you securely inside his huge arms and being so close, you can smell his musk tinged with his cologne, your body reacting on autopilot. as if you couldn't deny the sweet man in your arms of anything anyway

simon's body finally relaxed for once throughout this long terrible day, arms wound closely around you. his lips nudge yours, his lips battling yours trying to steal your breath and hold it hostage with his lips. he drank in your sounds, his tongue swiping your lower lip as it dipped into your mouth

he nudged your legs apart with his knee, fingers hooked over the waistband of your underwear before he tugged it down and delicately placed it on the side of the bed. the head of his cock rubbed against the wetness of your slit. he loved teasing himself for a second or so, knowing just how good your wetness would feel around him. he could've got drunk high of this feeling every time, you never disappointed him.

a small groan when he pushes his hips a little, relishing in the way you already clenched around him. he's usually composed even through the highs of euphoria but it had been too damn long, a soft whimper escapes him at just how good you feel. he's not ghost, he's not someone that has to be in control right now. he's relinquished it all up to you, he's just someone that wants to be in the throes of pleasure again and again.

"christ, y'feel so bloody good baby" his breathing was laboured, words slurring softly as his eyes closed almost immediately when his hips thrust the slightest bit. it's not meant to be sexual tonight, he just needed to feel grounded and closer to you. he pushes until he bottomed out, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other came to the back of your neck to kiss you tenderly again and again. his face pressed in the crook of your neck as if it had been made for him, his breathing slowing down as his body calmed down for the first time that day.

"s'all yours lovie, m'yours" he could barely keep his eyes open, snuggled up close enjoying your warmth. finally feeling safe between your arms and the blanket wrapped around him

#asks #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader smut

577 notes · View notes

ruewrote · 4 months ago

Text

𝑗𝑎𝑐𝑜𝑏 𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠.

navigation | ask | the quarry masterlist

protective, but in the sweetest way:

– jacob is definitely the type to keep an eye on you, not in an overbearing way but more like a silent guardian. he knows you can handle yourself, but he can’t help but worry sometimes, especially after everything that’s happened at hackett’s quarry.

– he’s always the first to throw his arm around your shoulders or stand a little too close when things start to feel sketchy, but he does it with a casualness that makes it feel comforting, like a constant reminder that he’s got your back.

affectionate goof:

– jacob shows his love through physical affection, whether it’s ruffling your hair, giving you playful shoulder bumps, or sneaking up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and spin you around.

– he loves making you laugh, often telling terrible jokes just to see your smile and when you do laugh, he grins proudly to himself.

endless compliments:

– jacob’s never shy about telling you how beautiful you are. whether you’re dressed up or just lounging in sweats, he’s always got something sweet to say.

– “how’d i get so lucky, huh?” he’ll ask with a lopsided smile, pulling you into his lap as he playfully pretends to think about it. “seriously though, you’re gorgeous.”

casual dates:

– jacob’s idea of the perfect date is something relaxed and fun, like a late night drive, a picnic by the lake or binge watching a dumb reality show together.

– he loves the idea of little adventures, like spontaneous road trips to nowhere, and insists on pulling over to explore random spots just to make memories with you.

secretly a hopeless romantic:

– even though he’s a bit of a jock and acts all cool, jacob has a soft side when it comes to you. he loves surprising you with random little things. flowers he picked himself, your favorite snacks, or even handwritten notes he leaves around the house.

– sometimes, when you’re lying together he’ll get quiet and just stare at you, thinking about how lucky he is. when you catch him, he’ll just blush and pull you closer, mumbling something like, “can’t help it, you’re too cute.”

jealous, but playful:

– jacob can get a little jealous, but he tries to laugh it off. if someone’s flirting with you, he’ll come up and drape himself over you, saying something like, “hey, babe, didn’t see you talking to this random person here.”

– you’ll tease him about it, but he knows it’s all in good fun. he trusts you completely, but he also loves any excuse to show everyone that you’re his.

cuddling is a must:

– no matter where you are. whether it’s the couch, a hammock or even on the grass under the stars. he’ll pull you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

– he loves resting his head on top of yours or tangling his legs with yours, making sure you’re close enough to feel his warmth. it’s one of the ways he feels most connected to you.

late night talks:

– jacob loves those deep, quiet conversations that happen late at night when you’re both half asleep. you’ll be lying in bed and he’ll start talking about the future or random dreams he’s had.

– sometimes he gets a little vulnerable in these moments, telling you about his fears, his insecurities, and his hopes and you always reassure him, which means alot to him.

playful banter and competition:

– jacob loves a bit of friendly competition and he’ll challenge you to silly things like arm wrestling, races.

– of course, he’ll always let you win (he’ll pretend he wasn’t trying), just to see you smile.

not so secretly sentimental:

– despite his sometimes goofy exterior, jacob holds onto little mementos from your time together. he keeps a collection of photos, random doodles you’ve made, even concert tickets from dates.

– one time, you found him staring at a photo of you two and when you asked about it, he just smiled softly and said, “this one’s my favourite.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

107 notes · View notes

n1ght0f-nyx · 7 months ago

Text

mha boys asking you out pt2/3

warnings/tags: cliffhanger, all mights fully retired in this one, more fanon way of acting than canon ngl, i dont think there's other warnings other than that- feel free to dm me if you notice a common warning that could affect someone characters: touya todoroki (dabi), tomura shigaraki, himiko toga, Jin Bubaigawara (twice) Toshinori Yagi (all might), Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada (present mic)

Dabi/Touya todoroki The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that made me feel like the world had paused just for a moment. The stars overhead seemed to twinkle more brightly than usual, casting a soft glow over the abandoned rooftop I often found myself on when I needed to think. Tonight, though, I wasn’t alone.

Dabi was there, leaning against the edge of the rooftop, his usual smirk absent. His turquoise eyes seemed deeper tonight, filled with something I couldn't quite place. He had asked me to meet him here, and curiosity had compelled me to come, even though a part of me felt uneasy.

"Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble that always sent shivers down my spine. "Thanks for coming."

I nodded, my heart beating a little faster than usual. "Of course. You sounded like you had something important to say."

He glanced away for a moment, staring out at the cityscape before taking a deep breath. "I’ve never been good at this sort of thing," he began, and I could see a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "Being open. Being... honest."

I took a step closer, my curiosity piqued. "Dabi, what’s going on?"

