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lovelettersfromluna · 10 months

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Hanahaki

summary: Hanahaki Disease (��吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

an: trying something new with this one, I hope you all like it. Love you mwah mwah (thank you to the anon who inspired this!!)

Warnings: MDNI!, 18+, eventual smut in future chapters, ANGST (when I mean angst, I mean angst girl), loser!Ellie if you squint, reader is oblivious, mentions of fictional illness/disease, mentions of alternative love interest, alcohol usage, marijuana usage, mentions of death, mentions of vomiting (it isn’t graphic I promise it’s literally just flowers), let me know if I missed anything!

You can read part 2 here!!

The sound of different voices and loud giggles replaced the music that was once filling up the old jeep with music, the two sounds dominating each other, creating something that could only be recognized as a group of young, dumb people. The car was dark, and Ellie couldn’t really see anything, not when you were settled on her lap, blocking her view from the outside through the car windows.

She wasn’t complaining, of course she wasn’t. Her hands were wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to her, squished between two other people in your friend group in the back of the car. She was drunk, and high, and she could faintly smell the ocean with each passing moment, the sea breeze growing closer and filling up the stuffy car.

The wind filling up the car blew your soft hair into Ellie’s face, giving her a whiff of your floral shampoo. She couldn’t help but lean in, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as she pressed her nose to your neck, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin against her lips.

You were always her favorite feeling.

She couldn’t even feel it entirely, but the car has stopped. The only reason she knew, was because she felt the spaces next to her become vacant, her friends laughing loudly as they tumbled out of the car and booked it for the beach, sand kicking behind them, nearly falling over their own feet.

She felt you shift in her lap, a soft smile on your lips, pretty eyes just as hazy as her own.

“You comin’ El?” You asked softly, your words like honey on your tongue, music to Ellie’s ears.

She was in a trance, not having seen your pretty face since you and your friends had left the party you were at, all of you packing yourselves away in a jeep and heading to the beach. Every time you looked at her, giving her that soft smile, and those kind eyes, it was like it was the first time she was seeing you all over again.

And you never failed to leave her speechless, even on the simplest occasions.

A loud bang on the roof of the car made her jump slightly, earning a giggle from you.

“C’mon love birds! Or else I’ll drag you out myself” Ellie could decipher the voice to be a friend of both you and her who was the one who’d driven you all out to the beach in the first place.

You giggled softly, scooting off her lap, taking her wrist in your hand and tugging her out of the car. Ellie could barely feel her feet carrying her behind you, watching as you dragged her out to the beach.

The moon was so bright, illuminating the white sand, and the dark, calm waters. Ellie remembers hearing the waves crashing against each other, and the sounds of your friends arguing, giggling with each other as they tried setting up a bonfire, which she hoped wouldn’t get you guys in trouble. She remembers the feeling of your soft hands wrapped around her wrist, she image of you in front of her in nothing but a pair of old denim shorts and a faded out band t shirt that was probably hers.

She recalls the way you tugged her away from everyone else, it was always like that. Somehow, no matter the situation or the occasion, you and Ellie ended up strayed away from everyone else. At parties, sleepovers, any general outing, it was you and her, and no one else. It was like everyone simply knew to leave you two, that your disappearance with one another was inevitable. You were the ring leader, always grabbing Ellie and pulling her away from everyone, wanting her all to yourself.

It made Ellie’s heart swell every single time.

Your small hands would interlock with hers, and she’d know that she was done for. She was yours entirely, whether you knew it or not.

The sand was cold beneath Ellie’s body, her hands sinking further into the powdery substance, deep inhales coming in through her nostrils, the spinning she once felt in the world around her slowly stopped. Her eyes were on the ground, and yours were up at the sky as you sat next to her.

“Do you think there’s anyone out there doing the exact same thing as us right now?” You hummed out softly, palms settled behind you on the sand as you stared up at the stars.

Ellie raised her eyebrows at your question, a soft chuckle leaving her as she moved her green eyes up to stare at the stars with you, mimicking your position.

“Probably…none are like us though” she sighed out softly.

She’d never say anything like that sober. You were always the bold one between you and her. Ellie was shy, and quiet and she’d always blush like an idiot whenever you’d say things like that, or compliment her, or when you’d do anything, really. But it was true, no one, no matter how similar their situation was to you and her, would never come close to what you and Ellie had.

What you and Ellie had was special, it was like buried treasure. It was something that was hard to find, and it was a connection like no other that had ever existed, or ever would exist, and you and her both knew that.

You were Ellie’s treasure.

You giggled softly, nodding at her words. “I agree…none like us…” you agree, eyes still trained on the blanket of stars above.

