#i'll remain bitter forever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 28 days ago

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come back to me — geto suguru.

"I need to tell you something." he said, his voice low, rough with guilt. “It’s... it’s over. Everything.” You frowned, stepping closer to him, concern etched in your features. “What do you mean?” He met your eyes then, and you saw it—the shift, the darkness lurking behind them. His expression was distant, hollow. "I killed them. The village, my parents... I killed them all."

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: dead dove: do not eat, dark fic, nsfw (not safe for work), r -18, angst, hurt/no comfort, toxic romance, character death, murder, guilt, remorse, horror, sorrow, tragedy, lovers, canon related violence, choking, violence, curse creature, ghostly figure, anguish, emotional instability, emotional, haunting, betrayal, unfinished business, depiction of character death, depiction of murder, depiction of emotional instability, depiction of choking, depiction of anguish, depiction of guilt, depiction of sorrow, depiction of ghostly figure, mention of mass murder, mention of death, curse user defector! geto suguru, victim girlfriend! reader;

WORDS: 7k words.

NOTE: this is probably the first time i'm writing something that is a dead dove, because i was curious how i would do when writing something as heavy and as horrific as something like this. i wanted to be able to write it properly, because not only is it kinktober, it is also spookytober. so, i had this in mind. i wanted to participate at least once. so, i hope that even though this might not be your cup of tea, it be something of interest to you. but if you can't read it right now, that's okay too. i'll publish more works soon enough!!! i love you all <3

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HE CAN SEE YOU EVERYWHERE. And it was his own fault. A fault, of course, he does not regret. A fault he incurs with wanting, and greed. You haunt Geto Suguru and there was nothing else but it to last forever. You haunt his existence as though you own it. Everything about was drifting through his every thought like a shadow he can't shake.

He had known this would happen. He had anticipated it ever since that day. The day he crossed the line from the man he once was into something darker, something twisted by hatred, madness and grief.

He had expected your presence to follow him. He had expected that you would never leave him alone. Geto Suguru had always wanted it. He had always wanted you. For you were everything. You were the beginning and end.

You were too important, too loved by him. You cannot leave him. You cannot go astray from him. Because he had made it so. He had made it so and it shall be like that. After all, he was the one that took your life. There was no other way about it. And he remembers. He remembers it distinctly. He remembers it all too well.

It was after the massacre, after he had ended up doing what he had done. Still in his blooded clothes, weary and exhausted, he did not hesitate in all he had done. Why should he? Why should he feel regret now when his heart, his soul, his everything, was corrupted by the greed and indifference of others?

That village had been reduced to nothing but ash and ruin, its people were swiftly slaughtered by his own hand. And all that remained was ash and bone, the dark charred bitterness burning amid the blue flames.

He of course did not stop there. He couldn't. It was as though he was in autopilot. As though no one was home. And yet, he remembers. He feels the contradiction of it all. But he does not need to admit to fault. The result was obvious. It was secured by fate. The fate he had chosen.

He took Mimiko and Nanako and brought them somewhere safe. And all that he could think of his house. It would be empty. His parents wouldn't be home. And he take what he needed and leave. He could leave. But he was a fool for thinking that everything would go swiftly as he planned.

Within an hour of him trying to take everything, he silences Mimiko and Nanako and tells them to keep the TV on, as loud as possible. And no matter what, do not come down. The two young girls agreed, they were smiling too. They would do anything he'd asked. For after all, he was the one who had saved them from these....these cruel creatures that had nearly taken their lives.

Geto Suguru has always had a difficult relationship with his parents. But even then, he had cared for him. He was a filial son, he knew that about himself. Yet he knew that he had gone far already with what he had done.

He cannot let his parents be an exception. Not even if they weren't at fault. Even if they didn't do anything. He can't be lenient. Geto Suguru lets his steps be firm, even if he knows he can't. He could remember his mother's greeting, seeing him. His father's little hey. It was almost like his childhood agaian.

"You staying the night, 'guru?" His mother asks him as she puts down the grocery bags. "I thought it would still be a school night."

"Let him be, dear." His father says, smiling at his wife. "We always work, he's always at school. Let's just enjoy having him around for a little more time."

His mother laughs. "You're right. We might as well enjoy our son being here."

"Oh, 'guru. Is that ketchup stains on your shirt?" His mother gasped, spotting the red stain on his white school shirt. "Take it off, 'guru! Let me clean it. Go and change, you must be tired―"

"You can do it later, dear." His father says, as he starts clearing out the groceries. "I'm sure that you can wash it later. If Suguru wants to spend some more time with us, then wash it later."

His mother pouts at his father's words. "I suppose so."

"Mom, dad." Suguru finally talks, raising his head a little. His eyes meeting that of his mother and father. He catches their attention and he stays still.

For a moment, he could see everything of him in his mother and his father. His mother's purple eyes, his father's tender lips. His mother's long black hair. His father's gentle face. He could see all of him in them. And he's going to destroy it. He's going to ruin it. He has to. There's no other way.

His mother's brows raised a bit confused. "What is it, 'guru? Do you want anything?"

"I'm sorry."

In that moment, maybe they did notice what was wrong with him. After months of suffering, after this whole year, maybe they finally noticed. But they noticed too late. They noticed too late when he already had resolve.

"Hey, son. If there's anything you want to talk to us about, you can." His father says to him, walking towards him. This was the last time Suguru would see his father's kind face. "We love you son, you know that. You can tell us anything."

"I love you too." Suguru whispers, lifting his head whole. He reveals tears pouring from his face. "I'm sorry."

Those were the last words he said to his parents. Those were the last thing they heard from him as his curses took them both one by one and destroyed what remained of who he was.

Geto Suguru sobbed for a long while, looking at the blood. Looking at what he had done. He sobbed and sobbed until nothing could come out. But what was done was done. He needed to move forward. There was only one thing left.

And yet, after all that bloodshed, he went to you. Not out of regret, not out of any moral dilemma, but he was too far gone for that. He had to close all his ties. He had to disappear. Geto Suguru cannot remain. He has to die. And what better way than to end you too.

If Geto Suguru had one thing he was truly happy in his life about, it was you. And you were his everything. You were the one constant, the one person who had always been there.

You, his childhood friend, the girl who had stood beside him through everything. And more than that, you were the love of his life. The woman he'd once dreamed of marrying, of building a future with before everything unraveled.

When Geto Suguru arrived at your house, everything was still. You were sitting alone, your parents gone, much like his had been your entire lives, leaving the house in an eerie silence. You were the last peaceful thing in his world.

And he has to take you away. You weren't meant for this dirty world. You were the purest thing in his life. You can't be here. Not when he wrecks everything whole. You can't, you can't be tarnished more than you will be.

As he stepped into the room, you looked up and your face lit up, just like it always did. You were so beautiful to him. The most beautiful star in his sky. Forever infinitely so pure. His beloved.

You smiled at him like nothing had changed, as if the boy standing before you was still the same Suguru you had known all those years. You were happy to see him, your eyes full of warmth, unburdened by the weight of the horrors he had committed just hours before.

“Suguru!” you greeted him, standing up and crossing the room to meet him. Your voice was soft, affectionate, carrying none of the tension or fear that had filled his life. “I’ve missed you.”

For a moment, in that single heartbeat, he almost let himself believe it—that he could be that man again. The boy who smiled and laughed with you. The one who loved you with every part of himself. He could feel the familiar tug in his chest, the love he had always felt for you, pulling him back from the brink. And for a second, he almost let himself forget.

But deep down, Suguru knew. The path he had chosen was irreversible. He had come too far, burned too much of himself away to ever turn back. There was no room left for love, for innocence, for the life he had once dreamed of with you. He had destroyed it all, and now everything around him had to fall too. Even you.

You didn’t see it coming. You had no idea of the darkness that had consumed him. You looked at him as if nothing had changed—as if he were still the boy who had promised to protect you, to always stand by your side. And that was the part that hurt him the most.

"Suguru, what's wrong?" you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "You look... tired. Are you okay?"

He flinched at your touch, as though your kindness was too much to bear. He turned his face away, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat. How could he even begin to explain? How could he tell you what he had done, the blood that stained his hands, the lives he had taken?

"I need to tell you something." he said, his voice low, rough with guilt. “It’s... it’s over. Everything.”

You frowned, stepping closer to him, concern etched in your features. “What do you mean?”

He met your eyes then, and you saw it—the shift, the darkness lurking behind them. His expression was distant, hollow. "I killed them. The village, my parents... I killed them all."

Your breath hitched. For a moment, you didn’t understand. You didn’t want to. “What are you talking about?” you whispered, shaking your head, disbelief coloring your voice. “That’s... that’s not possible. You wouldn’t—”

“I did.” His voice was cold, flat, devoid of emotion. “I killed them. They deserved it.”

Your knees buckled, and you stumbled back, eyes wide in shock. You couldn’t reconcile the words he was saying with the boy standing in front of you. “No... no, that’s not you, Suguru. You wouldn’t do something like that. You.... you would never.”

But as you looked into his eyes, the reality of it sank in. You could see it. Little by little, you pieced it all together. You could see the darkness that had swallowed him whole, the monster he had become. And your heart broke, shattered into pieces as you realized what he had done, what he was planning to do.

“I’m sorry, my love.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was no warmth in it. “You have to understand... I can’t let you live. Not like this. Not anymore.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but even then, even as the weight of his betrayal crushed you, you didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. This was Geto Suguru; the boy who had always been gentle with you, who had held your hand on dark nights and made you believe in a future together. Your everything.

Just as much as you were his everything. You loved him. You still do love him. How could you not? He was and always will be the love of your life. You didn’t hate him, but you were afraid. Not of death, but of what he had become.

“Suguru…….” Your voice trembled. “You don’t have to do this. Please.”

He looked away, clenching his fists, his jaw tight. “I do.”

“But I love you.” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I still love you. Even now. Isn't that enough?”

His heart ached at your words, the pain of your love cutting deeper than any blade. He had come too far, done too much. There was no going back, not for him, not for either of you. He cannot stop. If he could do it to his parents, he could do it to you.

But you—you were different. He couldn't kill you like he had killed the others. He didn’t want to see fear in your eyes, didn’t want to hear you scream or beg for mercy. You deserved better than that, better than what the world had given you, even if he no longer deserved you.

So he made a choice. A twisted act of love, the last shred of mercy he could offer.

“I’m sorry, my love.” he repeated, stepping closer, his voice soft now. "You won’t feel anything. You’ll just fall asleep, and... you’ll dream. A dream that never ends."

Your tears fell freely, but you didn’t move. You didn’t try to run. How could you? You were in disbelief. You were in absolute mania, you were in a madness. There was no way you could. You cannot do anything but be still, in shock, and wait for the end. Betrayed, hurt and gone by the one that you loved the most.

Or perhaps, maybe you had always known it would come to this; that the boy you had loved had been consumed by the darkness, and there was no saving him. Maybe it was just fate. Or maybe you were just too kind, too trusting, too good for this world. Suguru would never know.

He held you close, cradling you in his arms, and for a moment, you let yourself believe everything would be okay. That somehow, this nightmare would end, and you would wake up in the arms of the boy you loved, the one who would protect you. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

He just kept you beside him all through the night, for what felt like hours, maybe longer. Your body was so still in his arms, as though the weight of the world had finally let go of you. You were so quiet, so calm, as if you had already accepted what was coming.

Maybe you knew, deep down, that the boy you had loved so fiercely, so fully, had become someone else. That he had become this person lost in a sea of hate and ambition, far beyond the innocent dreams you had once shared together.

Geto Suguru wondered if you had always known that it would come to this, that the path he had chosen would inevitably lead you to this moment of no return. That you had always known that he will be your beginning and end. That you would belong to him no matter what, life and in death. Because he didn't. Until now.

“I’m so sorry. I love you.” he whispered one last time, his voice cracking, as he used his curse on you—the one that could curse with a dream that would never end.

You felt yourself slipping away, your body growing heavy, your eyelids fluttering shut. But there was no fear, no pain. Just a deep, endless sleep. Suguru’s heart clenched. He knew what he was about to do. He had already gone too far—there was no turning back.

You would never have followed him down the path he had chosen, the path of darkness and destruction. You were too pure, too gentle, to walk the same road as him. You would never raise a hand to hurt anyone, even if it meant saving yourself. That was the kind of person you were, the kind of person he could never be.

So, this dream; this was all he could give you. It was the only gift left that wasn’t tainted by his sins.

His curse; a dream that would never end. It was his final act of love, his last attempt to protect you from the reality he had created. With it, he could give you what the real world had taken away from both of you.

He could give you the life you should have had. The life he had stolen from you when he became the monster you never deserved. In this dream, you could live peacefully, forever untouched by the violence and corruption that had consumed him. In this dream, you could be happy. You could be free.

He watched as your breathing grew softer, your chest rising and falling in a steady, peaceful rhythm. And in that moment, Suguru let himself imagine what your dream was like. Maybe it was a simple life, the kind you had always wanted.

Maybe the two of you were walking through the fields of a quiet village, hand in hand, with the sun setting on the horizon. Or maybe you were sitting beneath a tree, with your head resting on his shoulder, laughing about nothing at all.

He pictured the softness of your smile, the warmth of your touch, moments of joy that you would never experience again, not in the real world. But in this dream, it would be eternal. And most of all, it would be final. It would be the end. And there would be no path to return.

In this dream, the two of you could grow old together. You could have the life that you both had once spoken about when you were younger, before everything had gone wrong. There would be no death, no suffering. Only love. Only peace.

As your body stilled completely, Geto Suguru’s heart ached with the weight of what he had done. He had cursed you, just as he had cursed so many others, but this curse was different. This one was born out of love.

A twisted, desperate love that couldn’t save you, but could at least offer you a kind of peace. It wasn’t enough. He knew that. It was never going to be enough. But it was all he could give.

"I’m sorry, my love." he whispered, his voice breaking in the silence of the night. "I’m so sorry."

He could never undo what he had done. He couldn’t bring you back, not really. But he could give you this, a life lived in the dream of what could have been. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough for you.

But as the hours passed, and the weight of your absence began to sink in, Suguru knew the truth; he hadn’t done this just for you. He had done it for himself. To hold on to the illusion of what he had destroyed. To keep you with him, in some way, even if it was only in the depths of a dream that would never end.

It was all he had left

You never woke up.

“I love you, I love you.” he whispered into the silence, knowing you would never hear him. "Always."

And as he laid you down, letting you drift into the dream he had cursed you with, he knew he would never find peace again.

He had seen it in your eyes when he came to you that night. There was no anger, no fear—just a deep, silent understanding. It wasn’t the kind of acceptance that came from giving up; it was something softer, sadder.

Maybe you had already resigned yourself to the fact that Suguru could no longer protect you, that the man he had become could only destroy the things he once cherished. He wondered if, in your heart, you had always known that the love you had given him so freely would be the very thing that led to your end.

Or maybe, he thought, you were simply too good for this world. Too kind, too pure. He never really knew. The way you looked at him that night, with the same softness you always had, even after everything. He couldn’t understand it. He had expected fear, maybe even hatred. But there was none of that. Just love, unwavering, even in the face of what he had become.

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HE PAYS FOR HIS SINS WITH THIS. Every evil act has a gift in return. Everything has a consequence. And he knew that you would die with some hatred in you. That you wouldn't go without a fight, without resentment. You would be bound to materialize as the shadow of what life could have been and the regrets he had made it to be.

Because of he had done, your ghost lingers. You were his constant reminder of what he threw away. You were all he wanted and all he had wasted. The person he loved the most and the person he ruined the most. In his mind, he can still feel the warmth of your embrace, still hear the way you said his name with love and trust.

He killed you because he had to. Because his mission demanded it—but the truth is, he didn’t want you to die. He had never wanted that. He had wanted you by his side, forever. But in his quest for destruction, he had destroyed the only thing that had ever truly mattered to him.

Even now, he can feel you. The weight of your absence presses down on him, but so does the weight of your presence. You’re always there, just out of reach, watching him, haunting him.

He sees you in his dreams, in his nightmares, in the quiet moments when he’s alone with his thoughts. He wonders what could have been, if only he had made a different choice. But that world is gone, along with you, and all he has left is the ghost of the life he should have had.

In the end, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve to die. But he had gone too far, and in doing so, he lost the one person who had always believed in him. Now, your love is a memory that torments him, and your ghost is a shadow that will never leave his side.

"Do you hate me?" Suguru's voice trembled as he sat at the edge of the bed where he had last held you.

No one was living here anymore, your parents couldn't bear it. And so he bought the house, with a proxy. And left everything just the way it was. The room still smelled like you. It always will. Everything in this house will be you. Everything in his life is you.

There were faint traces of the perfume you wore, the lingering scent of your skin, and the warmth that used to make this place feel like home. The dresses you liked to wear when you both would go on those rare dates. The smell of your shampoo lingers in your bathroom. He remembered the way his nose would rest against it when you both slept together.