He ran a hand through his unruly black and white hair, his usual confidence seemingly slipping away. "Look, this isn’t easy for me. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t care. You... you mean something to me, Y/N. More than anyone else ever has."

My heart skipped a beat. I had always sensed there was something more between us, but hearing him say it was a different matter entirely. "Dabi..."

He held up a hand, stopping me. "Just let me finish. I’ve done a lot of bad things, things I’m not proud of. But you make me want to be better. For you. I don’t know if I can, but I want to try. If you’ll let me."

His words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I could hardly breathe. I took a step closer, my hand reaching out to touch his. "Dabi, I..."

He looked at me, hope and fear mingling in his eyes. "Will you be with me, Y/N? Can you give me a chance?"

Tomura shigaraki

The sky was overcast as I walked through the city streets, the chill in the air a stark contrast to the warmth I felt inside. It had been a strange few weeks, getting to know Tomura Shigaraki. The notorious villain had always seemed so distant, so untouchable. But there was something different about him when it was just the two of us.

I turned the corner and saw him waiting by our usual meeting spot, a small café tucked away from prying eyes. His white hair was as unruly as ever, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tattered coat. Despite his intimidating appearance, there was a nervous energy about him that I hadn't seen before.

"Hey," I greeted him with a smile, trying to lighten the tension I could feel in the air.

He glanced up at me, his crimson eyes softening just a fraction. "Hey," he replied, almost hesitantly.

We settled into our usual booth inside the café, the warm lighting casting a gentle glow over us. I sipped my coffee, stealing glances at him over the rim of my cup. There was something on his mind, something he was struggling to say.

"Y/N," he began, his voice unusually quiet, even with his raspy tone, "There's something I need to tell you."

I set my cup down, my heart starting to race. "What is it, Tomura?"

He took a deep breath, his fingers drumming nervously on the table. "I know I'm not the easiest person to be around. I've done things... terrible things. But being with you, it's like I can forget all of that, even if just for a little while."

I felt a lump form in my throat. I knew his past, the darkness that surrounded him, but there was something undeniably human in his words.

"I... I like you, Y/N," he continued, his eyes locking onto mine. "I don't know if I deserve it, but I want to be with you." (twice) jin Bubaigawara

As I sat in the dimly lit hideout, the usual buzz of the League of Villains surrounded me. Toga was busy sharpening her knives, a twisted grin on her face as she hummed a cheerful tune. I was lost in my thoughts, barely paying attention to the world around me, when Twice suddenly appeared beside me. His presence was hard to ignore, not just because of his dual personality but because he always had this chaotic energy that filled any room.

"Hey, Y/N!" he exclaimed, his voice teetering between excitement and anxiety. "Got a minute? Or two? Maybe a few?"

I looked up, meeting his masked gaze. "Sure, Twice. What's up?"

He fidgeted, scratching the back of his head. "So, uh, I was thinking... or maybe not thinking... or maybe overthinking... but there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

My curiosity piqued. Twice was usually so straightforward, yet he seemed genuinely nervous. "Go on," I encouraged.

"Okay, here it goes. Or maybe it doesn’t. No, it does! I mean..." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Y/N, would you like to... go out with me sometime? Like on a date? Maybe grab some food, cause you know, villains gotta eat too!"

His words tumbled out in a rush, and I couldn't help but smile. Twice was always endearing in his own way, and his nervousness made him even more so. I considered his offer for a moment, but it wasn't a difficult decision.

future! Toshinori Yagi (all might) It had been one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. My alarm didn’t go off, I spilled coffee on my shirt, and my boss was in a particularly foul mood. By the time I finally made it to the coffee shop down the street, I felt completely drained. I just wanted a moment to breathe and enjoy a cup of coffee without any interruptions.

I found a cozy corner and settled in with my drink, the warm aroma already beginning to soothe my frazzled nerves. As I took my first sip, I noticed a man in the line who seemed oddly familiar. He was tall but noticeably thin, with unruly blond hair and tired eyes. He looked like he had seen better days, yet there was something undeniably kind about his demeanor.

After getting his coffee, he glanced around the room and, to my surprise, made his way over to my table.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice gentle yet strong, "is this seat taken?"

I shook my head, gesturing for him to sit. "No, go ahead."

He smiled gratefully and took the seat across from me. For a moment, we sat in comfortable silence, sipping our coffees and watching the world go by.

"I'm Toshinori," he finally said, extending his hand. "Toshinori Yagi."

I introduced myself and we began to chat. He had a way of making me feel at ease, and I found myself laughing at his stories about the city and its quirks. There was something almost nostalgic about the way he spoke, like he had lived a thousand lives.

As our conversation flowed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew him from somewhere. It wasn’t until he mentioned something about "saving the day" that it clicked.

"Wait a minute," I said, narrowing my eyes playfully. "Are you some kind of hero?"

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made my heart skip a beat. "Not exactly. I used to be...involved in that sort of thing. Now I just try to help out where I can."

Before I could probe further, he changed the subject, asking about my day and listening intently as I recounted my morning mishaps. It was refreshing to have someone genuinely interested in my mundane stories.

As the conversation wound down, Toshinori leaned forward slightly, a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"You know," he began, "I've really enjoyed talking with you. It’s rare to meet someone who can brighten my day like this. I was wondering if... maybe you'd like to do this again sometime? Perhaps dinner?"

I blinked in surprise, my heart fluttering at his words. "Are you asking me out on a date, Toshinori?"

He nodded, a hopeful smile on his face. "Yes, I suppose I am." Shota Aizawa

It was a quiet afternoon at U.A. High, the kind of peaceful lull that’s rare in our line of work. I was tidying up the training room, lost in thoughts about the next set of exercises for my students when I heard a familiar, tired voice behind me.

"Y/N," Shota Aizawa, or Eraser Head as most knew him, called out.

I turned around, finding him leaning against the doorframe, his eyes half-lidded but focused on me. There was always something intriguing about Aizawa. Maybe it was his calm demeanour, or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with such stoic grace. Whatever it was, he always managed to capture my attention.

"Hey, Aizawa. What's up?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

He straightened up, walking towards me with that usual, unhurried pace. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he said, his voice low and steady.

I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach. It wasn’t often that Aizawa sought me out for personal conversations. We worked well together, respected each other as heroes, but this felt different.