Ellie felt your hands wrap around her arm, and tug her down to lay back on the sand. She didn’t make any attempt to stop you, allowing you to do with her as you pleased.

You were both laid down, staring up at the stars in silence, simply enjoying each others company with one another. There were no thoughts, no worries, no overthinking, it was just you and her.

And Ellie loved that most about being with you.

Ellie could hear your breathing slowly evening out, the sound of sleep overcoming was familiar to her in you. You’d always been the one to fall asleep first, Ellie took note of that very early on in your friendship, remembering the many sleepovers you’d have where you’d fallen asleep in record time, making Ellie envious of you.

A soft, sleepy hum left your lips, and she could feel you scoot closer to her, tucking your body into the side of hers, your hand going down and interlocking your fingers with hers, pressing your cheek against your shoulder before you looked up at her.

Ellie felt like she’d break when you looked up at her, eyes big and glossy, lashes webbed together. You’d always had the pettiest eyes she’d ever seen, making her heart stop every single time you looked up at her.

“El…” you whispered softly, barely loud enough for her to hear.

She swallows thickly, nervous to keep eye contact with you, or to even speak, fearing that her voice should deceive her and crack, letting you know just how much of a hold you had on her.

She took a deep inhale before giving you a nod. “Yeah?” She replied softly, her voice shaky.

You simply gave her a soft smile, one of your hands coming up and gently tracing over her features. You traced over the outline of her lips, her nose, her eyebrows, her freckles. Ellie sighed softly as you did so, eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into your touch.

A moment passed of this, of you gently touching her face, Ellie close to passing out at any moment from the soft, feather-like touches.

“M’gonna marry you someday….know I will…” you hummed out, your voice dripping with that dreamy, sleepy sound that made it clear how far away you were.

Ellie’s eyes opened at this, her breath hitching in her throat at your confession, your promise. She felt her freckled cheeks burn when she looked down at your sleepy face, a lazy smile on your lips as your eyes grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment.

You had a habit of saying anything that had been plaguing your mind whenever you were tired, in between that blissful state of sleep and wake. It got even worse when you were high, Ellie knew that. You’d admitted the most outrageous things when you were like that.

But never anything like this.

She didn’t even have time to respond, because your eyes were already closed, lips parted as soft snores escaped.

She inhaled deeply, turning her head back to stare up at the sky, trying her best to ignore the burning feeling in her stomach, in her chest, in her heart. It was everywhere, eating her up and demanding to be acknowledged.

You, her best friend that she’d been in love with almost her entire life, had promised to marry her someday.

It was something Ellie knew would follow her for the rest of her life, for as long as she lived. She didn’t know whether to hate you for it, or to love you for it.

Ellie had know about her feelings for you for a very long time.

She’d go as far as to say it was something along the lines of love at first sight, but she didn’t want to be dramatic.

It was a classic story of playground love, the two of you meeting at a very young age, practically babies, and becoming inseparable from that point on.

Maybe it was the way you had no problems with tugging on the little girls pigtail that kept bullying her. Looking back at it, the kid probably had a crush on her in all honesty, but you had a zero bullshit tolerance policy, even at the age of six years old.

Or maybe it was the way she didn’t hesitate to punch the kid in the nose that pushed you off the swing during recess. It seemed she too had a zero bullshit tolerance policy.

It was always like that. You protected each other, you from idiot boys that picked on you, and her from dumb little girls who were still navigating their feelings, and in that came the bully’s that they grew to be.

So yeah, you and Ellie were stuck to the hip from the moment she could remember. In all of her earliest memories, you were there, a big smile on your face, always rooting for her.

Ellie was a shy kid. Sure, she had a mouth to tell off an idiot whenever she needed to, but she liked being alone. The only person she really liked spending time with was her dad, and what’s wrong with that? Her dad was fucking cool.

You were the complete opposite. You were bright, and loud and confident. You brought colors to Ellie’s life. You talked, and she listened.

And Ellie didn’t want it any other way.

It was like this all throughout school, and into college. You two followed the same education path of course, refusing to be without one another during the cruelest times of a persons life, the disgusting transfer from the life of a child to the life of an adult.

She figured if she was going to be miserable, she’d be miserable with you by her side.

It was like a dream, having you so often? She has the privilege of keeping you by her side all throughout her childhood, and now she had you by her side through her adulthood.

Ellie wanted you all to to herself. She was selfish, she knew that, but how could she help herself? You’d been hers for so long, there was no chance she’d give you up now.

Ellie recalls a rainy night in her car. It was cold, and it was so miserable out that she had no choice but to wait it out a bit before taking you home.

It was a routine night for you two. She didn’t have class that day, so she’d pick you up from your last one, and you’d sleep over at her apartment for the night since it was the weekend.