The home had been so abundantly you. Everything about it was you. And now, it was just a hollow space, like a tomb. All his regrets lay there. All his grief resided here. Everything was here. And he couldn't take it. He couldn't abandon it. He couldn't live with it. But he had to. He has to live. He has to live haunted by you.

Because he was sure, hell would be his place. And he would never see you again. He would never know you again. He would only ever live in misery there without you, without traces of you. He could feel his heart beat in his chest, heavy and erratic, waiting for something. Anything. Just a little sign from the presence he could always feel around him.

You didn't answer, not with words. You never did. But there was a weight in the air, a feeling that always hovered when he thought of you. He could feel your sadness, the disappointment that clung to the silence between them. It cut deeper than any curse could.

"I... I didn't want it to be like this, my love." he whispered, gripping the sheets beneath him, the same ones you used to curl up in. His fingers twisted in the fabric, the pressure keeping his hands from shaking.

"I thought... If I let you go gently, it would be enough. It would be kinder. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? I should...I should have taken you with me. Abandoned the world. We could... we could have been together."

There was no reply, but the stillness in the room felt heavier. The silence was cruel. But it was what he deserved. He could imagine your eyes on him, those soft, kind eyes that had once looked at him with nothing but love. Now, he wondered if they would have only looked at him with sorrow.

"I loved you, the most in the world." he said, almost to himself. His voice cracked, the admission pulling something raw from deep within. "I still do. I don't know if that matters now, but I wanted you to know. Even after everything... I loved you more than I loved anything. Even the hate. Even the darkness. But that didn’t change anything."

The words felt hollow, like a confession given too late to a ghost that could no longer forgive. He buried his face in his hands, the weight of the years, of his choices, pressing down on him like a thousand stones. He did this to himself. He did this to you. He had no right to feel sorrow. No right to feel remorse or longing.

"I used to think I could fix it. That somehow, I’d find a way to make everything right. That maybe... Maybe if I succeeded, I’d see you again, and you’d understand. That you’d forgive me." He laughed, but it was empty, bitter. "But I don’t deserve it, do I? I killed you. I killed the woman I loved more than anything in this world, and for what?"

He stood suddenly, unable to sit still any longer, pacing the room. "What did I gain? Power? Control? None of it matters. None of it ever mattered without you."

The room seemed to shift then, the shadows curling in the corners, and for a moment, he thought he saw you. A glimpse, just out of the corner of his eye, like a faint outline of your silhouette. He froze, heart pounding, and for the briefest second, hope flickered in his chest. Could it be?..........

"Suguru......." Your voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it pierced through the silence like a dagger. "Suguru........."

He turned, but there was nothing. Just the dim light filtering through the curtains, the room empty as it always had been. But the voice lingered, echoing in his mind.

"Suguru..."

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, trying to hold onto the sound of your voice, as though he could pull you back into reality. "I'm sorry, my love." he whispered. "I’m so sorry."

For a long moment, there was nothing but the hum of the wind outside, the creak of the old floorboards beneath his feet. And then, in the stillness, something seemed to shift again. The presence was still there, but softer, like a gentle hand on his shoulder, a touch that wasn’t quite there but wasn’t gone either.

"I never wanted this, I…." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I never wanted to hurt you. But I didn’t know how to stop. I couldn’t stop."

There was no answer, but in the silence that followed, there was a warmth—a fleeting warmth, like the last rays of sunlight before nightfall. It wrapped around him, gentle, forgiving, and for just a moment, he thought that maybe you didn’t hate him after all.

But then it was gone.

Just like you were.

Just like everything.

And he was alone again, in the house where you had once lived, haunted by the love he had destroyed with his own hands.

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HUMAN GREED IS THIS, HE LIKES TO THINK. Even though he was the most undeserving being in existence, he wanted to be greedy. He wanted to be greedy when it came to you. He can't help it. He wanted you, no matter what. He yearns for you no matter the case. Even if it's to curse him, he wants to see you again. You became a cursed ghost, bound to him like the shadow of every terrible thing he had done.

Geto Suguru felt your presence in everything he did, in every step he took. It was unavoidable. When he would wake up, he knows you were calling his name. When he was in his dreams, you would look at him, without saying anything.

You haunted him relentlessly, silently, like a specter of the life he had stolen from you, and from himself. He couldn't escape you. He didn’t deserve to. He doesn't want to. He doesn't think he should. Not when he loves you most.

At first, he tried to ignore it. He tried to pretend that your death had been some kind of mercy, that he had spared you the pain that had consumed everyone else. Because that was what he had thought when he had taken your life. That's what he thought he was doing. He thought he was standing by you.

But as the years passed by, he knew that he was in the wrong. He accepted that he was in the wrong. That he had caused misery beyond compare. Not only for him but the most, for you. You were robbed of everything. Because he willed it.

And you couldn't accept it. He knew you wouldn't. Even if you had not done anything when he had killed you, you resented him. He knew that for a fact. Because you would not have materialized, your spirit wouldn't have lingered if that was the case. You resented him. And you loved him. You wanted him to pay and you wanted to hold him.

You followed him through the days and the nights, never speaking, but always there—watching, waiting. Your eyes, once full of love and warmth, now filled with sadness, sorrow, and something worse: disappointment.

If he was being honest, Suguru hated it. He cannot take how you look at him with those eyes. He cannot understand how it hurt him, how it can put him to the worst of grief. Over and over again.

He hated how tainted you had become because of him, how his hands, once capable of tenderness, had defiled your soul. You were twisted now, corrupted by his actions, bound to this cursed existence because of him.

He had stained you, dragged you into the darkness with him, and now, he could never set you free. You were a cursed being, a remnant of everything pure he had ruined.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you. Every time he breathed, it was like you were just behind him, your breath a cold whisper on his neck. When he fought, when he killed, when he walked among the ruins he had created, you were there, like a silent witness to his sins. You never left him alone. And he had a love and hate for the fact.

And in the stillness, in the quiet moments between battles, he would feel your sadness radiating from the shadows, like a knife twisted into his chest. The more he tried to push you away, the tighter your curse clung to him, a constant reminder of what he had done.

It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this. You had been innocent. You had been his love, his reason for hope in a world full of hatred. You were the light he had turned away from, and in doing so, he had dragged you into the abyss with him. And now, you were part of that same darkness. A monstrosity of his own making.

He wanted to give you peace. He wanted to free you, to find a way to release your soul from the curse he had placed upon you. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t. He had gone too far, and there was no redemption, not for him, and not for you. This was all that was left of the love you shared—a twisted, haunted existence. You were bound to him in life, and now in death, you were bound to him still.

Suguru couldn’t forgive himself for what he had done to you. He couldn’t bear the weight of knowing that even in death, you had no peace. You should have been free, your soul at rest, away from the horrors of the world he had embraced. But instead, you were with him, suffering, watching him destroy everything, even himself.

"This isn’t what you deserved." he whispered one night, his voice shaking as he sat alone, surrounded by the cold, oppressive air of your ghost. "But that's all I have left of you."

And in his heart, he knew the truth: he had destroyed everything good in his life, including you. Now, all he had left was this haunting, this curse, this twisted version of the love he had once cherished. It was his punishment, the monstrosity of his own creation, and he would carry it with him until the very end.

You began to interact with him, more than just a haunting presence. At first, it was subtle—a cold breeze across his skin when the windows were closed, the flicker of shadows in the corner of his vision, the soft rustle of something moving when no one was there.

But as the days passed, it became more intense. You weren’t just watching him anymore. You were with him, and that made the guilt all the more unbearable. He could tell that you didn't know how to feel about it. One moment, you adored him. One moment you hated him. Each and every time, he took it. He yearned for it. He wants it to repeat over and over.

Suguru could feel it in every brush of cold air, in every movement you made. There was nothing left of the person you once were. You were no longer the girl who had loved him, the one who smiled and laughed, whose touch brought him comfort.

What was left was a hollow shell of your soul, twisted and broken by his actions. The broken body of a ghost that wanted nothing more to be free. To hate him, to love him and to leave him. And yet, despite knowing this, despite knowing that he had destroyed you beyond recognition, he still couldn’t let you go.

It was his greed that bound you, his selfish desire to keep you close, no matter what you had become. Even now, even as you haunted him, as you tormented him with your presence, he clung to you like you were his last lifeline.

He convinced himself that this was you, that this cursed, fractured version of your spirit was the real you coming back to him. He needed to believe it because the alternative; the idea that you were gone, truly gone, was too painful to bear.

In his twisted mind, he told himself that you stayed because you loved him. That even though he had shattered your soul, even though he had ripped you away from everything you knew, you still came back to him. You came back because you loved him the most. And that was enough for him, even if it wasn’t the truth.

But the truth was something he could never fully escape. He knew, deep down, that you hated him. He saw it in the way your spirit lashed out at him at night, the way you hovered over him, watching him with eyes that burned with anger and grief.

Sometimes, when the room grew still and dark, he could feel your hands—those same hands that once touched him with love—wrap around his throat, cold and vengeful, pressing down as if you were trying to choke the life from him. You wanted him dead. He knew that.

There were extreme nights, when you would feel your death over and over again. Where you would feel the anger and the grief and the pain overwhelm you. In those nights, you tried to kill him. Your cold, spectral fingers would tighten around his neck or press into his chest, making his heart race with terror.

He would wake in a panic, gasping for air, drenched in sweat, his body shaking from the closeness of death. And yet, even as he lay there, heart pounding, knowing you had just tried to take his life, he couldn’t let you go. The more you hated him, the more he needed to keep you close.

"I know you hate me, my love." he whispered one night, after waking from another attack. His voice was hoarse, his throat raw from where your ghostly fingers had pressed down on his windpipe.

"I deserve it. I deserve all of it. But… you came back to me, didn’t you? You could’ve gone anywhere, but you came back to me."

There was no answer, just the icy stillness that filled the room, but he swore he could feel you there, hovering just out of sight, watching him with those same cold, dead eyes as you kept pushing over and over again. You wanted him to die. You wanted him to pay. But he could see it too, how you wanted to stop yourself too.

"Even if you hate me, I need you here." he continued, his voice breaking. "Because you love me… you still love me, right?"

The silence stretched on, and for a moment, he almost believed he could hear your voice, your real voice, telling him that it was true. That you did love him, even after everything. That you wanted to say sorry over and over again.

But then, the familiar cold returned, creeping up his spine like the touch of death itself, and he felt your hands again, tighten against his skin. Only this time, colder, harsher, more brutal. More willing to kill. More willing to take his life in revenge. He had never seen you like this before. He had never seen you so angry at him before.

And he knew he deserved it. He knew it is what you should feel. He hurt people, he hurt you. He killed you. You had every right to want to take his life for yours. Even like this. Even after all this time. He would let you. As he had done before, he lay himself defenseless, at your mercy. He was ready to be taken to hell by your angelic arms. Even if he didn't deserve it. You pressed harder, digging into his flesh, as if you were trying to crush him.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." he gasped, fighting for air, tears blurring his vision as he clawed at the emptiness around him. "I’m sorry for everything! But I can’t— I can’t let you go."

And that was the truth. No matter how much you hated him, no matter how many times you tried to kill him in the dead of night, he couldn’t let go of what little was left of you. You were all he had, even if what remained of you was a cursed, vengeful spirit, twisted by his own cruelty.

You were the only thing in his world that still meant anything. You were the last piece of the life he had destroyed, and he would cling to you, even if it killed him. Because that's the only way he could survive. That's the only way he could continue with this. Life is meaningless if you cannot be there. Even if it's to hurt him.

He hated himself for it. He hated the way his greed had tainted your soul, how his selfishness had turned you into this monstrous version of the woman he loved. The promise he had made was his failure. His eternal mistake. But it didn’t matter. In his broken mind, this was better than nothing.

"I’ll keep you with me, my love." he whispered, even as your fingers gripped his throat once more, sending waves of pain through his body. "Even if you kill me, I’ll never let you go."

For a moment, you were silent.

You just keep pushing on and on.

But he could see it as clear as day.

Tears were falling down on your face.

"I know." He croaks out with a struggle. He could feel his skin turn blue and purple as you kept pushing. "I....I know."

No, he thinks to himself. He will never truly know.

He was still alive.

And you were dead.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

MISERY HAS COME TO AN END. This was what he had been waiting for since that day he had taken your life. He couldn't wait for it. He wanted for it to be over. He wanted for it to be done. As Geto Suguru lay there, life slowly draining from his body, Gojo Satoru stood above him, his face unreadable but filled with a deep, unspoken sadness.

The air around them felt thick, charged with the weight of years gone by, of a friendship that had crumbled under the weight of Suguru’s choices. But there was something else in that moment, something that Suguru had felt long before Gojo Satoru arrived. There was a presence that lingered, watching, always there. You.

You stood in the shadows, just out of reach but ever-present, as you had been for so long. He could feel your gaze, cold and sharp, cutting through the haze of his fading consciousness. He didn’t need to see you to know you were there; he always knew. Even as his body weakened, even as death crept closer, you were the one thing he could still feel.

Suguru's breathing was ragged, each breath a struggle, but he forced his eyes to focus, searching for you through the mist of pain and regret. And there you were—silent, ghostly, unchanged in the years that had passed since he had taken your life.

Your face was a mixture of sorrow and rage, just as it always had been since you had become this cursed existence. It was so real, it felt so real. You were here. He had made you this way, and he knew it. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on him harder than any physical pain ever could.

“I knew you’d be here, my love.” he rasped, his voice weak, barely above a whisper. Blood trickled from his mouth, but he didn’t care. All that mattered now was you.

You stared at him, your eyes burning with the same hatred and sorrow that had haunted him for so long. But behind that, there was something else, something deeper that had always lingered between you….love. It was fractured, twisted by the years of torment, but it was still there, in the way you watched him now, waiting.

"I—" He coughed, the pain wracking his body, but he forced the words out, knowing he didn’t have much time. "I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. For everything. For what I did to you. For taking you away. I never wanted it to be like this."

Your expression didn’t change, but Geto Suguru could feel the weight of your emotions. He could always feel it, the depth of your pain, your anger, and the love that had been tainted by his cruelty.

"I don’t deserve forgiveness, my love." he continued, his voice trembling, "I know that. I don’t even ask for it. But… I need you to stay with me." His purple eyes, dark and filled with regret, locked onto yours.

"Hate me. Keep hating me for what I did. I deserve it. Stay angry. Stay hurt. Just—" His voice cracked, and for a moment, the mask of strength he had worn for so long fell away, revealing the broken man beneath. "Just don’t leave me."

You didn’t move, but something in your gaze softened, just for a moment, and Suguru’s heart clenched.

"I need you to keep loving me." he whispered, barely audible now, the strength leaving him with each breath. "Even if it’s hate. Even if it’s anger. Please… don’t ever leave. Stay with me, even in death."

There was silence for a long moment, the world around him fading, the edges of reality blurring. Gojo Satoru’s presence was there, a silent witness to this final moment, but all Suguru could focus on was you. The one person he had loved, the one person he had destroyed.

And in that silence, he thought he saw you nod. It wasn’t forgiveness. He knew that you could never give him that. Not even if you wanted to. So, he didn’t expect that. But it was something, a promise of sorts, that you would remain, that you would stay by his side, even in the twisted, cursed way you had been for so long.

You had no other choice. You were tied to him. Even if you were an angel, you were his to have killed. And you were his to keep. One way or another, you were doomed with him.

As the light in his eyes began to dim, Suguru let out one last breath, his body finally succumbing to the weight of it all. But even as the world around him slipped away, he felt you there, just as he had always wanted. He wanted forever. He wanted you to be bound to him, through love, hate, and everything in between.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Geto Suguru felt a sense of peace, knowing that in death, you would never leave his side.

As Suguru’s body lay still, life finally left him, your form so long bound to his cursed existence, everything had begun to change. The air around you shifted, the heaviness that had weighed you down for years slowly lifting.

You had been tied to him for so long, your soul twisted by the hatred and sorrow of what he had done to you. But now, with his death, the curse that had held you in this half-life, in this torment, began to unravel.

You felt it—slowly, like a breath you hadn’t taken in so many years. The pull that had kept you bound to him, the chains of guilt, anger, and love, began to fade. It wasn’t quick; the pain was still there, raw and deep, but it was easing, loosening its grip on your soul.

The twisted form you had taken, the vengeful ghost that had followed Suguru through every step, began to dissolve. You were withering away, piece by piece, the curse unraveling like a thread in the wind.

But there was no joy in it. No relief. Instead, as you felt your spirit beginning to break free, something strange and unexpected filled you—grief.

The years of anger, hatred, and sorrow were fading, and with them, the love you had once held so deeply for him, a love that had persisted despite everything. As the curse released its grip on you, tears began to fall, silent and steady, down your ghostly face.

Gojo Satoru stood above Geto Suguru, watching it all unfold. He had always known about you, the shadow that haunted his best friend, the curse that Suguru had created out of his own guilt and selfish love.