"Sure, what's on your mind?" I asked, putting down the training equipment and giving him my full attention.

He paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "I know we’ve both been busy with our duties here and in the field. But I’ve realized something. Spending time with you, working alongside you, it’s become... important to me...you're important to me"

My heart skipped a beat. Was he really saying what I thought he was?

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. "I’d like to get to know you better, outside of work. Would you be interested in having dinner with me?"

For a moment, I was speechless. Shota Aizawa, the stoic and composed hero, was asking me out.

Hizashi Yamada I stood in the middle of the bustling common room of the hero agency, flipping through a stack of mission reports. The sound of chatter and the occasional ring of a phone filled the air, blending into a familiar, comforting hum. I was so absorbed in my work that I almost didn't notice when the noise quieted down slightly, replaced by a distinct, upbeat voice that always managed to stand out.

"Hey, Y/N! Got a minute?" Hizashi Yamada, better known as Present Mic, called out as he approached me with his trademark grin.

I looked up from the papers, feeling a smile tug at the corners of my lips. "Sure thing, Hizashi. What's up?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of nervousness in his usually confident demeanor. "Well, there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Curiosity piqued, I set the reports aside and gave him my full attention. "Go ahead. What's on your mind?"

Hizashi took a deep breath, his eyes sparkling with determination. "So, I've been thinking... we've been working together for a while now, and I really enjoy our time together. You're awesome, Y/N, and I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, I was stunned. Hizashi was always full of surprises, but this was unexpected. I felt a warmth spread through my chest as I processed his words. "You want to go out with me?"

He nodded, his grin widening. "Yeah! I think you're amazing, and I'd love to get to know you better outside of work."

182 notes · View notes

pruneunfair · 6 months ago

Text

Rating female leads in manhwa.

Navier

6/10, I absolutely hate her writting and has devolved into a mary sue who only reacts to everything around her while her mass of supporters never shut up about great she is. Her synopsis claiming her as someone who loves all her subjects gets contradicted when its shown she doesnt really care about the slaves.

BUT in season 1 she wasn't bad, I liked her resolve and it was when she actually cared for her people, I feel like if we got to see a clear backstory beyond "she wasn't allowed outside when she studied to be empress" I would understand her total apathy more.

Ariande

7/10, I adore villains, especially villainous protagonists and at first I liked the idea she wouldn't be any better than her family but still had a soft spot for Arabella, she loses a few points because it turns out she's excused for killing people before in the name of "love" and is viewed as someone who can do no wrong.

Adelaide

10/10, she's like Navier but better, she has more noticeable flaws and while she is a kick ass warrior during the tower arcs she still is human and can't always take it alone without consequences, she acknowledges Diane's struggles and makes an effort not to be her enemy and is proof that you dont need to make FL overpowered gods to be strong women. A beautifully made FL in a underrated story

Robellia

1/10, She doesn't divorce her husband despite the title literally being "I will divorce my tyrant husband." But that's more of a problem in most other manhwa. She's too much of a perfect epic goddess for me and most of all she does the whole "buying all the slaves but giving them a home." to make her look even better, what is with manhwa and inserting slavery for no other reason other than to make the FL look better?

Arianna

0/10, there is nothing good about her. Other than being a mary sue and a personality that only revolves around the latest sexy man, she legit forces another guy to join her haram by threatening diplomatic war on his kingdom and bodyshames her fiance but all of a sudden wants him more than ever when he loses weight, it took a random chick being inserted with a 🍇ist persona to make her look "better."

Yerenica

6/10, in any other story, this girl would've been despised by the fandom for being a homewreaker/pick me. She gives me so much second hand embarrassment but she's not terrible, I actually really like her design too. Not a fan of the kidnapper-hostage relationship she and the ML have though.

Pereshati

10/10, the best one here. She feels so much more human than the others on this list, she's got flaws, a relationship with the ML Therdeo that has both realistic progression, blunders, but overall healthy love, she also has relationships outside of her husband which I really love, I actually get scared for her when shes in danger instead of the usual "oh great, heres the typical kidnapping trope", a great motherly FL

Hestia

5/10 I will be easy on her since I just started reading my derelict favorite but I've only heard bad things about it through spoilers so I don't have much hope, also girl, please acknowledge that just because your favorite character did it for love doesn't mean he's absolved for murdering 2 people, thank you

Edith

9/10, my 3rd favorite on this list. You do not know how happy I was when instead of immediately viewing Rhyse as a rival to defeat, she was actually nice to her and the chapters of them were so sweet, she even acknowledges that it isn't anyone's fault for acting out but the author who is pulling the strings.

Layla

8/10, I feel so bad for this poor girl. For some reason I noticed on reddit and tiktok that she's getting hate for not standing up to herself or just not being the usual "girlboss" protagonist, did it not occur that she cant do much to a duke!? Layla deserves so much better and she needs to be far away from Matthias, I don't care if it's "dark romance" he is torturing her for his own pleasure.

#the remarried empress #sister i am the queen in this life #I will abdicate my title of empress #divorcing my tyrant husband #for my derelict favorite #The princesses jewels #my in laws are obsessed with me #not your typical reincarnation story #Seducing the villains father #cry or better yet beg

137 notes · View notes

lueurjun · 2 years ago

Text

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽

⋮ — 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗒! 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗑 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾: 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒.

note from lueurjun—i decided to take the other one down because i made a mistake. hopefully this one is better for you my love! — kinda long very sorry about that i got carried away

let’s start by saying jake is as terrified of you as he is smitten by you

he’s got this massive crush on you that started when you lent him a pencil in chemistry

the moment you passed it to him with fluttered lashes and a soft smile

BRO WAS GONE. DONE. DEAD.

you were singlehandedly the most attractive being he had ever had the pleasure of setting eyes on

and so from there he harboured a crush on you

but would admire you from afar because how the hell was he supposed to talk to you?

you were the most popular person on campus with friends in every class and admirers lurking around every corner

and he was just… jake

unbeknownst to him, you shared the exact same feelings

but thought he was unapproachable because he was always in a hurry to get to his next class and whilst he was friendly, he just didn’t seem like the type to entertain a crush

so you ignored each other

my favourite little dumb dumbs<3

at least you have one thing in common: you’re both terribly oblivious

it isn’t until you need help with chemistry

and your friend sunghoon (who is also jake’s friend) recommends him

wingman sunghoon because he can’t listen to jake cry about the way the sunlight kisses your skin in all the right places

and if he has to watch you drool over the back of jake’s head one more time he’s going to have to bash his head against a wall

SUNGHOON CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

he’s weirdly desperate for you to ask jake so, you bite down on your nerves and you approach him

poor jake almost chokes on his own tongue

‘hey jake, i’m y/n. we have chemistry’

‘w-you think so?’

