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netherfeildren · 29 days ago

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Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, He’s a loser your honor!!!

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost.

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die.

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows. You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting.

He’s like a raging bull after that. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home.

You wonder about her.

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.”

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him.

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information.

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor.

You wonder if her sickness might be his baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself.

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near.

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts.

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years.

You’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, and for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife.

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat.

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly.

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs and pace as he catches up.

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?”

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology.

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry.

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain.

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow.

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.” His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass.

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there.

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold.

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears. His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more.

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips.

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural.

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. But turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality.

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years.

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so.

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain.

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next.

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it.

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him.

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding.

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment.

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” But he says it like a question. He’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard.

“No…” the click of his tongue snapping you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be.

“Do you hate each other?” You ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like.

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too.

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.”

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery.

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject.

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him.

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.”

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart.

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” You beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty.

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession. He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned danger.

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?”

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence.

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.”

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.” And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it.

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive. A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air.

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere.

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs.

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?”

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed in such a way—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate.

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant.

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation.

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control.

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it.

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.”

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine.

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways.

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God.

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours.

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied.

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust.

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday.

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks.

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions.

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath.

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself.

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back.

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.”

And he suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy.

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him. “Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t.

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them.

A miracle move on drug, she calls it.

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all.

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.”

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.” He hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words.

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look.

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you.

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are.

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here.

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat.

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now.

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he think he’s ever felt in his entire life.

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more.

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms.

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom.

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s prowling after the sound of your crying.

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown.

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten.

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering shriek. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid.

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.”

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow. “Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment.

“Then how?”

You flush full of heat, embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help ease it.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down.

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly.

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan.

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast.

“Yes.” His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin.

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear.

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your ass. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—”

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say.

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes.

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt.

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis.

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine.

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair.

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you.

“Right there?” He hums.

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning.

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope.

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching sex, and the frightened slam of a door.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

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#busy dying fic #vic fic #joel miller #joel miller x you #Joel Miller fanfiction #tlou au

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personasintro · 1 year ago

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Mutual Help | #14

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

The front door is shut with Jungkook's leg, his hands too busy fiddling with your dress as he tries to feel you up through the red material. Your mouths are occupied with kissing each other, tingling from the amazing sensation.

You're not quite sure how this all started.

One minute you were stressing over Hoseok on the way to Jungkook's home, whispering furiously to him so the driver couldn't hear you. The next your pretended boyfriend assured you Hoseok won't be a trouble anymore, shutting you with his mouth before you followed his slow but intense kisses.

"We're in a cab, Kook." you reminded him as soon as he pulled away, not too much though. Just enough to catch a breath before he went for another kiss.

"Relax, he's probably seen a lot worse." he said, not giving you a chance to respond or protest. And you went with it, because your dignity wasn't as important as Jungkook's lips were.

The only time when you weren't kissing was when the driver pulled in front of Jungkook's apartment building, while he paid him and helped you to get out of the car. When he did, his hand stayed placed on your lower back as he ushered you inside. Those five minutes in front of the elevator were intense, you both wondering who's going to make the first move. But as soon as that elevator door opened and you stepped in, Jungkook clicked the button on his floor before you both threw yourselves at each other. Your back collided with the elevator wall and you gasped, giving him a perfect opportunity to sneak his tongue in.

And here you are now.

"Jungkook," you whisper, feeling his breath ghosting against your neck.

"Hm?" he hums, sucking your skin there, the tips of his fingers grazing over your exposed thigh.

"I want you." you mumble, nails tracing his exposed collarbones as you wish he'd just take off the goddamn shirt, so you could see his perfectly tanned and soft skin.

"I want you too." he admits, your heart clenching at those words. It's something how he says it, so effortlessly and honestly. He makes you feel wanted without even realizing it.

He dives back for a kiss, tongue swiping across your bottom lip just to bite down on it. Not too harsh, just enough to make you groan both in surprise and lust. You can taste the little of alcohol he had on his lips, and you're certain your own match to his. Surprisingly, you sobered a bit during the ride, whether it was a shock of Jungkook kissing you in a cab where the driver just pretended he didn't hear your lips smooching against each other, or simply of you getting some fresh air.

Although, you're choosing the first reason.

"I want you to fuck me." you say bluntly, staring at his doe and dark eyes which soaks into your own.

His throat bobs at your words, bottom lip clutched between his teeth before he lets it go. "I wanna fuck you too," he says, "But are you sure? We both drank a bit."

Your senses are a little bit slowed down and if it weren't for Jungkook's mouth, your movements would be way lazier than they're now. But you're nowhere near drunk, knowing exactly what you want. And that is Jungkook fucking you.

"Do I look drunk?"

"No," he answers, but still making sure he keeps his eyes on you, checking your expression. "You're cutely affected by alcohol."

Giggling, you shake your head at him, seeing his mouth spreading to a wide grin. "What does that even mean?"

He takes a step closer to you, caging you between the wall and his body again. You can smell his cologne, wondering how he can smell so amazing after hours of being at the wedding and dancing. He clutches your jaw, surprising you by his rough movements as he turns your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. And you expect him to kiss you there, but he doesn't.

"That means," he starts, licking his bottom lip which you failed to see. "that you've stopped drinking just at the right time. Otherwise, I don't think I'd fuck you if you were drunk, especially if it's our first time."

Our first time.

This man is trying to ruin you, and he's completely clueless about it.

"So, are you planning to do it or are you just going to talk about it?" you ask, almost whimpering when his hold on your jaw tightens. He presses his nose against your jaw, inhaling as he chuckles.

"Keep talking and you're going to regret it."

Your core clenches, breath hitching which he hasn't failed to notice.

"Or what?" you press, stomach bubbling with anticipation of what his answer might be.

"Don't tempt me, sweetheart."

"I think I'll risk it." you smirk, amused by those darkened eyes that gives you an intimidating look, sending a rush of shivering down your spine but you don't let it show.

Provoking Jungkook has always been fun. Well, you never really provoked him in this kind of situation. But you find yourself feeling much more thrill and fun doing it now. You want to push his buttons, see what kind of exact person he is when he's clouded with lust and excitement. You managed to see a tiny bit of his dominating persona during the time when he went down on you. Maybe it's the natural curiosity that's rooted deeply inside of you, but you just can't wait to see him during sex. He seems like a person who likes to handle others, showing them what he's capable of. Just the thought of him being rough with you makes your legs tremble. Again.

The growl that erupts from Jungkook's throat is unexpected, before you're being turned around by his rough hands, chest colliding with the cold wall of his corridor. He pushes himself against you, hands groping your ass as your own are sprawled against the plain white wall. He gives you a perfect opportunity to feel his hardening length against the black slacks he wears. Your bottom lip is caged between your teeth, a single memory of his cock in your mouth makes you salivate, and it leaves you whimpering.

"I told you not to tempt me," he spits, lips brushing against your right ear. "But you like to disobey just for the sake of your fun, don't you?" he chuckles, but it's not one of those cute and bubbly ones he usually makes. This one's dark, low and amused at the same time.

You've seen so many different sides of Jungkook, but you barely get to see this one. Which is understandable, he's your best friend after all. Best friend who you have never had any sexual encounters with before. But this is different. This is like the same Jungkook you know, but he's like another person at the same time. It's confusing.

"Jungkook," you whimper, pushing your ass against his bulge causing him to chuckle at you.

"Are you being a needy slut for me?" he asks, letting the question settle into the air as he waits for your response.

He tenses behind you, maybe in fear that he crossed the line with you by calling you a slut. You're surprised yourself, and you never liked the whole degrading thing or someone calling you a bitch for pleasure. However, even though he just called you a slut, there wasn't an ounce of actual seriousness or that he meant it literally, despite how serious he sounded.

Just when a whiny and breathless 'yes' leaves your mouth, it's just enough for him to relax and continue with what he started. The tips of his fingers brush against your thigh, hiking up the dress as his hand disappears underneath it. Your whole body shivers automatically, leaving you speechless of how lack of control you've got over your body.

He traces the hem of your lacy panties, humming in appreciation and before you can dwell on how it sends another set of shivers down your spine, he's hooking finger exactly where your clothed heat is. Your body jumps backwards when he touches your clit, tracing your wet heat with gentle and slow movements. Your ass hits his hardening bulge, and this time you get to feel it more prominent and hardened. This turns him on exactly like it does to you.

He groans, teeth nibbling on your shoulder before he circles your clit. "So nice and wet. All for me, baby?"

Your heat clenches, desperate to feel something inside of you. All you can think of is how Jungkook's cock is going to feel inside of you. Is it going to hurt? You remember how you barely took him in your mouth, feeling the corners of your mouth being stretched for a couple of more minutes after you were done. Not that you regret it, it was worth every second.

When the palm of Jungkook's hand meets your ass cheek, you gasp into the wall. He doesn't have to say anything for you to understand what it was for.

"Yes, all for you." you confirm, voice slightly shaking.

Gasping, you moan right after he enters you with one finger kissing your shoulder. He slowly pulls out, before he enters you with slow strokes leaving you gasping all over again. He adds another one, praising you for being a good girl. You clench around him and he chuckles, but doesn't comment on it.

"That's it, gotta stretch you out." he says, voice raspier than before as he adds another one.

He's stretching you more than at the beginning, and you can feel the stretch slightly burn but it doesn't feel bad. You take his fingers well, clenching around his fingers no matter how many times he tells you to relax. You can't, it feels to good and if he continues with the slow strokes, you're cumming soon.

As if he could sense that, he slaps you with his other hand, chuckling when you moan out loud. It's almost too loud, but there's no time to be embarrassed over the fact you like being spanked. He curls his fingers, circling your clit with a thumb while he palms the sensitive flesh of your ass.

"So dirty, I didn't know you love to be spanked so much." he muses, an amused tone laced in his raspy voice.

If your mind weren't clouded with so much lust and eagerness to reach your end, you'd roll your eyes at him and tell him to fuck off. It's nice to know your thoughts are still the same, even when he's fingers deep inside of you.

The feeling of how perfect the pace is isn't long lasting, especially when he picks up his pace and pumps you with his fingers much more eagerly. He praises you each time he thrusts them into you, mainly calling you a good girl or baby.

A simple 'fuck' leaves Jungkook's mouth when he feels you clenching even more, tightening around his three long digits. But still, he manages to keep up the pace just the same, bringing you closer to your end. Just as you feel like that's it, you're cumming, it fades with a snap of fingers in a second. The amazing burn nestled in your womb and between your legs is long forgotten, a sigh of disappointment coming from you in response. It takes you a few seconds to understand what has just happened.

Jungkook pulled out his fingers, causing you to slowly turn around with flushed cheeks and an irritated expression which is understandable. But the young man just grins, slowly bringing his fingers into his mouth as he tastes you.

You gasp, staring at him with mouth agape as his eyes don't leave you.

"Mhm," he almost moans, tongue swirling against his fingers before he pulls them out with a soft pop.

"Why would you stop?" you ask breathlessly.

"I told you not to tempt me. Consider this as your punishment." he shrugs, lips twitching with a hidden smirk which you clearly notice as you huff a breath of annoyance.

"Are you serious?"

Punishments. You never talked about that. Plus, you thought your punishment was him manhandling you and spanking your ass. Now that you think about it, it doesn't make sense.

"Absolutely." he answers confidently.

"But I was about to cum!" you exclaim, not believing he just cut off your orgasm like that. It's called betrayal!

"Oh, I know. I could feel you tightening."

Instead of feeling embarrassed by his blunt words, and the fact your best friend says them to you, you're more annoyed. You were so close. You could feel how bomb orgasm that would be. But no, Jeon Jungcock decides to change that just for pure fun and punishment.

"Whatever. I'll just take care of myself then." you huff once again, making sure he gets a perfect glimpse of your pissed off expression.

You're ready to walk away from him, planning to bump into his shoulder just to emphasize your annoyance. But before you can even take another step, he's grabbing your wrists and pulls you closer to him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You don't let it phase you, although you can't feel your heart jumping at the sudden intimidating tone and look.

"To take care of myself. Since someone decided to punish me." Okay, that was kind of petty but you're pissed.

It pisses you even more when Jungkook snorts, his serious facade cracking as he starts to laugh at you. "Awh, are you mad baby?"

"Don't call me baby. You don't get that privilege anymore." you murmur, causing him to laugh again.

"And what privilege do I get?" he challenges you, cocking his brow at you.

"You can stand behind the door and listen to my moans." you answer dryly, knowing very well that you're not able to make yourself cum just using your fingers. It just won't work for you.

"As tempting as it sounds, I'd rather fuck you." he tells you, slowly reaching for your face before he kisses you. And you let him.

Your lips tingle from the rough kisses he delivers, making sure you feel his want and need towards you. Mind still twirling over the fact he said he wants to fuck you, and no matter how many times he has already said it, it bursts that bubble of arousal inside of you. Maybe it's because you haven't had sex for so long, or maybe because you haven't been touched this way — ever.

It should be weird you're so turned on over your best friend touching you this way, wanting to fuck you. But you're not. All you can think of is how amazing he's going to feel once he's inside of you. Jungkook swallows your every breath, before he's forced to pull away.

Smirking at you, he interweaves your fingers as he leads you towards his bedroom. You take that time to admire his muscular back and broad shoulders, the white shirt doing his body justice, not that he needs it.

Jungkook pushes the door from his bedroom open, leading you straight towards his bed as he turns around before he spins you, gently pushing you down his bed.

You help in surprise, giggling when your body funnily bounces, causing the corner of his lips to turn upwards as a soft chuckle leaves his mouth. He starts to loosen his red tie, eyes focused on you the entire time meanwhile you gulp at the filthy sight in front of you.

Fuck, how can somebody be so hot?

Plopping yourself on your elbows, you watch him taking the tie off but he doesn't throw it like you expect him to. It stays in his hands for a few seconds, twirling it between his fingers as he looks through his cocked brow at you. He tosses it at the end of the mattress, before starting to unbutton his shirt.

Licking your lips, you shamelessly watch him and almost disappointedly whine when he doesn't unbutton nor take it off entirely. If he sees your reaction, he doesn't comment on it but the confident smirk is just enough for you to know he noticed it.

He slowly makes his way towards you, knees plopping himself right next to your legs before he's hovering over you. You tilt your head slightly upwards, enough to see his close features before he kisses you again. This time it's slower, more passionate and leaves you breathless all over again. He urges you to completely lay down, your elbows betraying you as your back and head is met with the mattress again. He sits down on his knees, staring down at you with dark eyes and you almost raise yourself again, but before you can give him a glance of curiosity, you're turned around.

It all happens quick, one second you feel his arms around your waist and the next you're turned over to your stomach. A loud gasp escapes your mouth, your head already turned around to look at Jungkook. He just cockily smirks at you, fingers hovering over the zipper of your dress. He lets his finger scheme over your shoulder blades, gently caressing your exposed skin that makes you shiver underneath his touch.