But seeing it now, seeing the way your form withered away, your tears falling like echoes of a past long gone, it struck him in a way he hadn’t expected. He didn’t need to see the full story to understand what you were; what you had been to Suguru, and what he had taken from you.

Your tears shimmered in the fading light, and Gojo Satoru, ever perceptive, caught the faint glisten of them. He could feel the depth of your pain, even now, as you began to fade from the world.

The sight of your sorrow, of your spirit being freed but still weighed down by the lingering grief, hit something in him that he rarely allowed anyone to see. His usual mask of indifference slipped, just for a moment, and he sighed softly.

“Love really is the worst curse, huh.” he murmured to himself, his voice low, almost as though he were speaking to the empty air, to you.

He understood, more than most, how love could bind, twist, and destroy. He had seen it countless times in the lives of others, and now, here, at the end of everything, he saw it in Suguru’s last moments and in your ghostly form, finally free but forever marked by what had been done to you.

You didn’t answer him—you couldn’t. Your form was fading faster now, the last remnants of your curse dissolving into the air. But as you disappeared, your tears fell one last time, a final release of all the pain you had carried, of all the love and hate that had twisted you into what you had become.

Gojo watched you until there was nothing left, just the faint whisper of your presence lingering in the silence. He looked down at Suguru, his once closest friend, and felt a deep, bittersweet sorrow wash over him. He knew that, in the end, both of you had been cursed by love, in different ways. And now, both of you are gone.

With one last glance at the empty space where your spirit had been, Gojo Satoru sighed again, his heart heavy. What a tragedy of a life it all had been.

"Yeah……" he whispered to himself. "The worst curse of all."

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messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 1 year ago

Text

Ache // Yandere! Ticci Toby x

Fem! Reader {SMUT}

[Hello, this will be the first fic that I post. What I'm going to give you guys beforehand is some trigger warnings before we get on to it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it and give me some feedback whenever you're done if you feel in the mood.]

TW // Violence, r@pe, and a whole lotta mention of murder as always.

𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ - First P.O.V

Every day, it started like this. Planted in my bed, tangled in my grey sheets, waiting for that one sliver of motivation to get out of my blankets. My room was a mess. Pieces of clothing scattered across the floor, piling up around my dresser, and hanging off of places I tossed them.

I stared over the rest of what I could see while trying to get rid of the bitter taste of soda left on my tongue from last night. The posters I've collected of my favorite bands clung onto the wall for dear life, fading away from how long they had been there. An empty Sprite can stood on my nightstand, left there after my body decided to have its third caffeine crash this week.

It was getting so warm where I was lying that I was starting to overheat, making me shuffle around to stay cold. That wasn't too hard because of how freezing my room was.

When I looked at my window, I noticed it was cracked open. If I didn't shut it soon, it would get worse. But minutes were melting into each other and I didn't want to get up. Why did I love to procrastinate so much? It shouldn't be this hard to move on with my day.

Silence filled every corner of my apartment, leaving me to peacefully rot. Was it selfish of me to be like this? That's what it felt like they were trying to say when I talked to relatives. But that's the reason why I prefer to be shut-in. I never had to hear that about myself. The world outside would remain indifferent. And hopefully, by the time I had to move, I was swallowed into the Earth below.

A sudden vibration of my phone startled me. I mumbled a barrage of curses and reached for it slowly, furrowing my brows and groaning. I could only pray that it wasn't him trying to contact me.

The last time he visited, I no longer felt safe outside. I would check behind me constantly, feeling as if his light brown eyes were glued to my back, and at any moment, he could come back and chop off my limbs until I was a headless torso. Remembering that he existed caused that horrible anxiety to spread goosebumps across my skin. I was shaking as I tried to unlock my phone.

Hundreds of notifications popped up that I had been ignoring, some of them messages from my mom, and the rest were emails. I almost accidentally clicked on one before I found the most recent. "Return library books today," it read. Fuck, I forgot today was the due date for those. Despite not wanting to, I had to get up. I did promise that if I had a reason to, I would.

I peeled myself from the comfort of my bed. My sheets clung to me like glue, trying to pull me back as if it were a bad idea. Fighting against it, I shivered at the sudden change in temperature and pulled down the bottoms of my shorts so they weren't wedged in between my ass.

After not walking for what felt like forever, I took my first steps, a soreness on my left thigh making me place a hand on my dresser for support. I looked down at a bruise from that encounter, biting my lip to distract myself from thinking about it. I need to take my pills or I'll get suicidal. So many things to do. So overwhelmed.

Encouraging myself in my head, I found the strength to go for the door. I opened it and turned down my hallway, going for the bathroom with quick and light steps.

Many pictures of family and portraits were loosely decorated on the wall, a pit in my stomach opened when I stared at them. I lingered on my dad and had to tear myself away from the picture before I felt the need to cry.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I flicked on the harsh yellow light and stood before the mirror, running a hand through my disheveled hair. I reached for the medicine cabinet, the hinges squeaking as I rummaged through it. I grabbed my medication and popped the bottle open, tossing out a tiny pill into my palm. I swallowed the bitter capsule and cringed as it slowly went down.

Turning my attention to the sink, I turned on the cold water and brought my mouth to the tap to take a sip. Then I splashed it on my face after I was done, relieved that the pill was no longer there. On the counter, I focused on the facewash I hadn't used in god knows how long. I missed the feeling of my face being clean. At least, I can't forget about it now.

I poured the runny liquid into my hands and rubbed them together, slapping it on my face and rubbing it in circles to get deep in my pores. It foamed up a bit and burned. If I'm going to be honest, I don't know if I'm supposed to be using this, but it works.

As I was splashing the water on my face again to clean it off, I opened my eyes to a man staring at me in the mirror, causing me to freeze. I could see the glisten of his goggles from here, that blue hood covering his messy hair, but it didn't contain enough around the edges. It was him. The man who attacked me and my dad a couple of days ago.

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but before the sound could escape, I reached for something. Grab anything to protect myself, that's all I needed to do. But before I could, the room blurred as I twisted, my hand grasping a razor for a split second.

I was torn away from it. I felt a hard impact on my back as I was slammed against the wall, the air forcing out of my lungs in a sharp gasp. I struggled to breathe, my hands grabbing onto his wrists while they dug into my neck.

He had me pinned against it and struggling to get any sort of noise out. Slowly, I was dragged up upward and lifted off of the ground. I choked, my vision was fading as his glare burned into mine. He's going to kill me. Just like he did to Dad. He's going to get away with it. I pulled my head back against the wall before lunging it forward to collide it with the serial killer's, his hands faltering their hold and dropping me from the force of it.

I collapsed to the floor and sputtered out several coughs, hunched up in a ball and desperately trying to regain the oxygen he took from me. My neck felt numb, the indents of his fingers bruising and stung like a bitch.

He crouched down to me. I closed my eyes and thought he would finish it right there. But when I suddenly felt his lips press against mine, they shot back open. Breathing heavily through my nose, I stared at his shut eyelids. I glanced down at his lashes, feeling his breath as he sighed. He relaxed into me for a split second before pulling away, lowering his voice to a rough whisper to introduce himself, "It's nice to meet you finally, {F/N}. The name's Tobias."

Struggling to get myself sitting up, I made it by resting on the wall and using my hands to keep me there. My chest rapidly went up and down as I watched his every move. He backed away a bit, but not enough to give me leverage. I repeated, "Tobias?" And his eyebrow quirked up like he was questioning my reaction.

"I can also go by Toby. Whatever you prefer. But I gave you my full name because I really like you, [F/N]," he added. I knitted my brows and shook my head, unable to understand what he was saying. He liked me? He just kissed me? What the fuck?

I pushed myself away from him and got back up, running for it and successfully escaping the bathroom. The front door was right in front of me, I barely got to reach for it before I felt a hand grab a fistful of my hair. No, I almost had it!

Strands of my hair were ripped out as I was yanked backward and thrown onto the couch, falling onto it and yelping in pain. Tears fell from my eyes and I clutched my head, grabbing the part that hurt the most. A headache was coming on and I couldn't help but rock myself to soothe it. I sobbed, "Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone..." I twisted myself to let out the rest in the cushions, hearing him approach behind me.

After crying for a bit and nothing was happening to me, I hesitantly lifted myself to take a peek. Toby was sitting next to me, almost as if he was waiting patiently for me to finish. When he saw that I was staring at him, he patted his lap and said, "Here. Rest your pretty head and we can get to talking about this, sweetheart."

I was too scared of him to tell him no. It was the first time I felt pure terror from somebody. Like I would never be able to fight back with him. And I was right. I couldn't. The sad truth was that if my dad had fallen to this man, I'm sure I would live the same fate if I didn't listen. Dragging myself, I cringed while laying my head onto his leg, feeling his hand rest on my head and causing me to flinch. "Sh, sh, I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I told you, I really adore you, [F/N]," he reassured me. A part of me wanted to bite his leg to pieces, but if I went along with this until he fell asleep or left, then I could escape and possibly go to the police.

Deciding to go with it, I pretended to enjoy the warmth and snuggled into him. I wouldn't call it pretending actually, he was pretty warm. Toby hummed and it stayed like this for some time. He kept petting me, brushing my hair out of the way, soothing me from the chase earlier.

Eventually, he got bored of it and nudged me to sit back up. I tilted my head and asked, "What?" His hand went to rest on my lower back, applying pressure around it, pushing me forward until I was easing into sitting on him. A smile crossed his face at the compliance. He seemed intrigued by it.

"I didn't think you would give up this quick. I thought I was going to have to give you a couple more marks for memories," he sounded pleased as both of his arms wrapped around my waist. They were much bigger than mine, with a couple of veins etched up around them like vines, and faded scars littering everywhere on his skin. He had been doing this for years by the looks of it. There was no way in hell I was going to escape, huh?

Placing another kiss on my cheek, soft and gentle, his eyelashes brushed against me before he pulled away to speak again, "Do you know what I've been picturing every night to the thought of you, [F/N]?" His hands dropped lower to skim over my ass, lightly gripping, and dragging me toward him. My breath hitched. I didn't say a word.

Toby answered for me, "I've been picturing taking these off..." His fingers gripped around the waistband of my shorts and teased me about taking them off by pushing them down lightly. Continuing that, he said, "Have you to myself for a couple of hours..."

There were so many reasons why I should say no to him and why I shouldn't allow him to touch me like this. For one, he killed my father. He broke into my house and he was physically violent to me. I felt disgusting that he had gotten to this level too. But, I didn't stop him. I didn't say no and I didn't deny it. I looked into this killer's eyes and I leaned onto his chest, giving into what he wanted

When we kissed for the second time, I noticed how chapped his lips were, and opened my mouth a little to swipe my tongue across his bottom one. Toby tensed up. And without warning, I felt his tongue use the opportunity to have an exchange with mine. I gasped through my nose, the escalation getting worse and worse. A blush began to spread across my face.

He lifted me off of his lap to flip me onto the couch, putting both of his palms by either side of my head. I was back to being pinned underneath him. I don't know what was happening to me. Something was wrong with me, I was sick for this. I was sick... because I enjoyed this.

His sweater and shirt fell to the floor as we fought each other with kisses. His teeth bit into my lower lip and pulled it back while I moved to unbuckle his belt. I was giving in to this. I was really fucking the guy that took away everybody I loved in my life.

Barely in any clothes, we both took a moment to stare at each other, oddly feeling like he was admiring me from how he looked up and down my body. Toby took his time, pressing small pecks across my chest up to my neck, snaking his arms around to my back. He unclipped my bra and slipped it off of me. I wanted to cover myself, but I no longer wanted to move. I didn't have any motivation. There was nothing left to fight for.

The gloves and bandages around his fingers felt weird against my skin especially when he played with my chest. He squeezed one, bit the other, and once he heard a moan slip out of me, he stopped to let me process. He complimented me, his voice a bit raspy like he was fighting the urge to do something to me already, "You look even better so close like this, with how foggy those windows would get. It would make me want to break them and threaten you then and there."

I bit the inside of my cheek and he got closer, hooking onto my panties and pulling them down as a smirk spread on his face. My lack of response didn't concern him. He kept going despite that, throwing the thin fabric somewhere in the room before he looked up at me. His hair was in his face and the eyebags around his eyes told me he was more than dangerous. How many times has he done this?

Toby muttered seriously, breaking me out of the moment, "Who do you belong to?" I blankly gazed at him, watching as he stood up and slowly inched his boxers down. I can't speak. I can't tell him that. More scars appeared, his v-line making my eyes linger, and I got distracted. His dick was let out before I could respond.

My eyes widened and I tried to squeeze my legs shut, but he kept them apart as soon as they moved, holding both of my knees up to my shoulders. I was breathing super fast, my heart raced, and I was feeling the ache in between both of my legs. It was nothing compared to when he positioned himself and pushed the tip inside.

Digging my nails into his arms, I cried out in pain and threw my head back, looking up at his satisfied face. Toby groaned, a laugh following behind it, "You don't have to answer. I'll do it for you." He rammed most of what he could, grabbing both of my thighs so tightly that it was guaranteed to be bruised. I screamed out. He was too rough and too much for me to take like this. It hurt. It fucking ached. I was being drilled into the cushions.

Trying to handle it was impossible. He made it impossible for me. His hips connected as he went deeper, loud slaps coming from it, bouncing off and echoing. I didn't want to think about the neighbors hearing me lose my dignity like this. I didn't want to think about the fact my dad could be witnessing this. But it was starting to feel good. Really fucking good. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and after that, I didn't care anymore.

I wrapped my legs and arms around him, pulling him closer and savoring his dick carving into the parts I didn't know were there. Moaning, swearing, and muttering filled the room. We were getting lost in the bliss and saying whatever was on the mind. Or I was. His name left me a couple of times and so did encouragement, "More.. More, please, Toby!"

Flipping around again when he got a little tired, I gyrated my hips and sat on his lap so I could bounce, sliding up and down until I could feel my walls beginning to squeeze. I was close and this position wasn't helping. I held my breath and Toby took notice, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Let it out for me, baby. Don't be shy," he cooed, sweat dripping down his forehead like he was holding back his own. I bit the inside of my cheek and a desperate moan came out, "Fuuuuuck, cummm with! Please!"

He didn't listen to me and lifted me off of the couch with him, holding me up in the air while guiding me down onto his shaft. I went limp and drool fell down the side of my chin as I buried myself into the crook of his neck, biting it a little to vent out the overwhelming pleasure. Toby didn't let up until a couple of more minutes of fucking me passed and I was fucked out enough that my legs were shaking.

When he was about to cum himself, he set me back down, rushing up to my face to give me a facial. My mouth was open from panting and I caught a bit on my tongue, swallowing it when we were back to locking eyes. The rest landed on my nose, cheeks, and lips. He let out a loud groan as he unwinded, pulling away to see the display once he was done.

I lay there. Used. I lay there for him to stare at. Until he walked away for cleaning supplies. To think about what I was doing. To come back down and face the new reality I was in. I was his now and he was mine. And there was nothing I could do about it.

#creepypasta smut #creepypasta #ticci toby x reader smut #ticci toby smut #ticci toby x reader lemon #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby

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talaok · 2 years ago

Text

Stay

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: the reader is the one who gets hurt in ep 1x06 instead of Joel

warnings: angst but also fluff

"there," he whispered, setting you delicately onto the dusty mattress.

He looked at you "you're alright" his voice was a breathy whisper "you're alright"

He glanced at the wound.

A large spot on your shirt was soaked with blood, and Joel felt his heart drop in his stomach as he raised the fabric.

It was deep,

And the blood wasn't stopping.

He tried to look at you again, but he couldn't, he couldn't find the strength to stare into your eyes and watch as the spark he so loved in them slowly vanished,

So instead, he quickly scanned your wound and started applying pressure to it.

All you could do was wince weakly.

"shit-shit what can I do?" Ellie asked, her eyes were wide, glassy, panicked.

Joel didn't answer,

He witnessed as the red covered his hands, and wondered, for a moment, if he was ever going to be able to wash it off, or if just like all the rest, it was gonna remain there forever, imprinted in the creases of his palm eternally.

"Joel?"

He applied more pressure, and you noticed as Ellie looked desperately between you two.

"Joel what can I d-"

"Nothing Ellie!"

"There's nothing you can do!"

she took a step back, and you looked at her, and tried, with your eyes, with your brows, with everything you could, to tell her that it was fine, to not listen to him.

"I need" he was mumbling, breathing quickly"I need to stop the bleeding"

"I can help"

"no, stay back"

"but may-"

"stay back!" he turned, bitter, stern, and she obliged.

"It's ok" he whispered, and you didn't know if it was to himself or to you

"it's ok" he said, as one of his hands left your body to rummage through his bag.

He found a cloth and immediately forced it on your wound.

"those motherfuckers" he grumbled

"I'm gonna kill them," he said "I'm gonna kill them all, one by one I swear sweetheart" his voice sounded distant, like it wasn't him talking but something so deep inside of his it echoed through his lungs.

he finally raised his head to look at you "They won’t get away with this" he spat, a promise, an oath.