‘what?’

cue sunghoon slamming a book against his head whilst watching the interaction from down the hall whilst jay covers his face in pure disbelief

however all three of them (including jake) are shocked that you didn’t walk away and ask someone else but actually… laughed?

and then called him cute? jake almost fainted on the spot

thankfully he recovers and agrees to help you out

sunghoon is a sneaky man so before you leave for the library, he slides a post it note into your chemistry notes when you aren’t looking

it reads: ‘will you go on a date with me?’

and jake sees it the moment you open the book

you’re mortified but you don’t scrunch up the post it?

instead, you muster up all of the confidence and look at jake for an answer

boy falls off his chair

no like seriously he falls out of his seat in pure shock

‘jake are you okay?’

‘just peachy please leave me here. this is embarrassing and i don’t want to get up’

when he finally does get up he’s very quick to accept the date

you both leave the library that day with blushy faces and new progress in your relationship

from then on sunghoon makes it his life’s work to remind you both that he’s the reason for your relationship

it’s been eight months and he still brings it up

‘put some respect on the matchmakers name. if it wasn’t for me the two of you would be knee deep in platonic town’

he’s not wrong though

boyfriend jake is still terrified of you

purely because you are just so loved by everyone and it’s quite daunting because it’s like you’re some kind of angel

he’s the best boyfriend though

if you do some kind of sport, he’s always there to cheer you on

and he’s the loudest in the stands

i can actually see jake being on a debate team for some reason and you think it’s the hottest thing ever

it gets you all hot and bothered sometimes

you drag sunghoon with you and he’s always just like ‘seriously? this is what you’re into?? are you okay??’

but you’re not even listening to him, far too focused on jake with a pink tint to your cheeks

jake gives off major golden retriever energy

always has this puppy dog look whenever he’s talking to you and sometimes you can’t stop yourself from caressing his cheeks and planting the biggest kiss on his lips

which always makes him blush

everyone on campus still can’t believe the two of you are dating

it was such a weird dynamic at first but slowly people started to really ship it

you with your halo above your head saying hi to everyone you see whilst your golden retriever boyfriend follows after you with major heart eyes

the cutest little couple i love you both pls invite me to your wedding

jake definitely purchased matching rings but was scared to give you yours in case you thought he was weird

you found it in his pocket of the hoodie he lent you and you absolutely fell in love

it becomes your personality and you show it to everyone with no shame

‘check it. my boyfriend bought us matching rings isn’t he perfect?’

‘you’ve shown me eight times. if i see it one more time i’m yanking it off your finger’

^ jay might be a little bitter that jake got a partner before him

you slip little love notes and hearts into his chemistry books and he saves them in a little box and reads them when he’s sad

cuddles galore. this man is the affection monster

not that you’re complaining but sometimes your bladder is too full to have a huge puppy weighing you down refusing to let go

‘jake-i need to pee!’

‘no’

he always helps you with your homework which is a huge bonus

and you help him let loose and relax

you balance each other out and are exactly what each other needs

his parents adore you

‘marry them. marry them now’

jake smirks and turns to you ‘well you heard them! parents orders, have to marry you!’

kissing his cheek when he’s stressed out about school work and suddenly all faith is restored

your lips are like caffeine to him

and honestly, he’s addicted

‘have i ever told you how much i love you?’

‘hm. once or twice but i don’t mind hearing it again’

my favourite little dummies in love<3

880 notes · View notes

imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 1 year ago

Text

Not Leaving You

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - "You need to leave."

Requested - anon

The Doctor never said more about his past than he had to. Most of the people who travelled with him never asked too many questions, too caught up in the life that came with knowing the Doctor to ask about who he really was. When they did ask he gave them just enough to stop asking.

He didn’t know what was different about you. When you asked he found he didn’t mind sharing a part of himself with you, a part of himself that nobody else knew. He couldn’t say for sure why because it ached his hearts terribly to talk about a life long gone but it was a little bit easier with you at his side.

You were a curious thing too, he’d lost count of how many times he’d lost you, you wandering off, too distracted by something or other and ready with a million and one questions by the time the Doctor finally did find you.

He knew sooner or later you’d be curious about him too, once you found out he had two hearts that had taken up about a week’s worth of conversation, you asking questions about Time Lords and what else was different about them, not knowing that there were no more Time Lords out there and missing the sad look that the Doctor forced off his face.

He had taken you to a planet he had found many, many years ago, one that made his chest feel warm and a smile pull on his face as you repeated the name after him, the word Zirafell sounding as beautiful as the planet itself coming from your lips. He had never shown it to anyone before but there was something so extraordinarily different about you that he wanted to share all his hiding spots and secrets with you.

The two of you were sitting in the field, the TARDIS parked not too far away. The grass was littered with little pink and blue flowers and a lilac lake glistened under the two suns in front of you.

“Where are you from anyway?” You asked softly, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled between you causing the Doctor to look at you in surprise but you kept your gaze on the lake.

“Me? Oh nowhere really.” The Doctor answered after a few beats of silence, watching as a frown pulled at your face.

“Everyone’s from somewhere.” You told him, finally turning to face him and seeing the discomfort on his face. You wondered whether to push it but before you could decide the Doctor spoke again.

“Not me. Not anymore.” The Doctor sighed and you stayed silent for a moment, just looking at him.

His gaze was on something just passed your shoulder, refusing to look at you as his mind played memories from long before you could even imagine. You wanted to know what he was thinking about though, wanted to know what put that sort of look on a person's face.

“You could always go back home.” You told him, keeping your voice soft.

The Doctor looked back at you, a sad smile spreading across his face. You hadn’t seen that smile in a while, of course you’d seen it plenty when you’d first met him. A sad man sitting alone looking like his whole world had fallen apart around him and there was nothing he could do about it.