"Do you really want this?" he asks, voice calm and relaxed like he's not ready to devour you whole.

You notice the sudden change of atmosphere, his tone serious yet soft. He's making sure you really made up your mind. He sees the way you patiently wait for him to touch you, leaving you pressing your thighs together. He's responsible for the ache between your legs. He sees it all, yet he needs to hear you say it again.

"Of course, I do." you answer, making sure you stare into his eyes which is quite troublesome since he's right behind you and caging you with his knees on both your sides.

He doesn't react verbally, all he does in response is slowly unzipping your dress while you press your cheek against his sheets, loving how flowery they smell. The room's temperature isn't low, yet it leaves you shivering when the cold air meets your naked back.

"No bra?" Jungkook questions, not hiding a mere surprise.

"This dress doesn't need it." you breathe out, your voice slightly muffled.

Again, he doesn't react verbally but you're shocked, gasping when he pulls your ass up. It leaves you on all fours, the dress slowly falling down your arms.

"Turn around." he demands, and you obey right away.

He chuckles, not wasting time with undressing you before you're left in your panties and heels. He leaves your dress on the floor, not bothering to properly place it somewhere less dirty, even though Jungkook's home is cleaner than yours. He doesn't care they can crinkle if they're tossed on the floor, and neither is it your priority.

All you can focus on is feeling his hands working on your heels, taking them off before he finally frees your ankles and the tight strap around it. Once he's done, he hovers over you again, pressing his lips against your stomach and slowly making his way up your chest. Your perked nipples don't go unnoticed by him, his doe eyes looking up at you before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Arching your back, you gasp while he swirls his tongue against it. The other one is occupied by his hand, molding the soft flesh in his huge palm. He does the same thing to the other one, his lips reddened when he's done. Your nipples look just the same, reddened with the attention they just received while still covered in his saliva. You shiver, meeting his eyes as he licks his lips.

You lean forward, kissing him while your arms wrap around his neck pulling his body even closer to yourself. He grunts into your mouth, arms holding himself as he tries not to crash you with his weight. Legs wrapped around his waist, you thrust your hips upwards making the two of you gasp. He's already getting hard, the bulge in his black slacks says it all.

You're remembered by the fact he's still fully dressed and you don't like that. Your hands already work on their own, unfastening his belt and zipper with needy and quick movements.

Jungkook's smirk is evident against your lips, but he doesn't comment on your sudden eagerness, if anything, he seems to like it as he lets you take off his slacks. He helps you take them fully, meanwhile your fingers work on his shirt. You've never hated buttons before. Just like with the slacks, he helps you take off his shirt too and slides it off his arms exposing his abs and buffed chest.

If you were turned on before, you're completely salivated over him now. He tosses it behind him, hitting the desk in the corner of his room making you giggle. He chuckles, hovering over you again before he's kissing you. You take that chance to feel his muscular back, nails gently scratching his soft skin as he grunts into your mouth.

"I want to—" he kisses you again, "fuck me." you finish, hands slowly sliding down his perky ass.

"Are you sure you're ready?" he asks, and you cock your head in confusion.

He's asking you that now? Again? You thought you're pretty clear that you want him. But once he sees your confusion and that cute frown you're about to sport, he explains himself.

"No, I meant— shouldn't I stretch you out more?"

Ah, he means that.

"Don't flatter yourself, Jeon. You're not that big."

Oh, yeah he is. Definitely bigger than your ex. But who would you be if you didn't take the opportunity to bruise his male ego.

"Really?" he asks, his brows mockingly shooting up. "Weren't you choking on my cock just a few days ago?" he cocks his head innocently, but you see his fake facade.

He's enjoying this, even when you open your mouth and dryly swallow the lump in your throat.

"Fuck, you're so cute when you're getting flustered." he comments, laughing while he scrunches his nose.

Rolling your eyes, you decide it's better not to argue with him. You know he's right about you choking on his cock, you're not stupid. "Whatever," you murmur.

"And to answer your question, no. Just fuck me, I'm ready." you assure him, licking your lips while he eyes you.

He nods, reaching towards the nightstand before he opens the first drawer. He pulls out the foil package and rips it open. Since you're feeling bold tonight, you reach for his length, hand disappearing in his boxers where you finally feel him. He bites onto his lower lip, taking them off while you start to pump him. He's hardening with each pump, kissing you as your hands work their magic on him.

He pulls away and you watch him putting on a condom.

The sight of him doing something so intimate feels exactly that. Intimate, close and exhibit. You've never thought nor imagined you'd ever get this close to him. This is so new to you, just thinking that he's about to have sex with you drives you crazy. You've never thought you'd crave for him this certain way.

Of course, there were many times when your heart was craving for him. In a friendly way when you were in desperate need of a friend. But it wasn't just that. You needed him, Jungkook. No matter how many girl friends you've or can have, nothing ever compares to him. There were times when you felt like you're the one who needs your friendship more than him. You don't doubt Jungkook's friendship, of course not. It just often felt like it's you who values your friendship in more ways than Jungkook could ever imagine. Maybe that's why it hurt when he moved on with Kiko and barely got the time to text you, or even spend time with you.

Jungkook's fingers trail to your exposed legs, snapping you out of your thoughts. It's unreal how he brings you back to reality with a single touch, those soft but dark eyes of his dancing on your face.

"It's still not too late to back out," he tells you softly, caressing your skin like he's not talking about the possibility of ending this. "If you've got any doubts, maybe this isn't what we should do."

"Are you regretting getting this far, Jeon?" you ask, your voice neutral, yet the use of his surname comes out almost cold.

His eyes flicker to yours right away and he quickly shakes his head, before he allows himself to talk. "No, of course not. I want this, if you couldn't tell." he snorts at the end, looking down to his hard length that's pressing against his stomach.

Focus, Y/N!

You look back at him, poking your inner cheek with a tongue before you sigh. "We both already did some intimate things. Don't you think that if I wanted to back out, I wouldn't allow all those things to happen?" you ask him softly, eyes filled with curiosity and a small frown settling on your brows.

"I'm just making sure," he mumbles, dropping those dark eyes for a moment while you're met with Jungkook that looks completely innocent. "I don't want you to regret anything. This is our friendship we're talking about. That's the most important thing."

If you weren't so freaking horny, you'd probably tear up from the honesty and softness of his words. He really is thoughtful.

"I want this, Kook. I don't think this will change our friendship. If me sucking you off and you eating me out hasn't, I don't think us having sex will. We're just young adults who need to blow some steam off, let's not overthink it too much."

He nods, agreeing with you as he bites his lower lip in thought. "Okay, because you're my best friend but you're fucking attractive and hot. And all I can think about is fucking you." he admits bluntly, causing you to gasp at his sudden words but you giggle.

You trace your hand down his chest, appreciating how firm it feels. "Good," you gulp, "Because that's all I'm thinking about right now."

Jungkook grunts, hovering over you before he kisses you again. His mouth works quick and needy, nibbling on your bottom lip to show you his desire while you're trying not to moan. It's almost pathetic how quick he makes you be so responsive and loud.

"Ready?" he asks between the kisses, his hand going between his legs as he pumps himself.

You can feel your heart in the throat, this feeling awfully similar to your first sex. That excitement and the feeling of experiencing something new, even though it's just sex. Minus the awkwardness and nervousness, of course. You really wonder how he's going to feel. Something tells you he's perfect in bed, no doubts. Just him eating you out made you see stars and brought one of the best orgasms you've ever experienced.

"Ready." you tell him, breath hitching in your throat as soon as you feel his tip parting your folds.

He takes his time, not entering you right away but making sure he smears the wetness between your legs to your clit and his tip. He stares down, brows pinched together and bottom lip tucked between his teeth, looking focused and almost as if he's savoring every moment.

Eyes flickering to yours, he releases his bottom lip as he spreads your legs wider. Giving him a soft smile, hand placed over his beating hard, you're surprised how fast it beats. It matches your own heartbeat, but somehow it leaves a peaceful feeling inside your heart. It's nice to know he's affected as much as you are.

With a careful and slow push, he enters you for the first time, taking into account that it's been awhile since you've had sex. The last thing he wants is to rush and possibly hurt you, just because he's impatient and horny.

Swallowing down the gasp that wants to escape from the back of your throat, you close your eyes and try to relax as much as possible. Luckily, Jungkook seems to be patient and he's still trying to fill you up at an incredibly slow pace. He even stops, checking your reactions with each push and inch he makes.

"Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you." he groans, but still manages to sound soft and genuine. It takes a lot for him not to thrust into you.

Jungkook hasn't been sexually active with anyone, the last person he had sex with was Kiko, his ex-girlfriend. That means you're not the only one who's been without sex for quite some time, even though Jungkook wasn't left high and dry for that long.

"I know." you breathe out, reacting to Jungkook's words. You know all of that, but the sudden stretch and slight burn you feel is unavoidable. There's nothing you can do and your body just has to get used to it.

Although, it seems like Jungkook wants to help when he starts to circle your clit. You suck in breath, your walls relaxing and taking more of him almost immediately.

"That's it," he praises you, continuing with it until he's all nestled inside of you.

He holds himself, still careful not to crash you underneath his weight as he lets you get used to him inside of you. It feels weirdly new, almost as if you forgot how dick inside of you feels like.

"You took me so well." he grunts, his length twitching inside of you before he gives you a sheepish look, like he's apologizing for being so needy and greedy.

"Fuck me, Kook." you murmur, your walls clenching around his thick length as he opens his mouth at the feeling. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer as you feel the ends of his soft yet thick hair.

"I'm gonna go slow at first, okay?" he asks, although you both know he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if you tried to argue with him, you don't because his reason and decision is understandable and all about you, he'd still do it his way to make sure you're comfortable.

Nodding, he's pulling out of you, a soft breathes leaving his mouth before he slowly pushes his cock inside you. He's restraining himself so much, his face twisted in almost painful expression. Legs wrapped around his frame, heels digging into his lower back, you pull him even closer causing him to get even deeper inside of you.

"You're not making this any easier, you know that?" he chuckles, shaking his head as he still continues with his soft and slow thrusts.

Your giggle is short-lived, especially when his length rubs around a very sensitive spot inside of you, a moan rippling out of your mouth. He stops, adjusting himself before he does it again.

"Stop," you gasp, causing him to freeze and look at you. "I don't wanna cum yet."

"Would you cum right away if I continued?" he asks curiously.

In other situations, you'd probably cackle at the fact you're having a full conversation during your sex. But all you can do is nod in embarrassment.

"Well, maybe not right away but I was getting there." you point out, causing him to chuckle amusingly at you. It causes you to slap his back but he doesn't seem to be too phased, your weak attempt to scold him doing no harm.

"Do you want me to stay still like this or...?" he trails off, causing you to snort at the absurd situation.

You can't believe you're about to laugh in the middle of sex, but Jungkook's distressed expression is priceless.

"No," you laugh, "just fuck me already."

He relaxes, even though he tries to hide it, before he gives you one of his famous grins. "Your wish is my command."

Before you can snort or react in any way at his funny words and the teasing tone, he's already pulling out before he smacks his hips back. It leaves you breathless, almost knock all the oxygen out of your lungs as he repeats the same process over and over again. Your heated skin meets his with each thrust, creating swift and rhythmic melody and just when you think it can't get better, he lifts your legs up and places them over his shoulders.

"Fuck," you breathe out, ignoring the cocky smirk he tries to hide again by staring at your connected bodies.

He fucks you like no one ever has, bringing you an euphoric feeling that you can't seem to get enough of. It feels too good to be real and embarrassingly enough, you've never known that sex could feel this amazing. Jungkook's skills are over the top, triumphing over your ex in all ways. However, with Jungkook's unstoppable thrusts there is no time to think about your ex or anyone else.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well, baby." Jungkook groans above you, head falling between your shoulder and neck, burying his face there.

You shiver, feeling his body pressed against you, his hot skin against your makes the whole atmosphere even more intimate. Years of knowing him, you've never felt this close to him.

"Jungkook," you moan, eyes rolling back when he purposely rub his length against that one sensitive spot he found minutes ago.

He knows what he's doing, and you can perfectly feel that little smirk he always has on his lips but surprisingly, he gives a peck to your neck before he pulls away.

"Can you get on all fours?" he asks, halting his thrusts as you whine.

You were just getting there.

But Jungkook isn't planning on ending anytime soon and when he sees your disappointment, he laughs at you. "Come on, on all fours and ass up." he tells you, your cheeks heating up at the demanding tone he sets.

He pulls out, leaving you empty and greedy for him. Obeying him quickly, you get on all fours as he requested and you yelp when he presses your back down. It causes your cheek to be pressed against his mattress again, his palm staying on your back for a couple of more seconds before he grabs your hips. He lifts your ass even more, your spine and back arched all for him. He palms your ass, grabbing the flesh into his huge hands before he's entering you all over again.

You gasp, clutching the sheets in small fists and when Jungkook notices this, he reaches for them and interweaves his fingers with yours. His chest is pressed against your back while he starts pounding into you at a completely new pace.

"Jungkook, ah—" you whine, your voice awfully whiny and soft to the point you can't recognize it.

"I know, I know." he grunts, tightening his hold on your fingers as you can feel your walls tightening around his thick and throbbing length.

"Fuck—so good." you moan out, shutting your eyes because you can feel them watering.

"You're gripping me so well," he rasps out, not halting his movements even a bit. "Gonna make you cum so hard." he promises, his small dirty talk causing you to moan again.

His balls slapping against your ass feels euphoric, just like everything right now, and it leaves you breathless and wanting to reach your end. Couple of more thrusts, Jungkook's soft grunts and his length brushing against your g-spot brings you the most incredible orgasm.

Mouth agape, Jungkook's unstoppable thrusts make you cry out his name as you're cumming around him. He fucks you through it, continuing even when you're growing sensitive and you whine at the overstimulation.

"I know, I know. I'm getting there." he grunts, hands grabbing your hips so tight that you're guessing they'll probably bruise later but you don't seem to care.

Clenching around him, it takes a few more pumps before Jungkook suddenly halts his movements and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. He's cumming, filling the condom with his seed and you wish you could feel him more.

And fuck, if Jungkook's low groan of pleasure isn't the hottest thing you've ever heard, you don't know what is.

And even though you've just come down off your high, the sound is enough to shoot a little bit lust straight to your core. Enough to leave you clench around him again, causing him to grunt in response.

His sweaty forehead drops against your naked shoulder, a shallow and quick breaths meeting your skin as he tries to calm himself down. It takes him a few more seconds of breathing in and out at a rapid pace, before his breathing comes back to normal and he slowly lifts his head off you.

"You good?" he asks, holding himself up with his hands when he realizes he almost crushed you with his heavy body.

You don't see him, but he scrunches his nose when he pulls out of you, overstimulation getting overwhelming for the both of you. When he manages to fully pull out, he quickly gets off you and plops himself next to you. You flip yourself on your back, eyes focused on the white ceiling as your chest heaves with almost identical heavy breaths like he did just seconds ago.