Something flashed behind his eyes, an idea perhaps.

"They're probably still out there. I could catch them" he said,

"joel" you whispered faintly, begging, pleading.

"I'll make them regret this-"he continued, his eyes traveling to where he had set his rifle, his brain already able to feel the rush of adrenaline from killing the bastards responsible for this.

" I could-" he went to stand up" I could-"

"Joel," you said again, louder, messier, and he looked at you, forgetting all about what he had just seconds ago decided on doing.

He took your hand.

"yes, baby?"

"Joel it's not" you coughed faintly "it's not your fault"

You saw his eyes drop,

He didn't believe you

"This isn't your fault" you repeated

"it just happened" you continued, offering the best smile you could master "besides" your hand reached for his cheek "we've seen worse haven't we?"

Only now, as you watched him attentively, did you notice the sheer shimmering coat on his eyes,

"Joel," you said, sniffling "just, please-stay"

"stay with me"

He didn't reply, but as he looked you straight in the eyes you knew,

he gave you a quick nod, and lay beside you, his warmth, spreading through your freezing body.

"thank you" you said, leaning your head on his shoulder, as his arms went to hold you close.

"thank you Joel"

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wlntrsldler · 10 months ago

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very random collections of songs that remind me so deeply of luke castellan and why.

or songs that sparked plot ideas for fics i'll never write.

norman fucking rockwell by lana del rey:

set before his betrayal. situationship luke x reader. you know something is going on with luke, but is so in love with him that you refuse to acknowledge it until it's too late. luke comes to you, begging you to go with him, and you finally see luke for what he's about to become. you recoil from him (luke falls apart at this) and he leaves, defeated.

"what are you doing, luke?" you asked. the cabin was dark, the slivers of moonlight peeking in through the half-opened door where luke stood. "what happened to you?"

luke was standing in front of you, a slash across his abdomen, not deep enough to be critical but deep enough to draw blood. droplets of it stained the cabin floors. his eyes were blown wide, curls tussled in all different directions. he dropped his sword and rushed over to you, grabbing your face in his hands. he placed his forehead against yours, "come with me, y/n. let's leave. he has a plan for us."

the comfort you had with his erratic breaths flashed away in a hurry. you pulled away, eyebrows threaded together in thought, "who is he? luke, you're scaring me."

in his unstable state, he didn't notice your small steps away from him. he was looking behind him constantly as if waiting for a crowd of people to burst through the door behind him. ready and willing to take him away.

"kronos," he said, so casually you thought you'd heard him wrong. he began to explain. his words sounded so rehearsed. so pristine. it was clear that this has been in the works for far too long.

and it was too late.

"luke, no," you replied, shaking your head. you backed into a dresser, hissing at the stabbing pain in your lower back. you were cornered.

he picked up his sword again, taking up a fighting stance unconsciously. you flinch as he walks towards you. he pauses. luke looks down at his hand holding his sword. for a moment you saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he studied himself in the reflection. the light illuminated the side of his face, the scar so prominent, so glaring like a reminder of why he was pushed into becoming this.

he looks up at you again, "i would never hurt you."

"i don't think that's true anymore, luke."

his response was cut off by the sound of panic outside. his time is up. and he failed. somehow this failure, the failure of getting you to join him, to trust him, to love him to the point of betrayal, was the most bitter failure he'd experienced.

luke looked at you, trying to commit the memory of your face in his mind as if you weren't going to remain burned into his soul forever.

18 by 5sos:

luke x aphrodite!reader. you're older than luke by a year and he's so smitten by you. like head over heels! he overhears you and one of your sisters talking about celebrities that you had a crush on but he hears you say "he's too young for me," and he thinks it's about him.

he starts sulking which makes you go ????? because you've been flirting with him for YEARS but he never caught on (pushing the loser!luke agenda here) and you get so fed up when he ignores you that you just confess to him.

now it's his turn to be like ???? because what do you mean you like him??? ends in super cute fluff and endless kisses and obv teasing from the trio. duh.

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by del water gap

best friends to lovers!!!!! super touchy, feely friendship between luke and the reader. you're always so flustered after cuddling or when he'd kiss your cheek or give you hugs from behind, but he's so oblivious to your reactions.

one day some ares kid starts flirting with you and you decide it's time to move on from luke anyway because it was getting pathetic. so you start hanging out with the ares kid (who's actually so so so kind and sweet; in another life you'd be in love with him but in this one, luke has you completely) you and the ares kid become super good friends, like besties and 4lifers. (ares kid: y/n maybe you shouldn't let him be so touchy with you. you're never gonna get over him if you keep this up.) you begrudgingly agreed. you start pulling away from luke when he gets touchy and this makes luke :(!!!!!

the nail to the coffin was when he saw you in the ares kid's clothes. you were only supposed to wear HIS clothes. he decides enough is enough.

that night he knocks on your cabin door while everyone is out at the campfire (he knows you hate it bc you smell like smoke for days) and he's seeing red because he hates the ares kid (he doesn't actually, he's just super jealous) and he missed you so much (even though it's only been two weeks since this whole thing started).

he walks in and he's already ranting and he's not even looking at you because he's so ???!!!! then he finally looks at you and he sees that you're wearing his shirt and the ares kid's sweater is nowhere to be found. (you only borrowed it during dinner because you spilled ketchup on your shirt) luke smiles for the first time in days.

he tells you to dump the ares kid and you start laughing and explain the whole situation to him. luke is SUPER embarrassed for being so dramatic but it ends in a cute confession and lots of kisses.

#luke castellan #pjo tv show #pjo series #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x yn #frances song fics #frances writes

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kaixserzz · 1 year ago

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eons adrift ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ wanderer x gn!reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎐 ꒱ "i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me." "that's not possible, you and i both know that." "watch me!"

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ cw: character analysis-ish, mildly proofread, drabble but it's kinda messy, its more like an idea than a fic LOLLL im sorry, hurt/comfort

scaramouche took you for a naive fool, just as he was when oh so stupidly believed those words as kunikuzushi.

you are but a human. a mere breath of his everlasting eternity. a few hundreds of years and he would forget everything about you.

insignificant, you humans were.

frail.

vulnerable.

so so easy to break.

as he walked into the path of darkness; consuming him and turning him into someone he doesn't recognize in the mirror no longer—kabukimono, kunikuzushi, the love of your life, was long gone. memories like the leaves that turn yellow and crumble to ashes as winter approaches.

yet the winter will remain in his empty chest for as long as he walks teyvat. churning into a blizzard of ice cold pain, destroying everything around him as it grows. he continues to walk this wretched path he chose.

but then he met someone, rekindling the spark that was once there beneath his porcelain skin. trying to light up a burn out wick, to bring an end to his winter and bring forth the beautiful spring he was once.

scaramouche never thought he'd love again.

even after all through the pain he went from the doctor's experiments, after roaming the great expanse of the abyss, after becoming the balladeer, the 6th of the fatui harbingers, he still felt.

love.

happiness.

pain.

sorrow.

and regret.

he hates it, but he loves them, just as much as he loved you.

though he allowed someone new worm their way into his heart, he kept them in arm's reach. he cannot bear to be vulnerable to someone else. they were human, they were to die; he is a puppet, he is meant to live on forever.

but then he heard them say things only you would say. giving him lavender melons you bought off the market, accidentally calling him names only you would know.

he remember that promise you made him before you died.

"i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me."

scaramouche did not understand what he felt when he realized that his new lover, was in fact, just a reincarnation of you. and just like that, your name burns back itself into his mind—a name he thought he had erased into obscurity, along with his past.

he was a fool, scaramouche thought. he laughed at himself, a laugh void of humor, nor joy.

it was your name, your first incarnation, just in a different language.

it appears that scaramouche didn't like this feeling. of bitter butterflies in his stomach, the familiarity when you try to get close to him, the same smile you had, the light full of love in your eyes—it was all too much for him.

so he left you in the snow of his ever growing blizzard. buried under the thick layers of freezing ice.

and again, to your next reincarnation. a fatui, a vendor, an adventurer, a knight, a scholar—male, female, neither, or all of them; tall, short, plump, slim, dark or light skinned,

he cannot bear to lose you just as he first did.

slipping by his fingers, to the one thing he is not affected by.

death.

he doesn't accept the fact that your love has led you back to him, again and again.

why do you even keep coming back? don't you know he's part of the fatui? don't you know what he has done? don't you know what he has become?

and yet you'd knock on his door, calling his name with your voice full of warmth, arms wide for him to take and allow himself to be called yours again—all he had to do was open the door.

he has kept a lock on it ever since he met you again.

worn down and rotten; chains all rusted, handle jammed and barely working. he approaches the door once again. this time, as wanderer. a better version of himself,

one that's finally willing to open the door to you.

but you weren't there anymore, waiting for him on the other side.

how could you? you were never there in the first place.

not with this version of himself.

not as the wanderer.

and maybe that was for the best. even though he cries himself to sleep at night for all the things he has done to you. weeping, as he curls onto the sheets, praying to the stars above in hopes you'd hear his heartbroken apologies, yearning for your love, your touch, your smiles—

this was his punishment for hurting you, for being a fool. he was underserving of your love, after all.

"hey, wanderer, was it?"

a new voice, someone unfamiliar. he refrained from sighing, for buer's sake, and instead took a deep, refreshing breath. he turns, and the stranger smiles brightly at him.

immediately, as if the winds of spring has hit him all so suddenly in the face. the fragrance of blooming flowers that was once buried under the snow, the sun shining brightly in the skies, and birds chirping symphonies.

like the mornings brimming with new found hope, the smell of dew sticking onto his clothes as he trace his fingers all over the a tree's trunk. like the the juices of a fruit he sank his teeth into, dribbling down the corners of his lips and down his arms.

warmth tingled on his skin, and his heart leaps.

"nice to meet you!" you say your name, a name he has heard hundreds of versions before, all so different and yet they all felt and tasted like honey dripping down his tongue. "i hope we get along."

"yeah," he says, almost breathless, as the tears begins to well in his eyes. his fingers tremble, and his smile grew wobbly. tipping his hat down to avoid your gaze, his voice cracks. "i hope so too."

his door was wide open, waiting for you come in.

you grin, and take a step inside.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

author's note: "i thought this was a dottore only blog? SHUT UP!!!!! SHUT UP!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM MAD AT MYSELF TOO BUT THIS IS FOR @fatuismooches also new format because im too lazy to open my files :/ not back yet, i just wanna write this for the pookie 💗💗 ty for listening to me ramble like a madman ur single handedly gettin me thru it ong LMAOOO /lh

#favoniuslibrary #˚₊໒🔪꒱kai writes₊˚#╰┈➤ wanderer #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genhin impact #scaramouche x reader #listening to mitski's new album to this #this is like #so so bad but bear with me #i dont feel well ok 😭😭#idea came to me while im in the shower

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alicerosejensen · 1 year ago

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Together forever pt.2

Warnings: kidnapping, forced cohabitation, affectionate nicknames, fem/reader, Leon!ID, age difference, yandere!Leon.

N/A: I DON'T approve of this shit in real life, so please if this is a sore subject for someone or if someone just doesn't like it, then just skip it.

Part 1

Part 3

The world was still spinning like crazy, making objects fly in front of your eyes without being able to grab hold of anything with your eyes and focus on any object. Disorientation at its best. You had no idea what time it is now and where you are, the brain could not even process the information day or night now outside the window, but you caught a light artificial light from which your eyes water and a slight feeling of cold.

"Jesus, baby, you should have stayed in bed for now" someone's familiar voice made you shudder, but lying on the floor in an unsuccessful attempt to get to your feet, you saw someone's shoes with blurred vision.

Strong male hands easily grabbed you under the armpits and easily turned you over on your back. Leon immediately lifted your fallen body off the bed and laid you back down, removing a lock of hair from your face. His hand gently but firmly rested on your belly, and the gaze of his sapphire eyes was focused on you.

"Leon?" you whispered hoarsely, not sure if he was in front of you. After all, what was he supposed to be doing here?

"Hush, angel, try not to move yet" his voice is still calm, but there is a commanding note in it. This is how agents talk on assignments, although this manner of conversation often turns into everyday life. "I'll get you some water, okay?" And you rest and don't try to get up. You might accidentally hurt yourself."

Leon affectionately stroked your head like a kitten, finally casting an alarmed glance, making sure that you implicitly obey him, although there was no other choice. The drug is still active and it takes some time before the body is completely cleared of it, however, Leon did not even worry about it. You heard the thud of his boots on the stairs at some point realizing that there are no stairs in your apartment at all. In addition to dizziness, nausea also joined, which rolled up to your throat, forcing you to gather the remnants of strength and carefully turn over on your side. The first attempt was unsuccessful, you took another and another, but weakness seized your whole body.

And only in the intervals between these pathetic attempts do you realize at some point that you are in an unfamiliar place. While you are trying to take a new position, a light cool wind blows over your skin and an irritated sigh is immediately heard

"I told you not to move" sounded rude above your head and Leon's hands helped you to take a semi-sitting position by placing the glass next to the bedside table "So, exhale. There will be weakness and malaise for a while, but gradually everything will come back to normal," he said soothingly, handing you a glass of water "drink in small sips"

After taking a few sips, the water seemed like a real blessing to you. Suddenly you felt such a strong thirst that small sips immediately turned into large ones, and after a couple of seconds the glass was already drained, to which Leon sighed again in disappointment.

"I told you to drink a little, not all at once," you sighed, coughing slightly, and immediately realized that he was right, because you felt vomiting rising in your throat, fortunately, Leon immediately substituted a bucket for you. All the water and the remains of an undigested lunch were immediately spewed out by your stomach, and a disgusting bitter taste of bile appeared in your mouth. "you need to learn to listen to me, but more on that later. Come on, lie on your side like a good girl"

Leon set the bucket on the floor, wiping the corners of mouth with a napkin. When the dizziness subsided a little and the world stopped spinning like a mad carousel, then you could clearly see Leon's cold-blooded face and how he laid you on your side without any resistance. In general, he was glad that you weren't hysterical or screaming, but he understood that it was more a matter of time.

"What happened? Where am I?"

"At home" Leon only answered, putting his palm on your cheek "Don't worry about anything and try to sleep better, I'll come later"

At home? A wave of indignation hit you in the head, causing a headache. This place was definitely not your home. As well as a strange red shirt that was several sizes too big. Slowly but surely, panic began to take over the mind because what was happening at the moment was not a normal phenomenon. Only… Leon won't hurt you, right? He is a good man with strange jokes, a little glum but good. He brought coffee and favorite buns, found your phone and returned it just like that, helped to drag heavy boxes… He just couldn't be a bad guy!

Yes, he flirted a lot, invited you to dinner, just like Patrick, but you didn't give any of them a chance, fearing that for them it was just a game with your heart. Although Leon did not give the impression of a bastard capable of playing with the feelings of a girl, it just seems that he liked communication, and he often came to you for lunch in search of company in your person.

Eventually, after thinking about what happened, the brain slowly began to assemble the broken puzzle-remembering together. You were walking home a little later than usual, walking the usual way that you always walked and thought to look into the store to buy yourself a snack before going to bed. Everything is as usual, however...suddenly you remembered someone else's hands covering your mouth so that you could not scream and call for help, those seconds of animal fear then seemed like eternity, but now the memories were abrupt and short. Then there was the darkness where you fall against will.

Was it some kind of drug? A moment before you lost consciousness, you felt pain in your neck, now it hurt, but it is still impossible to approach the mirror. Leon was downstairs doing something on the ground floor while you were lying in bed trying to figure out how you got here. Maybe he saved you? It seemed like the truth, because Leon was still a nice guy who couldn't hurt a civilian, he just took you to his house because he didn't know your address, but... then why did he say it was YOUR house?

It didn't make any sense. Maybe just heard it?

It was difficult to just calm down, especially when thoughts started spinning and there was no explanation.

But you needed an explanation. You couldn't just throw away all your thoughts and fall asleep as if nothing had happened, especially after some psycho knocked you out. Leon was sorting through something downstairs, it sounded like he was carrying something soon his footsteps were heard somewhere near the door. It was reasonable to call him, especially since after vomiting, your condition began to slowly clear up as usual.

However, didn't even have to call him. He himself came into the room looking at you with a tired look, like a parent at a naughty child, which made you cringe a little, rising on your elbows.

"What is it, are you still sick?" He sat down next to you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, almost forcibly laying you on the pillows. "It's still cool at home, but if you want, I'll open the window."

"Nope," you drawled absently, trying to resist him, "I need to know what happened… And I want to go home."

"You're already home, baby. I told you," Leon's face was unacceptably close to you, which turned everything inside over. He smiled and kissed you on the forehead, which was even more confusing. “Some of your things are downstairs. I left boxes of books next to the bookcase, it’s big enough so there will even be a few empty shelves there. And your clothes are in the next room. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll put everything in order.”

"Wait…what?!"

Was he really saying that just now? Is this a prank or hallucination?!