It took some time but eventually he told you about the people he’d lost and how travelling with him was dangerous. He had told you he’d take you home, that he’d understand if you wanted to leave but you just wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug, smiling into his chest when he gripped you tight.

“Not even I can do that.” The Doctor laughed softly, no amusement in it as he turned to look out at the lake. He never wanted to talk about it, about all that pain and suffering, about what he had done and yet sat here with you, he wanted you to know that sad, angry, lonely part of him.

“My home’s long gone, Y/N.” The Doctor said after a long silence where you had figured he wasn’t going to share anything with you. “It was a beautiful place, you’d have loved it. I’d love to have shown you. The Time Lords, my people, the universe was so much brighter with them in it. People would cheer when they saw one and now, now they’re gone, my planet’s gone.”

“What happened to it?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper as you looked at him, his eyes glazed over.

“There was a war.” He told you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “It doesn’t matter, but nobody won that day. Nobody ever really wins I suppose. Everyone died. Everyone but me.”

When you first saw the Doctor, before you knew who he was, you just referred to him as the sad man. Watching him now you couldn’t think of a better way to describe him, the sad man, the sad man who was all alone in the universe, the sad man who had lived through the destruction of his whole planet, his whole race.

The sad man with a magical box who spent his life bringing hope everywhere he went.

“The last of the Time Lords.” You murmured, remembering what a woman from several months back had hissed to him, at the time the Doctor brushed it off when you asked questions, now you knew why.

“The last of the Time Lords.” The Doctor agreed just as quietly and neither of you said anything else, there was nothing left to say so you rested your head on his shoulder, his coming to rest on top of yours as the two of you stared ahead at the lilac water.

From that day onwards you and the Doctor were closer than ever, he shared more of his life with you and you found yourself falling a little bit more for the man as each day passed. It was a dangerous thing to do, falling in love with the Doctor and yet you let yourself fall, not bothering to question if he would catch you but enjoying the fall while it lasted.

You felt closer with the Doctor than you had with anyone you had known back home, not a single day went by where you regretted leaving, regretted choosing the Doctor over your old life. You knew you’d make the same choice over and over again. You could never give the Doctor up.

Months passed since that day, months where you and the Doctor would spend your nights floating through the galaxy, legs hanging over the TARDIS door as the Doctor told you about the different stars and planets that surrounded you with such fondness, months were he took your hand in yours and you couldn’t help but smile, savouring the feeling of his thumb running softly across the back of your hand as he pulled you along, tugging you back to him when you went to wander off. Months were you and the Doctor traded secrets in the quiet of the night, things that you’d never have dreamed of sharing with anyone else and yet knowing the whispered words were safe with each other.

“You’ll love this one, Y/N/N!” The Doctor told you with an excited grin on his face, hurrying you to put your coat on causing you to laugh before he finally grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the TARDIS, pausing long enough to lock the box before the two of you were off.

“Welcome to Thucruiruta.” The Doctor beamed at you and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you as you finally looked around.

The planet was beautiful, the sky was golden and all sorts of creatures were moving around you, so many things demanded your attention and the thing that won it was the Doctor squeezing your hand.

“It’s beautiful, Doctor.” You breathed out, watching as the Doctor’s grin softened and you didn’t even try and stop yourself from smiling back, leaning into him before letting him lead the way.

The Doctor was eager to show you everything, used to your curiosity and the hundreds of questions you came up with, more than happy to show off and answer them, making his way through the stands and insisting you try all the different foods on display.

It was hard to imagine such a perfect day taking a turn but you had also gotten used to trouble following the Doctor by now, so when an explosion sounded not too far in the distance you immediately turned to the Doctor, waiting for him to do something.

It didn’t take him more than a second to grab your hand, pulling you into the heart of the danger and you went along with him willingly. You knew you always would, you never gave it a second thought, you knew that you would always follow the Doctor no matter where he went.

You gasped as you took in the scene, people were scattered all over the floor, some crying out and others not moving at all. You gripped the Doctor’s hand in yours and he squeezed back before moving further into the chaos, looking around for some clue as to what had happened.

There was a child on the floor, a deep cut in their green skin as blue blood poured from it. You pulled your hand from the Doctor’s and made your way to the child’s side as the Doctor pulled the sonic screwdriver out to try and find what had caused the explosion.

“You alright?” You asked softly, pulling your jacket off and using a sharp bit of rubble to rip the end of your shirt in lieu of a bandage.

“Hurts.” The kid whimpered and you gave her an encouraging smile, warning her it might sting as you tied the torn material around her arm as tightly as you could.

“Good job, that’ll be good until we can get you to your family.” You told her standing up and holding a hand out for her, pulling her up by her uninjured arm and looking around. “Where was your family?”

You watched as she pointed the way you had come from, away from where the explosion was and you glanced over your shoulder to see the Doctor glaring down at the sonic, a furious expression you couldn’t ever remember seeing on his face that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Come on then, let’s see if we can find them.” You said, pulling your gaze from the Doctor and forcing the uneasy feeling you suddenly felt in the pit of your stomach away, leading the young girl away from the scene.

Even in the sea of screams and shouts for friends and family you managed to find the young girl's family quite easily, her mum falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around her daughter, mindful of her arm after she winced.

You stayed long enough for the family to thank you tearfully and the girl to hug you before you pushed your way through the crowd and looked around for the Doctor, frowning when you couldn’t see him.

You made your way further into where the explosion had gone off, gasping when something sharp dug into your arm, looking to your left to see a tall figure beside you, sharp teeth visible as the thing grinned down at you and pushed you forward, dragging you alongside it and not even pausing as you fought back against it.

There was a slimy sort of wet texture to the creature and you couldn’t stop yourself from wincing as it’s nails drew blood from you, the thing snarling the whole time until it pushed you onto the floor and you were staring at sharper nails and blue feet, looking up to see more than a dozen of the things standing together.

“Let her go.” The Doctor’s voice sent a wave of relief through you and your head snapped around to look at him. “Now.”

The Doctor’s voice was cold, so devoid of any emotion that it scared you. The creatures, however, didn’t seem at all phased by him and instead laughed at the Doctor.

“The Doctor always was too fond of the humans.” One of the creatures laughed, sending a wave of spit flying from his mouth. “Too bad he can never save his precious little pets.”