"I'm perfect," you answer breathlessly, stealing a glance at your best friend who happily lays down next to you, discarding the used condom. "Are you good?" you ask him in return, watching him grin as he ties the used condom full of his sperm.

"Oh, I'm ecstatic." he beams, standing up and throwing the condom in the bin near his desk.

"Are you always this ecstatic when you get laid?" you chuckle, trying not to let your eyes drop to his crotch that he doesn't even cover. He's shameless, walking completely naked to you while he doesn't even try to cover himself. It's not like you want him to anyway, but he clearly doesn't have any issue with nudity.

"It's been a long time, okay?" he jokes, tossing his body next to you without care, causing the mattress to jiggle under his weight. "Don't tell me you don't think the sex was mind blowing."

He looks at you, eyes dropping to your perked nipples before he looks back into your eyes.

"It was." you shrug, admitting it.

He chuckles, turning onto his side as he traces your lips. It catches you off guard, but you don't even blink while you try to look as natural as possible. You look at him, his hand dropping next to his body.

"This doesn't change anything, right? Our friendship, I mean."

You've to ask him, just to be sure. At first, you were the one who tried to convince him that none of this would affect your friendship.

His brows scrunch together for a short moment before he shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. Do you feel like something changed?" he asks back.

"I don't, but what if I will?" you ask, probably more yourself than Jungkook.

What if everything seems just the same right now but yesterday or in a few weeks, you'll feel like you shouldn't have done that? There's no turning back and you really don't want to regret anything. It's just your mind playing tricks on you. This is your friendship that could possibly be on the line after all.

"Then you'll tell me. I don't think there's nothing we can do. We both agreed to it and it doesn't have to be such a big deal." he shrugs, his voice putting at least some kind of ease to your nerves.

"I know that, I know that we both agreed to it. I really don't wanna sound like I'm already regretting it, because I don't. I don't want you to think that it's your fault or make you feel guilty. That's not my intention at all. It's just... I can't help but wonder if we did the right thing. What if this will fire back in a few weeks, months or years even?"

Your eyes are focused on the ceiling, despite feeling Jungkook's doe eyes silently watching you.

"I think you're overthinking this a lot. Let's just focus on the present. We don't have to have sex anymore. I told you, anything that makes you comfortable." he tells you honestly and softly, causing you to feel like a jerk for some reason.

You're stressing over something nonexistent while Jungkook is there for you and your crazy mind.

"I didn't say that. I still wanna have sex." you point out, causing him to snicker.

When you look at him, you can see the confident and cocky glint in his eyes. That's why you nudge his shoulder, snorting. "Shut up."

He laughs, slowly shaking his head. "Just don't fall in love with me. I know that I can be very irresistible but—"

"Oh, get over yourself, Jeon." you scoff, sitting up as you give him a perfect view of your rolling eyes.

He grins at you, hand touching your exposed back as he caresses your skin. "Never." he jokes, causing you to shake your head at his absurdity.

You just hope the next morning will be just as relaxed like this very moment is. You don't want your friendship to be ruined by lust.

But you'll have to wait until the morning comes.

#networkbangtan #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook smut #bts series #jungkook series #jungkook fake dating #personasintro

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months ago

Text

Promise

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda takes Pernille to dinner

The restaurant is fancier than the restaurants that Momma and Morsa usually take you to.

Evidently, Momma thinks so too because she holds your hand a little tighter and pulls you in front of her.

"Magda," Momma says," Are you sure this is the right place?" She looks down meaningfully at you.

The usual restaurants you go to aren't fancy like this. They're homey places, much more likely to be family-run for years rather than being awarded Michelin stars.

"Yep," Magda says as the host takes them towards a private booth at the back.

You're big enough now that you don't need to sit in a high chair anymore but Magda and Pernille still box you between them in the booth, sitting so you're in the middle and they're facing each other.

"This is expensive, Magda," Pernille warns.

"We can afford it."

"I know but, still."

"It'll be fine," Magda assures her," I promise."

This whole trip was out of the blue.

They had just come home from training when Magda sent Pernille off to the bedroom to change into something fancier than the usual tracksuit bottoms and old shirt she usually wore post training.

There was already something laid out on the bed and, by the time Pernille was finished, you and Magda had also changed. Tomorrow was a day off so it wasn't out of the ordinary for you all to go out the night before but not in fancy clothes and not to this fancy restaurant that looks like a little girl like you shouldn't be in it.

"Is there a kid's menu?" Pernille asks.

You frown. "I want a big girl meal."

Magda laughs, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. "I've ordered ahead for her."

Pernille raises a brow. "How did you even get a reservation for this place?"

"Millie knows a guy."

"You make it sound like she's in the mob."

"She could be."

"What's the mob?" You ask.

"Nothing, princesse," Magda laughs," Here. The nice host lady brought you some paper and crayons."

You grab the crayons quickly, scrawling over the paper with reckless abandon.

"I'm serious, Magda. What's going on?"

"Can't I take my girls out for a special evening?"

"You can," Pernille says, eyes narrowed in suspicion," But at a place like this? You're up to something."

Despite her suspicions, Pernille does end up having a nice time. The food is good, the wine is great. The company is, obviously, even better.

You seem to be having fun too, going through all of the crayons as you draw a picture of the three of you standing under a rainbow together.

The dress you're wearing, now that Pernille inspects it, is a perfect match to her own, right down to how it's styled on your body. Both of them compliment the ensemble that Magda's wearing, Pernille notices as Magda rises from her seat to take you to the bathroom.

You look like a perfect pair.

Pernille can see a lot of Magda in you, all the way down to the way you walk. You've got Magda in your face and your smile and the way you giggle hysterically when Pernille tickles your tummy.

You return after a few minutes without Magda, reaching out for Pernille's hand with the same secret smile on your face that Magda has when she's about to do something surprising.

"Where's your Morsa?" Pernille teases, allowing you to pull her up.

"She's outside," You say," She paid earlier. Come on, Momma!" You pull at her insistently. Clearly, Pernille isn't moving fast enough.

You pull her out of the restaurant and across the road to the play park.

Magda's waiting by the gate and you stop in front of her. You turn to look at Pernille.

You smile at her, the exact same as Magda's smile, before squeezing her as tight as you can.

Magda picks you up and you cover something with your hands.

"What have you two planned?" Pernille teases, her own smile ghosting her lips.

"Pernille," Magda says," I love you."

"I love you too."

"I understand that this moving in together thing is still new-"

"We've been moved in for a year?"

"I have a speech," Magda laughs," Can you let me get through it?"

Pernille laughs too. "Alright. I suppose so."

Magda clears her throat. "As I was saying...I understand that this moving in together thing is still new and I know that there's going to be a few hiccups along the way but I love you and I love Princesse and I love this little family we've made. I know we want a future together. Honestly...I...This came out of nowhere and I know we're still in the height of our careers but..."

She nudges you.

"Please agree to be engaged to be engaged to Morsa!" You say, holding out the little ring you've been hiding in your hands.

It's a fairly simple ring, clearly not a proper engagement ring but it's still beautiful. Pernille takes it from your hands, slipping it onto her finger.

"Yes," She says," I will be engaged to be engaged to your Morsa."

You cheer, a beautiful round of bubbly giggles spilling from your throat as Momma pulls Morsa into a kiss.

Morsa's cheeks are all pink when she pulls away and she's got one of those silly star struck smiles on her face that she gets when Momma is around her.

"Can we get ice cream now?" You ask and they both laugh.

"Yes, Princesse," Morsa says," Let's get ice cream."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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tremendouscreationperson · 5 months ago

Text

Logan x Reader pt.4

So some of y'all are gonna not like this part but it's necessary 🤌🏻 hope it's okay I wrote it whilst bleaching/dying my hair 🤣🤣

I have also put some very rough sketches of the X-Men I did on holiday so you can get the vibes on the super suit/costume

<< Part 3 Part 5 >> Masterlist

He was gone, you waited for a moment just in case, but no, he was gone. It was okay, you'd had more time with him than you'd thought possible. The hours were a blessing.

“He isn't going to come back.” Cassandra spoke to your right. “You missed your chance.” She matched over to Pyro and slapped him awake.

You shook your head, she was right. Why were you just staring into space? You had to get a move on.

Quickly picking up Laura's discarded backpack - now full to the brim with Deadpool comics - you moved past them. Better to leave when she's distracted, if you hung on any longer she might remember you all came here to bargain with/kill her.

You looked down from the socket, drained. Using your powers was mentally taxing and, without the help of adrenaline, you didn't know if you could even make yourself a disc to descend. Instead you skidded downwards, holding the skull to climb and landed on your feet. The texture was like bricks. Was that really how a skull felt?

You swivelled to see your family. Laura sprinted as soon as her eyes landed on you, crushing you in a hug. “You stayed.”

“Of course I did.” Your arms held her tighter. “I’d have missed you all too much.”

She pulled back from the hug only to gaze into your eyes with her own glassy ones. “We couldn't see who jumped, did they make it? I thought you'd been eaten.”

“No, I'm here.” You assured her with a teary smile. "They did make it. They're gone."

She quickly burrowed back into your neck as you noticed El make her way towards you both and joined the hug. “That was intense.”

Gambit was next picking you all up as he squeezed tight. “Le’s never do tha’ again.”

Blade had hung back but Laura extended her hand to him and gestured until he held it. He wasn't one for ‘lovey dovey’ displays but he did love you all. He never thought it possible, not after he landed in the Void, but here he was. Clutching Laura's hand and thanking any deity that would listen.

“We better go.” Blade instructed. “Let's see if they got any wheels we can borrow.”

They did in fact have some wheels you could borrow. The five of you all sat in a beaten down Ghost Rider vehicle. It was an old fashioned Chevy and the boot space was perfect for the looted goods you all scrambled to swipe under Cassandra’s nose.

The drive back was strange. Obviously you were no longer in the boot with Logan but even if he was here you'd thought it was odd. You all survived.

There were no casualties.

Not that you were complaining, gosh no, but you were feeling a sense of unease. As though it had all been too easy.

Laura sat between you and Gambit, holding one hand from each of you as she dozed. Blade was driving and El sharpened her sais.

This was so ordinary. Well, your version of ordinary. But seeing actual civilization had thrown you. Because no this wasn't ordinary. This was fucking batshit.

You took a breath and tried to calm the fuck down because yes this was crazy and it wasn't what life should be but it was what it was.

You had to make peace with it.

You'd let Logan and Wade leap into a real life.

If they came back good. If they didn't… well, you were fine with it.

A week later, once word had gotten out that Cassandra Nova had left, the Void seemed calmer. There were less riots - still a large amount - and people seemed to go it alone more. There wasn't the threat of ‘join or die’ so people made peace with scavenging and surviving.

Your group had still tried to help if people needed it but you mostly stayed out of sight. Without a ‘big bad’ to fight there was no longer an ultimate goal which was good but at the same time it made life boring.

You were playing a game of Uno, having found it in a rotting classroom, when an orange rectangle opened behind you. The others were quick to draw their weapons and you craned your neck to see a woman step out.

She had an air of authority with a kind face.

“Y/N L/N, Laura Kinney, Remy Lebeau, Eric Brooks, Elektra Natchios, I am B-15.” She informed you with a pleasant smile. The fact that her name was a letter and a number wasn't lost on you but you were still reeling over the fact that you're fairly sure Blade was called Eric. “I oversee the TVA and we are here on business.”

“TVA?” Gambit raised an eyebrow, lowering his powered up deck.

“The Time Variant Authority. We are the overseers of timelines. Our job is to watch them, nurture them, keep them safe.”

Elektra straightened but didn't hide her weapons. “If you 'oversee our timelines', why are we here?” Her tone was accusatory.

B-15 looked a little embarrassed. “One of our managers, Paradox, had accelerated the time frame on your dying timelines. He is the reason you are here. I am sorry for that but I am here to make amends, we have been in discussions with Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett about your recovery.”

Well, fuck me, he was coming back. You'd practically lost hope after the third day.

“Dying timelines?” Elektra's eyes flickered to Gambit. She knew he didn't remember a time before being here like the rest of you did.

“Timelines, like many organic things do, decay and die. Sometimes it is natural, sometimes it is fabricated and sometimes their 'Anchor Being' dies and they slowly rot.”

“But our timelines, our universes, are dead?” Blade questioned.

“Yes. But we can house you in another. We need to go through the proper paperwork and screenings but I do believe you can all be happy there.”

“People we knew-” You started. “Our friends- I've seen multiple versions of the same person. Our friends won't know us?”

“I can safely say in this universe there is no version of each of you. You would be entering as yourself and, yes, you will have to create friendships and relationships again but I'm sure each of you is up to the task.”

The feeling that this was too good to be true crept up your spine again. “What's the catch?”

“There isn't a catch.” She clasped her hands. “You don't have to come, it's an offer but I won't ask twice.”

The room that had previously been full of laughter and frustrated yelling was now dead silent, each of you considering her words.

“Do you want to go?” You asked Laura.

Her face betrayed no emotions. “I will if you want to.”

“It might be very different then this, then what you grew up with. You might not like it.” You didn't want to steer her any way but you wanted her to be sure.

“As long as we're together.” Her eyes flashed around the table.

El nodded. “I'm game.”

“Are there blood suckers in that world?” Blade asked B-15.

“There are Vampires, yes. There are also a few Lycans.”

That baffled you. No fucking way was there Vampires. “Then I'm ready to kick some Vamp ass.”

“I dunno.” Gambit shook his head. “I feel like I wa’ born ‘ere. Wha’ if there no room for me there?”

“Of course there's room.” El placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don't stay here, this place is horrid.”

He gave an uneasy look but did eventually nod.

“Right.” B-15 smiled. “Let's go.”

She gave you five minutes to collect your things and meet her at the rectangle. It was a little sad to realise five years worth of memories could be boiled down to a water bottle, Uno cards, a few knives, some art you and the girls created and your photo of you and your husband.

There was no point taking your clothes, they were tattered and stained, you weren't even sure the super suit you currently had on was clean enough for the 'new universe'.

B-15 walked through the portal when you all agreed it was time and Blade followed. Laura and you were next and finally El led Gambit.

You were struck by nostalgia. Walking through from a hot country to an airconned airport slapped you in the face. Memories of your honeymoon dancing across your mind. Was this wrong?

Was being with him insulting his memory?

You scanned the room. It was a tacky beige corridor with a set of brown doors, each door had a friendly face waiting with a clipboard.

“Right, so this is the boring part.” B-15 tried to joke. “I will need you all to partner up and answer some questions.”

“Wait’re minute.” Gambit ceased Elektra’s movements. “Wha’ if they kill us?”

“We won't kill you.” B-15 made a face.

“You are separating us.” El folded her arms.

B-15 sighed and plastered the professional smile back on. “If we wanted you dead we would've left you in the Void. This is part of the process, unfortunately it involves asking a lot of questions and to save time we thought to free up some extra agents, who are all very busy, mind you.”

Laura was the first to move, she gave a curt nod, pulled her backpack tighter against her spine and strode right to the end of the corridor. The lady she met was small and unassuming but she greeted Laura with a friendly hello.