“Don’t shout,” he calmly but authoritatively said to you, like a commander to his soldier, “I will take care of you, now this is your home… with all the comforts and safety and this is our bedroom. I hope I make myself clear, princess?”

His words were discouraging and knocked the ground out from under our feet, figuratively speaking. Leon never behaved like that with you. He flirted, made strange but funny jokes, was polite and never showed himself the way he did now. It was a different Leon.

"I don't…why do you say that?"

"How?"

“Like with a thing” You wanted to say, but your tongue was still slurring and it was still a little difficult to form words into meaningful sentences.

Leon just let out another sigh, trying to overcome your attempt at resistance, which he easily succeeded.

"We'll talk in the morning okay?" his hands held your shoulders tightly, pressing you to the mattress “Now you will rest. Lie down and close your eyes, especially since it’s night.”

No no no no...

Your mind was screaming like crazy while all the words were stuck in your throat. This is just madness!

"What's happening?!" you finally demanded an answer, pressing your palms into his chest, “Where have you taken me?!”

Leon shook his head and for a brief moment one could see the irritation in him. He hoped that your resistance would not begin until at least the morning, but it seems he was mistaken. However, perhaps it was just a side effect of the drug?

“Stop it, angel,” he forcibly pinned you to the mattress. “You’re fine. We’ll talk in the morning when you’ve rested, you’re too excited to think about anything else right now.”

Indeed, waking up early brought more trouble than joy, but Leon expected resistance. Like a lamb to the slaughter, you looked at him incomprehensibly. Innocent and scared, especially since you were so easy to trap. Of course, Leon was sure that only he could take care of you.

He didn’t want to resort to drugs anymore, but you didn’t stop trying to overcome him and jump off the bed, running away from him on shaky legs. Leon knew that even if he remained idle, you would not be able to run far, but there was an obstacle ahead in the form of a staircase, from which you would have easily rolled head over heels if he had not pressed on some points of your body, plunging you into sleep. After all, he was a pro at it. He was taught to neutralize people.

And again, against your will, you fell asleep this time in his arms when he forcibly put you to bed, kissing the top of your head for the last time before changing clothes and going to bed himself.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

In the morning your body weakly obeyed you. But it seems that what happened was not a bad dream and you were really attacked, then Leon...saved you? brought you into his house but why the hell is he hugging you as if you were a couple in love?! In addition, both of you were barely dressed: you were wearing some kind of wide red shirt and Leon was wearing gray sleeping pants.

“I usually have trouble sleeping, but it seems my princess stubbornly can’t sleep,” Leon’s voice through your sleep made you shudder and finally you jumped out of bed. No matter what happened last night, Kennedy had no reason to go to bed with you!

Really, who asked your opinion?

However, now you will get answers to your questions.

"What the heck?!" Leon sat on the bed trying to pull you back to him, “Why am I here and sleeping in the same bed with you? Where are my clothes? What happened after work...”

“Easy” he chuckled interrupting you “Not so fast angel.”

"I'm not your angel!" Of course, Leon had called you cute names before, but it had never sounded so possessive. A sinister grin appeared on Leon’s lips, making you shudder.

He stood right in front of you, looming like a mighty rock over the little wanderer. Could he have gone crazy or was he just… pretending all this time? Damn, you really wanted to believe that this was some kind of cruel prank!

“You are my angel.” These words sounded especially ominous.

But there was no point in standing still, so you pushed him away, intending to run away. The natural reaction to danger is fight or flight. You pushed him away from you, but Leon only took a step back, watching after you as you ran away.

“How stupid,” he whispered to himself as he followed you.

The layout of the house was unknown to you, pulling all the door handles you tried to find at least something that would help you stop Leon and call for help. Although he literally stepped on your heels, following you quietly and leisurely, as if knowing that there was no chance to escape. You ran into the living room, grabbed the first pillow you could find and threw it at it without even looking. Leon caught it on the fly, throwing the pillow towards the chair. Then the TV remote control flew off, and the mug with the coffee he had not drunk yesterday crashed into pieces against the wall, staining it.

Leon deftly dodged all the objects, and when you realized that there was nothing left at hand, you simply turned around and ran away, hoping for a miracle. But what chance does a civilian have against a government agent? You lost to Leon in all aspects, including speed. He quickly caught up with you, grabbing your hand and throwing you down, ignoring your screams.

like a game of catch-up, but your freedom was at stake. Leon held your wrists until it hurt, repeating something endlessly, calling you that vile word “Angel” that you didn’t want to hear. One of your legs was free enough to push him in the chest with all your might, allowing him to loosen his grip and fall onto his back, after which you, overcome with pain, jumped back to your feet, intending to run further down the corridor in search of the front door.

Not expecting his instant reaction, Kennedy quickly got up and rushed after you, grabbing you by the waist, pulling on yourself and closing your mouth with the other hand, but your reflexes also helped you in this unequal struggle - the taste of him skin got stuck between his teeth when Leon screamed and you clenched your jaws harder using any advantage that you could get. Leon wanted to take his hand away, but you clung to his hand like a piranha, feeling the blood in your mouth.

In the end, he really wanted to do without violence, he hated the idea of hurting you, but you stubbornly resisted him trying to escape from the better life that he wanted to give you. However, he also understood the panic that overwhelmed you, but not a reason to throw things at him or bite him until he bled… he survived in Raccoon City and not a single zombie managed to do what you did now, but despite all his boundless love, he will have to teach you obedience and the day will come when you will understand that he is the only person who can take full care of you.

"I really hoped it wouldn't come to that."

You pushed off again, grabbing the handle and a brief spark of hope flashed before your eyes, but… the door was closed. Everything went down and the small hope immediately went out, giving the fire of fear to flare up, because now you were completely at the mercy of the person you considered good…

But maybe a couple of days locked up will teach you to be smart?

I still wrote the second part, it didn't work out as well as I wanted, but I hope that over time I will be able to do it better. In the end, we all start with something) I bought several books on this topic, so I hope that I can find time to better understand this topic, but so far only this way.

And I was really listening to "melanie martinez - tag you're it" when I wrote this… it was better in my head, but now I'm gradually recovering my mental state, so it's still difficult for me to write, but I'm trying.

I apologize for the mistakes because English is not my language (

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happyk44 · 4 months ago

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Grover getting busy and swamped with Lord of the Wild duties so he prefaces this to Percy early because he knows Percy gets worried when he's not as present. So it's just a quick text of "hey, I might be unresponsive for a bit, swamped with work, don't worry, love you" and Percy gets it so he sends back a thumbs up and a "love you too!"

Then time passes and the reality of Grover's silence begins to sink in. And it pokes and prods at Percy's borderline traits, makes him stressed and angry, frustrated and scared, terrified of being left by his best friend to the point of him vomiting up his feelings.

And Grover calls him a few days in and he's half panicked but also thrilled because certainly this means it's all over and Grover is back and talking to him and everything is okay, but it's not because the empathy link is strong and Percy's vibrant swirling emotions are make Grover dizzy, so, "hey, Perce, could you just relax for a bit, or put up that mental block you made me show you how to do after you carried the weight of the world on your back a few years ago"

And no no no no no. Percy's insides are imploding. Blood and guts and bile boil on the back of his tongue. He's a horrible friend, he's a horrible person. He doesn't deserve Grover. He just keeps hurting him.

Grover hisses sharply over the phone. "Percy, relax."

"Relax?" The words slip out of his mouth like a whimpering hiss. Anger cuts through him with a red hot blade. Self-loathing fills his wounds and replaces his blood with its cold sticky ooze. "I- You-"

"Okay, I'm going to put up the block," Grover says.

And no no no no no. Percy needs to know how Grover's feeling, needs to know he's okay, but the moment he tries, he's denied, left with something vague and uncomfortable. My fault, my fault, my fault, he thinks, a broken record.

"Percy, you can't panic every time I get a little quiet on you," Grover says, and Percy hates himself. "It's not fair to me."

"I'm sorry," Percy breathes. Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me.

"I know." There's a quiet sigh and then, weakly, "I'm just kinda tired of..." He doesn't say what.

Percy's heart shatters. His throat swells and sticks. Air feels impossible to breathe in. He's choking. Dont leave me, don't leave me.

"Look, I love you, okay? We're bonded for life, man. I'm not going anywhere," Grover promises. "So just. Try to settle, okay? I'll let you know when I'm free and we can catch up then. It's not gonna be forever. Just... a couple weeks."

A couple weeks should be doable. But Percy knows that there's a rottenness inside him that won't be able to handle it. Will get simmering and bubblings until it spills into all his bitter cracks. It'll leave him angry, rude. Desperate.

He wipes away the tears threatening to spill over the edge of his eyes, and tucks himself closer into the wall. "Yeah, yeah, that's fine, G-man, I'll be cool."

They both know he's lying.

Grover exhales so soft, this weary tired sound, and the shattered remains of Percy's heart that float endlessly in the void of his soul shatter even more. Why can't he just be normal? Why can't he be a good friend? Why does he keep ruining everything with everyone?

"Okay," Grover says. "I gotta get back to it. Bye."

The immediate end of the call after Percy's "bye, love you" crests through him like a tidal wave. Slams hard and heavy, cold and furious. He throws the phone across the room. It's not satisfying enough.

What is wrong with him, what is wrong with him? Why is he like this - needy, angry, pathetic? Why can't he chill out? Go with the flow? Relax on an inner tube and float idly with the current and the gentle waves.

Instead he's a rolling hurricane, destroying everything in his path. Island dwellers who've grown up dealing with it for so long just sigh and make preparations and shelter it. Newbies less so, cowering from his torrential rains and shattering winds. The ones used to it, they just tiredly sweep up the pieces when it's done and move on. They'd be fine, happy even, if he stopped coming around. If he stopped blowing their things around and breaking windows.

But others - the howls of wind, the threat of floods and lightning - it's too much. They're scared and in the aftermath, they nervously step around, unsure of how to handle the debris he leaves behind. They don't know to avoid the sharp branches, keep an eye out for broken glass, that the eye of the storm is a breather, not an end.

But the island dwellers do.

No wonder Grover is so tired.

#bpd!percy #percy jackson #grover underwood #happy talks pjo #so wanted to show some downsides to Percy's bpd and his relationship with grover #i think grover gets who percy is but sometimes its just a lot to deal with all the time. esp after tartarus with percy's ptsd

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theres-a-body-here · 1 year ago

Text

Killers with Pearl!Reader

You cried, begged, and pleaded for anyone who take a chance on you. You dreamed of becoming a star. The Entity gladly reached out her claw, promising you the role of all eternity. You gratefully accepted. You thanked your "supporters" and blew kisses into the air as you walked into the cold, empty fog.

The stage was finally yours

The Ghostface

Danny wasn't amused

He was put on babysitting duty by the Entity; show you the ropes, make sure the others don't bully you, etc.

He had his work cut out for him

You were quite the mess

Neurotic, bratty, and downright vicious when things didn't go your way

This translated into your trials going pretty bad

Gen rushing and whole team escapes

Danny could work with this

He would turn you into the best killer around

(second to him, of course)

Even if it took forever

And in the Entity's realm, there was no rush

You found yourself in the realm alongside Ghostface, within the eerie recreation of your family's farm, sculpted by the Entity. As you practiced your axe swings, he leaned against a decaying fence, arms folded. He let out an exasperated sigh and halted your motions, his voice cutting through the tense air.

"Hey, hold up," he remarked, his masked face giving away little emotion. "You're not getting that technique right. You're swinging way too wildly. You gotta be precise or the survivors are gonna have an easy time spinning you."

Your brows furrowed, a mixture of annoyance and defiance brewing within you. "Oh, really? And who made you the expert on my style?"

He shrugged casually. "Just trying to help. No need to get all bristly."

A surge of frustration rose within you. You clutched your axe handle tighter, your knuckles whitening. "I don't need your help. I'm destined for greatness. I'm meant to be a star."

Danny's expression remained inscrutable behind his mask, but his tone turned more serious. "Being a star means learning and improving. Even stars have to take criticism."

Your grip on the axe tightened even more, your fingers trembling slightly. The words hit a nerve, a raw vulnerability you rarely let show. "I can handle the criticism just fine. But not from you, and not when I'm on the cusp of something big."

Danny lets out another sigh, which carried annoyance. "Fine, have it your way. Just remember, the Entity doesn't care about your style points. It wants results."

You stared at him, a battle of wills and egos in the air. The urge to swing your axe in frustration warred with the nagging truth in his words.

"You just can't stand the idea of someone else shining brighter, can you?" you retorted, your words dripping with bitterness. "But guess what? I'm going to be a star, and then I'll be her favorite, not you."

The Twins

Charlotte warmed up to you pretty quick, even if she didn't know what the hell an actor was

Victor was happy his sister was happy, so he liked you too

You both hung out at your farm

The twins felt a little bit in their element

Nice open space with animals. Nature surrounding them

Victor liked the chickens

Charlotte liked the lightbulbs

You liked having an audience

You gladly put on plays and theatric reenactments of poetry for them

Mostly performed at the killer camp

You're absolutely terrible

Having been hiding for most of their lives, The Deshayes siblings had no frame of reference

You were amazing in their eyes

You spun and kicked your feet as you sang for the twins. Your dancing was stiff and your singing was worse. Out of breath and voice cracks littered throughout the number. The twins were in awe. Victor swayed and gargled out some semblance of the melody he was hearing as Charlotte was clapping to the beat.

The Nightmare chuckled at your awkward attempt at show tunes. He had always enjoyed mocking others. And as he saw your "dancing", he couldn't resist mocking the new fish.

"Looks like we've got a new clown in town," he snickered, gesturing towards you as he glanced at Kenneth, who in turn gave Freddy a nasty glare.

But his laughter quickly came to a halt when he caught sight of Charlotte giving him the death stare, her hands tightly gripping her sickle. Victor didn't seem to notice as he was still glued to your performance.

Julie swiftly elbowed Freddy in the gut and snapped at him "Shut the fuck up before you get gutted asshole"

The Cannibal

Instant connection between the two of you

Both of you being raised at Farms all your lives

The Entity never recreated Bubba's farm

So you let him move into yours

You wanted more fans

Bubba squealed with joy when you told him of your offer

He wasted no time getting his things

He spent so long hugging every animal he could catch

He misses his family

Please comfort him

You also act for him

He claps and squeals happily

He'll join you if you talk him into it

You could hardly contain their excitement as they twirled and pirouetted around Bubba.

"C'mon Bubba, you gotta try it! It's so much fun," You insisted with a wide grin.

Bubba cocked his head to one side, making an animalistic noise that loosely resembled a question.

"Yes, I mean dancing and singing with me," You explained patiently. "I promise we'll have a good time."

Bubba considered the proposition for a moment before nodding his head vigorously - clearly excited at the prospect of sharing something new with his friend.

And so You began to sing – your voice cracking horribly as you struggled to find the right notes. Bubba followed along by making strange grunting noises, attempting to mimic what he heard from your mouth.

As terrible as the duet was, there was something almost freeing about it. For just a few moments, you felt like Anita Stewart.

You both continued flailing around and shouting lyrics until both of you collapsed onto the ground in exhausted laughter - bounding over each other like children who had just finished playing tag.

The Legion

Being one of the younger killers, it was only a matter of time before The Legion sought you out

Susie really wanted to meet you after being in a Trial in your realm

"They have a farm, Frank! I really wanna pet a cow. Please Please Please"

Frank couldn't say no to her

They arrive to your realm and walk in on you slow dancing with a scarecrow

Talk about awkward

You quickly drop Howard to greet your guests

"Oh Hello! I didn't think anyone would drop by"

You giggle as you sway in your red dress like you weren't caught doing something unhinged

It's clear you don't see the issue with it

Despite the rocky start, the Legion warms up to you

And then Frank discovered Theda

"IS THAT A FUCKING GATOR?!?!?!?!"

Frank was stunned as he pointed at Theda sunbathing at the lake's bank

Your family farm instantly became the second Legion hideout

You sat among the legion teens near the bank of your realm's farm, throwing bits of food into the lake for Theda. The alligator was a rare source of entertainment and joy in the realm, and they had come to enjoy these peaceful moments by the water.

Frank leaned forward eagerly, watching as Theda slowly approached their makeshift buffet.

"Come on girl, do a death-roll for us!" he shouted excitedly. He turned back to you with an expectant tone. "You think she'll do it?"

"Well, I don't know," replied you nonchalantly. "She doesn't usually go for those kinds of tricks."

But just as you spoke, Theda suddenly lunged out of the water and snatched up a piece of meat in her powerful jaws. With surprising agility for such a massive creature, she spun around in one swift motion - performing a full death-roll that left Frank cheering triumphantly.

"You fucking saw that?! Holy shit, that was awesome!" he exclaimed.

Susie giggled at Frank's excitement while Julie rolled her eyes behind her mask. Joey was simply lying on the grass with his arms behind his head as he watched the clouds.

The group continued to throw bits of snacks into the water amidst laughter and chatter while keeping an eye on Theda's movements.