That seemed to hit a nerve with the Doctor and you had heard the stories of his past companions, of how much danger they had been put in simply by being with him. You knew it was scarred on his two hearts, every loss, every defeat, every life lost, every life he blamed himself for.

“The Doctor’s not good at saving anybody.” Another one called, amusement clear in its voice, “Poor little Doctor, all alone, no Time Lords around anymore.”

The creatures all laughed together and you winced as you watched fury take over the Doctor. It seemed these creatures had history with the Doctor, at the very least they knew exactly what buttons to press to tear him apart.

The Doctor looked different, he didn’t look like the Doctor you had seen every day, he looked like a whole different person. Cold fury in his eyes, mouth set in a thin line and his knuckles bone white from the grip he had on the sonic.

“You will let her go and you will leave this planet.” The Doctor told them, voice low and commanding the attention of everyone.

You could only stare at him, fear in your eyes, not sure who you were more afraid of in that moment. Usually you could read the Doctor easily, always seeming to know what his next step was but right then, in that moment you didn’t know what he was going to do.

“Or what, Doctor?” One of them spat but you didn’t bother looking behind at them, keeping your gaze on the Doctor. “The last time we met you were a coward, what’s changed?”

“What’s changed?” He shot back, taking a step forward and you felt your breath catch in your throat at his tone. “What’s changed? The last time I showed you mercy. That was a mistake. I won’t make the same one twice. Now leave.”

“Or what?” It asked again, tone hard as the creatures refused to move.

“Or I’ll burn this entire planet with you on it.” The Doctor said without hesitation and your eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

“You wouldn’t, the Doctor wouldn’t harm innocents, not in the name of revenge.” One of them laughed but it sounded nervous, like it didn’t believe its own words and looking at the fury on the Doctor’s face you had to agree with it.

“Do you really want to test that theory?” The Doctor asked, the silence stretching as the creatures all looked at each other. “All I have to do is press this button and you’ll be dead before you realise it.”

The Doctor held the sonic up and you shook your head, not that he was looking at you but you couldn’t believe him. He wasn’t bluffing, he wasn’t improvising whilst he came up with a plan to deal with this without harming anybody. He was being deadly serious.

You were terrified of the man before you. He wasn’t the Doctor, not the Doctor you knew anyway.

“Liar!” A creature yelled and the Doctor gave it an unimpressed look before going to press the button but you stood up before he could.

“Don’t!” You shouted, reaching a hand out like one would around a scared animal, locking eyes with the Doctor for the first time since you’d been pushed onto the floor. “Don’t.”

“Y/N, you don’t know what these are.” The Doctor told you, his thumb hovering dangerously close to the button on the sonic.

“I don’t care. This isn’t you, you’re the Doctor! People look to you for hope, you’re not a murderer, don’t do this! Don’t become them.” You pleaded with him but his face was still set with cold fury and you feared there was no changing his mind.

“Get to the TARDIS and don’t look back.” He instructed and you immediately shook your head.

“No.” You told him. “No, I’m not letting you do this. There are millions of innocent people on this planet and you will not destroy them for whatever grudge you’re holding.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you need to leave. Now get on the TARDIS, Y/N!” The Doctor snapped and you felt tears sting your eyes but held your ground.

“No. If you’re going to burn this planet you’ll do it with me on it.” You said, voice shaking as tears made their way over your eyes, hating that you didn’t know what the Doctor was going to do.

“Get on the TARDIS.” The Doctor commanded through gritted teeth but you shook your head again.

“I already told you I’m not leaving.” You told him, blinking away the tears as they carried on running down your face.

The Doctor held your gaze, the small part of him that wasn’t consumed with anger and hatred felt guilt and hurt as you looked at him like you were terrified, like he was the monster instead of the creatures behind you.

“Leave.” He spat out, not taking his gaze of you as he addressed the creatures. “Get off this planet and if I ever see you again I won’t show a shred of mercy.”

The creatures wasted no time scurrying away, hurrying over to their ships and taking off just as quickly, leaving you and the Doctor staring at each other. Just as the Doctor opened his mouth, you cut him off.

“Take me home.” You told him, suddenly feeling drained.

“Y/N,” he sighed but you just shook your head at him, moving past him and making your way back towards where the TARDIS was parked, using your key to unlock the box and letting yourself in.

The Doctor sighed to himself, rubbing a hand across his face before pocketing the sonic and following after you, desperately trying to think how he could salvage this. He hadn’t wanted to let himself fall for you but over the year and the months you’d spent at each other’s side he couldn’t help it.

Now he was losing you because he had held onto a grudge from so many years back.

The anger had taken over him to the point he couldn’t control himself but you could, you stopped him even when he didn’t think he could be stopped.

When he walked into the TARDIS you were sitting in one of the chairs, looking away from him as he quietly worked on setting a course for Earth, hoping you would change your mind before you got there.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, watching you closely. He could tell you were listening but you didn’t say anything.

“Those creatures, Y/N…” He trailed off and you finally looked over at him, seeing him take a deep breath before he spoke again. “Those creatures are called Eelvo’s. I met them a long time ago, long before I had this face. I lost somebody because of them and I let them go.”

“You don’t kill people.” You told him, your voice quiet but firm and the Doctor sighed as he came and sat next to you.

“I have bad days, Y/N. Days where I am not a good man.” The Doctor told you, ashamed of himself, ashamed that you had seen him like that. He had never wanted that.

“Doctor, today I was more scared of you than any of those other things.” You said softly, glancing at the Doctor as he shut his eyes and swallowed thickly around a lump in his throat, fighting back tears.

The last thing he had ever wanted was for you to be scared of him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what happened, seeing them again after so long, seeing the destruction they were still causing, the pain and lives they were still taking…” The Doctor trailed off, a single tear making its way down his cheek.

You sighed softly, reaching over to take his hand in yours and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You were still unsure, still hadn’t liked seeing the Doctor so furious but he was still the Doctor, he was your Doctor again and seeing him in pain was the last thing you wanted.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N, I never wanted you to hate me.” He whispered, his voice breaking around the words and you felt your heart break with them.

“I don’t hate you, Doctor.” You told him honestly, “I’ve never seen you like that and I didn’t like it but I don’t hate you. I’m not sure I could ever hate you.”

The Doctor smiled over at you sadly and you returned it, squeezing his hand again.

