#i wonder what crossed his mind in that moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonny-kookoo · 3 days ago

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Hey Bonny!! I saw you wanted to play a game, so how does this sound for a drabble? Dragon! Yoongi (or Kookie since I know he's your guy) x Fairy! Reader?? Idk if you've written fairies before, but I know you've done dragons! 💜🤍

I have a dragon kook x fairy reader on my patreon as early access, so I'll make this one yoongi!

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Yoongi

Hidden in the woods

Dragons are rather social creatures- but when a young Dragonblood named Yoongi fails to find a partner while all his friends and family have moved way past those events already, he isolates himself, believing he might just be destined to be a loner. But maybe, he was just impatient.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon hybrid!Yoongi, Fairy!Reader, strangers to ???, reader is described as short oops, SFW

Wordcount: 1.6k (it was supposed to be a Drabble... oops)

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You rarely visit these days.”

His mothers words still echo in his mind as he tries to find a new composition on his piano that doesn’t sound like everything he’s already put out. Of course he hasn’t visited- with his brother’s twins constantly around, he’s always reminded of how far ahead everyone around him is, while he’s yet to find his first real love. He’s thirty, for god’s sake- and yet all he has is his house, a stable career as a musician, and a lot on his mind.

All his friends are married. Some have kids, others are busy preparing for the day they’ll have them. He feels out of place.

Yoongi has made peace with the fact that he’ll be the uncle to all of them, the one guy who never really seems to be happy about anything, never has a family of his own. It’s alright.

He sighs, loudly, gripping his hair for a second in frustration. This is stupid- why is he having an artist’s block right now of all times? People are waiting for something new, especially after he’s already taken a break to help his creativity. And yet, it did nothing- except for giving him a little bit more room to breathe and most of all move out of his apartment and into his new house near the woods. It’s nice here- about half an hour away from the bustling neon city he’s used to after years of living there, and also a bit more distance from his family and friends. A newfound excuse for when they ask him once more where he’s been.

The doorbell rings, attracting his attention. He’s not awaiting any guests or packages- who could it be?

Via the camera installed he can see that there’s a person he doesn’t know at the door- you're rather short, but visibly curious, looking around for any signs of life inside his home, and for a short moment, he sees them;

Delicate little slightly translucent wings. Pointy ears, tilted a bit downwards.

A fairy.

As he opens the door, you seem startled for a second or two, taking a step back, before you speak. “Oh, hello!” You greet him. “I was just about to ask- do you have uh.. Jungkook’s number?” You wonder, and he becomes hostile, crossing his arms. “A coworker of mine, Jimin, said you have it. I’m sorry I’m just, you know, showing up here like that-”

The door closes. But despite what he was expecting, you just ring the doorbell again- and again, until he opens.

“Okay, as I was trying to explain before you so rudely interrupted me-” You tease a little, arms now crossed as well as your wings flap around a bit. “-tell him at least that I need his help fixing my washing machine. He broke it and left the crime scene for me to find, and that’s, pardon my language-” You lean in a bit as if you’re about to tell Yoongi something secret, “-pretty crappy behavior.”

Yoongi stares you down for a moment, before he speaks.

“That’s it?” He asks, and you nod. “Why don’t you ask Jimin for Jungkook’s number?” He wonders, not entirely convinced. Jungkook is pretty much a magnet for people no matter what gender, and the worst part about it is that many if not most always try and get to him through Yoongi.

No one’s ever interested in him. Only his friends, or the things he can provide.

“Cause Jimin doesn’t have it either!” You whine, stomping your leg on the ground in agony. “Listen, I don’t know how to fix it and my bathroom smells like a laundromat already, my coffee machine is also broken and my script has been rejected for the third time, I really need some good news. Please?” You ask, and Yoongi contemplates.

“What if I fix it?” He asks, and your eyes begin to sparkle, wings lifting to flutter in excitement. It’s like in this very moment, he can hear the keys of his piano chime, creating a new piece in his mind.

“You can?!” You ask, stepping closer.

“Probably. Where do you even live?” He asks, before you point towards the woods.

“I live in the woods, pretty much. It’s not that far.” You say, and Yoongi sighs, looking back inside his house. It’s not like he’s going to get anything done either way, so who cares? It might take his mind off of things for a moment or two-

So a few hours later, he’s in your house, enjoying some hot coffee from your machine, which he’d fixed as well while he was at it. Well, fixed is a strong word- he pretty much just explained how it properly worked to you. It was working just fine- you just lost the manual and couldn’t figure it out on your own.

“I always thought dragons were scarier.” You say suddenly, opening a pack of cookies to put in the middle of your wooden coffee table. “You’re really nice. Tall, and a bit gloomy looking, but very nice.” You say, sitting down on the couch next to him, legs pulled up towards you.

He’s noticed something glittering all over the small house- like sparkling glitter, but much finer, and barely noticeable. Looking closer to his pants, he notices it there as well- and even after a brush with his hand, it sticks to his fingers now.

“Oh- I’m sorry! It keeps getting everywhere, especially now.. Wait- I have like, a plastic thing-” You hurry, getting up to search for something in a drawer close by your TV. “Ah, there!” You say, giving him the lint-roller. “It’s one designed for fairy dust. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought about that..” You say, but for some odd reason, he declines.

“It’s fine.” He denies. “Doesn’t bother me.” he tells you, and again, you look at him like he’s just told you the earth is flat after all.

but it truly doesn’t bother him. It would, technically, if he was anywhere else. But right now, in this moment, he couldn’t be any more indifferent towards the ‘mess’ you leave sticking to his clothes and skin.

As soon as he’s back home, the sight of your sparkling smile is still in his mind, as his feet almost automatically move towards his piano, where he sits down, and presses a record button to play something new. The melody has been stuck on repeat in his head the entire way back home through the thick snow, like his imagination was finally finding color again.

But it’s different from what he usually creates.

This piece is playful almost, intriguing. It’s a little hesitant, like someone holding back a thought itself just to not indulge too much in a fantasy they’re already creating in their mind. Fluttering notes interrupt these parts however, sneaking in with excitement and curiosity, trying their best to convince the player to let themselves go.

And Yoongi does, as he finishes the piece, and leans back in his chair, recording finished before his phone chimes with a message.

“You left your scarf at my place!” Is what you tell him.

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” He texts you back.

“I could make us dinner?” You question.

He contemplates, finger hovering over the virtual keyboard of his phone, before he begins to write his answer. Fluttering touches of his fingers moving with a hint of excitement, fine fairy dust on the skin of his hands shimmering in the setting sun dipping everything in a golden glow.

“I’d love that.”

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagines #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi imagine

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namism · 3 days ago

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Zoro x reader, nsfw

Where Zoro notices reader zones out a lot, and when asked, reader says the most downbad stuff that has even him blushing.

Zoro: what's wrong with you?

Reader: Oh nothing, just wondering what it'd be like to be pressed through the mattress.

Zoro: 👁👁

Reader: oh....I said that out loud, didn't I?

pay attention | roronoa zoro (1)

➳ categories: canonverse, female reader from the heart pirates

➳ warnings: nsfw (top zoro, bottom reader, afab reader)

➳ word count: 3.6k

➳ summary: Zoro often catches you staring into nothingness the moment the Straw Hats allied with the Heart Pirates, but lately he realizes that you've been zoning out as you look at him. Eyes trained, dumbfounded. What could be the reason behind your constant staring, if not a silent request for something in particular?

➳ notes: you absolutely COOKED with this request. anyway, the exposition is rather long and the zoning out part was kinda exaggerated, but the good news is that i have plans on writing part 2. here's to my first full-length one piece nsfw fic 🥂

➳ cross-posted on ao3

"Oi. What are you looking at?"

A man's voice echoes from a distance, lower-pitched with a distinct timbre that sounds a bit familiar. He repeats the question, but it registers remotely in your brain as you keep your eyes trained on the dirt and moss on the ground.

"Strange," he mutters to himself as he watches you sit still on the forest floor, cross-legged and unresponsive to his question. Even as he stands in front of you, he can't seem to elicit a response.

"Zoro, you got lost again! Come back here!"

Zoro looks toward the direction where he came from. He grumbles to himself upon seeing Usopp running at top speed. "I did not get lost!"

"Explain why you ran into the— oh, is that (Y/N)?"

Usopp slows down in his tracks as he nears the both of you. With your head down on the ground, he suspects that something is wrong.

"Is she okay?"

Zoro shrugs. He tells Usopp that you've been sitting alone in the forest for the past 10 minutes, and that he just so happened to see you in the middle of a stroll. Usopp called bullshit, knowing damn well that Zoro wandered off on his own and got lost in the forest, but all jokes aside, he figured that they should lend you a hand and take you back to base, else your Captain gets mad at their discourtesy. Usopp snaps his fingers in front of you, waving a hand after the other to catch your attention, but you remain quiet.

When Zoro picks you up, however, that's when you respond in panic.

"Ahhh!" you scream as you're lifted into the air, Zoro's muscled arms supporting the back of your knees and neck as he holds your body. You stiffen in his arms, realizing the events that just unfolded. "What's happening?!"

"Idiot. You were sulking in the forest, long face and everything." Zoro clicks his tongue as he shakes his head in the process. You slap your cheeks with your two hands, mortified.

"Well, put me down!" You wiggle your feet in protest as the embarrassment sinks in. Zoro is alarmed by your antics, causing him to put you back on the ground. When you regain your balance, you run out of the forest and leave the man and his crewmate alone.

Usopp sighs at the turn of events and suggests that they return to the base where the alliance has gathered. As Zoro follows him from behind, he wonders to himself what you were doing, what trance you had just put yourself into, and why you decided to space out in the middle of a forest, out of all places.

The moment the Straw Hats met the rest of the Heart Pirates in Wano, Zoro realized that you zone out a lot for reasons that he couldn't (and still can't) explain. Always withdrawn from the crowd, seated at the back of gatherings unless you were needed, he noticed that you had a strange habit of spacing out regardless of where you were. He initially assumed you just had a lot in your mind, so he never bothered to find out what made you stare into nothingness as often as you did (since it wasn't even his business to begin with). However, he still questions it from time to time, therefore making him more observant of your peculiar behavior.

A few days later, Zoro can't believe his eyes when he encounters you zoning out for the nth time that month. You sit alone at the foot of a cottage, the outer garment of your kimono falling down the front steps gracefully. As you look into the distance, Zoro wonders why, out of all things you could stare at in this abandoned village that the alliance calls their base, you choose to gape at his laidback form under the awning of a rundown shed.

With narrowed eyes, he looks back at you with a firm stare, yet you show no sign of response or discomfort. That's his cue to think. You're spacing out again, and of that, he's certain, but Zoro still has no clue what's gotten into you and what exactly is running through that little brain of yours. Are you thinking of the alliance's plans? No, he saw you listening to Kin'emon's instructions earlier (and he's surprised that he knows that, because why did he bother observing you outside of your strange encounters?). Are you thinking of your crew? No, you couldn't be, because Captain Law is handling things on his own, and the situation is assumed to be under control. Are you thinking of your friends and their safety? Possibly, but Zoro can't imagine you looking this stupefied if you are concerned for your friends.

Your expression tells a lot but so little at the same time. Your tilted head, your wide eyes and blown irises, your mouth slightly agape, your fallen shoulders—Zoro can deduce a bountiful of scenarios that would draw out this expression from you, but each one doesn't seem so right. He can't put a finger on it. Every guess feels confident until it suddenly feels so wrong.

As he lays under the awning with his three swords to his right and his arms folded to support the back of his head, Zoro decides to maintain his staring, a way to evoke a reaction from you. Although you endure, your eyes not leaving his as his don't leave yours. At this point, he wants to find out the cause of your gawking because it's disturbing him more than he expected it to, especially since your subject of focus—or rather, the lack of it—is him.

As his brain runs dry of ideas, he decides to go up to you and ask. But even when he crosses the dirt path that traverses the shed and your cottage, you don't budge.

"Give it up. What's wrong with you, huh?" he asks once he's at the foot of the steps of your cottage, his hands coming to cross over his chest while he confronts you. No response. "Oi! You're worrying the guy. What's troubling you?"

Zoro is surprised when you slowly lift your head and meet his eyes with your blown ones. You mumble something under your breath, but he doesn't hear.

"Huh?" he asks.

"Nothing," you mumble again, but this time a little louder. "Just wondering how it feels to..."

Muttering follows.

"What?" he asks again, annoyed.

You, however, don't notice the annoyance on his face, instead noticing everything but it. Zoro has a handsome face that even annoyance, a disgusted expression, or the scar on his left eye can't erase his objectively good-looking features.

He has a muscular body, bulky, better than the ones you've seen on the different islands that your crew have been to, and you imagine them looking even better without his kimono obstructing the view. You can see a bit of his chest peeking through the garment, an evident scar running from his left shoulder to his right hip. His build surprises you, further sending you into a trance yet again as you focus on the side of his neck.

"Just... just wondering..." you mumble, hypnotized.

Zoro awaits your words.

"Wondering how... how it feels to be pinned down by you on a bed..."

He freezes up.

His face twists into different emotions, but most importantly, it erupts into flames.

"Wha— what the hell did you just say?!"

It's your turn to freeze up. At long last, you snap out of your thoughts and you return to reality. Zoro stands in front of you with raised shoulders and a harsh blush spreading across his cheeks. His eyebrows are downturned, his eyes are narrowed. He grits his teeth and holds back his tongue at your strange remark.

"Oh no..."

Irises quivering, you slowly look to the side, your very own cheeks hot upon realization.

"I... I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"You couldn't have been any quieter!" Zoro sarcastically replies, avoiding your gaze as well. "I can't believe it. Unbelievable. That's what you've been thinking the entire time you were staring at me?"

You cover your face with your hands. "It wasn't!"

"Tsk. Idiot. How about the many other times you weren't paying attention?" he asks. "Was I on your mind in that forest, too?"

"I was with Ikkaku!" you exclaim defensively as you face him. Zoro lifts an eyebrow, doubting the truthfulness of your answer. "We were hunting for ordeal beans to make medicine out of them— hey, what the hell is up with that face? I'm telling the truth!"

"Like I would believe that!" Zoro yells back. You whimper into your hands as he reads through you. Whether or not you were picking out medicinal plants in the forest with Ikkaku, he knows for a fact that you have been thinking of him. To think that you dodged his second question confirms it.

"I'm sorry!" you apologize breathlessly. Standing up, you rush inside the cottage where you hide yourself from Zoro in shame.

"Don't just leave!"

Zoro runs after you and enters the cottage. A one-room building, the space is enough to shelter two people. A dusty counter and a complementary sink take the space on one wall, while a used mattress is positioned across it on the ground. You face the corner wall where your mattress is located in a kneeled position, sobbing to yourself as you quiver in fright.

Zoro leans on the doorway, watching you shake silently.

He thinks to himself deeply.

After a few moments, he sighs and proceeds to remove his swords from the haramaki on his hip, leaving them by the wall next to the door.

"Lay down."

You stop shaking.

"What?" you ask.

Zoro grunts. "Well, if you were curious..."

You look over your shoulder. He stands by the foot of the mattress, his sandals discarded by the front door that is now closed. Is this reality or is this a figment of your imagination?

Your brain betrays you when you feel the aching need at the pit of your stomach. With the front door now closed, it's harder to see the interior, the remaining source of light coming from the setting sun that shines through the spaces of straw and bamboo of the cottage's walls. Even then, you can make out Zoro's figure, the outline of his muscled body coming closer.

You turn around on your knees and crawl toward the edge of the mattress, stopping when you feel the texture of the tatami mat on your fingertips. As you look up, you throb at the sight of the man in front of you.

Zoro clicks his tongue before diving into you, swiftly grabbing both your hands mid-air and trapping you against the mattress as he hovers over your frame. He holds your hands by the side of your head, and leans down closer to your face.

You gasp at the position you're in, your legs spread out under him as his legs hold up his weight on either side of you. Zoro is mere inches away from your face, perhaps trying to see a reaction to gauge whether or not he's doing things right, but all he could tell from your strained expression and glossed eyes is an ambiguous desire for... something else.

He comes even closer, and the need for something more travels from the pit of your stomach to your lower regions. Just a few more inches, and you can finally come close enough to—

"There. You got what you wanted."

Suddenly, Zoro retracts his head and lets go of your hands. He sits on the heels of his feet as he reaches for his sandals and prepares to leave like nothing happened.

Before he could do that, however, you quickly grab the material of his kimono and direct his face toward yours, kissing him.

Zoro freezes for a good second before he tries to kiss back to the best of his abilities. He lets you do whatever in his mouth as he supposes it would dissipate the need in your eyes and satisfy your unusual desires. Unskilled, he follows your lead in a confusingly hungry kiss, something new to him but enough to his liking.