You were next, always following after her, and found yourself beside a man. He was tall and waved awkwardly.

The man led you into what was clearly an interrogation room. There was a definitely double sided mirror on the wall reflecting the dark oak table and chairs that sat directly in the centre.

“Right,” the man said, taking a seat. “I am here to fill you in on this universe and fill out this questionnaire to determine whether or not you are fit to join it.”

You eyed his clipboard. “How long will this take?”

“Time works differently in the TVA.” He shrugged and began the explanation, which felt as though it lasted three whole days.

This universe was much the same as yours except the X-Men hadn't picked you up. There was a Jean and a Charles and a Rogue, etc however their version of Logan died which was beginning to kill off the timeline. Paradox had offered Wade the opportunity to hop over and he learnt the truth causing everything that had happened to happen. In order to secure all five of your places the TVA had to create some ‘micro-adjustments’ to certain parts of this universe. This was completely new territory so it did take some time to set up events and try to create anchor spots.

The X-Men were formed however they were now operational in the year 2024 and they worked side by side with the Avengers. There were many names and many dates and many places that Y-23 told you and you could barely catch up.

“So there's Avengers and Guardians and X-Men and there's still villains? Isn't it overkill?” You finished your lemonade, placing the plastic cup on the table by your messy notepad. You'd created a mini conspiracy board, trying to piece together all the information he was throwing at you.

“There are more heroes than you could ever imagine but that just brings the threat of violence higher.” He shrugged.

“And B-15 said that there were Vampires and Lycans.”

“In a world full of Mutants are you really surprised?”

“But a mutation is different from a species of Vampire, no?”

Y-23 thought about it but shook his head. “No it isn't. It's simple evolution.”

This was starting to feel like a Charles Xavier lecture.

“This universe isn't a part of what was once called the Sacred Timeline, this is a wild, thriving, new and exciting thing. This has never been done before.” He tried to reassure you.

"Meaning it's an experiment.” You muttered. “I'm game for it, I'm just scared.”

“Well, you have answered all of my questions swimmingly.” He gave you two thumbs up.

“You haven't asked any questions.”

“The questions are more for me than for you.”

This was starting to feel like a really bad idea. “I'm confused.”

“Don't be, the next step is wardrobe. Can't have you going to a new universe in…" He looked you up and down. "..that.”

You stepped out of the tailors with a spring in your step. They had provided actual clothes but being in a brand new suit was bliss. They'd even provided weapons! The suit was beautiful. It was mainly purple, with a purple ‘x’ on your chest on top of black fabric. The black fabric was angular, causing a triangle shape underneath the ‘x’ and then carrying on down from your armpits to your ankles. The purple was on the front and the back connecting from your chest via the ‘x’ to your shoulders. Your spine had a delicately placed holster for two knives.

This was quite possibly the most powerful you had felt, despite being unable to actually conjure your forcefields. Y-23 had told you there was no magic in the TVA and that got you both into a large debate on whether or not you had magic. You were a mutant, you weren't magic! Gambit toed the line between mutant and magic better than anyone so you wondered how he was doing.

El and Blade were in the main room you were being led to. The room consisted of more brown furniture - desks and chairs - but had many old-school TVs on the far wall. Each screen held either a series of lines or a person. You were quick to zero in on Iron-Man, his iconic suit was blasting at several enemies. He was one of the biggest heroes in your world and the most recognised. You literally couldn't imagine Tony in another suit, another mask. He wouldn't look right even in a different colour, say green for example.

“That's Punisher.” El pointed to a gruff man, with a dusty white skull on his chest. He was mean looking but you had the feeling he was probably good as gold when needed.

“Whistler.” Blade nodded to another gruff man. He was older and definitely played by his own rules.

You watched the row of moving heroes. “So we have to just drop in and say hi, we know you in another universe?”

“H-1 told me I would say what I wanted.” El gave you a confused shrug. “that doesn't exactly clarify anything, what if I tell Matt and Frank and they don't- what if that means they don't want anything to do with me?”

“Precisely.” Blade agreed as Gambit walked into the room. “I will need Whistler's help. I can't fuck that up.”

“A’least I can' destroy wha’ weren't there.” Gambit smugly grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We all look ‘mazing by’t’way.”

Yes. You all did. Blade was wearing all black. A protective vest on top of a long sleeve and leather trousers. His outfit was swallowed by his leather coat. Weapons were under and over the coat, you could see all sorts of knives and daggers and even a crucifix dangled from his belt. He had a new pair of sunglasses, which he seemed very pleased about.

Elektra was wearing a bright red outfit, you assumed her Void outfit started off as this colour but she stained it to be safer. Her chest was now unexposed and she had gloves on. Her trousers were still there but on top she had an overlaying split skirt. The material was softer than the bodysuit, it matched the scarf which covered the lower part of her face.

Gambit looked much the same. His outfit was perfect. The only thing different about this one was there were no knicks and dents. He also wielded a staff.

Laura was yet to show her face. Something that didn't worry you but didn't not worry you.

“So where are we living?” You questioned. “I used to live in the X-Mansion but Y-23 said Charles was around but he now operates in 2024. So in my head he must be very different.”

“It seems like that's true for all our friends.” Blade’s eyes hadn't left the screens.

Gambit strode to the screens and gazed intently at each person. “Surely, they couldn' be too different. If it's the same person an’all.”

“Different circumstances, different upbringings.” El countered.

“That's Magneto.” You pointed to Erik. He was talking to Charles, drinking a cup of tea. It was infuriating because they were this civilised as enemies so you couldn't even tell if they were friends. “He was a concentration camp survivor. If he's about now, did that happen? Is he evil?”

“He looks pretty friendly with Charles.” Elektra cocked her head.

“They always were.” You huffed. “This will be really difficult won't it?”

Blade’s head swivelled in your direction. “Adjusting always is.”

Fuck how was he just effortless cool?

The door reopened, B-15 and Laura came through. She was gorgeous. They had dressed her in a yellow suit, with black trim much like yours. The suit had gloves and shoes which had special slots for her claws. But the icing on the cake was her cowl. She wore the famous Wolverine cowl and she looked glorious.

“Woah!” Gambit cheered. “You look li’ him!”

She did. She really looked like Logan.

“You look amazing, sweetie.” El grinned wide as Laura held one elbow in embarrassment.

“Thank you.” She wore a shy smile.

Blade clapped her back and couldn't help but nod.

“I can't believe it. You really- you look like- you look good.” You stuttered through the sentence.

She, thankfully, waved you off and turned to the screens. “Who are they?”

“Heroes in the 'new universe'.” Blade smirked. “They'll need our help.”

B-15 cleared her throat and you all looked over. She was standing in front of a freshly opened ‘timedoor’. “This is it.” She stepped to the right. “Through here is a collection of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. They will greet and assess you.”

Oh great, more assessment.

Laura, again, was the first of you to make a move. She confidently marched through the door, ready for this to be over with.

El was next, followed by Gambit, Blade and finally you.

You entered a white room. It was grand and outlandishly ‘modern’ - sparse. There were walls that were made entirely by window planes and the sunlight shone warmly. There was a silver, angular table and six beings were seated at it.

These were the ‘illuminati’. Y-23 had explained that a member of each super team created the illuminati, an omnipotent organisation. They controlled the world.

Iron-Man was there, creasing a ridiculously expensive suit, as well as Doctor Strange - the Sorcerer Supreme - Mr Fantastic - the smartest man alive - Namor - the King of Atlantis - Blackbolt - the Ruler of Attilan - and… oh my god. That was Charles!

The negotiation wasn't long. Charles took a look into each of your minds and declared that you and B-15 were all telling the truth. Then they revealed a set of apartments that they had brought for you to settle into normality in. You were allowed to leave them once you had settled and you had to come back every month for therapy "monitoring".

Stark handed you all a bank card and told you there was a limit to them. They also informed you that if you were needed to defend Earth they would call upon you.

Blade was under extra surveillance as he was a Daywalker. Reed had been able to recreate Whistler's serum to suppress the bloodlust but they were still taking precautions.

Doctor Strange placed a spell on each of you to track your whereabouts but other than that they let you go.

“The idiots are outside.” Stark used a thumb to point over his shoulder. Blackbolt smiled, his shoulders shaking in a silent chuckle.

“They haven't stopped pestering.” Namor rolled his eyes. “You must be integral.”

“We are just ourselves. We were cursed to live in that Void for years, for no apparent reason other than a cocky bastard's ego.” Elektra held her head high, watching the men she addressed like a hawk.

Charles adjusted his chair and gave you a sincere grin. “You may venture out, we do hope you find solace here.”

Part 5

@geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @melissa-ashe @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @ravenmedows @vulgarfuckinvirgo77

The sketches, be kind pls

#logan howlett #logan x reader #logan xmen #logan 2017 #logan #james logan howlett #wolverine x men #wolverine #the wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 2 months ago

Text

Is it a curse that keeps the dead alive? (is it the love dripping from my tongue?)

Day 6 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 8.2k

genre: horror, fluff sort of, hurt/comfort

warnings: poltergeist jason, lots of talk about grief/death, unhealthy drinking habits, reader is almost mugged, brief/vague talk of suicide

a/n: sometimes all you need for halloween is to tongue kiss a ghost yk anyway enjooooooy <3

Staying in Gotham after Jason's death had felt like a bad decision that you couldn't shake, just like loving him had always felt like a bad habit that you couldn't break. There was a part of you that always knew that you should leave, that staying in this place where the memory of him haunted you like a ghost was doing nothing but turning you into a phantom, yourself - a whisper of what you used to be.

There's a part of you, you think, that died with him, that crumbled to dust and now lays somewhere on a street hidden in a corner of this endless, cursed city. You should've left, you know. You should've run when you had the chance. But you didn't. And now here you remain, feet rooted to the ground in this terrible place, the feeling of your dead lover haunting your every move. You should've left, but you didn't - and now you can't help but cling to whatever pieces of him you have left, even as you feel them pulling you further from the living.

"These drafts are, uh," your editor chews on her lip as she speaks, tapping her pen against the stack of paper on her lap. "Well -"

"What?" you snap. She holds her hands up in defence.

"They're just… a little dark, is all. It's not - they're not like your other novels."

"Am I not allowed to change?" you ask dully. "Am I stuck here? Can I not… can I not take a step forward?"

You should've left, but you couldn't, because the only pieces that you have left of Jason are Gotham - the Bowery and the streets of it, the bricks of the alleyways and the cracked concrete of the sidewalks. The apartment that you'd planned on getting with him, with its rickety fire escape and paint peeling from the walls. All these pieces, all these reasons to cling to and keep you here. It's like a curse, this place, and you were trapped before you ever even realized it.

"That's not what I'm saying," your editor sighs. "I'm just… a little concerned is all. I don't want you to get lost in this."

"I'm not lost," you shoot back, the words a rushed tumble falling from your lips, a fearful assurance for yourself more than her, perhaps. "I'm not. I know exactly where I am."

"And where is that?" She arches a manicured brow as she watches you. The clock on the wall ticks on and on and you think, perhaps, that this must be what it feels like to be an animal caught in a snare. You stare back at her, waiting, waiting, waiting for something to happen, for someone to pull you out of this place… but you're not sure there's anyone left to take your hand these days.

"…I'm right here," you offer eventually, your voice quiet in the echoing room.

"Right," she sighs. "You should… go away for a while, I think. Take a vacation."

"A vacation?" you echo. She nods and hums in affirmation. "Where?"

"Wherever you want," she shrugs. "Anywhere… anywhere but here."

"Where would I be," you say slowly, "if not for right here?"

"It's just to, you know," she sighs, tapping her nails on the stack of paper as she searches for the right words, as she looks and looks and looks for the way out. "Just to get away from it all for a little while. Get away from this place and these drafts and the - your, um,"

"My dead boyfriend?" you offer dryly. She shoots you an exasperated look.

"Your grief," she corrects. "Get away from your grief before it kills you, too."

You wonder sometimes if Jason knew that, even when you didn't. If he knew, all of those nights that you spent crying and pleading with him to be safe, to be careful, to not go out there to die. You wonder if he knew that it was some kind of curse, that this city traps you and ensnares you and chokes the outside world.

Not that it matters, you think dully, now that he's dead.

"Is this because of the Red Hood?" your editor asks bluntly. You blink.

"Pardon?"

"The new novels, the - the horrors that you write now. Is it because of the phantom?" she clarifies. You straighten where you sit, shifting in your seat.

"They're just… ghost stories," you say slowly. "The Red Hood's not - he's not real."

"I'm not saying he is," she sighs. "I'm just… Jason died and that changed you and I get that. But these weird… these weird rumours start popping up all over the city and suddenly the only books you'll write are about… about -"

"Ghost stories?" you prompt.

"Dead people!" she exclaims before sighing and brushing a stray hair out of her face. "I just… I just don't want to see you get stuck in this is all."

"I think," you say pointedly, rolling your shoulders back and settling further into your chair, "that it's a bit too late for that."

Dead, sure, but not gone. Even after his death, it's like he's still here. It's an ever-heavy presence laying over your shoulders and wrapping around you. Sometimes you swear you can even feel his breath on your cheek.

But that's crazy, you tell yourself. It can't be real. He's gone, he's gone, he's gone.

It's years after Jason's death that stories begin to spread around the Bowery - rumours of a hulking, shadowed figure stalking through the alleyways at night, intangible and uncatchable and melting into nothing whenever he's close to getting caught. People murmur about seeing streaks of red out of the corner of their eyes and a hooded figure hiding in the darkness. People whisper, people talk.

The Red Hood, they began to call him.

It scares people, notably - everyone at first. But then a pattern begins to emerge, and the story surrounding the Red Hood begins to shift. It's the criminals that begin to taste fear, that begin to shrink away from the darkness of night and the nooks and corners that they used to call home. It's the violence that begins to shift, turning against the perpetrators.

The Bowery's protector, he begins to be known as. Some sort of guardian angel, stalking the dangerous back alleys and keeping people safe in the depths of the endless night.

You hear the stories, of course, for you also call the Bowery home. And sure, a part of you thinks that it must be nonsense, must be some kind of trick of the night or hallucination spun from living endlessly in this closed-off city. But you've felt it, of course - the presence of someone watching, lurking, trailing after you. You swear that you've seen it, the streak of red like a splash of blood against the blackened backdrop of night.

You swear that there's something out there… and you swear that he's got his eye on you.

The first time you really encounter the Red Hood, you're sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building, one beer cracked open for yourself and a second sitting next to you, untouched. It's never opened - Jason's not there to share it with you. He never will be again, you know, you know, you know. But there's something that feels so wrong about doing things for just you instead of for the both of you, and you're not sure that you would be able to stand the idea of grabbing one beer from the fridge and drinking it alone.

But you are alone, you know, and you swing your legs over the edge and look up at the stars alone, your breath coming out in cold, foggy puffs. He'd sit with you, back when he was still alive. He'd point up at the stars through the cloud-splotched sky and tell you about the constellations, outlining the stories and the histories as he traced a hand up and down your spine and pressed gentle kisses to the crown of your head.