“I’ll take you home.” He whispered and you frowned, you had asked him to take you home but the thought of actually leaving the Doctor behind sent an ache through you.

“How about Zirafell instead?” You asked him, a small smile pulling at your lips as he looked over at you in surprise.

“You sure?” He asked, a hopeful note in his voice and you nodded, watching as his shoulders lost the tension in them and he let out a small breath, nodding himself before standing up and moving around the console to change the course, hoping that the two of you would be alright.

10th Doctor Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!) -

@ajordan2020, @nyx2021, @etanordoesbullsh1t, @book-fic-reader, @buckystrash, @queen-who, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @kodiakwhiskey, @alexxavicry, @instabull, @rosesinmars, @freeshavocadoooo, @audrie-bryant, @leothesquishy, @etanordoesbullsh!t

Thank you so much for reading!

962 notes · View notes

ivorydragoness44 · 4 months ago

Text

Van Helsing x Reader: Up To The Task

Word Count: tba

Warnings/Notes: mentions of an injury (not graphic), snarky banter. Gender neutral reader.

Summary: The Reader finds an injured Van Helsing. But does he want help?

The night was cold, more so when a eerily gentle breeze brushed across your exposed skin. You adjusted the scarf around your neck. The temperature usually did not bother you, but there was just something particularly odd that night.

As you walked along the cobbled streets, you scarcely passed by anyone. It was late. Why would anyone be wandering around at such an hour? But you were.

Heavy labored breathing caught your attention. Whoever it was sounded tired as you approached a gap between two buildings. You slowed your pace to one of caution.

There on the ground sat a man, leaning against the sturdy wall. His head was reclined, as if looking up to the sky in a time of need. But when he heard your shoe make contact with a particularly loud spot on the ground, he noticed you.

Looking over his shoulder, you could just make out the face under the rim of his hat. The most wanted man in all of Europe. What were the odds? Though, as the situation may be, hopefully the odds were in your favor.

His eyes shifted over, catching yours. "You never saw me." Giving you a stern once over as you stepped between the buildings, he huffed to himself.

Initially, you were not going to engage, but something told you otherwise. "You're hard to miss, Mister Van Helsing." Not moving for a moment, you watched him. Analyzing. However, he made no move toward you. It went against everything you had ever heard about the man. But then again, what was the word of other people? People who had only witnessed him at a distance or not at all.

Stepping around him, you looked for the source of his visible discomfort. You followed up the length of his arm. At his shoulder, you noticed the wound. Cut through his coat and sweater, it was a nasty little gash by the redness soaked into the ripped fabric. His gloved hand pressed against it. "You're hurt."

He gave a dry laugh. "I've had worse." Smile faltering with a quiet snarl of pain.

"I'm sure you have."

Inching closer to him, you knelt down to his level. You reached out, but he made no move to stop you. Not even a glance, until he was within their reach. You moved aside his dark hair. The wavy locks distracting you momentarily. "For a terrible wanted man, you have such kitten soft hair."

Thick brows knitting together, he frowned at you. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Helping an injured person," you said. You stilled your hand to try to get a better look at his injury. "Who...or...what caused this?"

A weak smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. "Heh...I think it's best if you didn't know."

You nodded. "Fair enough. But for now, I'm going to at least tend to those wounds. Let someone help you for a change, Mister Van Helsing."

"That would be a change... Wouldn't it?"

With his strange excuse for consent, you continued. Pushing his coat off, you tried your best to be gentle. At least he helped with meagerly shaking his arm out of the sleeve. You needed better access to reach and look at his shoulder.

Slowly, you pinched at the soft fabric. Managing to lift it out of the way, you finally got a better view of his injury. With scarce moonlight and street lamps to aid you, you peeked underneath at his skin. "It doesn't look to bad."

"It sure feels like it." He grumbled, trying to get a look at it for himself.

"I thought you said you'd had worse?." You eyed him with playful skepticism.

"That was before you touched it."

"My apologies." You said, releasing the material from the grasp.

He sucked in a breath and gave a smile. "I don't think anyone's ever apologied to me. Not that they had any reason to."

Your brows furrowed at his words. "Never?"

"No," he replied quietly.

"Hmm, well, there's always a first time for everything." Straightening up, you uncoiled your scarf from around your neck.

"I guess that's true." He eyed you then with soft confusion. "What are you--?"

Grabbing ahold of his arm, you pulled it away from his body. "Small injury or not, we can't have you with an open wound in this night air." Gingerly, you wrapped your scarf around his shoulder. Only a small muffled groan or two was kept restrained from him as you did so.

"There," you said, tucking the fabric into itself. "Now, being that it was your shoulder, I can safely assume that you can stand. Unless there's another wound that you have failed to mention."

Though he pursed his lips together, his brown eyes held no harshness. Without a word, grounded his boots and pushed himself up from the wall, taking his coat with him.

As you stood as well, you took into account his confident stature. It must have been like second nature to him. But what could have ever happened to make him as such a man?

"Satisfied?" He asked, his features becoming strikingly more playful despite his ordeal.

You gave a small smile. Fearing him did not seem possible, but there was one thing you did not think to be worried about before. The fear of being captivated by him.

"Come, Mister Van Helsing," you beckoned as you stepped around him. "Your wound needs to be cleaned and dressed."

"You're going to trust a stranger into your home?"

"You trusted a stranger to check your injury," you countered.

"Touché."

#van helsing #van helsing 2004 #gabriel van helsing #universal monsters #van helsing x reader #van helsing imagine #van helsing fanfic #van helsing fanfiction #van helsing insert reader #van helsing 2004 fanfiction #van helsing 2004 fanfic #van helsing 2004 insert reader #ivorydragoness44 #my fanfics #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

117 notes · View notes

rarepairdumpster · 4 days ago

Text

True Love AU

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Canonverse, Trauma Mention, First Meeting, Minor Bullying, They deserve to be together and happy and in love~

Janna being a shape-shifter who takes the shape of the person who'll love you most deeply, most truly, and Janna always comes to Silco looking like a man he's never met.

It's before the stabbing so Silco is so confused that it isn't Vander.

Janna first coming to Silco when he's little, trapped in the mines after a cave-in, and leading to him to an opening somewhere else.

The Janna apparition has the appearance of the pretty, ethereal version of Viktor, with the soft pale purple hair and gold jewelry.