Masterlist here

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #pearl!reader #killer!reader #killers x reader #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #the twins #The twins x reader #the cannibal #cannibal x reader #bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #the legion #the legion x reader

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fxtalitygod · 1 year ago

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「 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙲𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 」

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (or Afab!Reader)

Synopsis: You preferred your coffee to be black, at least you used to– Gojo Satoru changed that.

Genre: Fluff to Angst

Warnings: Fluff to Angst (Heavy angst), language, Light JJK chapter 236 SPOILERS, character death, vague imagery of mutilation (nothing overly descriptive), reader has a nightmare, depictions of a dead body/corpse, mentions of pregnancy, themes of grief, (only at the end)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/n: I wrote this mainly as a fem reader, but it can also be read as afab since the reader's pronouns are never specified.

P.S. I know it looks like someone needs to stop me from thinking of ways to write angst for Gojo after reading chapter 236...but that's only because someone needs to stop me from thinking of ways to write angst for Gojo after reading chapter 236!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Black."

"Black?!"

"Yes, what is that unusual?"

"No, it's just...how can you drink that?"

"I put it to my lips, and I ju-"

"I understand how the function of drinking works. I mean, how can you drink something so...bitter."

Satoru's question was more of a statement than a question, as he cringed at the thought of consuming such a bitter beverage. You and Gojo had been dating for a few months and were still getting to know each other, exploring your interests, preferences, likes and dislikes...tastes in coffee.

"Alright, how should I be drinking it?" you questioned, smiling as you watched him think before perking up as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head.

"You wanna go on a coffee date?" Gojo asked, smirking as he did so.

"Don't you think that's a little cliché?" you responded, quirking a brow at him.

"Nothing can be cliché if it's with you, my dear."

You could only laugh at his witty comment, glancing over to see him wiggling his brows as he awaited your answer.

"Alright, fine! But for future reference, try to come up with better pick-up lines than that, or I can't see this relationship lasting long." You joked as you stood from the bleachers you had been seated on.

You watched as your boyfriend clutched his chest in faux hurt, letting a theatrical gasp as he gave you a pained look. You could only laugh at his dramatic behavior, shaking your head as you stepped towards him, bending down to kiss him on the cheek. Gojo sat there accepting your offer of affection but wasn't entirely satisfied. Before you could walk away, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down to give him a proper kiss before pulling away slightly.

"I'll meet up with you after class?" the second-year mumbled on your lips.

"If you even survive because I'm pretty sure you're late, and Yaga isn't going to be too keen on the explanation that your tardiness was due to you swapping spit with your girlfriend." you teased.

"We didn't even make out though."

"Try explaining that to Yaga," you knowingly stated.

Gojo knew you were right, sighing and cursing under his breath before standing, giving one last peck to your lips before running off, mumbling to himself as he tried to think of a reasonable excuse for his late arrival, something that would be somewhat justifiable to his instructor. You felt a warmth rise in your chest as you watched him make one last turn towards you, waving as he continued to make his way to his classroom. How did you manage to pull a guy like him? That question would forever remain a secret, but you wouldn't dwell on it– you would focus on whatever remaining time you had left with him.

"My head still hurts," Gojo murmured as he rubbed the tender spot on his scalp from where Yaga had bonked him.

"I told you," you teased in a sing-song tone, leaning towards him with a smug smile plastered on your face.

Your partner only shoved you away lightly as he tried to control the amused smile that began to grace his features before pausing. You hadn't noticed that Satoru had stopped until you turned to see he wasn't by your side anymore. You looked behind you to notice that he was staring at a display window. You couldn't see what was inside due to your current distance, but you could tell your boyfriend was definitely drawn to it.

"Is everything alright over there?" you called, tilting your head in curiosity as you stood in your current spot.

"How do you feel about going on that coffee date?" Satoru called back, looking over at you.

"Now?"

"Right now."

You hesitated for a moment, not feeling entirely comfortable going on a date in your uniform, but reasoned that it would be ridiculous to postpone a simple date based on your apparel– Satoru was still in his uniform, so why did it matter? With that internal debate out of mind, you walked toward your partner, taking his outstretched hand and walking into the coffee shop.

"You sit over there."

"Huh?" you were confused by your boyfriend's instruction, giving him a puzzled look.

"I'll go order the coffee and a few treats, don't worry, go sit over there and relax," Gojo explained, an overly enthusiastic smile plastered on his face for a guy who was going to simply put in an order for 'coffee and a few treats.'

You gave the fellow shaman a look of suspicion before walking over to a clean table, taking a seat, and watching the tall individual walk toward the counter. You couldn't hear what he had ordered due to his almost hushed tone as he spoke to the barista behind the counter. You waited a short while before being presented with your companion and all the items he had purchased.

Before you could say anything, Gojo slid one of the cups toward you, presenting it as your coffee before pulling back and staring at you. Your eyes flitted from the cup back to him a few times, feeling apprehensive as he persisted in staring at you. His awaiting gaze was a little unsettling at this point.

"What did you do to it?" you asked, pushing the beverage away.

"Nothing, just take a sip," the eager-looking individual insisted as he slid the cup back to you.

"You didn't do anything weird to this, did you? Didn't poison it or anything? I don't want to be the victim of a crime of passion case."

"No, I didn't do anything weird to it. Also, if I were to kill you, I wouldn't poison you– that would be boring," Your boyfriend answered.

"How reassuring," you stated, taking a deep breath before looking at the cup sitting idly, "Here goes nothing."

After collecting all your courage, you lifted the cup so that the rim rested on your lips, taking one last look at Satoru before taking a sip. The sweetness and thickness of the drink hit you unexpectedly, causing you to choke suddenly. You pulled the cup away from your mouth, grabbing a napkin to cough into as you registered what had happened.

"Are you okay?" Satoru spoke, trying to hide his laughter– he was failing miserably at that.

"Yeah," you sputtered, "What the hell did you put in that coffee?"

"Technically, I didn't put anything in that coffee; the barista did," your companion corrected.

"Alright, smart aleck, what did you tell the barista to put in that?" you responded, grabbing another napkin to wipe at your mouth, slowly catching your breath from the initial shock.

"Relax, I just asked her to add creamer and a few packs of sugar."

"How much do you consider is a few?"

"Uhhhh... so how was it?" Gojo redirected, deciding not to answer that question.

"It was definitely a shock," you sarcastically answered as you glared at your boyfriend.

"It couldn't have been that bad. Come on, just give it one more try, pretty please," Satoru pleaded, looking at you through his snowy eyelashes, batting them innocently.

You sighed, giving in to him begrudgingly as you brought the beverage back to your lips, pushing your hesitance to the side as you took a sip. You let the flavors rest on your tongue, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and brew combined with the thickness of the creamer that also enhanced the sweetness. The drink wasn't your preference, but you couldn't admit it was entirely dissatisfactory. If you had been the one who controlled how much sugar and creamer was added, it may have been more to your liking.

"Soooo?" your partner drew, waiting for an answer he would be satisfied with.

"It's alright, a little sweet for my liking, but it isn't god awful," you admitted, "next time, I would balance out the sugar and creamer ratio."

"So you're saying there is a next time?" Satoru teased, raising a smug brow.

You had the urge to punch the cockiness off of that ever-so-handsome face of his but decided against it as you leaned over the table and pecked his lips, catching him by surprise.

"Yeah, there is a next time."

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/n."

You hung up the phone, setting the device down on the nearby table as you stood in place, looking out the window, repeating the apologetic statement in your mind. What was the point of apologizing for such a loss– it won't bring anyone back; it won't mend your broken heart; it won't resolve the fact that you're standing here rubbing at your stomach, knowing that you were about to conceive a child without a father figure present, which you only figured both out recently.

You fiddled with the silver band around your ring finger before slowly sliding it off and placing it on the table next to your discarded phone. Your legs felt weak as you only stood there, staring at the window, not even looking at the lovely scenery beyond the pane– you only stared at the glass barrier that separated you from the outside world. There was a slight quiver in your breath as the events of your life played in your head. All the firsts you had with the man, all the important events you shared with him, all the tender moments. From the day you met to the day you eloped with him.

This was another day to add to your memory.

The day you created a life and the day you lost a life.

You stood there unmoving and noiseless until someone came and escorted you to your room, saying you should rest. Laying in your bed felt like torture that night, and every night after that– it was a constant reminder that you were now a widow, that you had lost your lover. When you would dream, you would dream of him, but those dreams quickly turned into nightmares. The images were vivid, as you imagined your lover's mangled body, surrounded by his own blood that had turned cold with time. Your heart would hammer against your ribs, and your breathing would grow heavy as if someone was sitting on your chest. A ringing sound could be heard the longer you looked at his corpse, crescendoing as your gaze took in every detail of the horrific sight before you.

And then you'd wake up to the sound of your own alarm.

You gasped as you sat up, waking up in a cold sweat, goosebumps littering your skin. You looked at your phone, seeing it was past the original time set, meaning you had slept through the initial alarm. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you sat there, looking at the empty side of your bed blankly; however, before you could dwell on the situation, your phone went off. You quickly reached over and looked at the caller ID, seeing Shoko's name illuminating on the screen.

"Hello," you groggily asked, not having the energy for your usual friendly greeting.

"Hey, are you sure you want to do this?"

You were puzzled by her question, but when you pulled your phone away in confusion, you noticed the date and what that meant.

"Yeah," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Alright, see you soon then..." a pause as you were about to hang up, your finger hovering over the red button, "Hey, Y/n, if I had the power to bring him back, I would...even if he was an idiot. I just wish I had that kind of power."

"Hey Shoko, it's alright. I need to get ready, but I'll see you soon," you reassured her, knowing that your husband's death was just as painful for her as it was for you.

"Right, see you soon."

With that, you used what little energy you had to press the red button and stand, heading to your bathroom to freshen up. Walking up to the mirror, you could see how disheveled you were– it was frankly ridiculous– seeing your messy hair and your sloppy choice of clothing. You scoffed as you looked at yourself, disappointed in how you let yourself go because you knew Satoru wouldn't have wanted this for you, especially in your circumstances.

You took a deep breath before exhaling, trying to push your emotions aside so you would be able to accomplish the basic necessity of taking care of yourself. This was the daily morning routine currently, waking up a sweaty mess from your night terrors before cleaning yourself to look as tidy as possible. If somebody were to ask someone close to you how you were doing, they would say you were handling it well, complimenting you on how strong you were being. Although, those people only saw you in broad daylight. When you were left in the solitude of your bedroom, you would let go of the strong composure, permitting yourself to slouch and remove the concealer from your undereye to reveal your eye bags, allowing yourself to remove the neutral expression from your face to reveal the cold, stoic one beneath it, which wasn't very flattering.

After a few hours, you stood on the border of Tokyo's Jujutsu High. It took every part of you to step past the barrier, but you managed to do it after shutting down every impulse to turn around and break for it. You walked the grounds, feeling unfamiliar with the surroundings, although you had walked through these halls more times than you could count. The atmosphere just wasn't the same.

"Over here," you heard a voice exclaim, turning to see it was Shoko, "I thought it would be best to meet up out here first."

You only nodded as you stood in front of her. The air was thick with tension as you both stood in silence. You distracted yourself by messing with the chain around your neck.

"You could always back out if you want to..." Shoko broke the silence, although in a hushed tone as if she were trying to preserve the stillness.

"I need to do this, Shoko."

The brunette looked at you hesitantly before nodding, gesturing for you to follow her. You walked through the cold hallway for about a minute before stopping in front of a door. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you stared down the hunk of metal, not knowing what to expect.

"He's already in there," Shoko spoke once more, placing a hand on your shoulder, "Look, you can leave whenever you are ready; you don't have to stay in there, and if you need me there at any point, do not hesitate to ask."

You only gave your friend a curt nod before walking through the door, letting the heavy metal shut behind you as you scanned the features of the lifeless room. It was nothing special, but if you happened to get locked in this room, you would probably go insane. Before you could distract yourself with ridiculous scenarios, you were struck with the reality of the situation as your eyes landed on the oddly shaped white cloth draped over the examination table.

Without even thinking, you approached the table, pausing just short of it as you examined the shape of the cloth. You sucked in a breath, holding it as you grabbed the corner of the fabric. There was a moment of hesitance as you gripped the material before pulling it back to reveal the lifeless face of Gojo Satoru, your beloved husband.

You didn't know what to do or say at the moment– I mean, what could you do or say when being met with your lover's cold body? However, you did have to breathe. You hadn't noticed, but when you began to feel the tightening in your chest, you remembered to allow breath into your lungs. Your dreams were nowhere accurate to the state of his current corpse, and you didn't know if you should have been disturbed or grateful for that. He wasn't horrifically mangled, but his lower half was no longer attached to his upper torso.

You looked into his cold, lifeless, blue eyes, the same eyes that used to gleam with mischief and pride. If your heart wasn't broken before, it was positively demolished at this stage. You brought your hand to hover just above his eyes before letting them touch his skin, moving them to force his eyes closed. Your hand rested there for a moment before moving to swipe away at the stray hairs that sat on his forehead.

Standing there, unmoving, you took a moment to look at your significant other, seeing his peaceful-looking expression, one you recognized from the mornings when he had successfully gotten a satisfying night of rest– now he's resting eternally; hopefully a peaceful one as your lover had always struggled with sleep. God, you wished he was just sleeping, that he would wake up and tell you it was all a sick joke, but you knew better– Satoru would never let you suffer like that. As you were about to back away and leave the room, starting to move your hands from the table, you felt something brush over your knuckles, causing you to lightly gasp.

You moved your gaze to look at what you unintentionally touched, revealing something that managed to cause your shattered heart to drop.

The sight of the ring on your lover's hand, the cold metal idly sitting on his unmoving finger.

You choked back a sob, a suppressed sound emitting from your throat as you took Satoru's limp hand, gripping it tight as your other hand found its way to his forehead, pushing back more strands of hair. You suppressed your cries as you bent down, closing your eyes, not having the heart to look at him like this anymore, as your quivering lips kissed his forehead. Your body silently shook as you continued to contain your sobs, tears escaping your eyes as you slipped the ring off his finger, placing it in your pocket.

You were in that position for some time before finally pulling away and walking out of the room before you could look at his dull state and linger any longer. Upon stepping out of the room, you were greeted by Shoko's gaze of pity– it sickened you. The last thing you wanted was to be pitied, but in predicaments such as these, you had no choice but to be pitied. So, if you were to be pitied anyway, what was the point of hiding the underlying issue?

"I'm pregnant," you blurted, watching Shoko's face drop.

"Y/n, I didn't even know, I would have never-"

You cut off Shoko as she attempted an apology for something out of her control, "How could you have known? I for sure as hell didn't until a few minutes before I got the call that my husband was dead," you weakly smiled, "At least I'll always have a part of him with me, right?" your voice shook as you sarcastically asked that question, allowing more tears to spill.

"Y/n, I-"

"Please don't apologize, Shoko. It isn't your fault that things ended up so shitty," you reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Look, I'm getting too tired considering that it's still early in the day, so I'm gonna grab a coffee, you could join me if you'd like," you offered, shrugging your shoulders as you wiped at your tears.

"Y/n, I wish I could, but I have to..." Shoko trailed as she chose her words carefully, "I need to work with him."

You gave the doctor an understanding nod, waving goodbye as you made your leave from the school. Leaving the isolated school to the city was almost refreshing as there were plenty of things to distract you from the reality of your predicament. To some, the walk may have been boisterous and annoying, but for you, it was calming and relaxing to be fixated on mundane things that didn't affect you.

That didn't last long.

Your feet stopped moving due to muscle memory of your route to your current location. You looked up to see the usual coffee joint you visited– the same one where Satoru had taken you for your first coffee date. You smiled for a moment due to the nostalgia; however, it faded quickly, remembering you weren't visiting with your usual partner. Despite the upsetting realization, you managed to hold your composure, fiddling with the chain around your neck before pulling it out from beneath your shirt, watching your wedding ring dangle from the delicate item. You took in a shuddering breath as you pulled your spouse's ring from your pocket, taking your time in slipping the metal band onto the chain to dangle next to yours before placing the necklace back around your neck, tucking it underneath your shirt once more.

"Y/n, is that you? It's been quite a bit. For a moment, I thought you found a new spot to lounge at," one of the familiar baristas chuckled before halting her laughter to look at the area around you, "Satoru isn't with you today?"

You sucked in a breath before plastering a smile onto your face and replying simply, "No."

"I see. I'll get you your usual then?" the barista asked, ready to turn away and prepare your drink before you stopped her.

"No, today I'd like it black, a plain dark roast," you replied.

A bitter drink for a bitter situation.

"Oh, alright then."

You could hear the hesitance linger in the barista's voice as she walked to the machine. It only took a couple minutes for the girl to prepare your simple order before handing it to you. Thanking the young woman, you bent down to pull some cash from your purse, coming up to see a stunned expression as she looked at your chest. Without thinking, you quickly looked down to be met with the sight of your necklace and the two rings dangling from it. Before the worker could speak, you placed the money on the counter and walked over to an isolated table– conveniently enough, it was the same table you and your husband would sit at, the one you always sat at since your first visit to this cafe.