You look at the sky tonight and you think about the big, wide world beyond this city, beyond the tangled snare of this life and the way that it haunts. And it's like you can feel it, the knotted wires twisting around your ankles and keeping you rooted here.

But then you tip your head down to stare toward the tangled mess of the city beneath you and you think of the Red Hood, of the shadow stalking the streets below. A shudder passes through you as you feel it, the weight of that unknown presence, and you can't help but wonder if it's Jason who's still here - if he's still holding on for you in some way.

Selfish, you think harshly as you clench your fists and stand, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and stumbling. Your head swims as you pull yourself to your feet, and you teeter for a moment as you slip on the edge of the roof.

But just as your heart lurches in your chest, just as you feel yourself tip off the edge, everything sort of… pauses for a minute. No one ever thinks they're really going to be the one to fall drunk off of a roof to their death - but here you are, balancing so precariously on the ledge between life and death.

Something sort of… catches you, then - an arm wraps around your waist and hauls you back up onto the safe, steady ground, notably far, far away from the ledge. And you swear to god you see it - the shadowy outline of a figure, the halo of red, the bite of cold flashing through you.

You spin around, wildly looking around the empty rooftop and letting your heart sink back into your chest as you find yourself alone, standing next to the roof access door. As you reach for the doorknob, your heart still spinning from the ordeal, you glance back at where you were sitting.

Your heart lurches again, then, finding its way to your throat as you stare at the empty beer bottle that sits on the ledge, your fingerprints still smudging the condensation on it. The second bottle, you realize… is gone, disappeared along with whoever or whatever saved you from the fall.

As you stumble back into your apartment, locking the door behind you with trembling fingers, you can't help but feel like you're not quite alone - like something that used to be out there is now… in here.

It's weeks later when the Red Hood makes his appearance again. You're sitting on your fire escape late in the evening, the metal hot to the touch as the moon hangs low and the summer air sits heavy and humid. Two glasses of lemonade sit next to you, yours half-empty and dripping condensation in the heat that wraps around everything, choking everything that it touches. Jason's, of course, sits untouched beside you, but it sits nonetheless - like he'll walk out any minute to join you, to sit next to you and crack the ice cubes on his teeth.

You're looking through old pictures of the two of you, boxes of them that typically stay hidden and buried in the back of your closet having been pulled out and dusted off. You're not sure why, but there's something lately that's made you want to remember him more than usual - something that's made you want to see him.

But one of those hot, sticky gusts of summer wind blows through and a picture flutters out of the box and away - despite your desperate, rushed scramble to lean over the railing to try to grab it. It's agonizing, perhaps more than it should be. With so few tangible memories of him left, you don't feel like you can afford to lose any small scraps. It's like he's slipping through your fingers more and more each day, and you start to realize in a sinking sort of way, that even the dead will always have further to fall, further to disappear.

You're hanging over the railing, staring forlornly down into the darkness when the photo just sort of… floats back up toward you. It's like it was tossed by someone or something down below, some unseeable force pushing it back up and toward your chest. But as you snatch it in your hand and lean a bit further to peer down toward the ground, all you manage to see is a quick stripe of red blurring through the shadows in the corner of your vision. There's nothing else… nothing besides the endless darkness and the twisting maze-like trap of the city.

When you sigh and sit back down, thumbing the photo as you grip onto it and letting your shoulders slump with a deep exhale, you reach for your lemonade. But the second glass, you find, is… empty, with wet fingerprints breaking through the layer of condensation on it and the ice missing, too.

Turning away sharply to look down at your hands, you realize that the photo that you're holding is one of you and Jason on Halloween years ago, matching ghost-like costume makeup smudged across your faces.

And so it begins, this routine that the two of you have. It's no replacement for Jason, sure - this strange, shadowed spirit that seems to trail after you, that seems to haunt your every move and tangle around you like the curse of this place. It is no replacement for the love of the living, but it's something - it's someone, and it makes you feel just a little less alone.

It's when you're walking home one night, winding through the twisted, maze-like alleyways and streets with nothing but the dull light of the moon to guide you, when you think that maybe this will be the night that you're unlucky. You know where you live - you know that it's really only dumb luck that you haven't been mugged yet, haven't been backed into a dark corner with no one to turn to and nowhere to run.

It's a cornerstone of this city, perhaps, to be so trapped… to be caught in this web before you even know to be afraid.

So when it begins to happen, when you're pressed into a corner, the brick wall cold and piercing against your back and your heart in your throat, you think that it's probably just time for the inevitable.

But then you think of Jason, of how kind and caring he was and how protective he was. You think of how he'd walk you home late at night to make sure that you were safe, how you'd wave down to him from the fire escape of your apartment and blow him a kiss from above. You wonder, in that hazy, fearful sort of way that seems to happen when death comes knocking at your door, if he was afraid when he died, somewhere in some back alley like this. You wonder if he thought of you, of the fact that he'd never come home safely that night, of the fact that he was leaving you.

There's something that lurches painfully in your throat as you press yourself further against the wall and you think of him in your place, with those kind, gentle eyes of his and those hands that didn't quite know how to do harm yet.

Sometimes you think that Jason was just too good for this place - that he deserved something much more than this crawling city could give him. And maybe, you think as a knife glints in front of you, the yellow of the streetlight illuminating your oncoming death. Maybe dying is the only way out of this godforsaken curse.

But then something… changes. The air shifts - the shadows dance. A streak of red slices between you and your threat and you hear a scream and a bloody gurgle of pain and maybe even a gunshot. You see the figure in front of you, wrapped in shadow and striking reds. You see the way that the streetlight goes right through him and the way that the shine of the moon can't quite seem to touch him… and you see the body of the man who'd been threatening you, too, blood-soaked and unmoving on the ground.

You stare down at him, your eyes wide and unblinking as you watch blood pool into the cracks and crevices of the crumbling asphalt beneath you and you consider how many of you have died like this - silent and ignored, like a rat in a back alley that's seen as nothing more than a nuisance… another body to step over, another lost cause finally gone.

The body doesn't move and a shaky, whimpering exhale leaves your lips as you lean heavily against the brick wall, your knees trembling and your hands cold. It could've been you tonight - it was Jason, once. There is a death that stalks these streets and something saved you tonight, you're sure. Something that shouldn't have been there.

Sure enough, that strange, hulking figure is still there, standing in front of you for the first time after flitting past you, unseen, for so long. You see him tangibly, solidly - you see his stance and the way he rolls his shoulders back and clenches his fists.

You see Jason standing in front of you - a ghost of what he used to be, a haunting memory seeping into reality before your wide, unsteady eyes.

"Jason…" your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a murmur cutting through the silent, still night. You're sure that you've gone crazy, of course. You think that maybe that man really had killed you and this is some hazy, cursed afterlife… some way of trapping you here in this moment and this agony even in death. You think - but you say his name, whisper it to him like a prayer and you wait, frozen, for an answer from above.

He turns to you slowly, and it seems that it's his turn to act like he's seen a ghost, spinning to face you and staring, wide-eyed and silent. You see him, just for a moment, and you know now that it's him, that it's Jason.

"Jason, I - no, wait, please -," Perhaps it's because he's afraid, you think desperately. Or perhaps it's - perhaps you've gone insane. He fades from in front of you, vaporizing into the endless shadows of the city and leaving you alone in the alleyway.

Alone, alone, alone.

Even in death, you're still losing him. Even in death, he's still slipping further and further from your fingers, squirming from your grasp until not even his memory is left to haunt you.

He's gone, and there's nothing but you and an unmoving corpse in a dark corner of a dark city, and when you stumble home slowly that night, there's a silence and a stillness that makes your skin crawl and your hands twitch.

Even in the days that follow that incident, the presence is just… gone. It leaves you reeling, of course, wondering endlessly if it was real, if the shadowy, blood-soaked protector of the Bowery is Jason, in one form or another.

But even if it is the ghost of him, you think, staring at the photo of him that you keep tucked into a corner of your wallet. Even if it is some phantom memory of him, some piece that couldn't die - couldn't get away from this place… is it even really him? Is it enough, you think, to have just the shadow of his life?

It plagues you as the days roll by, and you find yourself wandering endlessly, both inside your home and out in the winding, maze-like streets, like you're looking for something that you know doesn't exist. It's like you're searching for some kind of way out, waiting for a sign or an omen or another blood-soaked body in the back of an alley to rise from the dead and tell you what to feel.

But time drags on ceaselessly in a city that grows inward, that tangles itself endlessly together until it traps you. And as that time rolls by, you begin to get more… desperate.

You want to see him again - you need to see him again. And you figure… there has to be a way to make him appear - just once, just to see if you're right, if it's really him and he's really haunting you.

That's how you find yourself, one night, up on the rooftop of your building once again. One mostly empty beer bottle sits next to you with a second, untouched one placed caringly beside it as you stand on the concrete ledge and let the breeze blow into you.

You wonder briefly, as you peer over the edge, what it would be like to be nothing, to have the wind blow right through you and never feel the cold. You gaze down, down, down towards the darkened depths of the city as night blankets the buildings and muffles the life there. It's odd, you think, to look at it all from this height - to stand above it like this. It's odd to feel so separate and yet… trapped, still. Trapped… always.

You toe at the concrete edge and wrap your arms around your waist as the end-of-summer breeze brings in the cooler air and makes you shiver. You think that perhaps this is going a bit too far - perhaps you've gone a bit too crazy and this will be the end of you. Maybe there is no place here for the living and all that's left for you in this forsaken curse is to join the dead, one way or another.

You consider, as you stare down into the depths, being buried next to Jason if this kills you. But then you consider being buried somewhere outside of Gotham - because maybe then you could finally escape this place, even if it really is only in death.

But then, as you lift one foot and let it swing over the edge, you think that perhaps you… don't even really want that. Perhaps you can't even stand to think about it. Perhaps there is some part of Jason tied to this place because that's really what gets you… you don't want to break free of it.

You get a bit distracted, admittedly, thinking about all this and turning it over in your mind, and you let your foot hover over the empty space, staring down at the city below. You're so distracted that it catches you off guard, the firm arm that wraps around your waist and hauls you away from the ledge, dragging you to safety.

The breath catches in your lungs from the force of it, from the strength of the tug that pulls you endlessly away from that tipping point between life and death and steadies you on your feet. You're reeling from the force of it still when you hear a voice - his voice. Jason's voice… for the first time since his death, all of those years ago.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he begins, a hysterical edge in his voice. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if I hadn't been there? You could've - god, you could've died." He's going on and on, trembling and tugging at his hair and babbling about how he doesn't know what you were thinking and how dangerous that was and how he's been trying so hard to keep you safe but you're out here doing things like this and…

And you stare, wide-eyed, at the ghost of your lover as he stands before you and speaks to you in a voice that you almost recognize. It's different, notably, scratchy and warbling in a way that it wasn't before. But it's Jason's, still, and you'd know that voice anywhere, from anyone… even in death.

He looks… dead, mostly, you note. Pale-faced with dark circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken and face hollow. He looks… ashen - empty and unwell and… dead. He looks dead.

But he's standing in front of you and chewing you out for being so reckless, scolding you for not taking care of yourself and you're just sort of… stunned. Your head spins and your hands shake and it's like you can't breathe as your lungs turn to ice. You can still feel it, you're sure, the weight of his arm around your waist - you can still feel the strength of him haul you away from the ledge that you were so precariously tipping over.

You can feel the ghost of the man that you once loved saving you from becoming what he is now.

"Jason…" you whisper his name and his jaw snaps shut as he stares, unblinking and unmoving as you fall apart in front of him. If he were still alive, you realize, all of that shouting and carrying on would have him here heaving for breath while his heart hammers. But he's dead, you remind yourself, and you can't help but sink to your knees, crumbling under the weight of it all, under the weight of the man that you loved and lost standing in front of you and looking so hollow but so whole at the same time.

Your hands shake and your lungs tremble and you feel lost in the maze of it all more than ever before as everything spins and spins and spins around you. But he sees you start to buckle, start to crumble towards the ground and Jason reaches for you, gripping you around the waist and keeping you somewhat upright.

When you reach for him in shock, gripping onto the dull red of his tattered hoodie, you feel him, solid and real and tangible as he presses against you. He's real, even as a memory, even as a phantom of who he used to be. He's real. You whisper his name again as you look up at him and it's like it all comes to a halt, like the wind stops blowing and the stars stop blinking as you look at the man that you love and you find him again for the first time… even in death.

There the two of you stand, face to face, dead and alive. He's looking at you like you're the ghost, wide-eyed and shocked and staring at you like he loves you still. And you're pressing against him - and he's cold to the touch like he never was before, the heart in his chest silent as he looks down at you.

But he's Jason and he's here and he's more alive than he's been to you in years.

"Jason…" you say his name again like a prayer, like a plea. You say it while you stand so close to him that your breath would be mingling with his if he still had anything to breathe and your hands tighten on his hoodie at the reminder… at the remembrance that he's so, so far from you, even now.

It's almost as if he remembers this at the same time as you, because he pulls away from you in a jerking, shocked action, stumbling away and leaving you to stumble on your own. He steps back so fast that he trips on his own feet and there's a look of anguish in him suddenly, like he's remembering that he's not supposed to be here - that he's not allowed to live anymore.

"Jason," it's a shrill, desperate yell this time that comes from you as you watch him begin to fade, begin to melt into the mist of the night and leave you once more. You call out to him with a wretchedness that he's not sure he's ever heard before in life or in death… with a need that makes him feel almost alive, almost real.

It makes him stumble, makes him hesitate as he stares, eyes wild and sparking with something almost akin to life. It makes him snap back into solid form again. You make him whole again, just for a moment.

He says your name, a whisper over the breeze, a small noise swallowed by the night, and the shock begins to rattle and drain from your body in heavy, gasping breaths as you double over and sob, falling to your knees fully this time so that you can weep into your hands and hide your face from view. There's nothing from him for a moment, and you're petrified that if you look up, he'll be gone again, nothing but a shadow of the night, nothing but a memory faded by pain.

But he proves you wrong - takes you by surprise, just like he always could. He moves toward you like he's pulled by some invisible thread tangling around the two of you and winding your lives and deaths together that he can't quite untangle himself from. He moves to you like he loves you, still, even in death.

When his cold, undead hands cup your face and begin to wipe away your tears, when his bluish lips press against your forehead and he shushes you in that gentle, loving way of his, you find that maybe being trapped here isn't so bad.

"You can't do that," you whisper as he crouches in front of you, his hands wiping away endless tears that roll down your cheeks and his brows bunching together as he frowns. "You can't leave me like that - not again. I can't - I can't do it again."

"I'm sorry," he starts with, and a part of your heart lurches until he says, "I won't - I won't leave you ever again. There is nothing that can take me from you now." Just as he's begun to smooth the wet tracks from your cheeks, though, the mist around you dampens further into rain and you watch as it goes right through him, as it hits the ground beneath his feet and soaks the pale concrete.