You initiate the rush in your hunger to taste him. You play with the exposed skin on his chest, your hands feeling the muscles you always dreamed of touching. You swipe your hands underneath his kimono and touch him as far as you could reach until you undress his sleeves and let them fall to the side.

Crawling closer, you sit yourself on his thighs and hold yourself up by throwing an arm around his neck. You moan softly when Zoro tugs on your lips, but you push him away at the lack of air.

"Sorry," you mutter. "Too much?"

He shakes his head.

"Whatever."

It's him who initiates next. Zoro places his hands on your back and kisses you with the same intensity, if not more. As you feel the muscles of his chest, you decide to pry his other hand away from the small of your back and guide it to the front of your kimono.

You pull away momentarily.

"Feel me... right here."

You lead his hand to the small opening of your garment. Zoro slips his hand and feels your breasts. He runs his calloused fingers across them, feeling the curve of each one and pressing down on the mounds to fondle them better. You moan in his mouth when he swipes a finger across your nipple, followed by a sigh of relief as he tugs and plays on it between his fingers.

You soon untie the ribbon on your kimono and open the garment to reveal your body. Zoro groans at the stretch of exposed skin and allows his hands to wander around. Drawing away from his lips, you pull one side of his garment's knot and open his kimono to uncover the rest of his torso, as well as his hard-on further down.

Amid his hot touches on your tits, you push Zoro down on the mattress with forceful hands on his shoulders, to which he allows without resistance. Straddling him, you place yourself on his abdomen and subtly feel the tip of his hard dick from behind. You fall forward, kissing his lips again hungrily as you grow wetter by the second.

"I want you," you moan in his mouth, "fuck, I want to taste you. Can I?"

Zoro groans when you ask. While unexpected, he isn't opposed to it; if anything, he's glad that you brought it up. He pushes down on your shoulders as a wordless acceptance to your sinful request, and you follow in agreement. You crawl down his large body until you're resting on your heels and leaning forward, face-to-face with his dick.

You cuss at the sight. A guy like Zoro would of course be huge, a fact that isn't surprising to you anymore. You trace his dick with your finger, measuring him with your eyes and figuring out how you want to take him later on. You give into your thoughts eventually, taking his stiff cock in your hand and pressing your lips to his tip.

Feeling him in your mouth sends excitement in your pussy, so you take him in, inch by inch as you hollow your cheeks and do it slowly. Drool slides down the side of his cock the further down you go. When you hit the base of his dick, you rhythmically swirl your tongue back and forth on his underside, earning yourself a soft grunt from his parted lips.

You retract your head, pulling his cock out of your mouth seductively as you breathe out. You take in his tip again and suck on it several times as you look up at Zoro and discern the expression on his face. As he remains quiet, you go deeper on his dick and work your hand on his base, expertly moving up and down in a rhythm that has him moaning lowly. You continue your flow as you bob your head on his first few inches, oftentimes playing with his balls which he's seemingly pleased by, until he places a hand at the back of your head at his arriving release.

Zoro didn't mean to guide you on his dick, but the tightening knot in his gut and balls tells him to direct your head to where he wants you. So he does, his hand holding locks of your hair and maneuvering your head with his cock still inches deep in your mouth. He pulls your lips away from his dick and decides that he wants your tongue on his underside again, holding himself up with one hand and guiding your tongue to the spot with the other. Zoro grunts sharply as soon as you direct your ministrations on the bottom of his dick, where a large vein runs up from the base. Beads of cum spill from his tip until he's spilling entirely that has him groaning aloud, but your hand and tongue don't stop until he's fully done.

You run your lips across his dripping cock and moan at the taste of him, then you climb back up on his body and kiss him. Zoro doesn't mind the cum that glazes your lips, more concerned of feeling you up again as he misses the touch and feel of your tits. He gropes your chest like a man starved while you kiss him hotly.

"Mmm, I wanna ride you," you mutter in between kisses. You don't wait for Zoro's reply as you grip his cock from behind, in the process of stiffening yet again for you, and pump it a couple of times before raising yourself to your knees and sinking onto his dick. Zoro's hands fall to your waist as you do so, liking the wetness and warmth of your pussy on his tip.

"Put it in," he says, and that's your cue to do as told. You sink into him easily, wet slick coating him and slowly feeling the ridges of his cock in your pussy the more of him you take. You love his size, his girth so perfect for you as he gives you that stretch that you like best. Once you take all of him, you ride his cock slowly before finding a nice pace that you can maintain. "Fuck. That feels good."

You ride Zoro until he comes undone by the second, finding joy in hearing his vocal remarks with every bounce on his dick. Eventually you lean forward, your head thrown to the side of his neck as you lazily ride him, exhausted. Zoro takes the liberty of wrapping his arms around your waist before his hands slither down to your ass and play with them, squeezing and slapping like he just did with your tits.

When you tiredly slow down, his stamina fires up and he thrusts upward into your pussy so rapidly that he has you screaming. He continues the lead—your wet pussy so good that he slips out a couple of times, the leftover cum on his dick turning out to be unhelpful.

Once you're spent, Zoro takes the upper hand and flips you on your back. He now towers over you, his hands finding yours and pinning you again on the mattress like he did earlier. You shudder as he exits you, the absence of his dick inside your pussy leaving an empty miserable feeling—but Zoro doesn't plan on leaving you anytime soon as he comes back in quickly, this time with more energized thrusts pulled from his deep desire to fuck you and your pussy until you're completely done.

"Spread your legs wider," he orders hurriedly and you comply before he starts plunging into you deeply with every thrust of his hips. Legs pressed to your chest, he has better access to your little pussy now. He groans at your messy slick dripping on the mattress and at the white creamy cum on his dick that's pushed to his base every time he disappears inside you.

Zoro is turned on by the desperate way you moan his name. His stamina increases, but he grows tired of his pace and repositions himself on top of you eventually. Holding onto your tits, he rams faster into you than before, eliciting another pleasured scream from the back of your throat.

Your hands grip his strong ones that play with your chest. You want to cum, but you hold back a little longer as Zoro pushes himself deeper. You tap his hand with your finger and guide it to your clit, moaning in relief when he hits the right spot.

"Hah— like this? Fuck." He fiddles with your clit before he finds a nice rhythm with his thumb that you seem to enjoy. You nod your head rapidly.

"Yes," you moan, "yes, yes, yes— fuck! Oh my god, Zoro, keep it like that, keep it like that. Please keep it that way—"

Zoro listens to your pleas and maintains his pace on your clit. You snap a few moments later, coming undone with shaky legs as you cry out his name. Zoro keeps himself steady until he's cumming himself, pulling out and spilling on your belly with low delicious grunts.

As he calms down, he pumps himself slowly and watches you clean your painted stomach by eating much of his cum. His dick stirs at your act, but the cloud of lust eventually dissipates and he's looking away from you in shame.

He pulls himself together and reaches for his kimono. You follow, but you spontaneously decide to kiss him first before doing so.

"Thank you," you say softly. He looks at you, finding the right words to say.

"Just ask next time," he mumbles before dressing himself.

233 notes · View notes

fairycoures · 2 days ago

Text

a little very self indulgent, but intimacy struggles with simon riley.

18+ minors do not interact — very vague descriptions of thoughts and negative past experiences with the topic of sex. nothing extremely detailed.

this was written with very little sleep and i've never written for the fandom before so let's see how this goes. also not written with a specific gender in mind but may lean more towards feminine i have not proofread this.

something about the beginning of the relationship, everything is fresh, all those feelings are new and neither wants to shatter that porcelain figure of perfection that this has all felt like so far. kissing, the bits of physical intimacy shared here and there, but nothing past light makeout sessions that always seem to get interrupted by the buzzing of simon’s phone for one reason or another.

the thing is, you could go past that. the barrier that divides the delicate from the ravenous, feral underbelly waiting beneath heated touches when things start to get heavier. but ironically, it’s for the same reason that both you and simon are utterly terrified of even bringing that up.

in simon’s mind, he doesn’t want to damage you. you’re the bloody fucking sun, and what is he? scarred hands that can never truly wash away all the blood, all the things he’s done in his life. how could he be the one to taint one as pure as you?

not to mention, it’s already set in stone that you’re going to run off once the novelty fades. once the idea of having this big, strong shadow always lurking, always protecting. always terrified that you’re the next thing that he’s going to have to lose. every little thing like yourself always dreams of having someone like him until they actually get him. once the honeymoon phase fades and you inevitably realize how damaged he is.

and if he lets you in, if he brings down those walls and grants you a side of himself that he doesn’t even show around his bloody team—the ones who have been by his side through so, so much—and then you leave? he’s already been torn to pieces time and time again and survived. he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to live a life without you in it if he lets you see behind the mask.

it would ruin him.

and you.

you, who have had awful countless experiences with men where, every time you show that side of yourself, the side who isn’t all pretty and perfect and wants to be ruined and put back together with gentle hands. every time things get into sex, they never come back from that.

every conversation has to be turned into a scenario. what were once sweet, affectionate words turn to the sole focus being your body. those rose-colored glasses come right off and you realize that yet again you’ve given your time to someone who was just holding off on showing you that the only thing he cares about is what you can do for him in the bedroom. how good you can make him feel. it was never about you.

simon has been all you knew you needed and everything you couldn’t have fathomed. even with the leaves, the inability to contact him on missions except for rare moments where he can get a cell reception, even with the way the man so far has showed very little of his past to you, it’s never mattered. he has made you feel seen in a way that no one has ever come close to doing.  and if it all turns out to be a facade, you don’t know if your heart could take that type of hurt.

neither of you wants to cross that line for fear of being left, of being hurt, and it’s not like you don’t want each other because god you do. who wouldn’t want simon? the man has arms as thick as tree trunks and thighs to match, he’s built like a brick house and the voice on that man is enough to make your head turn to warm syrup, warmth pooling between your thighs. and who wouldn’t want you? you’re an angel sent down to earth, sent to either bless or curse simon because with the way you plague his every thought, he has to wonder which is which.

but it’s also so much more than that for both of you, it’s just that it’s so bloody hard to look past what has been into what could be.

#sigh #𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ fairycoures #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod mw3 #cod ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader

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goaskangel · 16 hours ago

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dad's bestfriend!nanami x reader

a/n...had really good ideas 4 this and it kinda WORKED OUT??? i fu want more lmk!! im a sucker for older dudes (and ONLy them) nanami will save us all EEK. also i see hiromi as y/n's father, that's what i had in mind writing this!!! THIS HAS SLIGHT CORRUPTION STUFF, LIL GUILT STUFF, LOTS OF KISSIINGGG

you usually paid no mind to the people your father brought over. mostly colleagues or just a few friends to drink and converse with in your shared apartment. one friend he’d seem to bring over a lot had caught your eye. as if his ever-changing ties and snug khakis weren’t enough to make you grin, his mannerism was much too attractive. greeting you respectfully, listening and chuckling to your rare comments and jokes to their discussion over drinks in the kitchen. getting comfortable to just speak to you while your dad’s out or busy with something, always listening with intent.

it’s so sexy, you think, your hands up to your face as you lay to your side in bed. dreaming conscious thoughts of what his big hands would feel like on you, or the same breath he smokes out against your neck. your guilt no longer dragging you down after all this time.

once, you sit close to him, smiling and trying to make your staring of his ringless finger unnoticeable. he wonders, aloud, how don’t you have a boyfriend? you shrug, “jus’ not very interested.” you smile when he chuckles, most likely at your thought process. part of you hopes he doesn’t ask what you're looking for because you’d go straight to overworked suited-men. skip over the blonde and big traits just to seem more vague. of course you were interested, you were interested the moment he mentioned he had no family. no wife, no kids. just focused on his work and drinks, a few cigars and baked goods. the absence of your father to run a quick errand wasn’t helping, your eyes zigzagged down his undone tie and exposed blue button-up, his blazer down beside him. you’d thought about taking the garment or increasing the loft’s heater just to see him get all worked up and hot but being this close to him gave you the same thrill. the topic of marriage came up.

“you shouldn’t wait too long, i waited too long.” he says with sincerity.

“hehe. with all truth, mister, i think you’re doing it on purpose. you are handsome.”

he sits up at the title, a confused smile at his face, “yeah? i could say the same thing about you, pretty.”

god, if you were any worse, the first time he’d use that petname you would’ve pounced on him sooner. “dad says guys my age are after one thing and i agree. you wouldn’t disagree with my dad, would you?” your head tilts and waits for a response to your bratty remark. “well, i suppose your father knows a thing or two.” he nods, crossing his arms. your eyes trail again, watching the toned muscle flex casually against his rolled sleeve. you swallow the pool of spit in your mouth.

“he’s strict, though. haven’t you noticed?” you get up from your seat and walk to pour yourself another glass of water, “doesn’t ever let me have anybody over.”

“uh-huh.” his brown eyes stare at you intently to understand your point.

“it gets lonely, mister.” instead of sitting back down, you stand right in front of him. placing your glass on the glass table. his arms now rest out on the table as he traces delicate circles on the rim of his half empty cup of whiskey. “i obviously can’t tell my dad that so i’m telling you and i just know you’d understand.” your hand rests atop his and slowly curls under his big palm.

he clears his throat of the sudden nervousness, “well, yes. i know that feeling all too well.” you hum a response when he turns his body to face you better. you mumble gently, “my dad won’t be home.” your hand squeezes him tighter. you notice how his brows furrow just the slightest bit as he lowers his head down, letting out a small sigh. but he doesn’t oppose it. doesn’t move when you lead his hand down to your hip, the tips of his fingers riding up your shirt. so pliable, his other resting hand now being guided up, up, up your shirt. his warm palm against your much softer skin. “won’t tell anyone, nanami.”

his breathing is shaky and his eyes seem to have gotten heavier, but he scoots almost off the seat, to get closer. his vision glued onto the bump of where his hand is underneath your shirt, beneath the wire of your bra.

“i’ll let you do anything you want to me.” fucking hell, you made this so fucking hard.

“you’re damn irresistible.” he slurs through his teeth, swearing to himself that his mouth dried when you gripped his hand to squeeze the fat beneath your breasts. you feel dizzy, so good that he’s not resisting, that he can’t resist. he kneads and gropes the side of your hips and thighs, getting closer to your ass. impatiently, he stands and manhandles you closer to his bigger frame. you hear how his breathing’s stabilized but heavier, his expensive cologne finally hitting you when you lean up against his neck. he damn near groans when he gets his hands on you properly. dragging his hands on your back, pushing your body right against his much warmer one. your knees grow weak, if his grasp was any looser, you could’ve collapsed right on him. you take your arms and wrap them firmly against his broad shoulders and thick neck, moaning quietly against the veins under his ear. he feels his khakis getting tighter with every breath you take. a smile grows against your cheeks when you feel the slight stubble at his jaw, you kiss at it.

still moaning between kitten licks against his mature skin, he turns to press his lips to yours. quick little pecks between breaths, he savors each one and quickly returns for more. the sour taste of his bitter whiskey intoxicating you from his much sweeter mouth.

“been..wanting..this..nana–mi..!” you can’t contain your grown obsession to which he shushes you. nodding slowly against your mouth while he keeps your head in place. when you pull away, you take his hands and lead him into your open bedroom. the idea of your father coming home slowly fading the closer you got what you wanted. you got so eager when he sat you on the edge of your bed, standing between your hanging legs. your hands wanting to hold onto his belt, to slowly unbuckle it but he caught them beforehand, kissing and sucking on your soft wrists and forearms. his lips find their way to your neck and ear where he whispers.

“it's wrong, i know. so, so wrong, but my god…” he holds onto your neck and carefully grinds himself into your clothed cunt, making you arch your back and buck your hips into him, whining. you could cry from all the teasing he’s doing. “shouldn’t be doing this, sweetheart…dad can’t know, okay?” he keeps his now firm bulge against you. you moan another cry and kiss him again a bunch, nodding, rubbing tongues and messing up the gel in his blonde hair. the very open door reveals the sound of clinking keys and chains, doors opening and closing. too dizzy and much too dazed to even frown, you just stare into his soft brown eyes. they get farther away as he gently lets you go, kissing your temple for good measure before heading to the bathroom, leaving you with shaking legs. hopefully his plans of staying over stays the case.

masterlist

#goaskangel #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #jjk smut #dads bestfriend #nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen

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fairytaleendingss · 1 day ago

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Room for One More?

Chapter 8

Summary: You spend Christmas with your family and are joined by an unexpected guest.

CW: Discussion of family trauma (Sirius'; reader has a good family), allusions to sex.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Hey everyone! Sorry that this chapter is a little late. I was meaning to get it out closer to actual Christmas Day but things just got really busy. I still hope you enjoy nonetheless and that you all had a wonderful Christmas!

Christmas Eve had rolled around quicker than you expected and you suddenly found yourself scrambling to pack for your trip home for the holidays.

James had left the day prior for a vacation with his family and Remus had headed home earlier that morning. The only person left in the apartment was Sirius.