"Yuck, how do you drink this Mommy?"

"Well, it's simple dear, you just bring the cups to your lips and-"

"I know how to drink, Mommy, but how can you drink something so icky?"

The mother lightly chuckled.

"Well, how would you have made it?"

"Hmmm...Here! Try my hot cocoa, Mommy! It is much better than that yucky drink."

"Oh, I bet it is, Sweetie."

You could hear them smiling as the mother-daughter pair giggled, enjoying their shared time, reminding you of a similar moment you shared with your lover– you were happy for them, nevertheless. Bringing the cup to your lips, you took a whiff of the dark brew, letting the scent linger for a while before taking a sip. The rich taste was almost foreign but satisfying nonetheless, at least that is what you told yourself as you slumped in your chair.

The room went eerily quiet as eyes were drawn to your form, watching as you cried into your beverage. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed breathily, putting the cup onto the table to cover your mouth to muffle your soft cries, your other hand placed gently on your stomach. You knew that they were looking at you, that you were causing a scene– it was embarrassing, but you didn't care. You had the right to grieve because god...

That coffee was so fucking bitter.

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winxanity-ii · 8 months ago

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 06 Chapter 06 | smoldering truths⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the classroom.

The air hung heavy with the murmur of pre-graduation jitters and whispered dreams of high school.

You, however, remained unmoved. The childish excitement of your classmates was a dull echo in your ears.

A flicker of amusement sparked behind your eyes. They chattered about their Quirks, childish displays of power sparking and popping around the room.

How predictable.

Quirks, the very foundation of this hero society, a system ripe for manipulation.

Ten years.

It's been ten years since you'd woke up in this strange reality—in another world not your own.

A world that, upon closer inspection, held a bitter irony.

Here, Quirks were celebrated, seen as the pinnacle of human evolution.

Yet you, the embodiment of control, the once-feared Makima, were Quirkless—or so it seemed on the surface.

The truth, like a slow-burning ember, had gradually ignited within you.

Memories, fragmented at first, had coalesced into a horrifying clarity.

You weren't some Quirkless anomaly—you were the Control Devil. A powerful entity ripped from your own world and deposited in this one through a freak accident you still couldn't fully grasp.

It's been ten, long years since you'd both discovered and accepted the harsh reality of your situation—there would be no devouring by Chainsaw Man.

No rebirth in a world of blood and battle—of becoming one with Pochita, of a life built on fear and adoration.

That dream, once so vivid and tantalizing, dissipated like smoke...forever out of reach.

The initial wave of despair had been crushing. You wandered through life a ghost blending in with a world that offered you nothing but a gilded cage.

The blonde hair, a cruel reminder of what could have been, became an obsession—a desperate attempt to cling to a shred of the life you craved.

You'd latch onto anyone with that shade of gold, a pale imitation of your lost god.

Bakugo, bless his fiery soul, had been your first victim. You'd use your power, his body a marionette dancing to your will.

As time passed, you still found yourself cupping his face, forcing him to meet your vacant eyes, a single, bored sigh escaping your lips, "If only you had brown eyes..." The confusion and rage contorting his face brought a hollow echo of satisfaction.

A sudden bellow ripped through the classroom, shattering your reverie. Your teacher, a portly man with a perpetually harried expression, stood at the front of the class, exasperated.

"So, since you're all third-years," he droned, his voice laden with weary resignation, "it's time for you to think seriously about your futures."

He reached for a stack of papers, his sigh echoing in the stillness.

"I'll pass out handouts for your future plans now, but..." he trailed off, his eyes scanning the classroom.

A flurry of activity erupted. Lights flickered as students activated their Quirks. One boy's arms contorted into spring-loaded coils, another levitated a stack of textbooks with a strained grunt.

You watched with a detached amusement, the corners of your lips curling into a knowing smile.

"...you're all pretty much planning to go into the hero course, right?" the teacher muttered, his voice drowned out by the excited chatter.

"Yes!" the students roared in unison, a chorus of bravado.

The teacher chuckled defeatedly. "Yes, yes, you all have wonderful Quirks!" He held up a hand, the classroom quieting down slightly. "But using your powers at school is against the rules!"

A collective groan rippled through the room.

You leaned forward, your voice a saccharine whisper that cut through the noise. "But wouldn't the true measure of a hero be their ability to control their power, even in the face of temptation?"

All eyes turned to you. A hush fell over the room, the weight of their gazes heavy on your shoulders.

You met their stares with a serene smile, the mask you wore flawlessly. "After all," you continued, your voice dripping with honeyed insincerity, "a hero who can't follow the rules is hardly a hero at all, wouldn't you agree?"

The students exchanged uncertain glances, a seed of doubt planted in their minds. The teacher, however, looked at you with a weary gratitude. "Ah, yes. Thank you, Akuma-san."

"Teach!" Bakugo's voice boomed across the room, shattering the fragile peace. "Don't lump us all in the same group. I'm not gonna be stuck at the bottom with the rest of these rejects."

"That was uncalled for, Katsuki!"

"You all should shut up like the extras you are!" he snarled, his voice laced with venomous contempt.

The teacher, used to Bakugo's outbursts, sighed heavily. "Oh, if I remember correctly, you want to go to U.A. High, right, Bakugo?"

A collective gasp rippled through the classroom. U.A., the prestigious hero academy, was a dream most students only dared to whisper about. The air crackled with a mix of awe and disbelief.

"U.A.?" one student squeaked, his voice barely a whisper. "That national school?!"

"It was in the top 0.2% this year, you know!" another chimed in, their voice laced with awe.

"Their acceptance rate is always really low, too!" another student added, a hint of envy in their tone.

Bakugo scoffed, his chest puffing out with pride, reveling in the shocked silence. "That's exactly why you guys are just extras!" he roared, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "I aced the mock test! I'm the only one at this school who could possibly get into U.A."

He scanned the room, his gaze finally landing back on you. A smirk played on his lips, a silent challenge. "I'll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero! My name will be inscribed on the list of top earners!"

A glint of something akin to admiration flickered in Bakugo's crimson eyes as he met your gaze. A silent conversation passed between you, a reminder of the unspoken event that took place years ago on the dusty playground.

Back then, after your... introduction to one another, you sparked a flicker of something else in him.

You became a necessary thorn in his side, a challenge he couldn't quite overcome. Here, in the confines of the classroom, you allowed him to maintain his facade of superiority—the "lord" to your unassuming "lady."

However, the dynamic shifted dramatically behind closed doors. You, the seemingly docile enigma, transformed into the puppeteer pulling the strings.

With subtle manipulations and veiled suggestions, you subtly guided his explosive rage towards your own ends.

It was a dance as intricate as it was exhilarating, a constant push and pull between your calculated control and his unbridled ambition.

The teacher cleared his throat, breaking the silent exchange. "Oh yeah, Midoriya, you wanted to go to U.A., too, right?"

A tense silence followed. All eyes darted towards Midoriya, who shrank under the sudden scrutiny.

"Erk..." Midoriya Izuku stammered, a blush creeping up his neck.

The class erupted in a cacophony of disbelief. "Hahahaha!" one student roared, tears welling from laughter.

"Huh? Midoriya? No way!" another chimed in. Disbelief morphed into open mockery.

"You can't get into the hero course just by studying!" a voice shouted from the back.

Midoriya's shoulders slumped. "Th-They got rid of that rule! There's just no precedent..." he mumbled defensively.

A guttural growl cut through the chatter. Bakugo, ever the volatile one, slammed his explosive hand clean through Midoriya's desk.

A loud crack echoed through the room, followed by Midoriya's startled yelp. "Gah! Ngh..." he gasped, scrambling back as debris rained down.

Bakugo leaned in menacingly, a cruel smirk twisting his features. "Hey, Deku!"

Midoriya flinched at the nickname, a look of pure terror on his face, his voice barely a whisper. "Ah...!"

"You're below the rejects!" Bakugo roared, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're Quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?!"

Midoriya, ever the underdog, tried to reason with him. "No, wait, Kacchan! It's not like I'm trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me! It's just that it's been my goal ever since I was little. And well... I won't know unless I try—"

Bakugo cut him off with a dismissive scoff. "Whaddaya mean, unless you try?! Are you taking the test for fun?! What the hell can you do? You're Quirkless!"

You watched the exchange with a detached interest.

This Midoriya—this Quirkless nobody, dared to dream of U.A when even you didn't care for it with all of your power?

A flicker of curiosity sparked within you. Perhaps keeping an eye on him wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

☆

The shrill cry of the school bell cut through the afternoon lull, its harsh clang signaling the end of another day.

You meticulously scoured over your notes, making sure everything was in place before packing things into your backpack, the familiar routine a comforting constant.

As you cleaned up, a flicker of movement in the classroom caught your eye.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the unmistakable blond spiky hair of Bakugo. He was striding purposefully towards Midoriya, his two lackeys tailing behind him like particularly unpleasant shadows.

A low rumble of annoyance emanated from one of them, but the exact words were lost in the general din of the departing students.

You didn't need to be a mind-reader to know this wasn't going to be a pleasant encounter for Midoriya.

You'd seen enough of these interactions over the years to recognize the warning signs—the puffed-out chest, the simmering anger radiating off Bakugo like heat waves off a cracked sidewalk.

With a mental shrug, you opted to ignore the impending altercation. There was no point in getting involved. Midoriya, bless his heart, would weather the storm as he always did.

Bakugo loomed over Midoriya, a sneer contorting his features. His red eyes crackled with barely contained rage, a stark contrast to Midoriya's wide, frightened eyes.

In Bakugo's hand, you saw a flash of green—Midoriya's precious hero notebook.

Your eyebrow arched in interest. It seems that this wasn't just your usual bullying routine. This was something more.

Taking your time packing up, you were able to witness Bakugo deliver some rather cruel words.

"Hmph...Most top first-string heroes have stories about them from their school days," he started, his voice dripping with condescension before lighting the green journal on fire with his Quirk.

Midoriya can only gasp in horror as his childhood-friend-turn-bully tossed the notebook with a flick of his wrist.

It arced through the air in a slow-motion blur before disappearing through the open window.

"I want the shine of being able to be called the only student to make it into U.A. from this mediocre city junior high school," he declared, a manic glint in his crimson eyes. "I mean, I'm a perfectionist, after all."

A cruel smirk twisted his lips as he leaned closer to Midoriya, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Ah... And I gotta piece of sound advice if you wanna be a hero that badly. There's a quick and easy way to do it to."

He gestured dramatically towards the window, where the discarded notebook had vanished. "Believe that you'll be born with a Quirk in your next life and take a last-chance dive off the roof!"

And with that, you were on your way, leaving them to their escalating conflict.

You had things to do, and Bakugo's playground squabbles held little interest for you.

Arriving home, you were greeted by an unsettling quiet. You shuffled inside, the silence pressing down on you.

The usual afternoon routine then unfolded—your mother emerged from the kitchen, her face etched with worry. "How was school, ____?" she inquired, her voice laced with concern. "Did you have a good lunch?" she fussed, hovering for a moment.

You offered a mumbled response, neither confirming nor denying a desire for a snack. She mentioned your father working late, a familiar refrain.

You allowed her to fret for a few moments longer, the silence occasionally punctuated by her worried questions, before retreating to your room.

The revelation years ago still hung heavy in the air. Instead of continuing the facade of Quirklessness like your unfortunate parents, you'd chosen a different path.

You'd shed a sliver of anonymity, revealing a fragment of your true power—the Control Devil, the Devil of Domination.

With practiced innocence, you'd approached your mother, claiming to manipulate your dolls with "strings." In reality, these strings were meticulously crafted illusions, visible only to those you deemed inferior.

The memory still elicited a wry smile.

Your mother's delight at your "Quirk," a miraculous emergence from two Quirkless parents, had been genuine and heartwarming. Her joy was a stark contrast to your father's reaction. He remained distant, his gaze guarded.

You cared little for his approval though. His wariness simply reinforced your commitment to staying undetected.

In fact, your carefully crafted illusion of a Quirk served as a perfect shield. It was a strategic move, a way to avoid the scrutiny someone like Midoriya faced.

The thought of him, Quirkless and ridiculed, sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but admire his tenacity, but you weren't about to follow in his vulnerable footsteps.

No, you were the Control Devil, and you'd operate in the shadows, your true power a secret weapon waiting to be unleashed.

Tossing your backpack onto the floor, you settled in to tackle the mountain of homework threatening to bury you. As the hours melted away, your focus remained unwavering.

Your phone vibrated sporadically, a notification flickering on the screen.

You ignored it with practiced ease, the dull glow a minor distraction in your studious world.

Finally, with a sigh of relief, you slammed your textbook shut, the last equation conquered. Exhaustion gnawed at the edges of your concentration, urging you towards your bed.

A surge of curiosity, however, propelled you towards your neglected phone.

Unlocking it, you were met with a barrage of texts from Bakugo. The first few were cryptic, simply asking if you were busy.

Over the four or five hours you'd dedicated to homework, two more messages materialized, the first a blunt "Can you come over?" and the last, a curt declaration of "I need you."

One could do but wonder what made Bakugo so privy to your touch, presence—approval.

It was simple, really. You just made him feel important.

After the revelation of having a 'Quirk' to your parents and registering it into the Quirk Registry, you then revealed Bakugo of your secret—a 'Quirk' not of brute force, but of influence: Marionette.

You swore him to secrecy—the childish way, of course—because if secrecy was what you truly desired, it would be no problem for you to attain it.

It was a lie that he was the first to know, but the deception served a purpose.

It created a bond, a sense of shared knowledge that inflated his already considerable ego. He, Bakugo Katsuki, was privy to your 'secret' (or so he believed).

He was special.

A low hum escaped your lips as you mulled over the messages. It wasn't like Bakugo to reach out, especially with such an obvious need.

The silence of your home pressed in again, and with a shrug, you decided a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Leaving your phone on your desk, you grabbed your shoes and headed out the door, the mystery of Bakugo's need leaving a knot of curiosity in your stomach.

A/N: in case everything wasn't clear, there has been a 10 year time skip between ch.5 to ch.6. hehehe I love writing this so much, lol. also, just wanted to give a heads up, i won't be updating tmr, hence the double update today; i'll be busy completing homework all damn day 💔💔 pray for me y'all. see ya next update 😘

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fushiguro · 2 months ago

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okay i just read the whole chapter and while i admit seeing the trio together one last time was nice, i can't feel an ounce of satisfaction knowing they haven't got a proper character treatment. all the plots left open, the poor writing of the last chapters, i don't know man i just feel completely empty. i will cherish the characters forever, but i feel bitter when i see they would have been treated better in other hands. i don't like the ending and that will eventually show, but in the meantime i'll try to enjoy the remains as much as possible. i'm looking forward to see everyone, maki specially, in s3 and i'll be giffing gojo like a maniac when he's unsealed. i feel more things but this is what i can put into words as of now.

#yel.text #jjk spoilers

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byeaaram · 1 year ago

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Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)

Summary: In which death welcomes you in the cruelest way possible, and your girlfriend suffers the same fate. You don't know which hurt more.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death, Light Depictions of Violence, Reincarnation, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, OOC Wednesday Addams(?)

Notes: I don't usually write, but I couldn't get this out of my head. Maybe I'll start to use this space whenever I have an idea. I'm a sucker for reincarnation. Term dictionary at the end.

***

Your vision was tunneling in on you.

It was a grueling battle. You had fought relentlessly for the place you had called home for years, as it crumbled and shook, threatening to destroy the very core of the Earth with its last gasp.

Droplets of blood cascaded down your face, while your fingers twitched in defiance of your failing body. Amidst the chaos, a voice called out to you, though it sounded distant and muffled. Your senses were drowning, as if struggling to grasp onto the fading presence of your girlfriend, whose lingering sensation barely registered.

Oh. Oh.

Wednesday. Weakly, you called out to her, your voice barely a whisper, as you stretched your trembling hand in a desperate attempt to grasp her attention. To your relief, your plea bore fruit, as she held onto you tightly, her grip firm, and with nimble strength, she pulled you into the shelter of her chest.

“Perdóname, cara mia, for I did not protect you with all my might. I failed you, and now I‘ll have to lose you to whom they call death.”

Despite her habitual speech that rang through your surroundings, you sensed a break in her tone, one that felt unfamiliar too, as Wednesday Addams never cries. “W-Wednesday…?”

With a trembling hand, you reached out once more for her hand, desperate for any connection in this moment of turmoil. As your fingers intertwined, you flinched at the unexpected warmth that greeted you, a stark contrast to the usual cold touch of your beloved's hands. Pulling your hand back, you mustered a gasp, realizing that your vision was now clouded by a crimson hue.

Through the haze, you finally gazed upon your girlfriend, searching for an explanation in her eyes. “W-Wednesday, you’re b-bleeding!”