"Jason, I need…" you begin as you stare at the ground through him. "You need to tell me what's been going on."

It's odd, you find, to have him in your home again, to watch him stand in your kitchen and make a cup of tea - just one cup, you notice, while you dry your hair from the rain. He'd ushered you out of the cold, pushing you with gentle, tender hands until you were back inside the safety of your apartment and looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

The kiss that he'd pressed to your forehead was quick, a hesitant sort of thing as he'd delicately guided you to the bathroom to clean up and get warm. As you stood in the doorway and watched him waft toward your kitchen, something had flipped in your gut at how normal it felt to have him back in your life and your home, even if you could see the kitchen lights shining through him and onto you.

By the time you come out into the kitchen, he's pushing a steaming cup of tea towards you as you sit on a stool at your counter, letting your hands wrap around the ceramic to soak up the warmth.

"How is it that you can, um," you begin, frowning down at your tea. When you glance up at him sheepishly, he just grins in that kind way of his, the gesture juxtaposing the gaunt, hollow look on his face.

"It's ok," he prompts gently and you sigh.

"How can you… touch and hold things and… and be?" you ask slowly. This time, when he smiles, the only thing that shines through is love.

"Well it's - it's because of you, baby," he says simply. You blink at him, staring as you frown.

"What?"

"It's, I don't know - it's just what poltergeists do, I guess," Jason shrugs as he shifts on his feet. "We cause trouble, we wreak havoc. It's what I do."

"I don't know," you say, huffing out a laugh. "I'm not sure keeping the Bowery safe counts as wreaking havoc. I mean, the only people you're causing trouble for are the people who probably deserve it. And you're… you're keeping me safe. And - and my home. You're keeping our home safe." You clear your throat after you speak, pointedly looking away from him and out your window, instead, feeling heat seep into your cheeks as you stare at the way the rain quickens into a downpour outside.

"I have to," Jason says quietly, and the sombre tone of his voice makes your gaze snap back to him. "I couldn't… I couldn't do it when I was alive. But I can do things now… I can be things that I couldn't before."

"But how, Jay?" you sigh. "What do you mean when you say it's me?" He laughs a bit at that, then, leaning across the counter to kiss your cheek and feeling a spark of delight zip warmth through his chest for the first time since his heart stopped beating when you lean forward subconsciously to let him love on you.

"You've been leaving things out for me, baby."

"Hm?" is your only response. Jason looks at you pointedly and you chew your lip for a moment before he glances down at the tea in your hands and you perk up.

"Oh my god," you splutter, and he laughs a bit at your gasp. "The beer, the lemonade, the - everything. It really was you."

"Yea, baby," he says easily. "Every… all the drinks, the extra plates of food, the - everything like that. You were paying tribute to a ghost, babe. You were keeping me here." You sit with that for a moment, letting your fingers tighten around the cooling ceramic of your mug as your head spins from Jason's words, with the knowledge that you really had spent all this time keeping the dead alive, in a way.

"Why'd you…" you begin, shifting in your seat as you search for the words. "Why'd you stay here, though? This place… it chokes the life out of people, Jay. It really choked the life out of you." You wrinkle your nose in immediate regret as you say the ill-timed joke, but Jason just laughs and presses another cold kiss to your cheek and you relax ever so slightly under the comfort of it all. "Why would you stay trapped in a place like this? Even in death?"

"Because of you, baby," he says gently, and his fingers tangle together as he eyes your hands, like he wants so desperately to reach for you but he just can't bring himself to. "I'm tied to you. Your love and your gifts and your… your remembering of me - that's what's keeping me around. I'm not tied to this city like a curse anymore. I'm tied… just to you. To your - to your love."

"Jason," you begin, your voice wavering as you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes, but he just continues.

"I've been trying, you know, this whole time," he says in a rush. "I've been trying to watch you - watch over you, keep you safe and all that. I've been trying to repay you for keeping me alive, sort of. I've been - I've been trying to make it worth it for you."

"I wasn't…" you begin carefully. "You don't have to do that for me. You don't have to make it worth my while. I just - I just missed you, Jason. I just wanted you back. Why didn't you come back to me?" Your voice cracks at the end as tears blur your vision and Jason shrinks back in a way that you've never seen before, curling into himself. He looks small, scared and insecure in a way that you're not used to seeing from him, even in life.

"Baby, I'm - I'm dead," he says heavily. "I look dead. I'm… I'm hollow and I'm rotting away and I didn't - I couldn't let you see me like that."

"Oh, Jason…" you say softly, but he steps away from the counter, away from you, and rubs harshly at his eyes with the palms of his hands as his shoulders bunch up. Under the light of your kitchen, his skin looks thin, stretched over bones too tightly as it shines with a waxy, unnatural, yellowish tinge.

"I can't be who I was before," he says desperately, keeping his face hidden in his hands as he all but doubles over, his voice trembling and cracking. "I can't - I - I want you to remember me, remember me for who I was, not - not this thing that I am now. I just… I wanted you to remember me well."

You abandon your cup of tea at his outburst, retracting your hands from the warmth of it so that you can make your way around the counter and toward him.

"Come here," you offer gently as you jump up to sit on the counter in front of him, waving him over with one of your hands. Jason looks at you for a moment, wary and sniffling, but even now he finds himself incapable of denying you and his feet bring him, stumbling, toward you despite his protests.

You widen your legs for him, letting him slot his hips between your thighs as you wrap your fingers around the red fabric of his hoodie and pull him closer to you. It's the hoodie that he died in, you note as you thumb at the fabric, at the tears and loose threads. It's the hoodie that he was wearing when he walked out your door and never came back.

But now he's here, trembling and looking down like he can't bear the sight of whatever disappointment, whatever hatred he's sure you'll look at him with. But you just cup his face in your hands, his skin cold as you smooth your palms over his cheeks and coax him ever so gently to look up at you. Then, slowly… slowly, you lean forward to press your lips against his, the bluish tinge of his lips chilled against your own.

There's a sound that he makes somewhere in the back of his throat, nervous and shocked and disbelieving as you part from his lips only to press a series of gentler, slower kisses across his face. You cover the sunken hollows of his cheeks and the darkened circles under his eyes and the pale, waxy skin of his fluttered-closed eyelids. You cover every surface until you find his lips again, and you can't help but be a bit delighted this time when he kisses you back, letting his tongue push against the seam of your lips as his hands grip onto your hips tightly.

"Jason," you murmur quietly, breaking away just enough to suck in a breath. He hums in question, his lips chasing yours, but you huff out a laugh and tap him chastisingly on the lips. "I still have to breathe, you know, even if you don't."

"Sorry, baby," he says sweetly, turning to trail kisses down your neck, instead, but you only indulge him for a moment before you're cupping his cheeks against and guiding him gently to look at you.

"I love you, you know… completely," you say honestly, and he tries to shift and look away but you tighten your grip on his cheeks so that he's forced to look at you. You know, of course, that he could leave if he wanted to - could vanish into thin air and melt from your grasp once again. You know that he's here because he's choosing to be, because he loves you, because he worships you, but never because he's trapped with you.

"Baby…"

"No, Jay, listen. I love you endlessly, through death and beyond. I promise, baby. I'll… I'll promise you as many times as you need to hear it. I love you tonight just as much as I loved you the night that I lost you. Nothing… nothing could change that."

"You didn't lose me," he murmurs back, leaning to press his forehead against yours and let his eyes flutter shut. "You didn't. Not - not forever, at least. I'm here. I'm here, I'm - I'm so sorry for leaving you, baby."

"Don't you apologize for it, Jay," you whisper back, letting one of your hands press against his chest where his heart used to beat and feeling nothing but the dull cold that radiates from him now. "Don't you apologize for shit that isn't your fault."

"I'm story I stayed away for so long, then," he amends, and you pull back to smile at him fondly, your eyes full of nothing but love as you run a hand through his hair, as brittle and dry as it is now.

"You came back, though, didn't you? You came back to me," you say easily, and you're sure that if his lungs still had use he would sigh one of those heavy, deep sighs that he's so fond of. Maybe that really is the curse, you think. No matter how far you run, you always end up right back in this place.

"I did, yea, I -," Jason clears his throat, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. You let him, smoothing your hands up and down his chest as you feel him clenching his fingers against your hips. "I'll always come back to you," he ends up saying firmly, tilting his head back down to look at you once more. There's something in him now, a promise, a passion - and it flits through his eyes so deeply that he almost looks alive. "I'll always come back to you."

"I know you will, baby," you say softly, one of your hands finding the back of his neck to pull him toward you again. "I know you will." When you kiss him this time, there's no hesitance, no fear - not from either of you.

When he buries his head in your shoulder to weep, his face pressed against the skin of your neck so that you can feel his tears, icy and wet, trailing over your skin, you bury your hand in his hair and shush him gently, rocking him back and forth as he sobs. That night, with the storm raging outside and tearing through the winding, tangled streets of Gotham, the two of you remain in the confines of your home. That night, you learn that ghosts can still cry. You learn that they can still love.

It's shocking, to say the least, when you wake the next morning to learn that the storm has passed and the sun's broken through the clouds just ever so slightly. The gaps in the darkened overhang filter shattering, slender beams of light onto the dark and tangled city below, illuminating cracks and crevices that have been unseen for so long.

Ghosts can't sleep, you know, but you wake with Jason in your bed, anyway, holding you and soothing you and pulling the blanket up around you while you doze against his chest.

"Did you stay here all night?" you murmur against him, and you feel him hum in affirmation.

"Of course," Jason responds easily, his voice hushed and low as he soothes you with his hands. "Where else would I be, if not right here with you?"

"Fighting crime," you mumble, and this time his laughter shakes his chest enough that it jostles you, much to your half-asleep displeasure. "No, I'm serious," you continue. "I hear there's some crazy smuggling going on at the docks - someone even said they saw a mermaid on one of the cargo ships."

"A mermaid?" Jason muses. "In Gotham? I think you need some more sleep, baby."

"You're no fun," you quip back, but you close your eyes and curl closer to him regardless as he laughs.

"I think I'll stick to the Bowery for now," he soothes. "Someone else can deal with whatever circus is going on down at the docks."

"Yea, but what about last night?" you sigh sleepily as Jason traces a hand up and down your spine. "How do you think the Bowery fared without the Red Hood protecting it for the night?"

"I feel like…" he responds slowly. "You're making fun of me."

"No," you say quickly. "Wouldn't dream of it." His finger flicks you gently on the forehead and you giggle, keeping your eyes closed and your face buried in his chest.

"Even the Red Hood deserves a night off every now and then… right?" At the hesitance in his voice, the thin warble of insecurity seeping in, you open your eyes and tug yourself up and away from him so that you can give him one of your soft, gentle smiles and kiss him on the cheek.

"Endlessly, yes," you say simply, and it relaxes him enough that he lets his shoulders drop and he tugs you back toward him, settling you against his chest once more and coaxing you to close your eyes. His skin presses against yours as he pulls the blankets up around your shoulders and tucks them in carefully, and you can't help but hum in satisfaction and press yourself further into him.

It's not often that the sun shines in Gotham, in this cursed place that traps you and holds onto you in its choking, death-like grip. It's not often that the light breaks through. But now, as the beams shine through your window and cast patches of heat onto your back, you find that the cool feeling of Jason's touch is nothing but a comfort against you.

Maybe this curse isn't so bad, you think, if he's here with you. Maybe this life isn't so bad, even in death.

It's surprisingly simple, you think, for the two of you to begin to settle into this new routine, this new life after death. You're still tangled in this place, of course, still trapped beneath the weight of this haunting city and the ways that it ensnares you. But there is a safety in your home for the two of you that feels a bit less like a curse and a bit more like a choice.

It's late one evening, the rain raging outside as flashes of lightning crack through the sky and thunder rattles the windows of your living room as it booms overhead. You're turning up the heat on your thermostat and Jason's sitting on your couch, that sullen, fidgety look overtaking him as he remembers that he's different now, that you can't curl up into him for warmth the way that you used to.

"What are you doing over there?" he asks in that dull sort of way that he slips into when he can see the fabric of your couch through his hands and he catches glimpses of his reflection in your mirrors.

"I'm just turning the heat up, babe," you say absentmindedly, cranking up the temperature on your thermostat so that it's high. "And that's not something that you have to apologize for," you point out as you spin on your heel and turn back to him, making your way back to your spot next to him and glancing at your radiator with a huffed out breath when it rattles with newfound effort.

"How warm did you make it?" he asks, a frown tugging at his lips as you curl against him and he cranes his head around you to try to catch a look at the number on the thermostat.

"Just warm enough for me to do this," you respond easily, pressing up against his side and letting the cold feeling of his skin seep through you as you let out a delighted shiver. Sure enough, as the temperature in your apartment begins to rise, you find yourself pressing closer to him, seeking the cool touch of his hand tracing mindless patterns across your back under your shirt and the feel of your cheek pressing against his neck.

"Hm, clever," Jason mumbles in that new airy, warbling way of his, and you know that if blood still pumped under his skin he'd have a bright red blush raging across his cheeks. You coo still and poke him gently in the hollow of one of his cheeks, watching him fondly as he looks down at you with a long-suffering stare.

"I'm just saying," you shrug, "we could do all sorts of things like this."

"Yea?" he quips, but his hand smooths down your back and grasps firmly onto your hip, his fingers dipping just below your waistband to press into your skin. "Like what?"

"Hm, I have some ideas…" you trail off, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes. "But what were you thinking?"

Outside, the world spins and spins and the storm rages on. Outside, the streets are dark and winding and dangerous, the maze of alleyways and crumbling roads a haunting hazard, a mass grave for those tied to this place. Outside, the city creaks and groans with a life of its own as it takes and takes and takes.

But in here, even the dead can find themselves a home. In here, even ghosts can learn to live again.

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 11 months ago

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(Genshin Impact) Navia, Yae, Lisa, Furina, Lumine, Hu Tao, Xinyan, and Shenhe's S/O getting scared by a story

No one requested this, I just wanted to write this scenario after rewatching Marble Hornets and I am TERRIFIED of closing my eyes now. I also feel incredibly old mentioning Marble Hornets. Did you know that web series is almost 15 years old now?

Navia has watched many theatre productions, but nothing regarding horror.

She personally isn't affected and finds them entertaining! (Because she's already dealing with the horrors of her normal life)

Her S/O on the other hand...

(Navia) "Archons, S/O! You're shaking! Was the story that scary?"

(S/O) "N-No I'm not...!"

Navia honestly can't help but laugh, not at S/O's terror, but just how cute they looked!

Plus, it made them sleep even closer to her, so no complaints are gonna be made!

Navia wraps her arms around S/O tightly.

(Navia) "Don't worry, S/O! I'm sure my gun can stop whatever tries to grab you in the night!"

(S/O) "I told you I'm not afraid! P-Plus, I don't think guns can stop a ghost- Wait, why are you making it sound like something will come?!"

(Navia) "I'm just saying for them to hear!"

S/O rolled their eyes as Navia laughed at their reaction.