You found him sprawled out on the sofa as you lugged a heafty suitcase of gifts out into the living area. He looked over at you in amusement.

"Need some help with that?"

"Maybe," you responded, already out of breath just from the journey down the hall. "I still have to get it down the stairs yet. I'm not sure I thought this all the way through."

He chuckled deeply.

"Well, let me know when you're leaving and I'm happy to assist."

"Thanks Sirius."

You paused for a moment then, gazing at him thoughtfully. He was wearing a tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt and his hair was tied into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. He was watching some Lifetime Christmas movie absent-mindedly. You noticed that he didn't seem paricularly fesitive.

"So what are your plans for Christmas?" You asked him as you dragged your suitcase towards the door.

He shrugged, eyes still glued to the TV. "I don't have any, really."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't really get on with my family anymore and usually I'd spend the holidays with James but as you know, he's in Australia for Christmas this year and I couldn't quite afford the airfair. I thought I'd just spend Christmas here."

Your frown deepened so much that you were sure it'd give you premanent forehead wrinkles. "So what? You're going to spend Christmas alone?"

"I suppose."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you assessed him. You hated the idea of just leaving him alone in the cold apartment during the holidays.

"Okay, get up," you told him after a moment.

He looked at you, perplexed. You just sighed and crossed your arms over your chest.

"You're coming home with me for Christmas."

He raised a brow. "I appreciate the gesture but I don't think-"

You rolled your eyes, cutting him off. "I'm not taking no for an answer. If you think there's any chance I'm just going to leave you here, then you're out of your mind. Now hurry up and grab your things!"

It was a couple of hours drive from the city to your hometown and you couldn't help but take notice of Sirius' nervous fidgeting the whole way there.

The sun was just starting to set when you arrived.

"Y/n! Darling!"

Your mother swung the door open, a giant smile painting her face at the sight of the two of you. She threw her arms out, embracing you in a warm, comforting hug.

"Hi Mum! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," she pulled back, glancing up over your shoulder. "And you must be Sirius!"

"Lovely to meet you," the boy greeted, uncharacteristically politely. He stuck his hand out towards her.

"Oh, don't be silly," your Mother exclaimed, bypassing the handshake and delving in for an equally enthusiastic hug. Sirius looked briefly surprised by the gesture, before leaning down and heitantly returning her affections.

"We're so excited to have you," she announced kindly.

"Is that y/n?" a voice called from through the threshold.

"Oh yes! Come in, you two. The family's all inside."

"Darling! So good to see you!" your Dad stated, getting up to embrace you as well. Sirius hung back as you were greeted by enthusiastic family members.

Once you'd said 'hello' to both parents, grandparents and your younger brother, you turned back to look at your roommate.

"Everyone, this is Sirius," you introduced. "He'll be joining us for the next few days."

"Oh my! You're a very handsome young man!" Your grandmother declared. Sirius let out a soft chuckle.

"Thank you. I'm flattered," he responded slickly. "You're quite lovely yourself."

You held back a laugh as your Nana's face flushed red. "Well, aren't you a smooth talker?"

"So are you y/n's boyfriend or something?" Your brother chimed in from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, assessing Sirius through squinted eyes.

"Oh no, nothing like that," you were quick to assure. "Sirius and I are just friends. He's my roommate actually."

"Right..." your brother responded. He didn't seem convinced.

You were distracted by a sudden loud clap from your mother.

"On that note, why don't I show you to where you'll be staying?"

You and Sirius followed her up the stairs and down the hall.

"This is you."

She swung open the door to reveal your childhood bedroom. It was still adorned with the same brightly coloured wallpaper that you had growing up, and cluttered with long forgotten momentos of your adolescence.

Your eyes widened slightly as they fell on the queen bed postioned in the center of the space.

Being the gentleman he was, Sirius moved to carry your suitcases into the room while you pulled your Mum aside discreetely, looking around to make sure no one could hear you.

"Mum, there's a... uh, slight issue the bedding arrangements."

A look of feigned innocence crossed her face. "Sorry but there wasn't much I could do on such short notice. You're grandparents are staying in the guest room. So unless you think Sirius should take the couch, or share with your brother, he'll have to sleep in here with you."

You sighed thickly. There was a twinkle of mischief glimmering in he eye.

"I see what your doing here," you uttered, an unimpressed look gracing your features.

Your family had spent years trying to set you up with various different suiters during your holiday visits. Their intentions were good but for some reason they just couldn't stand the thought of you being single.

"I'm not doing anything!" your mother responded with mock offense. "It's simply out of convinience, that's all."

You rolled your eyes. "Right. Sure it is."

She shrugged. "But you know, if there was anything going on between the two of you-"

"Mum!" you scolded harshly.

"I'm just saying! He's very cute!"

You glanced back at the doorway behind you and rolled your eyes. However, you couldn't deny the facts. Sirius was a very attractive man.

"Anyway," your mother stated. "I'm going to get a start on dinner. I'll give you two a moment to settle in."

She sent you a glaringly conspicuous wink as she turned and headed back down the stairs.

You huffed loudly and ventured into the room. Sirius looked up as you entered, from where he'd been examining a set of porcelain figurines on the dresser.

"Everything okay? I heard a lot of whisper-shouting," he smirked.

"Yes. Yeah, it's just my Mum. She can be a bit overbearing at times."

"She seems nice," he murmered absently and suddenly you felt a terrible sinking feeling in your gut.

Sirius had been his usual, confident, charming self during the whole ordeal thusfar, but it didn't go unnoticed, the hint of discomfort that he was trying to mask. It dawned on you that he may not be used to such warm, welcoming family envionments.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. "Sorry, about the... um, sleeping situation."

He gave you a gentle smile. "I'm okay if you are- to share, I mean."

You felt your palms grow sweaty. God, his smile was deadly.

"Uh, y-yeah. That's fine."

"Great," he nodded. Then he glanced once more around the room, taking in it's eclectic design choices. "So this is where you grew up, huh?"

"Yes it is. Gorgeous, isn't it?" you remarked sarcastically, gesturing to the pink and blue striped wallpaper.

"So tell me," he teased. "How many boys did you sneak up here over the years?"

"Oh loads. Yeah, I was clearly very popular in highschool."

He barked out a laugh. "Of course. I'm sure all the guys were just lining up to spend some time under these lovely magenta bedsheets."

You chuckled, looking up to meet his eyes. He sent you a handsome grin, a dimple popping out in his left cheek and suddenly you felt a lot more at ease.

Maybe this situation wasn't so bad after all.

You awoke the next morning to the feeling of an arm splayed across your waist. You looked over at the boy beside you. He looked angelic, framed by the golden morning light that was peering through the gap in the curtains.

The previous night had gone extremely well, with Sirius charming your family in various ways over dinner. He'd chatted to your Dad and brother about shared music tastes and listened to your Nana's long-winded stories with unwavering interest. He even made sure to go back for seconds on every course of your mother's Christmas Eve menu. Overall, he'd been a perfect gentlemen.

As you gazed at the man, taking in his boyish, almost delicate features, he began to stir. He blinked up at you, gathering his bearings before a smirk overtook him.

"Merry Christmas sweetheart," he murmered, his voice deep and heavy like the strings of a bass guitar.

"Merry Christmas Sirius."

Your family was gathered in the living room when you made it down stairs, cups of hot chocolate in hand and ready to exchange gifts.

"Took you two long enough!" your father called from his armchair beside the fireplace.

"Yeah!" Your brother echoed. "What were you doing up there anyway?"

You rolled your eyes and slapped him gently on the shoulder as you came over to sit beside him on the floor. Sirius hung back awkwardly, not quite sure where he fit into the family dynamic, something that didn't go unnoticed by you... or your grandma.

"You can have a seat right here, hun." She patted the spot on the sofa beside her.

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched Sirius follow her direction, squishing in to the tight seat between your grandparents. You raised a brow at him from across the room and he responded with an tight-lipped smile.

"Alright! I think it's time for gifts!" your Dad announced.

It took a while to get through all the boxes piled under the tree. By the end of the ordeal you had precured a mass of items including, several handmade bees wax candles from the shop down the road, a boldly detailed set of teacups, a new sunhat and a lovely pair of earrings from your mother.

Your gaze trailed back to Sirius every once in a while, taking note of the way he curiously watched on to see the reactions of your family as they opened their various gifts. It occured to you that Sirius had likely never experienced a pleasant Christmas morning such as this one before. Something in you felt very glad that you'd dragged him along this year.

"This one's for you, Sirius!" your mother chirrped after most of the presents under the tree had sucessfully been unwrapped. She held out a gift box towards him, over the sea of massacarred Christmas paper that now covered the floor.

Sirius eyes widened. "Really? Oh, you didn't have to get me anything."

Your mother chuckled warmly. "Well we couldn't leave you giftless during all of this, could we?"

Sirius smiled but seemed hesitant in taking the box.

"It's only something little," your mother informed.

Your brows furrowed as you watched Sirius take the gift. You hadn't been made aware that your family had gotten him anything. Especially on such short notice.

Sirius carefully removed the wrapping paper to find a large silver box hidden beneath it. Cautiously, he opened it up and you couldn't contain the snort of laughter that burst from you at the sight.

Sirius let out a throaty chuckle as he held up the ugliest Christmas jumper you'd ever seen. The rest of the room was quick to follow as they assessed the man's gift.

It was a frosty blue colour with a giant, smiling snow-man in the centre. There were snow-flakes of all shapes and sizes surrounding it, adorned cheaply with silver glitter that was bound to shed and get into every nook and cranny of the house.

"Wow. This is uh... well, it's definitely something," Sirius muttered as he analysed the woolen monstrosity.

"You could wear it today!" your grandmother suggested and you let out another chortle at the insinuation.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I could."

With that, he hesitantly reached up and slipped the piece of fabric over his head. Everyone in the room began to cheer jokingly as he secured the item.

"How do I look?" he asked, throwing his arms out to show off his present. He looked directly over at you.

"Oh, it's super sexy," you teased.

"Knew it," he responded leaning back on the couch. For the first time since he arrived, it seemed that the playful glint in his eyes had returned. You could tell he was finally starting to feel more comfortable. "I reckon there'll be a queue for me outside the door once all the girls in town get a glimpse of me in this thing."

"Well, I think you look very handsome," you grandmother chimed in.

Another eruption of laughter filled the room.

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Your Aunt's family came over for Christmas Lunch and you got the chance to observe Sirius in caught up in an intense nerf gun fight with you younger cousins as you helped set the table.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight and the revelation that the man was surprisingly good with kids.

You spent the day laughing and drinking and unwrapping presents. All the while, Sirius never even thought about taking his new jumper off. In fact, he'd never tell a soul but secretly he found it very comfortable.

The day ended where it began, in the living room. With bellies full of Christmas ham, your family had spent the evening sipping brandy and remeniscing about your childhood in the english countryside.

You'd never felt more embarassed in your life as when your grandfather recounted the tale of you falling head-first into the touching pool at the aquarium you visited on your 6th birthday.

You also noticed the way that Sirius laughed loudly at all the stories, soaking up the energy in the room as if he was trying to freeze the moment in time. You found yourself drawing closer and closer towards him on the couch during the night, gravitiating into the comfort of his contact.

Everyone was pretty tispy by the time 11:00pm rolled around and one by one, began heading off to bed. You, Sirius and your father were the last men standing as the clock approached midnight.

"Well, that's it!" your Dad sighed, glancing down at his watch. "Christmas is over for another year."

"What a shame," you sighed. You were propped up on the sofa beside Sirius who had an arm lazily thrown around your shoulders. Unconciously you found yourself nestling into his side. "I wish it could be Christmas all the time."

"That sounds awfully expensive," Sirius teased and your father chuckled in response.

"Well, I'm off to bed," you Dad announced, getting up from his seat and setting down his mug. "Do you two need anything before I go?"

You shook your head gently. "Nope. We're good I think."

"Well then," he came over to place a kiss on the top of your head. "I'll see you in the morning. Merry Christmas guys."

"Merry Christmas, Dad," you called after him at the same time as Sirius muttered a "Goodnight Sir," in his direction.

And then there were two.

The room was mostly dark, the only light coming from the twinkling Christmas lights that adorned the tree in the corner. Snow was falling steadily outside and the fire crackled in the fireplace on the opposite wall from where you sat. You could feel the alcohol buzzing through your veins.

"Did you have a nice time?" you asked Sirius, scooting away from him slightly to get a better look at his face.

"I had a lovely time. Did you?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "I always have a lovely time on Christmas."

Sirius chuckled. "I can see why."

His eyes darkened a bit and you could tell he was thinking about some distant memory, probably from childhood, that rattled around in the back of his brain.

Maybe it was the alcohol or just the comfortability of being in your childhood home, but you decided that tonight was the night to broach the subject.

"James told me that you don't get along with your family."

Sirius scoffed. "That's putting it lightly."

You frowned. "I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault," he murmered, gazing into the fire. "They're awful, rancid people. The lot of them."

"But you're close with your brother aren't you?"

Sirius sighed. "I am now. Took us a while to get there, though."

"Oh."

You sat back, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked up at him. He looked ethereal in the flickering fire-light. There was a moment of heavy silence between the two of you. One that clouded the room and settled like dust over the furiture.

You didn't want to push him to talk. Not if he wasn't ready. However, after a few long seconds, he began to speak again.

"I ran away at sixteen, you know?"

He turned to look at you, stormy eyes boring down into your own. They were full of so much emotion. All the pain and vulnerablility he was so good at masking was coming to the surface, brought forward on the tides of liquor.

"i just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take them. My parents- well, they were always mad at me about something. What classes I was taking, who I dated, who I was friends with. It just seemed at that point, like all they could do was yell at me."

"That sounds awful," you sympathised.

"It was," he continued. "And the worst part of it was how they pitted me and Regulus against each other, made us compete for their love and attention. Regulus and I didn't speak for years after I left."

"Where did you go?"

He huffed, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "James'."

A sort of fuzzy warmth erupted somewhere in your gut.

"That's nice. It's good that you had someone you trusted so much."

"James is my best mate in the world," Sirius explained. "And his family took me in like I was one of their own. If it wasn't for them... well, I don't know what I would've done."

"He's a wonderful person," you responded fondly. "We're very lucky to know him."

"That we are."

There was a pause and then:

"You're a wonderful person as well, you know? I also feel lucky to know you."

You felt an explosion of heat behind your cheeks, and you had to turn away from him quickly to hide your embarassement. Your heart was pounding in your chest and suddenly your throat was as dry as a desert.

"Come on, I think we should go to bed now.”

You stood abruptly from the couch, grabbing his hand in yours and tugging him up with you. The two of you tiptoed up the stairs, doing your best not to disturb any of your sleeping family.

"Wait! Hold on a second."

You stopped in the doorway of your room, coming face to face with the boy in front of you. He was standing very close, eyes alight with an emotion you couldn't quite describe.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Then he gestured upwards. Following his direction, you looked up to notice a single strand of Mistletoe hanging from the doorframe. You could only guess who put it there.

Then you looked back at Sirius, who had a small smirk painted on his lips. Slowly he began to lean closer towards you.

"We have to do it," he murmered, your lips only centermetres apart. "It's bad luck if we don't."

Then, in an instant, he lunged forwards, pressing his lips to yours. Sparks errupted within you as you kissed him back.

Sirius moved his hands into your hair, lacing them in between thick strands. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into the doorway and pressing him up against the wall.

Suddenly, he was reaching towards the hem of your shirt, fingers dancing over the skin of your hip and sneaking up your side. You let him.

Before you knew it, that stupid Christmas Jumper was decorating the bedroom floor.

You grinned against his lips as Sirius pulled you down onto the bed.

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff

#marauders #james potter #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #poly!marauders x reader #marauders au

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capquinn · 2 days ago

Note

Do you have any of your own dad!quinn daydreams with him and Bug in the Amazon episode? Is he the type of parent to completely avoid her being posted or he’s okay with a small amount like pictures and candid moments

oh i've been waiting for this one!!!!!

Quinn’s online presence has basically become non-existent since he became captain, which makes total sense. When he does post or share something, it’s almost entirely about his career — the odd Insta story repost from the Canucks, like charity work or celebrating a teammate's milestone, or occasionally something promotional for the Canucks or NHL posted to his feed. I mean, we didn’t even get a summer dump this year, so it’s clear he’s become much more private. The idea of him posting something personal would feel so out of character now, you know? Honestly, I’d have to wonder if he was being held at gunpoint if it happened lol

With that in mind, I feel like dad!quinn would take that privacy even further when it comes to Bug. He wouldn’t post her on social media at all — there’s no way he’d want her out there for public consumption. Maybe he’d share the occasional snippet on a private or close friends Instagram story, but even then, he’d be incredibly careful about what he shows. Think faceless photos — like a shot of her little sunhat shielding her face as she sits on the dock at the lake house in the summer, or a picture she drew of him, proudly displayed on the fridge with a caption like, “she’s pretty critical of my stick handling.” Those little moments that mean everything to him, but he’d keep them just for the people closest to him.