She looked over at you, soft hums to the quiet music playing in her car coming from your body, your head resting against the window as you drew little patterns with the condensation that had grown on the window.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” Ellie questioned softly.

You weren’t usually that quiet. You always had so much to tell Ellie when she picked you up, or any case for that matter. You were a little fireball, always beaming with something knew you’d learned that day, the grade you got from your professor, or the latest class gossip that you just had to share with Ellie.

But not that day. You were too quiet, made Ellie feel strange.

You hummed softly in response, turning towards her with raised eyebrows. The hoodie you had on framed your face cutely, a few strands of your hair poking out and laying against it. Your eyeliner had bled out a bit throughout the day, Ellie thought you looked pretty either way, though. Your head was resting against the seat, a soft smile on your face as you shook your head.

“Nothin…I just…” you tried, finding it hard to explain yourself.

You let out a gentle huff before turning your body towards Ellie a bit more. The car was dark, the only thing illuminating your face was the street light in the parking lot that you two were in. She could see that your features were soft, tranquil. You looked so genuinely happy, and that expression alone made Ellie’s heart burst with a warmth that consumed her so much, it was almost too much.

“I’ve met someone, El” you admitted, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you bit back and excited smile, eyes twinkling in the dim light of her car, glimmering with a kind of happiness that Ellie had never seen before in you.

She felt her chest heave, pain suddenly blooming throughout her body.

It’s something she’s never felt before. It’s ugly, and nasty, and raw. It feels like when you have a cold, and your lungs are in a constant state of disgust, that gross sore feeling spreading throughout them. She feels exasperated, like you’ve just broken the worst news she could’ve ever received on a rainy Friday night.

You frown softly, a gentle pout on your lips as you reach over, grabbing her arm gently and giving her a shake.

“Ellie? Did you hear what I said?” You ask softly, trying to break your friend away from whatever has a hold on her.

But she’s frozen, and she can feel her eyes burning from a lack of blinking, and from the tears that are prickling at the back of her throat. She could feel the way you grabbed her, shaking her gently, it almost isn’t enough to bring her back from her own personal state of hell that your words have sent her to, a place where you’re gone, taken away by someone else.

Someone that isn’t her.

It does anyways. She blinks her eyes a few times, clearing her throat as her eyes focused on you. She gives you a nod, green eyes big and wide like she’s seen a ghost.

You giggled softly, moving back to rest your head against the seat as you stared at her.

“Been meaning to tell you…she’s…she’s so great, Ellie…she makes me feel…” you let out a dreamy sigh, your eyes drifting down to look at your hand, which is toying with the bracelet around your wrist, a shy smile on your face as you practically beamed down at it.

Ellie’s eyes silently follow, catching eye of the way your sweater pushed up a bit to reveal the little pink rope that’s around your wrist. She’d never seen it, and it’s perched right under the bracelet that Ellie had made you when you two were kids. Hers is blue and purple, and far prettier in her opinion.

Her heart hurts at the sight of someone else’s bracelet on your pretty wrist.

She stared down at it for a while before her eyes drift up to your face. She could see the warmth spread across your face, radiating from your chest, from your fucking soul. It’s like the you’re smiling down at the fucking bracelet is making you so warm, that it’s warming up the car and wafting Ellie in the face.

It’s love. Ellie can see it.

And you deserve it. God, you’ve always fucking deserved it. You deserve a great big house, someone who loves you dearly coming home to you every night, showering you in all of the love and affection that you have ever wanted and needed. You deserve someone who shows you off, someone who’s proud of everything you do, even the small, stupid things that don’t fucking matter. You deserve someone who cherish you every day as if you’re a fucking gem, a one of a kind gem that only appears once every thousand years.

But fuck…Ellie always wished that person would’ve been her.

She knows she can’t dwell on it, because you’re simply doing what any young person looking for love does. You went out and found someone else, you found someone that makes you smile like that, the way you were smiling across from Ellie in her car.

She can’t be selfish, not now.

Ellie inhales deeply before she puts on her best, most believable smile, freckled cheeks rounding out as she gave you a nod.

“She sounds great…you’ve gotta introduce us someday” she sighed out softly, putting on her best cover up to hide the disappointment she felt deep within her soul.

It’s the way your face beamed even further when you looked up at her, eyes twinkling like the brightest star, the most expensive diamond in the fucking world, that makes Ellie weak in the goddam knees. It’s like all you’ve wanted was her approval, like the main thing holding you back from telling her about the lucky girl that has her heart, is fear that she wouldn’t approve of her.

And that look, further cemented Ellie’s decision in swallowing down her stupid feelings, and ignoring the hammering pain in her lungs.