Navia finds the whole situation makes S/O even more adorable in her eyes.

(Yae) "My goodness, S/O. If you had a tail, it'd be shooting straight up right now."

Yae didn't realize that S/O would be that affected by a simple scary story.

She could hear their heart racing as they tried to battle mentally that there were no such things as ghosts and whatnot.

Yae is half tempted to tell them what's around Inazuma, but figured that S/O doesn't need to die of a heart attack.

Not when she can inflict that herself.

(Yae) "Well if you are so brave, would you like to stay overnight by yourself at the Shrine? I am told you can see many things-"

(S/O) "P-PLEASE DON'T!"

Yae's hand covers her mouth as her eyes close from laughter.

(Yae) "I jest, little one. I am not that cruel."

(S/O) "Ugh, I knew you were just gonna tease me about this..."

(Yae) "Rest assured I will not frighten you anymore than I am right now...More than likely anyway."

Surprisingly, Yae does have them close to her whenever they are in private, holding them and making sure they're comfortable.

It takes every fiber in her being not to startle them and hear S/O yelp.

The things one does for love, but it'd also be really funny.

At that point it's a 50/50 whether Yae would terrorize or comfort S/O.

Horror wasn't a genre Lisa normally reads in the Library, but she does see the appeal of why people liked it.

S/O on the other hand despised the story they read.

Not that it was terribly written. Evidently it was too well written, since S/O was sleeping with candles lit in their bedroom.

(Lisa) "Dear if you're so scared, why did you read it?"

(S/O) "W-Well, I...thought I'd look braver if I finished it."

Lisa giggled and held their hands.

(Lisa) "It certainly is making you cuter.~"

Out of curiousity, she did start reading the book they had picked up whenever they were in bed together.

She could see S/O's eyes widen at the book and trying to refocus their attention away.

Meanwhile, Lisa was analyzing the book and seeing what had gotten them so scared.

(Lisa) "Is it because the story is supernatural, S/O?"

(S/O) "I mean, you can fight monsters! What do you do against a teleporting entity?!"

Lisa chuckled at their panic, and made sure to have one arm holding them.

When they were sleeping, S/O held onto Lisa for dear life.

Something she had no problem with. Maybe she should get them to read scary stories more often.

(Furina) "Aaaaw, are you scared, S/O?"

Furina teased, making S/O pout.

(S/O) "I-It creeped me out a lot, alright?! Just don't rub it in my face."

(Furina) "Come now, S/O! I will not take lightly of your mental affliction from this story! In fact, I will read it tonight and show you that you have nothing to fear!"

ONE SCARY STORY LATER

Furina and S/O sat quietly on the bed, with an aquatic familliar emitting a bright light nd illuminating the room.

Even though it was time for bed.

(Furina) "..."

(S/O) "...It freaked you out too, didn't it?"

(Furina) "D-Do not be absurd! I simply just think that the room was too dark-"

The door suddenly creaked open, which made the two of them immediately hold each other in absolute terror.

(Furina) "H-Hey, S/O! Um...I think tonight is an amazing time to become closer as lovers by never letting go, do you not agree?"

(S/O) "Y-YUP!"

The two of them shivered the corner of their bed, essentially sleeping with one eye open, and a gaggle of hydro familiars guarding the door all night.

They could not sleep properly for nearly a week, but it did bring them closer.

In which that they did not leave each other alone for a single second the moment the lights when off due to being scared out their minds.

(Lumine) "I didn't know you liked scary stories, S/O."

(S/O) "I don't..."

Lumine raised an eyebrow at the book, then put it down on the bedroom drawer.

(Lumine) "So, why did you read it?"

(S/O) "I thought it'd be interesting to talk with you about a story! I know you've always told me about your adventures and...I wanted to tell you a story."

Lumine's heart melted, bringing in S/O for a kiss on the cheek.

(Lumine) "I appreciate it S/O. Anyways, what's it about?"

S/O gained a confidence boost after the kiss and began telling her what the story entailed.

Only to watch their reaction drain as they explained it, recalling the bits of horror and Lumine being able to tell what part exactly terrified them.

(Lumine) "Hah, I think that's enough S/O. Honestly, it's kind of freaking me out too-"

(Paimon) "Yeah, now's not the time for-"

(S/O) "AWUAAAGH!?"

S/O leapt from the side of their bed and into Lumine's arms after Paimon had suddenly appeared.

(Lumine) "WOAH!"

(Paimon) "ACK! S/O, it's just Paimon!"

(S/O) "D-DON'T DO THAT WHEN WE'RE TALKING ABOUT GHOSTS!"

(Lumine) "Huh...I guess Paimon is like one-"

(Paimon) "Paimon is very much alive!"

Lumine lovingly held S/O close to her chest, ensuring that they were safe.

She was the traveler, and she could take on ghosts!

Lumine did have to leave out the fact she actually fought ghosts in Tevyat, however.

Especially Tsurumi Island. Her entire adventure there would probably convince S/O to never leave the teapot ever again and stay glued to Tubby 24/7.

Hu Tao, being the gremlin she is, would love to scare S/O further.

(Hu Tao) "You're afraid of ghosts? I can introduce you to a few and dispel that notion!"

(S/O) "H-HU TAO, I SWEAR TO THE ARCHONS, I WILL-"

(Hu Tao) "Woah, woah, woah! No need to be like that! They just want to socialize!"

She absolutely loves seeing them trembling whenever she mentions the story. It was both cute and extremely amusing.

They tried to hide the fact that they were scared from her, but S/O was a terrible liar.

And Hu Tao wants to kick it into overdrive by cosplaying the monster that scared them.

But she was also sure that would result in her getting dumped, both figuratively and literally into the Harbor by S/O.

Shockingly, Hu Tao does employ self restraint if she recognizes that S/O was getting genuinely distressed by her pranks regarding the story.

Instead, she'll have to sadly deal with the very comfy and tight cuddles S/O gives to feel better.

How tragic.

(Xinyan) "You're scared a by a story, S/O? Sheesh, the heck was in that thing?"

Xinyan is a bit confused on how someone could get that terrified by a book.

But whatever, she can't judge.

Most people were afraid of her simply looking at them.

(Xinyan) "Hey, S/O! C'mere a sec! I got a nice song that'll blast all those scary thoughts away!"

Xinyan distracts S/O by playing her songs and just being in their vicinity more than normal.

Something she could tell they appreciated as they calmed down, especially in the dark.

Her hand grips around their arms strongly, giving them a reminder that she ain't afraid of no ghost!

And especially since it meant extra cuddles, Xinyan was willing to indulge them.

(S/O) "I hope this isn't too ridiculous, Xinyan-"

(XInyan) "Nonsense, S/O! This ain't that big'a deal. Besides I...think it's a bit cute."

(S/O) "What was that last part?"

(Xinyan) "A-Ah, don't worry 'bout it!"

Shenhe didn't like seeing S/O be afraid, regardless of the source.

Her focus becomes razor sharp and thinks S/O is being frightened by an actual ghost.

Upon realizing ghost-murder was not needed, Shenhe instead has S/O with her at all times.

(Shenhe) "If I may ask, why are you so afraid of a fictional story?"

(S/O) "It's...kind of hard to explain. Just the concepts in there terrify me..."

(Shenhe) "I do not fully get it, but I will do my best to make you not scared anymore."

While it is unfortunate S/O feels unease, it does bring her great comfort that S/O finds her mere presence comforting enough to not be afraid.

Maybe it was because she can perform exorcist arts, or because she was their lover.

Regardless of the reason, Shenhe will not falter for a single moment, always on alert for S/O's mood.

She seemed to distract them well, one of her methods proving highly effective, which was hugging them tightly.

That seemed to do the job everytime as she felt them relax into her hold.

Part of her wished it was an actual ghost so she could make them pay for making her S/O feel so scared.

If she could murder a ghost, she would.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #navia x reader #yae miko x reader #lisa minci x reader #furina x reader #lumine x reader #hu tao x reader #xinyan x reader #shenhe x reader #navia genshin impact #yae miko #lisa minci #furina genshin impact #lumine genshin impact #hu tao #xinyan genshin impact #shenhe genshin impact

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lyneira · 2 years ago

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♡ *doki doki* ♡

-> things that would make their heart beat a little bit faster

Seeing you smile

Itto, Diluc, Childe, Venti, Thoma

He absolutely loves seeing your face brighten up with a genuine smile. It has him subconsciously mirroring you, his face also turning aglow (even if it's in the most subtle way for someone like Diluc) And especially when you're smiling at him, that love grows tenfold and his own smile grows deeper. He can't help but be full of adoration for you upon seeing that lovely expression. More so when that beautiful smile forms into a laugh, oh his heart is soaring.

That's why he often makes it a point to make you smile whenever he sees you. Whether it's doing something kind for you, telling you a joke, or surprising you with a gift, he's going to find any possible way to make you smile. Your smile is just so precious to him as he knows how fleeting happy moments like these can be, despite how much he wishes they'd last forever.

So he will protect it with all his might, and God forbid someone ever makes that smile turn upside down.

Feeling your touch

Xiao, Tighnari, Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Gorou

Your touch soothes them, assures them, warms them. You needn't even give them a big hug. The moment they feel your skin on theirs, even if it's barely a ghost of a touch, they're folding. After all, I honestly don't these guys would be used to skinship even though it's what they'd secretly crave for the most.

He nearly holds his breath as he feels your fingertips gently caress his skin because if he were to let go, he'd be all over you. Each time you touched him, he'd desire more of that warmth. He wanted more of you. You, who would put his mind at rest and feeling your touch reassures them of that. You make him feel safe

Staring deeply into your eyes

Alhaitham, Zhongli, Kaeya, Cyno, Kaveh

There's an unspoken trust and connection when you two gaze into each other’s eyes that there is no need for words to let them know that you love them.

Your eyes say words that your lips cannot express to its full extent, and most of all, your eyes can never lie. That's why when you look into his eyes with so much love, he knows that it's true and it makes him feel warm. He's so happy that there's no denying you love him as much as he loves you.

Hearing your voice

Ayato, Heizou, Kazuha, Albedo, Baizhu

I feel like these people wouldn't like hearing a lot of noise, but on the contrary, I would think that they didn't mind listening to you.

Your voice is such a distinguishable part of you which makes it his favorite. There's no one else who has that same exact tone of voice, the same exact intonation you use, the same laugh that you have, and all of the other sounds you'd make. They love it so much because it could only belong to you. And when his name would come out of your mouth so sweetly? He'd swoon a bit each time.

Any sound from you meant it was a sound from his favorite person in all of Teyvat. So if he wasn't looking and didn't know you were coming to see him, the moment you call out his name, he'd immediately know it was you and he'd smile. His beloved was here.

a/n: this prompt is heavily inspired by one of the click and drag games I made a while ago on @deescade (hehe, shameless plug per usual). I haven't created a genshin one yet, but I currently have a twisted wonderland one and obey me one if y'all are interested!

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 6 months ago

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Ok ok. I'm back from the dead, And with another headcannon! following my last music related ask

What if after the characters hear our music they start subconsciously humming, or even singing it? After all the creator never has their computer volume on... exept this time we do! And we hear venti, or Barbara, or another character singing our favorite song A LOT. So much so that instead of the usual voices it's all song references and lyrics... I imagine it going something like this:

(venti dies) "don't worry... I'm never going to let you down.."

(Barbara's afk) "la- La- LA- ehem, I'm working late because I'm a singer~"

Well a long night of trying to find out if it was an event mihoyo planned or something else is surely waiting right?

- 🦇

OMG HI 🦇 ANON HRUUUU

Dwdw, Ghost Rebel's been dead as well—you have not been the only one, rest assured 🥲

For this request, I won't be really focusing much on what music the Reader listens to (entirely up to you imo), so apologies if this affects your reading experience!

(The Request 🦇 Anon Mentioned)

Ayo, They Know My MUSIC ✨😎

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Who would've thought that all that singing pays off—now, all musicians and bards of Teyvat are reciting Their Almighty Grace's ballads like they're some holy, ancient harmonies (to them, it probably is—somehow—)

Let's see what our favorite ones have been up to! :D

Venti

With the amount of times you vibed to your songs, Venti's picked them up by listening through the wind. You can 100% assume that he is vibing to it, no matter what time or moment.

People thought he was singing his own ballads when he was humming your songs, when, in fact, he's listening to you jamming out in the distance.

So imagine your shock when you hear Venti sing your song. It was as shocking as Venti without his wine.

"Hehe~ Their Grace looks so flabbergasted!" Venti in the bg just cheering over the fact he made you shocked at his impression of your song!

Bro has zero regrets for breaking the Fourth Wall.

Barbara

Girlie is singing her heart out in the Church of Favonius, and everyone's there for it. 100% she has become the true Idol of Mondstadt.

Super excited and nervous at the same time when you put her in your party team (for whatever reason, only you will know), because this is a chance to show off her practice. She wants to impress you with the song she's heard you sing and hum to countless of times!

So the moment she let it slip through her idle animation, imagine her embarrassment as you flip out, questioning your life choices and your sleep deprivation

"S-Surely, I didn't scare Their Almighty Grace all too badly...?" Barbara's twiddling her fingers, contemplating if she should've done that in the first place, only to be reassured when the other nuns of the church mention that you were screaming how good it was (Ex. "HELLO???? BARBARA???? THAT WAS SO GOOD HELLO??? VOICE ACTOR BE POPPING OFF MAYBE??? THIS GLITCH IS AWESOME!")

Yes, she's doing this again. Add her back to her team. Now. :)

Xinyan

Oh, she is going to rock'n'roll hard after this. She is definitely going to make a rock cover of your song and play it all through Liyue!

Gurl's on her merry way, practicing with her guitar and singing loud and proud! Yunjin be cheering her on in the background as she masters that small snippet of your favorite song >:D

And when it's her time to shine? When you finally give her the chance to perform? Sure, she's nervous—she's only got one shot, and who knows when the next one will come—but she's gonna rock this song with everything she's got, heart, soul, and mind!

The moment you see it happening, Xinyan's a little too into it to care of your reaction at first, pretty much having a blast at the lyrics and overall music composition.

But after? "Whoo, I sure hope Their Grace liked it...Maybe I should've taken in how they were reacting instead of going all out, hehe..." Her legs are kind of shaking from her nerves, but she swears she's fine!

Upon seeing how the citizens of Liyue Harbor are acting though, and with the amount of positive comments her friends kept giving her, Xinyan is calling her performance an absolute success!