With the Face Off stuff, He’d want to keep her out of it entirely, likely requesting that they not film her or include anything too personal, doing his best to protect that part of his life. Instead, there’d just be traces of his family in the background — things that suggest without showing. A toy box tucked into the corner of the living room, a teddy bear left on the sofa, a colouring book and crayons on the dining table, family photos on the mantle but filmed at a distance so nothing is truly decipherable.

At most, maybe there’d be one sweet, subtle moment near the end. Like a clip of him on the boat with Jack, wakeboarding, and you hear Bug’s tiny voice calling, “daddy!” from the dock. The camera wouldn’t even show her — just her voice floating across the water while the shot stays focused on Quinn. His reaction would say everything, though: his big, unrestrained smile, the way his eyes would light up as he waves back toward her standing beside you on the shore. It’d be the perfect glimpse into his life as a dad without crossing the line into showing too much.

They might ask him during the interview part of filming what it’s been like balancing being a captain and a first-time dad, and his lips would twitch into that soft, shy smile, his gaze dropping for a moment like he’s carefully choosing what not to say. His answer would be thoughtful yet still so reserved. Something like, “it’s been amazing. It’s definitely a balance — wanting to give everything I can to both — but being her dad is the best thing I’ve ever done. She's pretty great.” And I can just imagine his smile growing as he talks about it, like he’s holding back from saying more because he wants to protect that part of his life so fiercely. The cameras might linger on him for a moment after his answer, his expression so sweet and so vulnerable, almost distant, like he’s thinking about Bug back home, probably drawing another masterpiece for the fridge.

It feels like exactly the kind of balance Quinn would strive for — protecting his family’s privacy while still giving the smallest, most heartfelt window into the joy of what being a dad brings him.

#honestly he'd be so private that nobody even knows he had a baby on the way until suddenly out of the blue misses a practice and then #a morning skate and a game and when the media inevitably asks about his absence post game #tocc just casually drops 'yeah his baby was born' like it's the most unremarkable thing ever and thats it. no elaboration or comments #just pure tocc energy shutting it down as per usual and moving on from the topic bc even he knows how valuable quinn's privacy is to him #dad!quinn #quinn hughes

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tearsofastraeax · 1 day ago

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a/n: guys, sorry for letting you wait this long, but i'm back with the next update and what can i say, i started listening to lana del rey again so i will only be getting more dramatic from here on out

cw: we've been through this before, it's angsty, and maybe morally questionable

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

over the course of the next week, you dodged bullets left and right. mostly in the form of stupid presents, flowers and tacky cards announcing how sorry simon was. every single one ended up in the trash.

it didn't get easier. especially with these constant reminders thrown at you. a few days ago, you had even considered taking off a couple days from work and just booking a flight to somewhere, anywhere really, just to get some semblance of peace.

he'd probably still find you though.

you snorted at the thought, how wonderful. would you be tortured by your ex-boyfriend for the rest of your days?

you tried to clear your head, your feet dragging you towards to bar you were planning to meet a friend of yours. even though you'd rather just wrap yourself in a blanket and not leave the house for the foreseeable future, your friend had made a great point by dragging you out. nothing would get better by wallowing in self-pity.

as you cautiously stepped into the bar, you scanned the room, there were a couple of groups of people already gathered around tables, but you couldn't see your friend yet.

so, you stepped over to the bar and decided to order a drink already, you certainly needed it. you ditched your coat and plopped down on one of the bar stools.

as you waited, you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, watching the minutes slowly dragging by, no sign of your friend yet. maybe you should have just stayed at home after all.

your thoughts slowly began to wander again, but just in that moment the door of the bar opened, and a cool rush of air enveloped you. a smile spread over your features as your eyes lifted to the door. but just as quickly as your expression had lit up, it dropped again.

it wasn't your friend standing in the door. it was john price, out of all people.

your eyes darted from him to the space behind him, barely able to see if anyone was behind him, his wide body nearly blocking out the whole view. you readied yourself to search for an emergency exit in the back or hide in the bathroom for the next hours.

as he stepped through the door and it fell closed behind him, a breath you didn't realize you were holding escaped you. he was alone.

in the next moment though his eyes caught yours, surprise crossed his features before a sheepish smile dragged his lips upward.

you didn't know what to do so you just ended up staring at him like some kind of idiot, while he walked over to you. he sat down at the bar, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of ease as he regarded you with those warm eyes.

"'ello doll. fine seeing you 'ere, how have ya been?" his gruff voice wrapped you in a haze.

you couldn't help the slight tug of your lips as you watched him.

"are you stalking me? simon send you after me now?" your voice carried more anger than you had planned, it was supposed to be a bit of a joke, though when you thought about it, you wouldn't put it past him.

"simon sending... - what? doll, i wouldn't stalk you or nothin' like that. i can leave, ya know, i'm sorry if i was bothering you."

he made to get up, but before you could think about it you grabbed his arm. he halted immediately. your eyes zeroed in on where you had made contact with him. the soft fabric of his shirt and the straining muscles hiding beneath it.

you barely snapped out of your haze, dropping your hand and regarding him with an apologetic smile.

"sorry, i didn't mean it like that. it's just -" you let out a big sigh, were you really going to unload on your ex's boss now? "never mind, sorry again, i don't mean to drag you into this."

price regarded you with a warm smile. he dropped back down on the bar stool and turned towards you.

"don't worry about it, darling. i'm happy to listen, but you don't have to share. let's talk about something else, how's that cat of yours doin'?"

you couldn't hold back the giggle that escaped you, internally smacking yourself for acting so out of the loop.

but you quickly fell into the quiet hum of a conversation, staying far off the topic of him. john told you about the new plans for his house and you went on about the new plants and decoration pieces you had bought yourself in a rush of sudden self-care in the form of online shopping.

your earlier worries, and even your plans were all but forgotten. the alcohol cursed through your veins and settled you in a hazy state. your laughs came easier. your walls lowering.

maybe this wasn't all that bad.

note: sooooooo, i hope i can update again more regularly, but i did wanna put out a lil warning, i'm starting a new job on the 3rd and i'm not sure yet how that's gonna affect my creativity and especially my availability to write. i hope you understand and i'll try to keep feeding you with this angsty goodness <33

taglist: @rafaelacallinybbay @fruitymoonbeams-blog @jdeclerc @valuyhh @galactict3a @etotruski @littlezarp @kentwos @strawberrygato

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x you #captain price x reader #✧･ﾟ⊹ astra writes 📖

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madschiavelique · 1 day ago

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Could I request smut headcanons for astarion, gale, halsin, kar'niss, raphael, haarlep, rolan, and wyll being teased by his female s/o that he came in his pants/underwear please?

omg im so sorry this took so long but arcane has a grip on me that is just SO tight. also, i'm sorry but i couldn't think of a way to make this prompt work for kar'niss, thus he won't be present in this sorryyy

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ characters : astarion, gale, halsin, raphael, haarlep, rolan, wyll

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : smut, reader being a dom if you squint for some of the men in this, teasing, reader being a teasing shit, fem!reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 2,2k (~ 300 words per characters)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ astarion :

After a long day in camp, Astarion was on duty sewing up the few clothes that had been torn during the day. It was a relaxing activity that he didn't see as an inconvenience when it came to the tasks everyone had in the camp.

It was his turn on guard duty, his elven assets obviously allowing him to be awake for longer. And, as luck would have it, you were sharing this shift.

Sitting by the campfire for better light, he was concentrating on drawing and sticking his needle continuously.

"What a tear it was," you confirmed, coming to sit just behind him and lacing your hands around his waist.

He chuckled softly, the sensation of your warmth against him quite different from that of the flames facing him. "Should my mind wonder, I think you get your clothes torn on purpose." He said, his face turning away from his task to meet your eyes, a flash of mischief crossing them.

"Really?" You smiled, your eyes lowering gradually to his lips as one of your hands moved slowly down his stomach to brush against his crotch. "I think you'd prefer me with no clothes at all."

His eyes were half-closed, a sigh of relief expelled from his lungs as your fingers slipped past the thickness of his trousers to press against him.

"Do you like it when you see my clothes torn apart?" you whispered against the back of his neck as you placed a kiss on it, your hot breath sending shivers down the vampire's spine.

His head fell back against your shoulder, moans rising from his throat as the feel of your breasts, barely covered by your shirt, pressed against his back. The pleasure was building fast, the feel of your lips against his skin, your divine fingers pumping his length to perfection, and your words pushing him towards ecstasy.

"Would you want to tear them yourself?" you questioned as your wrist increased the pace, your teeth grazing his skin for a moment before you bit down gently.

It almost took his breath away, the knot of pleasure bursting as you gently kissed his skin in encouragement.

You pulled your hand out of his trousers, watching the spectacle in the firelight with a satisfied smile. His eyes returned to yours, and you could be sure that your shirt was going to be ripped to shreds in the next few seconds.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ gale :

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose, trying as best he could to integrate the complex workings of a new spell he wanted to learn.

"You look tense," you remarked as you sat down beside him, placing your hand on his thigh in an attempt of reassuring him.

"Somehow these engravings are giving me quite a hard time," he replied, giving you a frustrated little smile as his eyes returned to the paper.

"Maybe..." Your hand slid to his crotch, his eyes drifting slowly from the parchment to yours. "You need to relax a bit to learn it better?"

His nose brushed yours gently, his lips grazing yours and inhaling heavily as your hands moved past the waistband of his trousers and onto his warm skin.

His lips sought yours relentlessly, but you always found a way to turn away and smile against his cheek when he twitched at your meticulous and delicious movements.

"Why don't you try and read it for me?" you purred.

He tried to return to his parchment, but your hand against him simply made him press his forehead against the spell lines as you brought him to climax.

With a gasp, he regained his composure and you kissed his jaw.

"Can you focus better on it now?" you suggested slyly.

How could he concentrate on anything after what you'd just put him through? He chuckled, almost throwing his parchment away as he grabbed your chin.

"My dear, I think it's time for me to practice some different spells on you."

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ halsin :

halsin was, as usual when he was staying at camp and the others had gone elsewhere for one reason or another, sitting by his tent carving a new wooden duck that he couldn't wait to add to his collection

You rested your head on his thigh, watching him as he gave you a gentle look, refocusing on his task.

What could be disturbing his serenity, his concentration and his control? When even was the last time you'd seen halsin flustered?

You placed your hand tentatively on his second thigh, letting your thumb caress his bulging muscle beneath the fabric of his trousers. He glanced at you for a moment, continuing his task more gently already, his attention gradually drifting to you as your finger ventured to his crotch, caressing it.

He inhaled harshly, his hands tightening on the knife and the piece of wood as his breath caught, his eyes now completely on you.

"My heart?" he asked, his breath catching as your hand cupped his cock.

"Just keep going," you said simply, not taking your eyes off him as your hand continued its little game.

You felt him harden under the caress of your fingers as, in your semi-innocence, he continued his task with some difficulty.

On several occasions, he smiled, a low laugh of air rising from his chest as your fingers touched a particularly sensitive spot or you stopped your movements to his surprise, saying, "If you don't continue carving, I will stop."

However, as time progressed, he forgot all about his sculpture, your fingers a delight on him as you picked up the pace until he relaxed completely with a few spasms under your hands, ruining his trousers.

Breathing hard, he watched you, cheek still resting on his thigh as you indicated as if nothing had happened "the next sculpture you make should be of me."

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ raphael :

It had been hours already since Raphael had been sitting at his desk, and boredom mixed with envy had led you to him.

It didn't take you long to settle into his lap, embracing him and resting your head on his shoulder.

"Do you miss me that much, my pearl?" he asked, a dark chuckle echoing in his chest.

"You've been doing this paperwork for hours already," you mumbled, your eyes facing the corner of his jaw.

"Be a bit more patient," he assured you as he continued reading yet another sheet. "It won't take me long."

But you had been patient enough already. Still, you sighed, simply resting your cheek on his shoulder.

Maybe there was a way for you to get him out of this boring situation with something more enticing.

You rolled your hips, a low hum coming from his throat. You repeated the movement, feeling his breath heavier already.

"You're up to something," he murmured, pressing his cheek to yours as his lips brushed your ear.

"Am I?" you questioned without waiting for an answer, your hips rolling against his as you felt him harden beneath you.

"You're being a distraction." His breath became heavier as his hands left the papers to rest on your hips.

"I'm your favourite distraction." you whispered in his ear, smiling playfully as you nibbled his lobe.

His hips reacted of their own accord, grinding against you as you kept up an ever-accelerating rhythm. His breath quickened as he whispered your name, your lips kissing and biting his neck until, with a groan, he came.

He rested his forehead on your shoulder, smiling against your skin as you straightened, leaving him with a stain in his trousers and looking surprised.

"Now you know the fun that you're missing." you say, moving away from the desk before he catches up with you, placing you on your shoulder and carrying you to the nearest bed.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ haarlep :

catching haarlep off guard in terms of teasing is no easy feat, so you'd offered him a challenge.

"you want to make me cum without touching me, little dove?" he sneered, the idea probably seeming ridiculous and insane to him, but above all: impossible.

But you weren't going to be deterred, advancing towards him in the most beautiful lingerie you owned - his favourite. his eyes, burning with desire, roamed over your body as though they were starving.

"you truly think this is impossible for me to achieve this?" you asked, coming to sit right on top of him without your thighs touching his hips or any part of your skin coming into contact with him.

"you're making me reconsider my own words," Haarlep remarked, his eyes at the same level as your breasts.

you lowered yourself towards him, your hand barely brushing his already hard length as your lips parted near his ears, whispering words that would shock any paladin.

of their own accord, his hips began to move, finding friction against the fabric of his black underwear as your hand continued to move just above him, the distance driving him mad.

The friction intensified, his movements becoming more erratic and repetitive as your words lifted him beyond the clouds of hell.

"Come for me, Haarlep," you whispered as his breath hitched. "Come for me."

He came as if on command, his hips jerking against nothing as you laughed close to his ear before kissing him, pulling back to admire the sight of his half-closed eyelids.

He smiled, his canine teeth glistening in the light as he suddenly grabbed you and pulled you under him onto the bed, "I think it's my turn to achieve the impossible."

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ rolan :

Rolan, eternally busy in the library, was sincerely starting to make you wait.

You sat next to him, waiting tirelessly as he turned another page. There was no fun in sight for any of you if he continued like that for long.

You rested your head on your hand, watching him for a moment as an idea popped into your head.

"Read for me," you said, as he turned to you in surprise.

"You want me to read this to you?" he repeated, pointing to a book that seemed immeasurably boring.

"Mhm," you simply hummed, shrugging your shoulders as your hand came to rest on his thigh and you moved closer to him, pretending to be interested.

He cleared his throat, the simple sensation of your hand on his thigh making him all a-twit as he began his technical reading.

Gradually, though, your hand moved closer to his crotch, caressing his thigh with your thumb as you felt his voice tremble at times and his jaw tense.

When you placed your hand down on him, however, he couldn't help but let out a moan, turning to you.

"What are you-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Just keep reading," you said simply, a flash of slyness still in your eyes.

He breathed in, understanding your little game as he returned to his reading with some difficulty and you resumed your slow, precise movements.

Sometimes you felt his hips twitch, or enjoyed his sentences punctuated by sighs and moans as he stopped reading, unable to concentrate as you urged him to continue unless you'd stop.

"I'm..." his breath quickened, your hands doing the same as he couldn't even put two coherent words together under your touch.

"Mhm?" you hummed, your movements as precise and fast as ever.

"Fuck," he swore as he clamped his hand over his mouth and his hips bucked against your hand, the warm sensation of his release pressing against your palm.

You watched the result of your work, Rolan huffing and puffing and his head thrown back, covering the blush darkening his cheeks.

"You're never going to get me out of this library alive," he sighed, hiding his eyes as you laughed softly.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ wyll :

He was spending such a tremendous time making sure his sword was clean and efficient that you wondered if you'd end up envying rapiers and other sabres.

You came up behind him and wrapped your hands around his waist.

"You've sharpened it enough," you breathed, resting your chin on his shoulder as your own reflection watched you in his blade.

He raised it in front of him, straight into the sunlight. "What's a blade of frontier without a proper sword?"

He laid the blade on his knee again, running his file over the metal with precision, much to your frustration. He could have put that determination into something else, like you for example.

You sighed, your hands wandering mischievously to his groin. "Maybe the blade himself needs to loosen up a bit..."

A dull moan spread through his chest, vibrating against your own as you cupped him through his pants.

You massaged him gently, caressing him as his concentration on his sword weakened and he hardened.

"Do you prefer your sword to me?" you asked as you reached past the edge of his trousers and ran your hand down his shorts, a hiss escaping his lips as your hand came in contact with his skin.

His hips bucked messily against your palm, his breath getting heavier and heavier.