She kisses Silco's forehead and pets his cheek, murmuring "It's not your time, little one," before vanishing into the grey.

Janna having the same appearance when she rescues him in the river. And now he understands. Now he knows why Janna never came to him as Vander

Silco technically drowned before he could wrap his hand around the knife, but she breathed life into him with a kiss, and giving him that spark he needed to latch onto the knife and slash it across Vander's arm.

(Only Silco can see Janna. Vander doesn't have the honour.)

Years later, Silco is up in Piltover because he gets his makeup there (it's the only type that doesn't make him break out) and he happens to spot Heimerdinger and has to steady himself when he sees the man next to him.

The colour scheme isn't the same and the staff has been swapped for a cane, but the hair looks just as thick and soft. The skin looks just as smooth. Long limbs look just as willowy.

Its him.

The one who'll love him the deepest, the truest.

And for a terrible, wonderful moment, Silco remembers soft lips crushed to his and long fingers cradling his face.

There's no way Silco can approach now though. Not when the councilor is right there. He decides to follow them to see if there is a chance that he can catch the boy alone.

His thumb taps against his lighter in his pocket like a nervous tick.

Eventually, Viktor separates from Heimerdinger because he has to attend a meeting that is above Viktor's pay grade. Silco waits several moments, watching Viktor page through his notes and bring the pen to his lips several times in thought.

Those actions just make it clear how plush Viktor's lips are, and Silco feels something stir in him before he takes a breath and approaches.

"Hello," Silco internally cringes at the fact that he couldn't think of anything better.

"I'm sorry the professor is--" Viktor looks up and sees the man that appeared to him the day he hurt his leg in the fissures when he was a boy.

"By Janna"

Viktor surges out of his seat so fast, he almost falls over, and then the man's hands -- as scarred and rough as he remembers -- are on him, gripping his arms tight, holding him upright.

And their faces are too close now, both staring at the other.

"It's you," Viktor says, voice unsteady.

"You know me," Silco asks, voice hushed. His heart punches against his ribs.

"Your face."

And then Viktor let's out a little, uncertain laugh.

"But your eye is different. It was white before."

Silco smirks, releasing his grip as Viktor gains his footing. "Unfortunately the last time your face appeared to me, is when I got this."

"My face appeared to you?" Viktor asks. "I hope the real thing is not a disappointment."

"Oh, far from it," Silco raises his hand, wanting to push Viktor's hair behind his ear, but stopping. "It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen until now."

Viktor's face floods with colour. Just like it had when the man appeared to him all those years ago, the warm gravel of that voice like a caress as those hands had come to rest on his leg.

At the sight of that blush, Silco feels an intense urge to see it elsewhere, right now.

"When can I see you?" Silco insists, taking hold of Viktor's hand. "Privately."

"This evening," Viktor answers reflexively, breath hitching. "I finish work at seven."

"I'll meet you here," Silco smiles softly. "Until then." He leans in and kisses Viktor's cheek, just below his eye.

When Viktor opens his eyes, Silco is gone, but the skin where his lips were tingles.

That evening, when Silco returns, has a single soft purple flower that happens to be Viktor's favorite.

"I didn't think any florist in Piltover sold these," Viktor says, taking the flower and smelling it.

"They don't," Silco replies, smirking at the fact that Viktor knew the flower. "It's from the lanes"

Viktor smiles, something mischievous in his eyes, and says "I know where the flower originates."

"I have a feeling that is where you originated," Silco steps forward and grabs Viktor's lapel, feeling the starched linen between his fingers. "You must be exceptional. Not many of us make it to the academy."

Viktor's heart starts thumping, feeling like the man had just grabbed his waist rather than his lapel.

No one has called him exceptional in quite a while.

Viktor licks his lips. "Are assistants exceptional?"

"Any of us that can be accepted up here are exceptional," Silco replied, "but I have a strong feeling you're not living up to your potential." He looks at Viktor as he smooths the academics lapel, letting his hand linger on his chest a little long. "You never gave me your name."

"It's Viktor," He answers softly, a little rushed. The hand lingering on his chest is warm and solid, even through his clothes. "And you?"

"Silco," He replies, reaching up and pushing the hair behind Viktor's ear that he had wanted to earlier that day. "I never thought I'd know who you really were."

Viktor's breath hitches noticeably, feeling those rough fingers skim across his bare skin.

He tries to gathers himself.

But the presence of Silco is intense, almost overpowering, as if his very breath has invaded Viktor's body.

Silco lets his hand naturally lay on the back of Viktor's neck. "Can I..."

Viktor nods.

Silco's lips meet Viktor's and it's like a shot of electricity shoots down his spine. Viktor's lips feel just like Silco remembers, down to the breath of fresh air it feels like fills his lungs with every kiss.

Viktor finds himself arching against Silco, whimpering a little, his hands fisting Silco's coat.

Silco kisses like a starving man and Viktor lets himself be devoured.

Silco wraps his other arm around Viktor's waist, holding him close and tight. Now that he found Viktor he never wanted to let him go, not with the way he fit against Silco's body like he was handcrafted for him.

Viktor could have spent forever kissing this man, but he jerks back when he hears a snide filthy sumprat pass by.

Viktor feels angry, but also feels mortified for some reason. He doesn't know why it affects him so much. It wasn't as though he hadn't heard it before.

It was a common experience, here in Piltover, no matter how well-dressed he was

Silco frowns, hating to see how the comment had affected Viktor. He curses himself internally for not at least bringing the twins with for this sort of situation.

"Don't listen to that nonsense," Silco says, pulling Viktor back close to him and combing his fingers through his hair.

"Usually, I don't." Viktor smiles wryly, looking at Silco. But his eyes glimmer. "I suppose something made me weak."

"Darling," Silco begins, smiling a bit at the shiver that runs through Viktor at the pet name. "Never let anyone, including me, make you weak."

Viktor let's out a breath in a rush.

No one has ever asked that of him before.

"Would you like to..." Viktor looks away, flushing. "To come back to my room? It-Its a little more private there."

Silco tracks the flush as it teases down towards Viktor's neck.

"I could think of little I'd want to do more."

And the thing he wants to do more is to take Viktor back to his bed, where privacy is guaranteed.

Arch + Woods

#vilco #viktor arcane #silco arcane #viktor #silco #fanfic #rarepairdumpster #true love AU

31 notes · View notes