She is definitely doing this again—10/10!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: THIS TOOK TOO LONG TO MAKE I AM SO SORRY UGHHHH. I hate it when I say I'd be active and then the next thing I know, I'm being bombarded with irl problems >:(

Anyways! A few updates as I'm writing this: I am no longer taking Sagau Genshin requests for now (even if I might still be writing for a few—there's some waiting in my inbox that I gotta get to), as I need a break to recharge my batteries. However: HSR and Wuthering Waves are free and up for requests, so don't be shy to shoot your shots there!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #sagau x reader #sagau #sagau genshin #yandere sagau #genshin cult au #sagau brainrot #sagau cult au #sagau venti #sagau barbara #sagau xinyan

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dangerpronebuddie · 16 days ago

Text

The Right Thing

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie whispers as he scrolls through listings in El Paso. The neighborhood in his price range looks the same as he remembers it, when he'd walk home with Shannon and his best friend Chewie. The house he picks used to belong to a mean old woman who yelled at him for pulling her garbage bin up to the house for her one day.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie assures himself as he packs away the life he'd built the past six years. His medals he still doesn't like looking at get tucked away with the pictures of Christopher he hasn't stopped looking at since his son walked out the door. The Hildy coffee maker, now well used and well cared for, gets packed alongside the cheap stand mixer Buck always griped about.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie convinces himself when the 118 throw a farewell party for him. Bobby hugs him tighter than his own father ever has. There are actual tears in Chim's eyes when he claps a hand on his back and tells him not to be a stranger. Hen leaves a lipstick print on his cheek that gets smeared as he wipes at his own eyes.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie says as he stands just beyond glass doors. Buck nods and ducks his head as he sniffs. Eddie places a hand on his shoulder, his thumb finding the base of his throat like the space there was carved just for him. Buck bats his hand away in favor of tackling him in a hug that lasts longer than any embrace Eddie's ever had.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie repeats like a mantra as he unpacks the memories he'd so carefully tucked away. The old woman's house doesn't feel like a home. The few things he allowed himself to bring deserve a place filled with love. The photos and his medals and the Hildy coffee maker remain safely in their boxes.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie says as his voice shakes. His mother can do nothing but stare like she's seen a ghost. Like she wasn't expecting him to try. It only spurs him on. Brings back a fight in him he'd long thought lost.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie argues before Christopher slams the door in his face. Eddie waves off his mother's questions and his father's advice. He hasn't done anything right in... his whole life maybe, but this? He has to get right. He talks- it feels like- to the door. Reminisces about Shannon. Explains what he really wanted from Kim. Asks what Christopher wants from him.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie says happily as he tells Chris the plan. Chris smiles in that 'told you so' way Shannon always did- and a little like Buck too- and Eddie pretends not to see the tears in his son's eyes as he agrees. Eddie is still surprised, even though Christopher's only request was for Eddie to do what was right for him.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie knows as he and Chris return home. It's a rocky start, they both knew it would be, but they talk. They give each other time and space to cool off, but they have each other. They're gonna be okay.

I'm doing the right thing

Eddie feels as keys jingle in the door. Buck hauls him into a hug that shakes, then settles them both. Eddie tells Buck he was right not to give back his key, and Buck gets that 'told you so' smile on his face. The three of them spend the day inside the house that, for the first time in months, feels like home. And when Eddie kisses Buck after Chris goes to bed, the mantra he'd been repeating to himself fades away.

I did the right thing. For me.

#911 #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #fanfic #buddie ficlet #i don't know where this came from #i cried a little #enjoy 😊#maggie writes

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whateveriwant · 1 year ago

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Hey! I love your writing so much, and I was wondering if you could do 141 HCs with an albino GN!reader? Or a reader with tics but not tourettes? Either or!! Have a lovely day!

I'm sorry it took me a little while to get to this, anon! I went with the second option!

Ghost

Can you say 'twinsies'? Because Ghost definitely can 👯‍♀️

I can totally see Ghost having tics of his own – motor ones specifically, mostly confined to his face, but you wouldn't know it because they're always hidden by his masks

Thus, when he first notices you ticking, he immediately clocks it for what it is and he (almost giddily) thinks to himself 'Finally! Someone who gets me'

Because of this, he quickly becomes your second shadow, following you around everywhere like a little big puppy

Naturally, he'll get incredibly protective over you, especially when it comes to people who stare or make comments under their breath or even outright approach you and ask something rude regarding your tics

If he catches anyone doing anything of the sort, then he goes into scary dog mode real quick: arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side, an intimidating silence as he glares with a gaze so menacing it could melt steel

Price

With a man as sharp and attentive as Price, much like Ghost, he takes instant notice of your tics

And as protective as Price is, he'd probably get fairly concerned about you to the point where he even pulls you aside one day to have a little chat

He knows that… tics, he thinks they're called, aren't necessarily indicative of anything health-wise, but he just wants to make sure that you're okay; that there isn't anything he can do for you

Even after assuring him that you're perfectly fine and healthy and good, that doesn't stop him from looking out for you like you're his own flesh and blood

Similar to Ghost, if he sees anyone staring or making snide comments about you, then he's definitely going to step in and shut that down

However, rather than giving them an I'll tear your spine out through your throat look à la Ghost, he'll mutter something in their ear – the specifics of which you're unsure, but it always has them making a swift, shaky-legged departure

Gaz

While he too notices your tics, Gaz would never ever mention them out of respect for you and your privacy

He would wait for you to be the one to bring it up, should you ever choose to, that is. And if you never do, well, that's a-ok to him. Whatever you're willing to divulge, he'll be there waiting without pressure or judgment

However, if you were to talk to him about it (and thus invite a conversation) then prepare yourself for a barrage of questions

He doesn't ask them meaning to be offensive or intrusive or whatever; he's simply curious. He just wants to get to know you well, and that means knowing what makes you uniquely you

Unlike the other 141 men, if he notices someone bothering you about your tics, he's not going to directly (more like aggressively) confront them over it

Instead he'd harmlessly distract them, drawing their attention onto himself until they've completely forgotten all about their interest in bugging you

Soap

This man, bless his heart, would be totally, astoundingly oblivious of your tics even if they punched him in the face

In fact, the closer you become with him, the more he finds himself unconsciously start to mimic them

Kind of like when you like someone and so you start mirroring their movements/patterns of speech? Yeah, it's like that but with your tics

Of course, if you were to say something about it (and especially if you said it made you uncomfortable), he'd immediately apologize, explain how he wasn't even aware he was doing it, and make sure he never does it again

Like with Ghost and Price, if Soap noticed someone being rude towards you, he'd go into guard dog mode, but he is the most feral by far

He'd be all up in their face, furious, practically foaming at the mouth as he yells to "Mind yer own fuckin' business while you've still got workin' legs to mind with!" … only to turn to you afterwards all sunshine and rainbows like he didn't just tear that person a new one 😇

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mikaela-the-slut-expert · 11 months ago

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Can you do a one shot where male reader feels like hc and xl don’t really need him and starts distancing himself from them. He thinks they are perfect for each other and that he is a nuisance ruining the relationship between them. He takes comfort to a friend who has liked the male reader for a really long time. Hc and xl see this and get jealous. Wondering if the reader doesn’t like them anymore and feels sad. Seeing the reader looking happy in the comfort of someone else.

Creating Space

Hua Cheng x M!reader x Xie Lian

Ugh I love angst so much. It hurts so good 😭

Ignore grammar mistakes

Slight OOC

____________________________________

Some people may say being in the presence of the two strongest and revered people creates a lot of pressure. It's never been a problem for you. You've always enjoyed being in the presence of your two lovers. Xie Lian, a powerful and elegant martial god. While His Cheng is a powerful and suave ghost.

You love them very much.

But you lied, it is kind of pressuring. There's nothing wrong with your lovers of course! It's just that they're so strong and popular on their own. You aren't a very powerful god and you aren't a very powerful ghost. People don't know you. Most times your name is "That's the crown prince's lover, or that's crimson rain's lover"

You could live with this, it's not like you had a desire to be seen by the world. People just tend to forget about you. A lot of people don't like you exist so most of the time they accidentally exclude you from your own relationship. It just seems like an impossible place to reach. What could you do to seem important as well?

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng say you do plenty of important things by loving and taking care of them but it doesn't feel like that. You don't really do anything for them either. Neither of them needs protecting. They can protect themselves and each other just fine, and they go out of their way to protect you too.

Xie Lian is kind and keeps you and Hua Cheng calm. Assuring the both of you, and making sure everyone feels loved. The level headed of the three of you. Hua Cheng is very protective, and goes out his way to do things out of devotion or love. You can't do anything to compete.

Your relationship doesn't go as deep with them either. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian are just so wrapped up in each other it doesn't seem like there's room for three. They're already perfect by themselves and it doesn't look like they need you at all. You don't have a clue on why they even love you.

You've tried to make yourself more outgoing in the relationship? Trying to help them on missions or, help them with daily activities. You've tried taking over household chores like cleaning or cooking and yet it seems fruitless.

They always tell you that it isn't necessary. Someone else will take care of it. Hua Cheng has other people clean the manor, and Xie Lian would gladly cook by himself. They obviously don't need your help in missions, you'd probably just get in the way more than help.

You don't have a very outgoing presence in bed either. Very often Hua Cheng and Xie Lian do everything for you. Sometimes you try to give them pleasure instead. It doesn't matter if it's something little or big, your lovers shake their heads and say that it's a silly thought. You don't need to do anything they'll do it for you. Your lovers give you pleasure, they give each other pleasure. You want to give them pleasure too though.

These thoughts have been at the back of your mind for a while. That Xie Lian and Hua Cheng don't need you. These thoughts make you a little more clingy, a little more desperate. They haven't changed how they act towards you though. You just don't want to feel useless.

🦊🪷

"A-Lian please, let me tag along. All three of us can go on the mission together. Like uh, like a date or something!" You follow Xie Lian around the kitchen, trying to persuade him into changing his mind. It isn't working, it never does.

"A-n, me and San Lang can do it. We won't be long, promise. Just stay here" Xie Lian smiles at you and kisses your head. But you don't want to take this for an answer. You want to help! With something. Anything! It feels awful to just sit around while your lovers do every little thing for you.

You huff softly, watching your lovers get ready without you. "A-Lang you don't agree do you? Please tell A-Lian to let me tag along. I'll make sure not to get in the way!" You try persuading your ghost lover instead, gripping onto his arm to make him look at you.

You already feel humiliated. Begging like a child to join your lovers in something even though you're a grown man. San Lang shakes his head, " Getting in the way isn't our concern baobei. Gege is right we'll take care of it and be back home soon." He kisses your cheek.

You're left in Paradise Manor alone while your lovers leave off somewhere. You should be happy, you feel selfish actually. Anyone would be happy that their lovers do everything for them. Anyone would be happy to be taken care of all the time for the rest of their lives. You just can't...

Soooo you decide instead of sitting at home why not just follow your lovers out! It's not like you would be harming anything, maybe they'd even be delighted to see you. It's a better idea than sitting here doing nothing.

That's exactly what you do, you follow your lovers. With quite a bit of distance and making sure to be careful. You eventually find them, of course not in a good situation. They're busy fighting off wrathful ghosts and you make sure to stay far back. You don't want them to get hurt or anything so you'll just wait over here until they're finished.

That doesn't go well either. One of the ghosts notices you. It strays from the fight without notice from Xie Lian or Hua Cheng. Instead it comes for you, it's not like you're weak! You yelp from the surprise attack from the ghost, but otherwise you easily slay it down. All you were left with was a few deep scratches on your face. Whoo, It nearly got your eye!

You're feeling pretty proud of yourself until a pair of hands are gripping your face, and you notice Hua Cheng looking over your wounds. Even though you have some deep scratches you're smiling anyways. You just killed a ghost! A wrathful one at that!

Before you can exclaim your celebrations Xie Lian is dabbing medicine on your wounds with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing here y/n! We told you to stay home!"

Your smile falls, as your lovers both frown at you. You don't understand you did great! It was only a wound, everyone gets wounds sometimes! "I-I wanted to help" the word mumble from your lips, and Xie Lian finishes dressing your wound.

"How did that fair for you? We were doing just fine without you y/n, but now you're hurt" Xie Lian exclaims, flushed by nervousness and frustration. He had only wanted to keep you safe. He didn't mean to say it like that. It was a slip of the tongue. He hadn't meant it in hostility but you take it as such anyways.

"You two do seem just fine without me" you purse your lips, and back up. You're just upset, obviously Xie Lian would never mean such a thing but right now you can't help but take it as such. You've been suffering with these thoughts for weeks!

You quickly use what powers you do have to make a quick pathway and teleport away. Running away? Classic move but it feels better than sitting in front of your lovers disappointed faces. You just need time to get your feelings together so you decide to visit a friend's place.

You and Mu Qing know each other pretty well and you're great friends! Even though Mu Qing won't admit that. He's actually loved you for a while but you love Xie Lian and Hua Cheng and Mu Qing would never break up your happiness. He's been working on moving on so of course you can still come over and complain to him.

This time you just lie in his arms for a while. You spent some time just getting your thoughts together and stop crying. Then you tell Mu Qing what happened. He calls Hua Cheng stupid and says Xie Lian is oblivious with an eye roll. Mu Qing is actually good at advice and comforting you.

On the other end your lovers are very upset with themselves. Hua Cheng wanted to immediately come find you but Xie Lian told him it was better to give you space. They know you inside and out and Xie Lian knows you need time to get your emotions in order.

After a few hours Hua Cheng decides time is up though and breaks into the heavens again. Just because. Does it count as breaking in if Xie Lian let him in? Nah. They know where you are, unfortunately. They know you're with Mu Qing. Hua Cheng doesn't like that one bit. He's very capable of jumping to the conclusion that Mu Qing is trying to manipulate you while you're vulnerable but Xie Lian assures him otherwise.

Xie Lian makes Hua Cheng wait outside of Mu Qing's palace. Things would only blow off the hinges if Hua Cheng and Mu Qing fought. Xie Lian goes in by himself. He eventually finds you, not like it was hard. He isn't too happy to find you in Mu Qing's arms. Happy and comfortable. He hasn't seen a smile like that on your face in a long time.

Xie Lian ignores the lingering prickles of jealousy and walks into Mu Qing's room without invitation or notice. "A-n t's getting late, let's go home? Please?" He's relieved when you take his hand. Honestly it's nerve-racking. He hadn't meant to say such a harsh thing and then you went to someone else who is obviously much more capable at making you happier than they are.

Xie Lian and you join up with Hua Cheng again. You spend most of the journey back staring at the ground. You're ashamed, you feel like you overreacted. You were being dumb. Maybe they're angry at you and yet all three of you still hold hands. And yet when you get back to Paradise Manor, you all get ready for bed. And yet Xie Lian helps you disrobe and Hua Cheng checks your wounds before you lie down. And yet all three of you end up in the same bed, entangled in each other's limbs. Just like every night.

You all talk about it, words mumbling quietly in the dark room. It's a long conversation of "I'm sorry" and "I love you". You want to talk about your feelings more. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng want to make sure you don't feel left out or they're being distinct. The night ends with kisses and cuddles.

So maybe nothing was really ever wrong, and it would all turn out just fine. Because they've always loved you and you always loved them. Something like this isn't a big enough obstacle to take you away from them.

#tgcf #tgcf headcanon #hualian #hualian x reader #tgcf x male reader #hua cheng x reader #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #tgcf xie lian #xie lian x reader #mxtx tgcf #tgcf angst

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