You pressed your mouth to his ear, whispering "Can your sword make you come like I do?"

Without further ado, he came against your hand with a long moan of pleasure, his head falling on your shoulder as he breathed softly, turning his head to look at you.

But you stood up, leaving him like that.

"Who will you choose tonight?" you said playfully, "your sword, or me?"

#bg3 #bg3 headcanons #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 gale #gale x reader #bg3 halsin #halsin x reader #bg3 raphael #raphael x reader #bg3 haarlep #haarlep x reader #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader #bg3 wyll #wyll x reader #bg3 smut

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thatdesigirl17 · 2 days ago

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fading

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

based on this request

warnings: language, a lot of angst, heartbreak?, reader being really in love with mattheo, overthinking

requests are open.

Y/N and Mattheo had been dating for almost two months now. It seemed to be going perfectly, the phase where they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and would talk about anything, do things for each other, look after each other andjust crave each other every moment, their honeymoon phase as her friends phrased it. Y/N was happy, Mattheo was perfect, she sometimes wondered if he was even real or if had she just made him up.

It was just another day for them at Hogwarts with their classes. Y/N was leaning on the pillar in one of the arches near the classroom, waiting for her boyfriend. Mattheo soon came in, walking hurriedly as he smiled as soon as her eyes landed on Y/N. ‘You’re late.’, she said, crossing her arms across her chest. ‘Sorry, love, you know the guys.’, he said, leaning in andkissing her softly. The kiss made Y/N forget everything as he pulled away, a smirk gracing his lips. She smiled, holding his gaze as he looked down at her and then noticed as his gaze faltered, flickering over to the corridor. Confusion grazed Y/N’s mind, never once did Mattheo’s attention ever leave her, that was until now, she turned her head slightly, to look at what her boyfriend’s eyes were following.

A girl, from Ravenclaw, was probably a year younger as she passed them in the halls. Y/N’s stomach dropped as she turned to look at Mattheo, who was now focused on her again. ‘Let’s get to class, love, wouldn’t wanna be late, yeah?’, he said, striking a charming smile as he intertwined his hand with hers and led them to the classroom. Y/N pushed her doubts away for the moment, concluding that she was probably overthinking, following Mattheo into the class.

A few days later, Y/N sat in the Transfiguration classroom. Mattheo had told her that he was going to skip this class and go smoke with Theo and Enzo, it was normal for him and Y/N was accustomed to this habit of his by now. ‘Alright, that’s all for today. I have some rather important commitments to adhere to. I hope that all you will complete the reading assigned till the next class.’, McGonagall’s stern voice echoed in the classroom as she cut the lesson short. Y/N packed up her stuff and made her way to the spot near the Quidditch pitch where the guys used to smoke.

She exited the classroom and walked towards the courtyard, in a deserted hallway, just when she heard the sound of laughter, belonging to Mattheo which she recognised immediately. She turned as she followed the sound, peeking through a pillar as the sight in front of her made her step falter and her stomach drop. Mattheo was sitting on the ground, with the same girl from days earlier, the younger Ravenclaw who had soft blonde curls. Y/N looked away for a moment as if the sight before her would vanish and then rechecked, it was definitely her boyfriend, leaning close to the other girl like he did with her. Y/N took a deep breath and made her way to the common room, her mind flooding with thoughts and feelings.

She was probably just a friend, right? Mattheo is allowed to have friends? Maybe I’m just overreacting, it’s nothing. Y/N’s mind raced as she entered the common room. She sat on the couch by the fireplace, fidgeting with her sleeve as she tried to process what she had just witnessed.

‘Hey love.’, her thoughts were stopped as Mattheo entered the common room, sitting down next to her. She smiled softly at him, ‘McGonagall ended the class early today, I came to look for you but you guys weren’t there.’ She looked up at him expectantly as he shifted to face her, ‘Yeah we got done early and then when we were walking back, a group of juniors wanted some help and we got held up.’ ‘Oh, what help?’, she enquired further. ‘About some directions. Theo and Enzo went with them and I stayed back with the others, they had some questions.’, he explained nonchalantly. ‘Huh.’, she exhaled, wanting to believe his story but it just seemed so out of character for him to just help. ‘What’s up, darling?’, he asked studying her expressions, sighing. ‘Oh, nothing, it just seems a bit weird that’s all.’, she remarked. ‘Weird? What I can’t help people now?’, he scoffed. ‘You usually don’t.’, she huffed. ‘What’s gotten into you, love? Why are you being like this?’, he asked, leaning a bit closer and looking at her cautiously. ‘Nothing, just tired.’, she said as she made her wayup the stairs to her dorm. Her mind raced with confusion, he was lying but maybe he was just leaving out some details. The door to her dorm opening silenced her thoughts for a minute. Mattheo followed her as he got into her bed right next to her, slowly kissing her temple, mumbling against her skin, ‘I love you, Y/N.’

She pretended to sleep, as she tried to convince herself to believe her boyfriend, to stop overthinking and to stop being so insecure and jealous.

Soon, all of this was forgotten and things returned to normal, almost. Mattheo got busy with the Quidditch season coming up and couldn’t spend as much time with her. Y/N noticed how Mattheo didn’t do things that he used to do, like wrapping an arm around her everywhere, resting his head on top of her and kissing her forehead, he seemed a bit distant. She thought that phase in their relationship was gradually fading like it does after some time and didn’t think about it much.

‘Matt, did you take back your green jumper? The one you gave to me when we first started going out.’, Y/N asked as she searched her wardrobe. The two of them were currently in her dorm. ‘No.’, he replied shortly as he lay on her bed, his body tensing at her question ever so slightly. ‘I can’t seem to find it.’, she muttered as she continued searching, unaware of his reaction. ‘Leave it. I’ll give you a new one. Let’s just go to dinner for now, yeah?’, he remarked as he got up from the bed and walked over to her. ‘You’re right.’, she said, glancing at the time, ‘We should go if we wanna eat.’ She reached out to hold his hand as she intertwined their fingers, following him to the Great Hall. A few steps before the entrance to the Great Hall, he drops her hand, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket instead. A pang of hurt hits Y/N as she looks at him, her brows furrowing slightly. ‘It’s cold tonight.’, he said with an unreadable expression, her voice giving out the slightest bit of irritation, further confusing Y/N. Whenever it was cold, Mattheo would stuff both of their hands in his pocket, not letting go of her hand. ‘Right.’, she breathed out, feigning a small smile, trying to hide her hurt.

Something wasn’t right, she was sure of it now. The changing behaviour, and the distant nature, meant something. Her mind recalled the past few weeks, the Ravenclaw girl, it had to be her right? Did Mattheo cheat on her? The man who was so whipped for her was now not? Her eyes scanned the Ravenclaw table, stopping right on the girl they were searching for.

The colour from her face drained, her gut-wrenching inside her as she took in the sight of her. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and she adorned a green jumper. Mattheo’s green jumper, Y/N was sure it was his, she had worn it a thousand times before, and there was no way she could have mistaken that piece of clothing. She stopped in her tracks, as the girl turned around to face her friend, Y/N's heart shattered further as she noticed the scrunchie that was entangled in her hair. It was hers, it was Y/N’s favourite scrunchie that Mattheo insisted on wearing, to remember her when she was away and to let everyone know he was hers, as he had said when they had just started going out. She took in a shaky breath, tears welling up in her eyes as she saw Mattheo walking down to the Slytherin table, unaware that she had stopped following him. She turned on her heel and hurriedly stepped out of the Great Hall. Mattheo, who finally noticed her absence, turned back, calling out her name and following her.

She rushed through the halls and turned around the corner, her tears streaming down her face. Her emotions channelled from sadness, anger and frustration all at once as Mattheo’s voice echoed in her ears. She turned around and yelled, her fury evident in her voice, ‘Tell me you didn’t do it. Tell me what I saw was not true.’ Mattheo stopped, his expression reading between annoyance and anger, ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘Don’t. Don’t you dare fucking lie to me or play innocent? Don’t make me feel any more stupid, do at least that for me, yeah?’, she spat, her tears still running as she stepped closer, fisting his collar. ‘You did it, didn’t you? You cheated on me with that Ravenclaw. She was wearing your jumper, the one you gave to me! My scrunchie that you begged me to let you have!’, she said through gritted teeth. Her eyes searched his, the guilt evidently surfacing in his brown orbs. She scoffed, letting him go as he stumbled back. She ran her hand through her hair, ‘How could I be so fucking stupid? It was right there in front of me the entire fucking time.’ She took another shaky breath, she could feel her heart aching, her chest tightening. ‘Y/N, I-‘, Mattheo’s voice cut through, soft as he reached out to hold her. She took a step back and held up her hand as a guard, ‘Spare me the shit, Mattheo. Don’t act like you care now, you made it evident that you never did.’ She wiped her tears as Mattheo looked at her with guilt, silently pleading with her to let him explain himself. ‘Y/N, please, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I did love you, I just-‘, he looked at her only to see that she wasn’t paying any attention to his words.

‘I hope you know what you did, Riddle. Don’t ever talk to me again. If I knew I would have to see you fall out of love with me like this, I never would have loved you.’, she said turning away and leaving him stranded in the hallway.

#fanfic #writing #harry potter #hogwarts #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #wizardblr #hpimagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter fandom

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rootspiral · 3 days ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4])

it's still agatha and her river

mama, I'm sorry I got upset. mama I'm sorry we're both starving tonight. I promise I'll do better tomorrow.

a six year old taking responsibility and apologizing for his mother's shortcomings.

agatha looks down at her precious little boy's pleading face

and she smiles at him, and nicky gives her a big relieved grin.

evanora is not stealing this moment. she did her worst to fuck with agatha's brain chemistry, but in one fundamental thing she failed: agatha is capable of loving her kid. despite all her other shortcomings, she will never blame nicky for her own faults.

she does a cute little dance for him, and this is what they do, isn't it? he's too small to explain his big feelings and she is too scared, and so they sing to each other and hope the love is understood anyway.

see how he touches the brooch? if only she could have loved nicky in vacuum, without any of the emotional baggage. but he is only the last link in a long chain of witches, pain and and tears and blood that made him what he is. agatha cannot escape her identity and legacy no matter how much she tries, and she couldn't protect nicky from it either.

the last time she sees nicky alive he's smiling adoringly at her. this is the boy she can't face in the afterlife, because her own guilt is so strong she's convinced he will hate her.

nicky dies peacefully in his mother's arms. his soul wakes up and sees rio waiting for him.

that some good cinema dear lord

rio waves at nicky. he doesn't know her (when who will return?) but he still trusts her implicity - she's been around him his whole short life, in the woods, in the water, in his lungs.

and - the bit that destroyed us all - she makes nicky go to agatha one last time. go kiss your mama goodbye.

light and dark, growth and decay, here and beyond.

remember when alice died and the camera turned upside down? ot stops halfway here. agatha has been affected so profoundly by nicky's death that she can never let herself go back to the land of the living, but she's also too scared to follow rio to the other side. she's stuck in the middle, consumed by the impossible dream of bringing nicky back, never allowing herself to find peace and companionship again. in love with death, but running away from it.

(people never seem to make crack and humor vids for episode 9, isn't that curious? when it's soooo fun and lighthearted!)

well ain't that just brutal

I have always known

This Road is cruel and wild

I bury my own heart

Here with you, my child

(I think those are lavender flowers? I'm not 100% sure)

coolcoolcoolcoolcool. that's fine. I'm absolutely fine.

BARRIERS UP right away. even if she looks like a mess. especially because she looks like a mess. she's not showing weakness in front of anyone, she's protecting her grief like a jealous goblin, and since she cannot run, she straightens her dress and gets ready to fight. the option to ask for help and comfort doesn't even cross her mind.

her eyes still full of tears / agatha gets another wonderful, awful idea.

we've seen this so many times, haven't we? the real agatha disappears behind the character she plays. the agatha we've seen from the very start, since the moment she walked into wanda's living room, has been a lie. very few people have ever seen a hint of the poor bruised heart she hides inside, and only to rio and (to some extent) nicky she has ever opened up.

how can someone go from total heartbreak to planning murder in the span of two minutes? well, you can if you are agatha harkness and have never learned one healthy coping mechanism in your life. and I'm sure she's already rationalizing it as something like "if I get powerful enough I can bring nicky back." but the truth is, she just wants to get drunk on magic and murder and stop feeling so horrible. she's running away, like usual. she's planning to kill witches in front of the grave of the very kid who begged her not to, and she's using his song to do it. as if that's not gonna haunt her or anything.

(it really gets me how agatha's smiles are so different from kathryn's. agatha never smiles with her eyes, except when she's with nicky.)

agatha's diabolical scam is so stupid if you think about, definitely worthy of the clown she has become. just pretend the Road didn't open and then annoy people into attacking you! better than using a literal child as bait, I guess.

here she absorbs a yellow coven, and yep, it does look like covens are all supposed to be the same color?

the bodies from the agnes of westview opening.

orange coven in the late 1800s. I really like that dress and hat on her

blue coven in the 1920s, and another cunty outfit

I know you guys like the 90s look, but it makes me laugh how hard she was trying for that Craft vibe. and we don't see the beams color here.

and finally, our girls. (I miss you all so muchhhhh)

what do you know! looks like a door has appeared! (sharonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!)

from fuck has my karma caught up with me to well well well, looks like we have another little maximoff on our hands

and speaking of little maximoffs and giant assholes...

go to episode 9 part 5

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #nicholas scratch #character analysis #tw: child death

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focusonkayjay · 1 day ago

Text

between the ride and the roses (15)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 5.4k+

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: angst, angst and angst, mature language, mention of injuries, stitches.

A/N: happy taehyung day !! <3 it's still the 30th where i live and i truly hope that tae had a day filled with love and happiness.

in light of everything, i also want to acknowledge the heartbreaking tragedy of the plane crash in korea. my heart goes out to all the victims and their families, and i am sending my deepest condolences. may they find peace, and may those we've lost rest in peace🕊️

part 15: carnation crash

The second Jungkook pulls the door open, his eyes land on you, and the sight sends a sharp pang through his chest. Your disheveled state, the bandage wrapped around your head and the one on your hand doesn’t escape him.

His mind races with questions. He wonders how you got here at this hour. Did you walk all this way? The very thought carves an ache deep into him, one he struggles to name.

“Y/n?” he finally manages, his voice low. “Kook…” you breathe out, and the sound of your voice... so drained, so heavy with fear and unease sends his heart into freefall. You don’t wait for him to say more. Stepping forward, you wrap your arms around his torso, clinging to him.

Jungkook freezes for a moment, startled, but then he exhales and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. With one hand, he carefully reaches behind to shut the door, cocooning you both in the quiet of his apartment.

“Did you walk here?” he asks softly, his voice laced with concern. You nod weakly against his chest. “I missed you.” you whisper, and the raw vulnerability in your words almost undoes him.

He bites down on his lower lip, hard, fighting the urge to crumble. He knows he can’t let himself weaken… not now, not when he feels like the very reason for your pain.

“Let me get you some water.” he says quietly, carefully removing your hands from his torso. His touch lingers, hesitant, but he doesn’t meet your eyes as he turns and walks towards the kitchen.

You trail after him, your gaze fixed on his figure. You can’t help but notice the tension in his shoulders, the way he avoids looking your way. He searches for a glass, his movements slow yet restless, and his teeth worry at his lower lip.

“Kook...” you call out softly, breaking the suffocating silence. “Why didn’t you come to the hospital?” The question lingers in the air, heavy and unyielding. He freezes mid-motion, an empty glass in his hand, and finally turns to face you. The light from the kitchen spills over him, illuminating every detail you hadn’t noticed before.

Your breath hitches. His face, bruised and battered, tells a story you know he won’t voice. The gash on his lip glints faintly under the overhead light, but it’s his eyes... red, swollen, brimming with a guilt so profound it seems to engulf him. The physical wounds are merely the surface, it’s the storm raging beneath that terrifies you.

“Did you get into a fight?” you ask, your voice trembling as you step closer. He doesn’t answer. His jaw clenches, and he turns away, his shoulders taut as if trying to bear the crushing weight of your question. He sets the glass down on the counter, gripping it tightly, as though it’s the only thing grounding him.

“Kook, look at me.” Your voice wavers, raw with the strain of emotions you’ve kept bottled up. When he still doesn’t respond, you close the distance, gently cupping his face in your hands to make him look at you. His skin is warm beneath your touch, but his expression remains cold, distant.

“I told you to stop this.” Your voice cracks. “You promised me you wouldn’t get into fights—”

“How could I not?” he snaps suddenly, his voice sharp, the edge of it cutting through you. You pull your hands back, startled by the intensity of his tone. His hands clench into fists at his sides as he looks at you, his eyes ablaze with a fury born of anguish. “After what Mingyu did? After what happened to you?”