It was then, you noticed Wednesday’s fallen figure. She too was slumped to the ground, her body twisted at an awkward angle. The room's dim light cast eerie shadows across her fragile form, adding an unsettling aura to the sight. Your heart skipped a beat as you reached to cup her cheek, a mix of concern and dread coursing through your veins.

Despite her failing systems, Wednesday managed to muster a faint smirk, her hands coated in blood finding their way back to yours. With a gentle touch, her thumb circled your hand. Even in the face of adversity, she remained steadfast, providing solace in her touch, despite the grim reality of her condition. “I’m so sorry, mi sol, but I am horrified to tell you that the both of us are knocking at the reaper's door.”

Summoning all her strength, she pulled you closer, her lips tenderly brushing against every edge of your face. The sweetness of her touch and the soothing scent of her presence enveloped you, momentarily calming the storm within your mind. With heartfelt reassurance, she consoled your fears, but the bitter irony of the situation overwhelmed you, causing a pathetic sob to escape your lips.

Fading fast, the two of you clung to each other desperately, as if refusing to allow even the tiniest sliver of space between your bodies. The thought of witnessing the look of defeat and anguish on her face was unbearable, as you dreaded the worst outcome.

Fear gripped your heart, the dread of being torn apart from the girl you cherished above all else. It felt as if the universe was cruelly signaling its intention, delivering a heart-wrenching message that threatened to separate you forever.

The thought shook your entire world.

A voice pulled you out of your distressed wake.

“Ma non temere, la mia rosa appassita; perché cercherò e distruggerò ogni fessura della Terra finché non ti troverò. Questo universo crudele non ha nulla a che vedere con il mio amore per te, questo è certo. La morte può attenderci, ma non mi separerà mai da te. Ti amo. Tu sei il mio tutto. Il mio sole. La mia luce. La mia rosa. Non abbiate paura.”

Albeit not understanding a thing she said, you let out a watery laugh, pulling yourself closer and nuzzling your head at the crook of her neck. “…I l-love you too, Wednesday.”

Time felt slower this way. You wondered, if this was not the end, would this have been your future? Would you have been here, in Wednesday’s arms under the circumstances? Is this how your mornings would start? She would cite a proclamation of her love, adorning the sweet, sweet smile you would mirror, and you would sigh in contentment at the start of your morning.

You let out a shaky breath, molding yourself closer to your Wednesday’s body. Your eyes began to flit to a close, and before you let sleep consume you, you reminded yourself to wish your girlfriend goodnight.

“…Wednesday… ‘m tired now. Gonna go sleep…”

You feel her chest shake. She lets out a sigh, “…I will see you soon, l'amore della mia vita.”

In the morning, you'd find the sight of a petite figure racing towards you. Whispers and cries of joy, calling your name, would escape from the most exquisite lips you've ever seen. As your eyes lock, a powerful gaze grounds you to the Earth, and delicate hands reach for yours, gently pulling you into a warm embrace.

“I found you.”

An underlying sense of familiarity greets you in a new life.

***

Dictionary: Unfortunately, I do not know any other language other than English, so I used Google Translate for these terms.

"Perdóname, cara mia" (Spanish) - "Forgive me, my love"

"Mi sol" (Spanish) - "My sun"

"Ma non temere, la mia rosa appassita; perché cercherò e distruggerò ogni fessura della Terra finché non ti troverò. Questo universo crudele non ha nulla a che vedere con il mio amore per te, questo è certo. La morte può attenderci, ma non mi separerà mai da te. Ti amo. Tu sei il mio tutto. Il mio sole. La mia luce. La mia rosa. Non abbiate paura." (Italian) - "But fear not, my withered rose; for I will seek and destroy every crevice of the Earth until I find you. This cruel universe has nothing to do with my love for you, that's for sure. Death may await us, but it will never separate me from you. I love you. You are my everything. My sun. My light. My rose. Don't be afraid."

"l'amore della mia vita." (Italian) - "Love of my life."

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday angst #wednesday imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine

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konigsblog · 1 year ago

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could i request 35 + 36 for the writing prompt? it can be anyone you want, i'll feel weak in the knees either way 😵‍💫

i just had to do könig for this one, so much fanart about könig with tentacles that it's now engrained in my mind forever, my filthy mind!!! :( 🐙

༉‧₊˚. // tentacles, stomach bulge (breif size difference) 🐚🪸

prompt list

könig's tentacles dripped bitter fluids onto the ground, slimy and slick as he eased one inside your tight cunny, walls stretching to allow the size. you held back a moan before failing desperately, grasping at whatever you could to stabilise yourself as the stretch burnt and ached. könig chuckled lowly, a deep sound emitting from his chest as he continued to slide the tentacle inside further, bulging out your stomach.

a perfect outline was visible as he gazed down at your stomach, your eyes glistening with tears as he rubbed your cunt in soothing circles, whispering a chant under his breath as he continued to slide it inside 'til you couldn't go any further. he reached a point were he was bruising your insides, your sounds choked, stuttered if they managed to come out, unable to look anywhere apart from your stomach, feeling as he wiggled inside, leaving the remains of his bitter fluids.

his large hands held onto your hips, eyes intimidating yet lustful, making tears form in your waterline before you blinked them away. his tentacle began moving, easing out before pushing back inside, the sloppy sounds of your slick cunt hypnotising. a gasped, breathy mewl left through your lips as you rolled your eyes backwards, arching your back while your legs began trembling and shaking rapidly. feeling as he marked his territory, his liquids seeping from his tentacles.

you gasped again, this time louder. another tentacle began sliding into your mouth, silencing you with the size of it. you wanted to gag, to cum around his tentacles as they thrusted into you softly, tasting the lingering slick on his tentacle, bitter and salty like the ocean. “du kannst es schaffen, baby, ich weiß, dass du es kannst. mach einfach weiter für mich, du machst das so gut, liebling... ich sehe dich an meinen großen twntakeln ersticken” he watched as you gagged, felt as you clutched onto him as he thrusted into you, shooting out fluids from the suckers layering his tentacles, oozing out potent juices into your swollen and sore cunt and leaving you raw.

translation; you can do it baby, i know you can. just keep going for me you're doing so well darling... seeing you choke on my large tentacles

banner credit; @cafekitsune

#tentacles #orla speaks #call of duty modern warfare #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod x y/n #cod imagine #cod mw2 #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig x reader #cod konig #konig x reader #konig #modern warefare ii #cod mw22 #konig x you #konig mw2

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unabashegirl · 8 months ago

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Vicious 5 || Harry Styles x Mafia

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry. As power dynamics shift and the future remains uncertain, the story explores the dark and dangerous allure of the mafia, the weight of family legacies, and the potential for unexpected connections in a world defined by secrecy and ruthlessness.

author's note: I just wanted to come on here and thank everyone who has joined Patreon and also everyone who has started following me on here! thank you so so much! I'll be forever thankful for contributing to my education!

warnings: violence, cursing and more.

masterist of vicious

word count: 2.1K

"He's gone." Federico had essentially abandoned her there. He denied her a place in the car, covertly ordered her bags packed, leaving her feeling betrayed by her own father. She wasn't prepared to move in; the prospect of residing in the unfamiliar manor, with its intricate family dynamics, intimidated her. Y/N sensed the impending challenges of being accepted into the family, particularly given her less-than-amicable start with Harry. Fear gripped her as she contemplated the potential difficulties that lay ahead. "I suppose I'm moving in now."

"Who gave you that order?" Harry's questioning tone cut through the air. The last thing he needed was an unfamiliar presence wandering the estate, potentially stirring up trouble. His distrust of her was palpable—she wasn't part of the family, and in his eyes, that meant she hadn't earned any respect or loyalty.

"My father," Y/N retorted, a hint of annoyance evident in her eyes. "Listen, I don't want to be here. The feeling is mutual. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I'm able to leave."

Harry turned to Charlie, seeking answers. "Where is Lex?" Confusion mirrored on Charlie's face, matching Harry's bewilderment.

"He's downstairs, disposing of some things," Y/N revealed, her eyes rolling in disdain.

"He's taking care of the body downstairs," she added, a subtle revelation conveyed to Harry. His sharp gaze turned towards the Italian woman.

"No one was talking to you. Mind your own fucking business," Charlie snapped at Y/N, an unspoken tension filling the room. Unfazed, Y/N merely shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the hostility directed her way. The stage was set for a collision of personalities within the intricate web of the English mafia.

"Go find Silas," Harry commanded Charlie.

"Where is he?"

"How would I know, Charlie?! Go find him. He is probably doing nothing as always," Harry retorted, his frustration evident. The presence of Y/N in the estate irked him; it meant he had to be more discreet about his activities. Her moving in seemed to symbolize a level of commitment he wasn't ready for.

"Who is Silas?" Y/N inquired, her tone laced with curiosity. "Also, can I get a room? Just to leave all of my stuff and shit?"

"Do you know that you ask too many questions?" Harry responded, fingers flying over his phone as he texted Lex, attempting to bring him into his immediate service. There were tasks at hand, and Lex was the only one capable of assisting him.

"You called?" Silas appeared, extricating himself from Charlie's grasp. She had essentially pulled him away from his haven, where he spent his days immersed in books, avoiding the inevitable clashes with Harry.

"Find Y/N a room and keep her out of the way," Harry ordered Silas. The strained atmosphere between the brothers had lingered since their father's funeral, the bitter taste of disappointment for Silas, who felt that Arthur's will had unequivocally favored Harry. Silas turned to glance at Y/N, sizing her up with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

"Who do you think I am? Her fucking babysitter?" Silas spat, disdain dripping from his words. "I've got better things to do than to be at your beck and call." He pivoted on his heel, ready to leave, but Harry had other plans. Something had snapped within him—perhaps it was the insubordination in front of Y/N and his men or the lingering discomfort from Silas's entrance at their father's funeral. Whatever it was, Harry saw red.

Without warning, Harry reached out and seized Silas by the back of his shirt, forcefully bringing him back. A swift punch connected with Silas's nose, and the onslaught continued. The sounds of bones crunching and blood splattering filled the air, and Y/N, horrified, shouted, "STOP! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" Desperation colored her voice as she tried to pull the enraged Harry away from his battered brother.

Y/N surveyed the room, taking in the unsettling sight of men passively observing Harry disfigure Silas's face. A chilling stillness gripped the air; none of them made a move, objected, or attempted to intervene. They knew the unwritten rule: interfering would redirect Harry's wrath onto themselves, and none dared to challenge the boss. The ominous tableau unfolded, a tableau of silent submission.

Harry eventually halted his assault, his knuckles worn and Silas's body limp beneath him. The room bore witness to a scene reminiscent of a crime documentary, with Harry rising from his knees to his feet. Specks of blood adorned the collar and sleeves of his button-down shirt, and his hands were stained, knuckles split open. Unfazed, he pushed his hair back, presenting a picture of calculated violence.

Without a word to Y/N or anyone else, Harry retrieved a cigarette from his pocket. As he walked past Y/N, a cold and sinister look lingered on his face, leaving an indelible impression on the room's atmosphere.

Y/N waited until Harry left the room and knelt beside Silas. His face bore the evidence of the brutal assault—cuts, a fractured nose, bruised and purple skin, busted lip, and injured eyebrows.

“Don’t touch him or move him,” Charlie warned, already dialing his phone.

“He needs help,” she argued, the memories of her father's similar actions resurfacing, though never with such hatred and never directed at his own brother.

“I know,” Charlie nodded, “What do you think I am doing?” Within ten minutes, the medic and nurse living on the grounds arrived. Silas was carefully transferred upstairs. Y/N could only hope he would recover.

Charlie guided her to a room, noticeably smaller and darker than what she was accustomed to.

“I'm sure this will be enough for you,” Charlie stated. “Dinner will be at eight,” he added before leaving the bedroom. The bed, though not as grand as her usual one, boasted a beautiful canopy, casting a shadow over the somber atmosphere of the English manor.

The bedroom held an air of antiquity, its walls adorned with dark, polished wood paneling that seemed to absorb the ambient light. Heavy drapes, drawn tightly shut, further dimmed the space, casting an almost melancholic aura. The canopy over the bed boasted intricate patterns, a testament to craftsmanship from a bygone era. Despite the opulence of the bed, the room's overall atmosphere felt cold and unwelcoming. An ornate vanity mirror stood in the corner, reflecting the somber scene within the room. The furniture, though well-maintained, bore signs of wear, hinting at the passage of time and the weight of secrets held within the walls of the English manor.

Y/N immersed herself in the task of unfolding and hanging the clothes that had been packed for her, all the while dialing her best friend, Giana. Their friendship had withstood the test of time, enduring since the tender age of five. However, Giana now lived in the clutches of an Italian marriage, leaving Y/N feeling the void of her absence.

"Hi," Giana whispered, orchestrating her escape from the bedroom into the bathroom, where the sound of running water provided a disguise for her voice. The last thing Giana needed was to be overheard by her husband, Augusto. “How is everything?”

"My dad basically kicked me out of the house. I am now staying con gli inglesi," Y/N shared, her voice reflecting a mix of frustration and sadness.

"How is Harry treating you?" Giana inquired, sensing an underlying distress in her friend's response. Y/N couldn't hold back tears as she recounted the distressing scene she had just witnessed. "Quello che è successo?" Giana asked, concerned and probing for details.

"He beat his brother almost to death. It was horrible," Y/N admitted between soft sobs. The realization of the kind of man Harry was had unsettled her deeply. "I don’t know if I can take all of this. I want to leave already. Maybe it is time to put our plan in action."

Giana glanced nervously at the locked bathroom door, a barrier between her and the turmoil of her own married life.

"I don’t know, Y/N," she hesitantly responded. "What if we get caught? The repercussions can be worse."

"But what if we succeed, G? What if we can finally get away from all this shit and live a tranquil life, running that little cafe that you have always wanted to open in a very secluded town? Far and far away from our fathers and nightmares?" Y/N proposed, yearning for an escape from the suffocating grip of their current lives.

Before Giana could respond, and while she contemplated her life, the door began to be pounded by Augusto as he screamed for her to come out.

“I- I can’t, Y/N,” she nervously said, attempting to stay focused on their conversation rather than her husband's escalating shouts. “He won’t let me. He'll search until he finds me.”

“We can do it. You deserve a better life, G. Remember how miserably our mothers were and how young they died,” Y/N urged, able to hear the escalating shouts and the incessant banging on the door.

“Bene, but it must happen tonight,” Giana clarified. Her husband had some business to attend to, which only meant that she would have time to devise a plan to escape the premises.

“Okay. Stasera. Call me when you are able,” Y/N finally said before hanging up. The urgency in Giana's situation only fueled their determination to break free from the shackles of their oppressive lives.

She couldn’t wait. Y/N had to leave before dinner. At dinner all the men would be gather and waiting for her appereance. She had to escape before. That was the only way that she wuld have a chance.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing as she contemplated the escape plan. She glanced around the room, looking for any potential obstacles or challenges. The window seemed like her best bet; it was a risk, but she had to take it. The room's dim lighting and heavy drapes provided some cover, and she knew Harry would be too occupied with whatever he had happening to go check on her.

First, she quietly opened the window, praying it wouldn't creak and give her away. The chilly night air swept into the room, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She gathered a few essentials into a small bag – some clothes, her passport, and a bit of money she had managed to save over the years.

Y/N could still hear Harry’s muffled shouts from the other side of the house, giving her a sense of urgency. She looked back at the bed, debating whether to leave a note, but to who? None cared enough for her to want to know.

She experimented with various drapes and bed sheets from her room, carefully easing them down the window. Surveying the scene from her vantage point, she concluded that the space below was empty, ensuring her descent would go unnoticed.

With a quick glance around the room to make sure she had packed all the essentials in her bag, Y/N took a deep breath, summoning the courage to execute her plan. She wrapped the makeshift rope around her hands, securing it tightly, and then began her descent, cautiously lowering herself from the window.

The night air brushed against her face as she descended, and each inch brought her closer to freedom. The silence of the estate enveloped her, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. The ground neared, and with a soft landing, she released the makeshift rope.

Swiftly making her way to the edge of the property, Y/N took cover in the shadows, avoiding any security cameras or patrolling guards.

Waiting until the echoes of footsteps and voices faded into the night, Y/N swiftly darted into the dense woods. The moonlight filtered through the branches, casting an ethereal glow on her determined face. Each step carried her farther away from the imposing estate and the looming fate of an arranged marriage to Harry.

Navigating the shadows and weaving through the trees, Y/N pressed on with a sense of urgency. The forest concealed her movements as she sought a path that would lead her to a road, a lifeline to escape the impending union. The rustling leaves beneath her hurried steps seemed to echo the beats of her racing heart.

In the silence of the woods, Y/N contemplated the enormity of her decision. Yet, the prospect of freedom, away from the suffocating expectations and uncertainties, fueled her resolve. The night air carried both the weight of her familial ties and the promise of a new beginning, and she pressed on, guided by the hope of a life of her own choosing.

Chapter 6

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