Your chest tightens as the weight of his words sinks in. “Kook, I never asked you to fight him—”

“You didn’t have to!” His voice rises, breaking under the force of his emotions. “Do you think I could just stand there and do nothing? Let him get away with it? After I saw... your shop, the ruins, the broken pots... do you have any idea what that did to me?” His voice trembles, and his fists tighten further. “I saw what he tried to do to you, Y/n. To us. Do you think I could just let that go?”

“Kook, you’re not listening to me—”

“No, you’re not listening to me!” he yells, his voice shattering the fragile space between you. “I couldn’t come to the hospital because I couldn’t face you, okay? I couldn’t... I couldn’t see you like that, knowing it's all my fault.”

You step back, stunned. “Your fault? Kook, none of this is your fault. Mingyu is the one who—”

“But it started with me!” he cuts you off, his voice breaking. “If I hadn’t moved next door to you, if I hadn’t been such an ass to you from the very start, if I hadn’t—” His voice falters, his breath hitching as he tries to steady himself. “You’d still have your peace, Y/n. Your shop wouldn’t be in ruins. You wouldn’t be hurt.”

“Kook, stop.” Your voice trembles as you take a step closer, desperate to reach him. “You can’t blame yourself for this. Mingyu’s actions are his, not yours.” you explain.

But he shakes his head, his eyes glistening. “He came after you because of me. Because he figured out what you mean to me. Because he realized that hurting you was the easiest way to get to me.”

Your breath catches at his words. His voice softens, but the pain in it sharpens every syllable. “I... I promised myself I’d protect you, Y/n. But look at you now... bandaged, bruised, broken... all because I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“That’s not true.” you whisper, your voice thick with tears. “You didn’t do this to me, Kook. Mingyu did.” you try again, desperate to make him understand.

He exhales shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. A bitter laugh escapes him, heavy with self-loathing. “It’s so hard for me to look at you…” he mutters, as if confessing to himself more than to you. His words hit like a hammer, and your heart feels on the verge of shattering.

“To act like I’m not the reason for the chaos in your life...for everything wrong that has happened to you... I've always been an ass to you... made you cry... and it scares me because I just—” He stops abruptly, his words hanging unfinished, but the weight of what he wants to say is almost suffocating.

“You just what, Kook?” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “You just what?”

His eyes lock with yours, and for a fleeting moment, you think you can see everything he’s been holding back. His lips part, but then he steps back, retreating from the vulnerability threatening to spill over. “It doesn’t matter...” he exhales, his voice cold and detached now, the walls he’s been trying to build, slamming back into place.

“It does matter.” you cry, your voice breaking. “It matters to me, Kook. You matter to me.”

“No. Not anymore.” he says firmly, his tone void of the warmth you so desperately seek. “What matters is that... that I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending like I’m good for you.”

“You’re wrong.” you sob, stepping closer, but he moves back, the distance between you widening like an unbridgeable gap. “You’re so wrong.”

“You deserve better. Someone who doesn’t bring chaos into your life. Someone who—”

“Stop it!” you plead, your voice trembling under the weight of your sobs. “Stop trying to decide what’s best for me! You don’t get to do that, Kook.” Your chest rises and falls with each shaky breath as you lock eyes with him, desperately hoping to find a flicker of understanding, a shared agreement. “You are good for me.”

“I really... I really wish I was.” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. The words hang in the air, an unwelcome silence settling between you, and as he looks at you one final time, his expression is a heart-wrenching blend of longing and devastation.

Then, before you can respond, he takes a step closer, grabbing your wrist... not harshly, but firmly enough that you know he’s not letting go.

“Kook, what are you doing?” you ask, panic creeping into your voice as he begins pulling you towards the door. “Let me go! Kook, stop!” you protest, trying to dig your heels into the floor, but his grip remains steady, unyielding.

“We’re done talking.” he says, his voice low but resolute as he steps out of his house and drags you down the stairs of his apartment building. Within seconds, the cool night air hits your face as he pulls you outside. Your heart pounds, confusion and heartbreak intertwining in a chaos.

“Kook, please, just let me—”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at you as he steps onto the curb and flags down a passing cab. The car screeches to a halt right in front of you, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s opening the door and guiding you inside.

“Kook, stop this!” you plead, your voice shaking as you push against his arm, but he doesn’t budge. His grip on your wrist is firm yet gentle, his jaw set with an unwavering determination.

“Please don’t do this, Jungkook.” you plead, your voice cracking as you reluctantly slide into the backseat, your gaze fixed on him through the window. You reach for the door handle, but he presses his palm firmly against it, stopping you from opening it.

With his hand still on the cab door, he leans towards the driver, his body tense. His voice is steady, yet it trembles with the weight of his emotions. “Please take her home safely.” he says, quickly rattling off your address, his urgency leaving no space for refusal.

Through the glass, you see him standing there, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, his head bowed low as he steps away from the car. He doesn’t look at you, not even when the driver starts the car and pulls away from the curb.

You twist in your seat, craning your neck to keep him in view for as long as possible. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t look. Doesn’t chase after you. He stays rooted to the spot, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

Tears blur your vision, streaming freely down your face as the reality of his actions sinks in. The ache in your chest intensifies, a searing pain that feels like it could tear you apart. You press a trembling hand against your mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that grow louder with each passing moment.

The driver glances at you through the rearview mirror, his expression softening at the sight of your distress. Reaching near the gear shift, he carefully pulls out a small packet of tissues. Without saying a word, he extends his hand towards the back seat, offering the tissues to you.

You take them weakly. “Thank you...” you whisper, though your voice is barely audible over your quiet sobs. The kindness only makes you cry harder, and you clutch the tissues tightly, using them to wipe your face.

The throbbing stitches on your forehead and the sting of the cut on your hand are nothing compared to the fire raging in your chest. Every breath feels like a struggle as your mind replays the last few minutes over and over again.

What just happened? How did it come to this? How could someone who held you so gently let you go so forcefully?

You sit there trembling in the backseat, tears streaming down your face as the weight of it all crashes down on you. The faint hum of the car engine fades into the background as your thoughts spiral, mourning the loss of something that burned so brightly yet lasted so briefly.

Your hands clutch the tissues the driver gave you as the trembling in your fingers betrays your fragile state. You try to understand Jungkook... his guilt, his torment. You try to make sense of his words, of his actions. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t understand why he thinks this is the solution when it so clearly isn’t.

Why couldn’t he just hold you tonight? Why couldn’t he just ease your fears instead of letting his own guilt push you away?

The questions churn in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. Your chest feels tight, every breath a battle as you remember the look on his face... the way he couldn’t even meet your eyes, the way he chose to make you leave instead of trying to comfort you.

After the day you’d had, the chaos, the fear, the pain, all you wanted was him. You needed him to be there for you, to remind you that you weren’t alone, that things would be okay.

But instead, he let his guilt dictate his actions, and now here you are, alone in the backseat of a cab, the town lights casting fleeting shadows across your tear-streaked face. A bitter ache blooms in your chest, spreading through you like wildfire as the betrayal of his decision sinks in.

How could he not see what you needed? How could he think that leaving you like this... so harshly, so suddenly... was what would make you happy?

Your trembling grows worse, your body reacting to the storm inside you as the cab continues its journey through the quiet streets. You don’t even notice the driver’s occasional glances of concern anymore... you’re too lost in your thoughts, replaying every moment, every word, every touch that led to this point.

Meanwhile, Jungkook barely makes it inside his apartment before his knees give out the second he enters. Sliding down against the door, he collapses, his body trembling as sobs tear through him.

For the first time in years, he lets himself break completely. The sound is raw, jagged, his cries dragging painfully through his throat as he struggles to catch his breath.

The weight of his actions crashes over him, bitter and relentless, like thorns piercing every corner of his soul. He hates himself, hates the choice he made, hates the pain he saw etched into your face as you looked at him, so fragile, so vulnerable.

But the guilt, the overwhelming culpability, feels even worse. He tells himself he did this for you, to protect you, to spare you from the chaos he seems to bring.

And yet, every fiber of his being aches for you, but to love you, he believes, comes at a cost... a cost that risks your peace, your safety.

And if he has to love you from a distance, from the shadows of a life apart, then so be it. He clings to that thought like a lifeline, convincing himself that this is what’s best, even as the emptiness gnaws at him.

For now, he decides, this is what is right. This is the sacrifice he must make.

You stay in bed, cocooned under the heavy blanket, clutching a pillow tightly to your chest as if it could somehow hold you together. The morning sky outside is gloomy, gray clouds mirroring the shallow darkness of your room.

Tears stream steadily down your face, your blocked nose and dry throat adding to the discomfort that seems to settle in your very bones.

Just fifteen minutes ago, Taehyung called, his voice warm and reassuring as he informed you that he and the others were already at your shop, overseeing the repair work. He told you not to worry, that everything would be taken care of. But honestly? Worrying about your shop is the last thing on your mind right now.

Because a shop can be fixed. It can be refurbished, repainted, and restored to what it once was. But your heart? That’s a different story. You’re not sure if this ache in your chest can be repaired, not after last night.

You haven’t slept a wink since the minute you got home. The blanket feels suffocating yet necessary, the only thing holding you together against the cold mattress beneath. You sniffle, burying your face deeper into the pillow, as if it could absorb the emotions tearing you apart.

Jungkook. His name, his face, his voice... it’s all you can think about. The way he looked at you, the way he slammed the cab door shut, and the way he didn’t look up once as the cab drove away. It’s like a cruel replay in your mind, over and over, until it physically hurts.

You’re sad. You’re angry. You’re confused. You’re everything at once, and it’s overwhelming. Part of you wants to scream at him, to yell and demand answers about his cruel decision.

The other part of you aches for him, misses him with an intensity you can’t describe. It’s a mess... a tangled, aching mess. And all you can do is lie there, tears soaking into the pillow, as the weight of it all crashes over you again and again.

Hours stretch endlessly, a haze of grief and exhaustion anchoring you to the bed. You feel lifeless, too weak to eat, to shower, even to redress your wounds.

The world outside darkens, shadows spilling into your room as the sky shifts to twilight. By now, your cheeks are dry, though your eyes burn from endless tears, and your body feels heavy, hollow, like a corpse waiting to be claimed.

You never thought you’d be like this over someone.

But this is Jungkook.

The realization hits you, sharp and painful, as the weight of his absence settles like a boulder in your chest. He means so much to you, more than you even allowed yourself to admit before.

This unrelenting ache, this unbearable toll... it's the answer to a question you never thought to ask yourself. You never imagined you could be so consumed by the loss of someone, so utterly dismantled.

With a sudden surge of determination, you sit up abruptly. Your hair is disheveled, and your shirt hangs loosely off your shoulder, but you don’t care. You can’t just sit here, drowning in sorrow because of his hasty, senseless decision. This isn’t fair... not to him, not to you.

He doesn’t get to walk away like this. He doesn’t get to make this choice alone, to break something that doesn’t deserve to be broken.

You need to see him.

You need to tell him everything... the hurt, the love, the anger, the ache. You need closure. You need to fight for this, for him, for yourself.

Hastily, you climb off the bed, the disheveled sheets a testament to your restless hours. You don’t care about the mess, your tear-streaked face, or the wild tangle of your hair.

The thought of fixing yourself up doesn’t even cross your mind. You grab your sandals with trembling hands, slipping them on in such a rush that you don’t even notice they’re both on the wrong feet, and storm out the front door without a second thought.

The cold evening air bites at your skin as you run, your breath puffing in small clouds in front of you. But you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Your heart pounds with every step, driven by an urgency that blocks out everything else.

When you finally near your shop, you catch a glimpse of workers moving about, carrying tools and materials. Taehyung’s voice echoes faintly as he supervises the repairs, but you barely register it. Your focus is locked on the shop next door.

The lights are still on.

Without hesitation, you stride to the entrance. Your hands tremble as you grip the door handle, pushing it open with more force than necessary.

Jungkook stands behind the counter, busy with a crumpled receipt in his hand. The moment you step inside, his head snaps up, eyes widening at your sudden, unannounced presence.

He looks startled, unprepared, but you don’t stop. Your steps are uneven, your breathing labored, and the weight of everything you’ve been holding in presses down on you as you approach him.

“You think you can just walk away from everything? From me? From us?” Your voice cuts through the silence, trembling yet forceful, raw with emotion.

Jungkook freezes, his face unreadable, but his eyes betray him. They scan you slowly, taking in the worn-out t-shirt slipping off your shoulder, the wrinkled sweatpants clinging to your frame, and the mismatched sandals on your feet.

You look disheveled, undone... but it’s the tear-streaked face and red, swollen eyes that hit him the hardest.

“You want to take the blame for everything?” you cry, your voice growing louder as the pain spills out. “Fine, Jungkook! Take the blame. Be the hero. But guess what? Walking away doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t fix me, it doesn’t fix you, and it sure as hell doesn’t fix whatever you think you’re protecting me from!”

Your voice cracks, and you clutch your chest as though trying to hold your heart together before it shatters completely.

“I needed you…” The sob tears its way out of you, your voice breaking as tears stream down your cheeks. “I needed you, Jungkook. Yesterday, I was… I was so fucking scared… I thought I was going to lose my mind. I thought—” You falter, struggling to find the words, but push through. “I thought you’d be there for me. I thought you’d hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. But you—”

Your voice wavers, anger seeping into your tone as you glare at him through the tears. “You didn’t show up. You shut me out, and when I came to find you, you wouldn’t even look at me. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you just decided to force me to leave and then walk away? How could you do that? How could you just… be so... so harsh?"

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. But he doesn’t say a word. He just stands there, rooted in place, his guilt and anguish written all over his face as he sees you unravelling.

“You think this makes you noble?” you shout, your voice rising with every word. “You think breaking me like this is some grand gesture of love? Newsflash, Jungkook... it’s not! You can’t just destroy someone in the name of protecting them!”

Your fists clench at your sides as you step closer, standing right in front of him. “You say you want to protect me, but do you even realize what you’re doing to me? You’re killing me, Jungkook. Every second without you feels like I’m being ripped apart, piece by piece.”

Your fists come up, weak and shaky, and you hit his chest... not to hurt him, but because you don’t know what else to do with the storm raging inside you. “You’re a coward.” you sob, hitting him again. “You’re such a jerk!”

“Such…” Another hit.

“A…” And another.

“Jerk!”

Your hands fall limp against his chest, and your tears flow harder. “I can’t do this...” you whisper, shaking your head as your voice trembles. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not. You’re breaking me, Jungkook. You’re breaking me, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

You clutch the fabric of his shirt, your hands trembling, your forehead pressed desperately against his chest. “I love you…” you sob, the words breaking free before you can stop them. “I love you so much it hurts. And you—” your voice cracks as you pause, choking on your tears.

Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat, the sound sharp and pained. You said it. You said the very words he’s been carrying on the tip of his tongue for what feels like forever.

Usually, this should’ve been a moment of joy, a moment where the world stood still in happiness, but instead, it’s devastating.

He should’ve been the one to say it first, to hold you close and profess the depths of his love without hesitation. But now, here you are, unraveling in front of him.

The words fall from your lips not as a declaration but as a plea, a raw, desperate attempt to keep from losing everything. He feels the weight of your emotions, the depth of your vulnerability, and it cuts him deeper than he thought possible.

In another life, another time, those words would have lit up his world. But here and now, they tear him apart because they come wrapped in heartbreak, in the unbearable fragility of this moment.

Your voice softens into a trembling whisper, heavy with anguish. “You’re just standing there, letting me fall apart. I don’t understand why. I don’t understand how you can do this to us.”

The silence that follows is unbearable, suffocating in its weight. Jungkook doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

His silence presses down on you, crushing and unrelenting, until it feels like the very air between you has turned into a barrier you can’t break through.

You let out a bitter, broken laugh, shaking your head as you take a step back. “You can’t even say anything, can you? You can’t even tell me why you’re doing this.”

Your chest heaves as you draw in a shaky breath. “You know what, Jungkook? If you want to be a coward, then just be one. If this is how you think love works… if this is all you’re capable of… then maybe I was wrong about you all along.”

The words hang heavy in the air, sharp and cutting. You see him flinch, but you don’t stop.

“You’re selfish. You’re nothing but a scared little boy who runs the moment things get hard. So go ahead, Jungkook. Walk away. But don’t you dare think you’re doing this for me. You’re doing this because you’re too much of a coward to fight for what really matters.”

Your voice cracks, and without waiting for a response, you turn and storm out of the shop. The cold air hits your face, but you don’t stop walking, your tears blurring the path ahead.

Jungkook stands frozen in the middle of the shop, the silence suffocating. His hands shake as they curl into fists at his sides, your words reverberating in his mind.

A soft cough breaks the stillness. Yoongi steps out of the storeroom, hands shoved into his pockets as he leans against the doorframe. He watches Jungkook for a moment, the tears streaming down his face and the turmoil etched into his features.

“Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Yoongi mutters as he steps into the room, his tone calm but cutting. His sharp eyes land on Jungkook, who remains frozen, staring at the door you just stormed out of. “But… damn, Kook, you really outdid yourself this time.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. His chest feels like it’s caving in, each breath heavier than the last as your words echo relentlessly in his mind. Yoongi sighs, stepping closer, the sound of his boots faint against the shop’s worn floor.

“You’re a goddamn idiot.” Yoongi says, though his voice carries no malice... just weariness, disappointment. “There’s a fine line between protecting someone and pushing them away, and you’re not walking that line. You’re sprinting straight into the void.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Yoongi’s words.

“So let me get this straight...” Yoongi continues, his tone sharper now. “You fought Mingyu yesterday, got yourself beat to hell, didn’t visit her... didn’t even check on her... knowing she was hurt. You let her come all the way to your place, injured and worried, and then you forced her to leave... just so you could throw more salt into her wounds?”

Jungkook flinches, guilt painted across his face.

“And for what, huh? What did you think you’d accomplish?” Yoongi demands, stepping closer. “What did you think you’d prove by punching a guy who thrives off chaos? Mingyu? That bastard doesn’t give a fuck. He won’t change.”

“I—” Jungkook starts, but Yoongi cuts him off with a harsh laugh.

“No. Don’t give me excuses.” Yoongi snaps, his calm exterior cracking just enough to show the frustration bubbling underneath. “I’ve known you long enough to see through that. Just tell me... what the hell did you think would happen after fighting that motherfucker?”

Jungkook’s voice is barely above a whisper. “He said he’d leave her alone if I gave him my bike.”

Yoongi freezes, his brow furrowing as the words sink in. “Your bike?” he repeats slowly, the disbelief clear. “You gave up your bike to that scumbag?”

Jungkook nods, shame pulling his head down like a weight.

Yoongi exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as realization dawns. “So that’s why you came walking to the shop today? You actually gave it to him?”

Another nod.

“Unbelievable.” Yoongi groans, leaning heavily against the counter. He closes his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking at Jungkook again. “You’re the most self-sacrificing fool I’ve ever met.”

Jungkook sniffs, wiping his face with the back of his hand, but Yoongi isn’t done.

"You think giving up your bike was noble? Maybe it was. But do you think it made her feel any less hurt? Less abandoned? Less... unloved?” Yoongi’s voice softens, though his words remain as sharp as ever. “Because that’s what this all boils down to, doesn’t it? You think hurting yourself makes you the hero of this story.”

Jungkook looks up at him, eyes rimmed red. “He said he’d leave her alone.” he whispers, his voice trembling. “He said if I gave him my bike, he’d back off.” he tries to prove his point.

Yoongi sighs, disbelief clouding his face. “And you believed him?”

Jungkook looks down, shame pulling his head lower again. “I just wanted her to be safe.”

“You think safety is all she needs ?!” Yoongi’s voice rises, his frustration spilling over. “Jungkook, you don’t love someone by giving them walls to live behind. You love them by standing beside them, even when it’s hard.... especially when it’s hard.”

Yoongi exhales sharply, his frustration barely contained. “You’ve got a good heart, Kook, but you’re an idiot when it comes to love. You think hurting yourself makes you some kind of hero, but all it does is make her feel more alone. And you? You look like a coward. Because that’s what you’re doing... running. Hiding behind guilt and these grand gestures no one asked for.”

Jungkook tries to speak, but Yoongi cuts him off with a sharp glare.

“You need to stop running, Kook.” Yoongi says, his voice firm but laced with an odd gentleness. “You’ve been running ever since the moment you realized you liked her. Afraid to show her the depth of it. Afraid to let her see you vulnerable. And what has it gotten you? Nothing but pain.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I just... don't want her to get hurt again...” he murmurs, his voice cracking.

“And yet, you hurt her yourself.” Yoongi counters softly. “Look, I get it. Love is messy. It’s terrifying. But it’s also the only thing worth fighting for. And not with your fists, Kook. With your heart.”

Jungkook’s tears spill over, his hands trembling at his sides. Yoongi steps closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got one chance to make this right.” he says. “Stop thinking about how to protect her and start thinking about how to be there for her. She doesn’t need a savior. She needs you.”

Yoongi lets the silence linger for a moment before sighing and straightening up.

“Also… about your bike...” he adds, his tone softening slightly. “I’ll take care of that. You? All you need to think about is how to make it up to Y/n. If you really don’t want to lose her, Kook, you need to fix this.”

Jungkook looks up at him, a flicker of hope mixed with despair in his watery eyes. Yoongi squeezes his shoulder once more before stepping back, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"Love isn’t supposed to be easy." Yoongi says quietly, his voice steady and resolute. "But it’s worth every damn scar. Don’t run away from it, Kook. Don’t throw it away just because it’s hard."

<- part 14 // final (coming soon) ->

series masterlist

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape @rpwprpwprpwprw @tokkiggukie @jaytheatiny

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secriden · 22 hours ago

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I woke up this morning still thinking about Fadel waking up in Style's bed.

I wonder what was running through Fadel's head as he turned to look at Style, eyes still squinting against the too-bright morning light, the unfamiliar comfort of the shape of Style's name on his lips for the very first time. I wonder if he was too sleepy to process how strange it was that he didn't really mind being pinned down by the weight of Style's thigh thrown over his hips; that the sensation was grounding and reassuring rather than being confining or suffocating. I wonder if the thought crossed his mind that he wouldn't mind waking up like this again, wouldn't mind letting someone into his space, wouldn't mind giving someone the bared vulnerability of lying naked and unprotected with all the implications of unwavering trust that has -- not if it was with him.

About Fadel registering the way his heartbeat is steady and calm despite the strange surroundings and unfamiliar bed, because something in him has already labelled the person lying next to him as safe.

I wonder if Fadel even understood that this, right here, in all its quiet and unacknowledged stillness, was the moment he fell in love?

#the implications of an assassin who watched his own parents murdered in front of his eyes and has been burned by love before #choosing to stay the night and then waking up naked and vulnerable and being ABSOLUTELY CALM AND AT PEACE with it!#yeah i'm calling it -- THIS is when fadel actually fell in love. it's why the rest of the episode gives us:#fadel being able to say out loud “i want him to accept me for who i am”; because a part of him already felt like style HAS #fadel telling style “you don't have to do anything to impress me”; because style has already earned the right to fadel's trust and heart #about fadel answering style's plea of “promise?” with a kiss because he's just lied to style with his words #so he tries to tell style the truth with his body instead #because he doesn't realise that a single phone call would be all it takes to turn his reply into an unintended deception once again #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #fadelstyle #fadel #thk meta #fadel meta #thk ep 6 #i've been staring at this particular screenshot for a while and the way there's NO CONFLICT AT ALL on fadel's face just...#*sits in the corner with my head in my hands*#fadel so completely dismantled his own walls with his own hands and thats why it hurts all the way to his core #i'm so utterly consumed with this ship specifically in a way my heart literally CANNOT handle #you guys are probably all really sick of me by now #but i have to get this out of my brain or i swear i'm going to SCREAM

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elikajinnie · 4 hours ago

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The Last Breath - S.J

P: Demigod!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Death, Violence, Confessions, basically right person, not enough time.

Synopsis: On the battleground, you lie on the edge of death, knowing there’s nothing left to do but let go. But then you see Jake, the one you’ve loved for so long, fighting. With a final surge of adrenaline, you muster the strength to confess your feelings, hoping to hear him say it back. But by the time he does, it’s too late. Two people in love cannot survive when one of them is gone, and as you slip away, so does the light of the world for Jake.

a/n: this is kinda short, but angsty :) so enjoy!

now playing: i love you by billie eilish

percy jackson au!masterlist

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be in this battle—not today, not like this. But the gods, your so-called parents, had once again decided to throw you and the other half-bloods into the fray, using you like pawns on a celestial chessboard. It wasn’t fair, and some of you had dared to say so, but really, who could stand up to Zeus? Who would risk it, knowing the cost?

The fight had started off manageable—a few monsters, nothing you and your friends couldn’t handle. You’d thought maybe, just maybe, this would be one of the easier ones. But that hope shattered when the Minotaurs appeared, chaos erupted, and before you knew it, the battlefield had turned into a gruesome field of broken bodies and spilled blood. Friends, strangers, creatures—dead or dying everywhere you turned.

You should’ve been stronger. As the daughter of one of the more prominent Greek gods, you were supposed to rise above, to lead, to fight. But even godly lineage has its limits. You were cornered before you could react, outnumbered and outmatched. Their strikes were brutal, unrelenting, and though you fought back with everything you had, it wasn’t enough.

Now, here you are, crumpled on the ground, blood soaking through your torn armor and pooling around you. Every breath burns, every movement feels like a thousand daggers stabbing into your flesh. You can hear the shouts of your friends somewhere in the distance, but their voices are drowned out by the pounding in your ears.

You can’t die here. You won’t die here. But as the darkness creeps in, swallowing the edges of your sight, you can’t help but wonder if this time, the gods have pushed you too far.

You looked down at your wounds, at the crimson streaks running down your arms and hands. Your fingers were stained red, trembling as you struggled to make sense of the pain. It was everywhere—your chest, your legs, your ribs. Every breath you took felt like fire, every movement sent waves of agony through your body. You’d never been to Tartarus, but you swore this was what it must feel like. This was suffering, pure and unrelenting, and you didn’t know how much more you could take.

For a moment, the thought crossed your mind: you could just close your eyes. Let the pain take over. Give up and let the darkness swallow you whole. But before you could give in, something in the corner of your vision caught your attention. Him.

Sim Jake.

Son of Ares.

Even now, bruised and bloodied, barely holding himself upright, he kept fighting. He refused to back down, even when it looked like his body might give out at any second.

And he was your crush.

From the moment you arrived at Camp Half-Blood, clueless and scared, he had been there. You’d met him on your first day, wandering aimlessly, overwhelmed by the realization that you were a demigod. He had found you and, without hesitation, taken you under his wing. He’d taught you the ropes—how to hold a sword, how to defend yourself, how to survive. He showed you kindness when you needed it most, and slowly, over time, you’d fallen for him.

How could you not? There was so much to love about Jake. His soft curls that always seemed to fall perfectly into place. His warm, puppy-like eyes that somehow made you feel safe. His confidence, his humor, the way he smiled like he had the entire world in his hands. He was fierce and brave, yet gentle in a way you hadn’t expected from someone like him, someone whose father was the God of war.

Jake was... Jake.

And to you, he was everything.

But what were you to him? A friend? A sister figure? A pupil he’d taken under his wing out of pity? You didn’t know, but the idea of confessing your feelings only to be rejected kept you silent. Why would someone like him ever like someone like you? Jake deserved someone strong, someone who could stand by his side in battle without faltering. Not you, bleeding out on the ground, helpless and weak.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered. You didn’t deserve him. That much, you were sure of. And yet, even as you tried to convince yourself to let go of the hopeless dream, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

You loved him. So, so much. Even when you didn’t want to. Even when you tried to tell yourself it was foolish, that it would never work. But no matter how hard you fought it, your heart always betrayed you. And somehow, that hurt so much more than any of the physical pain you were feeling. The ache in your chest burned hotter than the cuts on your skin, sharper than the bruises blooming across your body.

You told yourself you’d had enough—enough fighting, enough struggling, enough everything. So, you stayed where you were, content to just watch him in your final moment.

But then you saw it.

A creature.

It was creeping toward Jake’s blind spot, its movements silent. He was too busy fighting off another monster to notice.

He didn’t see it.

Your body moved before your mind could process what was happening. You didn’t know where the sudden rush of adrenaline came from, but it didn’t matter. Pain surged through you as you forced yourself to your feet, the wounds screaming in protest, but you ignored it. Your hand found your sword, then your shield, both slick with blood as you grabbed them from the ground.

You staggered forward, limping and breathless, but your focus never left him. The creature was getting closer. Too close. Panic clawed at your chest as you tried to move faster, your battered legs trembling beneath you. Every step felt impossible, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Jake!” you screamed, your voice hoarse but desperate enough to make him turn. His wide eyes found you, shock flashing across his face as you barreled toward him, pushing yourself past the limits of what you thought you could endure.

Before he could say a word, before he could ask what you were doing, you threw yourself against his back. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through your body, but you bit down the cry threatening to escape. You raised your shield just as the creature lunged, its attack colliding with the metal in a sickening crash.

The force of the blow rattled your bones, nearly knocking you over, but it didn’t hit Jake. It didn’t hurt him. You held firm, your shield braced as you stood between him and the creature, refusing to let it lay a single claw on him.

For a moment, everything else faded—the chaos, the deaths, the battlefield, the blood. All that mattered was that Jake was safe.

And you wanted to make sure he stayed safe. That was all that mattered. With a shout that burned your throat, you pushed the creature back with all the strength you had left, raising your sword and slashing it across the neck. The monster let out a guttural cry before falling, its body crumpling to the ground, lifeless.

You stood there for a moment, panting, trembling, and turned to Jake. He had just bested the last of his opponents, his blade still in hand, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The relief that flooded you was overwhelming. He was okay. Jake was okay. That was all you needed to know.

But your body had reached its limit. The adrenaline that had kept you standing drained away in an instant, leaving only the crushing weight of your injuries behind. Your legs buckled beneath you, and you fell. Your sword and shield slipped from your hands, clattering to the ground with a dull metallic crash.

You barely registered the sting of the impact as your body hit the ground, too numb, too tired to care. The edges of your vision blurred, darkened, but you could still see Jake turning toward you, his eyes wide with alarm.

“No!” His voice was panicked, cutting through the haze that threatened to pull you under. You wanted to respond, to tell him you were fine—or at least lie and say you were—but the words wouldn’t come. Your body felt heavy, your limbs like lead.

You tried to lift your head, but the effort was too much. All you could do was watch as Jake dropped his weapon, and rushed toward you. You wanted to smile at him, to reassure him, but the darkness was too strong.

You felt so numb, so cold… like the warmth was slowly draining from your body. The pain that had consumed you earlier was gone now, replaced by an eerie emptiness. But then, you felt it—Jake’s arms around you, pulling you close. His warmth pressed against your chilled skin, his frantic movements jolting your mind just enough to keep the darkness at bay. His voice was desperate, trembling as he spoke, though his words were distant, muffled by the haze clouding your mind.

You blinked sluggishly, trying to focus, trying to understand, and that’s when you felt something wet against your face. It wasn’t blood—it was warm, and it fell in soft drops that rolled down your cheeks. It took you longer than it should have to realize they weren’t your tears.

Jake was crying.

Your Jake. The brave, unshakable son of Ares. The boy who faced monsters and gods without flinching, who always smiled even when the odds were stacked against him. His face was twisted in anguish, his tears falling freely as he cradled you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. His voice broke as he spoke your name over and over, his hands shaking as he tried to keep pressure on your wounds.

Why was he crying?

Your mind felt too foggy, too far gone to make sense of it. You wanted to ask him, to tell him you were fine—even if it was a lie—but your lips wouldn’t move. Instead, you stared up at him, your heavy eyelids threatening to close, wondering why he looked so heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. Please… please stay with me. I can’t—” His words choked off into a sob, and his grip on you tightened, as if holding you closer could somehow keep you here.

Sorry? What was he sorry for? You didn’t understand. Your chest ached, not from pain, but from the look on his face—the fear and desperation in his eyes. You’d never seen him like this before, and it hurt more than any wound ever could.

“Jake…” you finally managed to whisper, though your voice was barely audible. It took every ounce of strength you had left, and even then, it felt like the effort might break you. His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his tear-streaked face hovering above yours.

“Yes! Yes,” he said quickly, his tone a mix of relief and panic. “I’m here. I’m right here. Don’t—don’t you dare close your eyes. Stay with me. Please.”

You wanted to obey, to stay awake like he begged, but the numbness was spreading, the world around you blurring again. Still, you fought to keep your gaze locked on him, his familiar face the only anchor you had left. You wanted to tell him everything—to tell him you loved him, that he was the reason you kept fighting, that he was your everything. But all that came out was a weak, trembling whisper.

“Why… are you crying?”

Jake’s face crumpled again, and a fresh wave of tears spilled from his eyes. He shook his head, brushing your hair back gently as if trying to soothe you. “Because I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking with every word. “I can’t. I—” He swallowed hard, his chest heaving as he forced the words out. “Because I can’t lose you,” he choked out, his voice trembling like it was on the verge of shattering. He looked so lost, so helpless, his usual confidence stripped away.

“I can’t lose you, not you,” he rambled, his words tumbling out like a dam had broken. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you. You’re—you’re everything, and I should’ve told you that. I should’ve stayed with you during the battle, I should’ve protected you better—” His voice broke again, a sob catching in his throat. “But I wasn’t strong enough, and now… now you’re—” He cut himself off, shaking his head furiously, as though refusing to even acknowledge the possibility.

His hands trembled as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away blood and dirt like he could somehow make everything better by sheer force of will. “You can’t leave me. You can’t,” he said, his voice rising in desperation. “I can’t live without you. I don’t want to. Do you hear me? I need you. I need you.”

Tears streaked down his face, landing on your cheeks and mingling with the blood there. You stared up at him, your body too weak to move, too drained to respond. But your mind… your mind raced. His words, his confession—it didn’t feel real. Jake, your Jake, was falling apart in front of you, his heart laid bare, and you didn’t know how to process it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw with guilt. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. If I had just stayed with you, if I’d just—” He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening as though trying to hold back the anger at himself. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve been by your side, protecting you. That’s all I ever wanted—to keep you safe. And I failed.”

You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d done more for you than anyone ever had. But the words wouldn’t come, your body too weak to obey. All you could do was stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart pounding despite your exhaustion.

Jake’s gaze searched yours, his desperation deepening when he noticed your silence. “Please, say something,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Yell at me, tell me I’m an idiot, anything. Just… don’t leave me. Please..” His forehead pressed against yours again, his warm breath mixing with your shallow, ragged gasps.

The world around you felt distant, muted, but Jake… Jake was so close, his presence so overwhelming that it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And even through the haze, you could feel your heart breaking at the sight of him. You’d never seen him like this—never seen him so completely shattered.

You wanted to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, that you weren’t giving up. But all you could do was keep staring, stunned by his confession. The boy you thought could never love you the way you loved him was here, holding you like you were his entire world, begging you to stay, telling you he needed you.

You didn’t know how this would end, whether you’d survive the injuries tearing you apart, but in that moment, you found the strength to part your lips, even if only slightly.

“Jake…” you whispered, barely audible, but it was enough to make his head snap up, his tear-streaked face inches from yours. You saw the hope flicker in his eyes, the way he clung to the sound of your voice like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I…” Your voice faltered, the effort too much, but you managed a small, trembling smile. You needed him to know, no matter what happened next. “You’re wrong. You… you didn’t fail me.”

“No,” Jake said sharply, his voice trembling with barely-contained emotion. “I did fail you.” His hands pressed harder against your wounds, though you both knew it wasn’t helping. He looked at you like he was trying to will you back to life with sheer determination, his tears falling faster now. “If I was just a little stronger, just a little faster… you’d be standing with me right now. Victorious. Unharmed. Unscathed.”

His voice cracked, and he shook his head, his lips pulling into a thin, anguished line. “You wouldn’t be here, bleeding out in my arms. You wouldn’t—” His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders trembling. “You wouldn’t be dying.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that none of this was his fault. But you couldn’t. Not because you agreed with him, but because you already knew the truth. He wasn’t wrong about one thing—you were dying. The warmth in your body was all but gone, replaced by a chilling numbness that crept deeper with every passing second. You could feel it now, the faint pull. You wouldn’t survive this. No godly intervention, no miracle could save you.

So what was the point in denying it? If this was the end, you knew there was something you had to do. You’d carried the weight of your feelings for too long, burying them out of fear of rejection, of heartbreak. But now… now you didn’t have to be afraid. If he rejected you, it wouldn’t matter. You’d be gone, and there’d be no heartbreak to endure.

What better time to confess than when you had nothing left to lose?

Your lips trembled as you summoned the last of your strength, your voice a mere whisper. “Jake…”

His eyes snapped back to yours, the desperation in them piercing through the haze clouding your mind. “What is it? Don’t try to talk—just hold on, okay? You’ll be fine. I’ll get you out of here, I swear.”

You wanted to smile at his stubborn hope, but your body was too weak. Instead, you forced out the words you’d never had the courage to say before. “I… I need to tell you something.”

Jake’s brow furrowed, his panic deepening. “No, you don’t. You can tell me later, okay? When you’re better—”

“Jake,” you interrupted, your tone firmer this time despite the weakness in your voice. He froze, his lips parting slightly as he stared at you. You swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down as you looked into his eyes, memorizing every detail of his face.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips so softly they almost got lost in the chaos around you. But Jake heard them. You saw the way his expression shifted, the way his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “I’ve loved you for so long. And I… I’m sorry I never told you before, but I couldn’t. I was scared.”

His mouth opened as if to say something, but no sound came out. You pushed forward, desperate to get it all out. “I didn’t think you’d feel the same. But I—I needed to tell you. Just once.” A weak, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Even if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. I just… I needed you to know.”

Jake’s face crumpled again, his tears falling faster now as he shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to say that and then—” He stopped himself, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I feel the same... I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

Your heart ached at his words, both with joy and sorrow. You wanted to hold onto that moment forever, but you could feel yourself slipping away, your vision blurring at the edges. “Jake…” you whispered, his name a soft breath on your lips.

“No, don’t you dare,” he said, his voice rising in panic as he shook you gently. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. You’re staying with me, do you hear me? I love you, and you’re staying with me. Please.”

But his voice was growing fainter, the world around you dimming as the darkness closed in. All you could see was him, his tear-streaked face and trembling hands, his love for you written in every broken word he spoke.

And as the last of your strength faded, you managed one final smile, your fingers brushing weakly against his hand. “I love you too,” you whispered, and then everything went still.

You wouldn’t know that Jake’s screams echoed across the battlefield, piercing through the chaos like a dagger to the heart of everyone who heard it. His cries were filled with so much anguish that even the monsters seemed to hesitate, their bloodlust momentarily stalled by the sheer force of his grief.

He clutched your lifeless body to his chest, his arms trembling as he held you as tightly as he could, as though refusing to let you slip away completely. His tears soaked into your bloodied clothes, his face buried in your hair as he sobbed. “No, no, no,” he chanted over and over, his voice cracking with every word. “Please… not you. Anyone but you.”

Jake felt like his entire world had collapsed. His heart was shattered, broken beyond repair, leaving nothing but a hollow void in its place.

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible now. “I can’t… I can’t do this without you. You promised me. You said you’d stay.” His fingers brushed against your cheek, smearing the blood there as if trying to bring color back to your pale skin. But it was futile. He knew that. Deep down, he knew.

Yet he couldn’t let go.

His body shook as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his tears falling like rain onto your face. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking again. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve protected you.”

But no matter how many times he apologized, no matter how many tears he shed, it wouldn’t bring you back. And that thought… that reality… was unbearable.

Jake felt his breathing grow ragged, his chest tightening painfully as the weight of your absence threatened to crush him completely. He couldn’t imagine a world without you. A world where your laughter didn’t fill the air, where your smile didn’t light up his days. A world where he didn’t get to tell you how much he loved you every single day.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Not without you. I can’t.” His hands shook as they clung to you, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. He didn’t care about the battle raging around him. He didn’t care about the blood still staining his hands. All he cared about was you. And you were gone.

He pressed a soft, trembling kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as his tears continued to fall. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the wind. “I always have. I always will.”

But the pain didn’t go away. It only grew, consuming him like fire, burning through his resolve and leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. He didn’t know how to go on. He didn’t know if he could.

Because a world without you wasn’t a world worth living in.

Jake’s trembling hands slowly reached for the pendant around your neck—the one he’d given you months ago, after you’d bested him in a sparring match. It was simple, unassuming, but it had meant the world to him when you’d accepted it. Now, it was all he had left of you. He unclasped it with shaking fingers, clutching it tightly in his palm as if it were the only thing tethering him to what little sanity he had left.

“I’ll see you again,” he whispered, his voice so broken it was barely audible. “I promise. I’ll come to you. Just… wait for me.”

As the battle raged on, Jake didn’t care about the outcome anymore. He didn’t care about the gods or their games, or the war that had taken everything from him. All he cared about was the promise he’d just made. To you. To the only person who had ever truly mattered.

a/n: oooooooooookay! so this marks the last fic of 2024 :) wooow... what a year. Thanks for all the birthday wishes <33 Love all of youu! Now time to get drunk, ugh i need it after this year. Reblogs and commentary are welcomed <3

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burdenandacrop · 2 days ago

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hiiii mags !!

(anon here b/c i'm not as brave as i thought i was 😅)

first of, i'm sorry to break your chain of silly little goofy prompts, they've all been heartwarming & got me giggling & kicking my feet :D howeveerrr, i know you write more sensitive topics and the big guy™️ is pretty comforting for me. now you can take this in any direction you want— angst, fluff, do whatever your heart desires, girl!— but i was wondering if you could do a gender neutral reader x schlatt who was in a past abusive relationship? maybe the reader has certain quirks like they flinch or overapologize because of past memories.

(is this the most self-indulgent ask in the history of asks?? okay, maaaybe... but like, yolo! right?)

and if you don't mind, if 💌 anon isn't taken, then allow me to fill that spot up for ya!

thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! MUCHHH love girlie!!

- 💌

˗ˏˋ ❝ these hands can only be gentle. ❞ ˎˊ˗

hi anon !! i apologize for how long this has taken me, but i hope this appeases you. i know how it feels so if i can give just a smidge of comfort, that makes my heart happy :>

summary : with a bruise that still stings, you try to navigate what is supposed to be 'normal'. as does he, with open arms and an open mind.

⋮ ⌗ ┆established relationship, comfort, mentions of abuse, small bit of crying, gender neutral reader.

the soothing voice of chet baker rang through the kitchen, you waved your hands around to the smooth sound. watching as schlatt was attempting to figure out the instructions on the box of penne pasta. his eyes squinting as he tried to rack his head on just how long he really needed to have it boiling in the pot for. you sigh and place a hand on his arm as you leaned in to read the directions with him, he was making it seem a lot harder than it probably was. looking at him, all you could think was 'poor soul'.

"you've got the right times, don't think about it too hard." you softly giggle out, poking his arm before you let go of him. "gonna pop a vein if you keep that face." you added, playfully toying with him. he dropped the box to the countertop, causing a loud clash to be heard, looking over to you with a grin. he wasn't met with a matching smile on your face though, instead he saw for a split moment a genuine look of fear on your face.

you quickly fix your face and cross your hands over one another, knowing you shouldn't have reacted like that to such a small thing. "sorry- it was the box wasn't it?" he muttered, raising his hand up to your shoulder to gently rub his thumb along. you bite on the inside of your cheek and try your best to keep your face fixed, "we need, olive oil. yeah." you stammer out, turning to the stove and grabbing the bottle to gently pour onto the pan. he watched as you desperately tried to distract yourself, his hand dropped back to his side as he watched you.

he looked at you for a moment longer before grabbing the box of penne and looking over the instructions again. he took a few quick glances at you as you evened out the oil onto the pan, he could easily see that he accidentally upset you. even if it was an accident, he desperately wanted to fix it, somehow at least. he looked at the box one more time before quietly placing it back down this time.

he walked behind you and leaned over slightly to gently kiss the temples of your face, letting his hands softly lay upon your shoulders. he could feel how tense you became, it ached at him. "i love you." he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. you slow down your stirring and come to a complete stop to turn your head to face him more, "i love you too." your voice quivering ever so slightly. his kisses traveled down your cheek, moving the hair by your ear to gently kiss the nape of your neck.

"just focus on the pan, sweetheart." he said barely above a whisper as he moved his lips off of you, moving your hair back gently. you let out a deep sigh, the uneasiness slowly going away. moving your hands back to stir the oil, as you seasoned the pan as well. his hands gently massaging your shoulders as he watched you, leaning his cheek against the back of your head. he couldn't comprehend how someone could hurt someone as delicate as you, when he saw you nothing short of a fairytale.

he let his hands slowly move from your shoulders, instead wrapping his arms around your torso with a sigh. "it looks really lovely already, baby." he muttered, kissing the side of your head, in hopes that he was doing something right. you move the pasta mix into the pan, pouring it gently as it sizzled with the oil. you were trying so hard to not mess anything up, especially not with him watching. you felt more on ease as time went on, it did feel nice to have him wrapped around you.

"any seasonings you want?" you speak out of thin air, embracing the warmth from him behind you. you could feel his cheek move along your head, assuming he was shaking his head to the question. "just the usual, i'm not picky." he replied, rocking you slowly as he stood. "anything you make is good, sweetheart." he adds on with a smile, his voice low and soothing. you lean your head against him and weakly grin as you gently stir the pasta mix, maybe it was going to be alright.

there had been other kitchens, other meals, other hands. hands that didn’t hold so gently, voices that didn’t soothe but seared. you thought you’d buried it all, hidden it deep enough that it wouldn’t resurface, but sometimes all it took was the wrong sound at the wrong time. he didn’t say anything as the silence stretched, his chin resting lightly on the crown of your head, waiting. he had learned not to push, not to pry. "just some garlic, never hurt anybody right?" you snicker out, the nervousness still evident in your voice. it was embarrassing for him to see you like this, you only wanted him to see you in your light; not the darkness that someone before created.

he shrugged and squeezed you softly, "i'm not a vampire, so you're safe with that." he started, chuckling to your comment, "for now." he added on jokingly, even letting out the stereotypical 'mwah hua hua' after. you let out a soft laugh, the kind that still felt unusually foreign on your lips, almost like a language you were relearning. the tension in your shoulders eased just a little as you reached for the garlic cloves, their papery skin crackling under your fingers. you glanced back at him, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he leaned into his ridiculous vampire impression, his grin as cheesy as you imagined it.

“for now?” you teased, raising a brow as you placed the garlic on the cutting board. “should i be worried you’re gonna start craving my blood instead of dinner?” you added with a smile. he gasped, a hand flying to his chest as though mortally wounded. “darling, i’d never! though…” his voice dipped theatrically, “if it means i get to bite that lovely neck of yours, i might reconsider.” you rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered this time, small but genuine. “then you’d better help me mince this garlic, dracula, before i revoke your invitation to this kitchen.”

he laughed, moving to your side with ease, his presence steady and warm. “course, course,” he said, grabbing a knife and making a show of twirling it lightly in his hand before chopping the garlic. for a moment, the air felt lighter, the weight on your chest loosening its grip. his effort to make you smile wasn’t lost on you, and you found yourself grateful. not just for his humor, but for the way he didn’t try to fix you. didn't view you as some sort of project that he'd see fit as. instead, he let you exist, fractured edges and all, and somehow that felt more healing than anything else.

“you’re getting better at this, you know,” he said after a beat, nodding toward the stove. the garlic was sizzling now, releasing a rich aroma that mingled with the bubbling oil. “at cooking?” you asked, pretending not to notice the way his hand brushed against yours as he slid the minced garlic into the pan.

“at trusting,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. you froze, the words cutting through you with their quiet truth. it wasn’t the kind of compliment you were used to. there was no flattery, no sugar coating, just a simple acknowledgment of the effort you’d been pouring into rebuilding yourself; and it felt nice. nicer than you imagined it being. he sliced the last bit of garlic and rubbed the excess from his palms, softly grinning as he kept his eyes on you. letting his hand raise up slowly, in fear that it might startle you, so he could gently caress the side of your face.

"just stay like this, okay?" he sighed out, letting his thumb run along your temple. "this is more than enough for me." he added on, before leaning over to kiss you on the forehead. "more than enough." he concluded, looking right into your eyes as he was mere centimeters from your touch. you swallow the lump in your throat as you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but it wasn't sadness. rather relief. relief that you finally felt safe.

"i love you." you shakily state, your lip gently trembling. you could feel the waterworks making their way, and so could he. even making him gear up a few tears of his own, he couldn't help it. knowing just how hard it was for you on a daily basis, but he wouldn't stray from you. he was just fine right here with you, in moments like this. whether it was crying because he accidentally raised his voice, holding you through the shakes when you had a night terror, or just singing you to sleep.

he was fine with all the moments in between the so called 'good', he just wanted to be there period. "i love you too, more than you'll ever know." he replied, trying his best to cut away the tears. grinning softly as he wiped under your eyes, "it's the garlic- swear." he snickers, making you laugh with him and shake your head. "onions are what makes you cry." you reply, feeling the heaviness get lighter in your chest. "shh shh, let me have this one." he defends with a giggle. taking a deep sigh and gently caressing your face.

"you're so- good. i'm so sorry anyone has convinced you otherwise, sweetheart." he stifles out, a tear escaping his eyes as it fell slowly down his cheek. you nod and raise your arms up to pull him into a hug, you needed this more than ever. closing your eyes as the sound of the sizzling pan and chet baker's soothing trumpet soared through the room. schlatt began to slowly sway you to the rhythm, kissing the top of your head softly.

"i just love emotional pasta nights, really do." he jokes, making you swiftly poke your head up and shake your head with a smile. a real smile. "as long as you're there, i love them too." you mutter barely above a whisper. tilting his head down and kissing you, leaning your chin up delicately and basking in every second of it. he knew it'd be a long road, but he knew he had enough love in his heart to withstand it.

author's note : i might've like ?? actually happy teared at this while writing, my apologies ?? i hope this isn't too short for you anon ! i can always write it longer if you'd like, i just hope you love it <3 cause i definitely did.

#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #fanfic #rpf #writing #fluff

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