“Yeah…yeah I will” you promised, giving her a nod, that big, beautiful smile still on your lips.

Ellie can barely bring herself to indulge in the pain she feels, because you looked so fucking happy, and that’s all she’d ever wanted, was for you to be fucking happy.

She smiled back at you, giving a nod before she craned her neck down a bit, looking up at the sky and seeing that the rain had gone from a heavy pour, to a subtle drizzle.

Ellie gave soft hum, nodding to herself as she turned the key to her car to turn it on.

“Looks like it’s let up a bit…let’s get you home-“ her words were cut off but a nasty cough ratting through her lungs, worse than any cold or any blunt had every brought to her. She brought her fist up to her lips, covering it up. It brought tears to her eyes, made her cheeks red. You frowned deeply at the sight, bringing your hand up to rub her back gently.

“Shit…you catching a cold, El?” You questioned softly, concern laced in your words.

Ellie cleared her throat, shaking her head as she straightened her back out.

“Nah…all the smoking I’ve done is probably catching up to me” she joked with a soft chuckle before she looked at you, giving you a soft smile.

“Let’s get you home” she hummed out softly before she pulled out of the parking lot and began making her way to your apartment, not hers.

At first, Ellie didn’t really think much of it.

She assumed that she was simply coming down with a cold, or her excuse to you was right. Maybe all the blunts she’d smoked had finally caught up with her. Her father had always told her they would.

She had thought of everything. The flu, pneumonia, bronchitis, everything in the goddamn book, but every time she went to her doctor with the concern of any of them, he simply shrugged, gave her a gentle smile and told her she was as healthy as could be.

But the cough never got better.

It was annoying at first, her throat was scratchy, and most days she’d be able to simply clear her throat to alleviate the discomfort. Cough drops would help, a cup of tea her and there, soothing the ache she felt her and there throughout the day.

But then? Came the flowers.

Ellie almost keeled over and died when one day she was having a particularly violent coughing fit, forcing her to stay in from class. When she looked down into the her tissue and she saw a few pieces of…something? Little pieces of something pink and white, a bit withered. she flinched, throwing the napkin on her coffee table.

At first, it looked like she’d coughed up a peace of her fucking lungs. She wasn’t sure who to call, her dad? 911? Fucking poison control? She wasn’t even sure that it was even possible to cough up an entire piece of her body.

After a few moments, she figured she had to further inspect the foreign objects to figure out just what it was that had exited her body. She reached down with shaky hands, her eyebrows furrowed with concern, picked up the tissue and opened it up.

She squinted her eyes a bit as she looked down at the little things, trying to figure out what the fuck could leave a persons body that looks like it. Her eyes went wide when she touched it, realizing what they were.

Flower petals.

Ellie thought she might’ve been hallucinating at first. Maybe she took an edible and forgot or something, or maybe the cough medicine was making her trip balls, because flower petals? There’s no fucking way, right?

Apparently she was wrong. There was a way, and a quick google search was filled with something that Ellie didn’t want to find.

All she had to do that night, was look up her symptoms, and she was finally faced with why her lingering cough had been so lingering, and what had caused it.

Hanahaki disease.

It was an illness that affected those with a broken heart, those who experienced unrequited love, which resulted in a painful cough that brought up a never ending supply of flower petals. It would explain the constant lingering taste of perfume that Ellie had suddenly found was impossible to get out of her mouth, and it would explain the fact that this so called ‘cold’ of hers that she had wouldn’t go away, and only had a cough with no other symptoms.

It made Ellie realize, that the night that all of this started, was the night that you told her you’d found somebody else, and it suddenly made so much sense.

Ellie was coughing up fucking flowers, because you didn’t love her.

After finding out what it was that she was diagnosed with, the second step was to find a cure, which she found to be much harder than finding the disease itself.

Finding a cure only came with various medical articles of people who had suffered from the same disease that she was suffering from. All people experiencing the same pain and heartache that she’d been carrying for so long.

All of which, had died.

Each and every other person who had this disease, had passed away from the disease, ultimately dying from a lack of love from the person they wanted.

This scared Ellie.

However, recent study had shown a new surgery that was available with those who suffered from the disease. One that would remove the flowers from the lungs and stop the cough entirely.

But it would also remove any and all feelings that the person with the disease had for the person they loved.

So, Ellie had two choices. Either she let the disease linger until she fucking died, or she could get the surgery, live, and never have you in her life again, not like before at least.

She had a big decision to make.

That night, Ellie cried. She curled up in a little ball in her bed, her pillow pressed against her face as she muffled out her noises, and she cried. She was in pain, and she was hurting, and she wanted it all to go away.

She wished you’d love her, she wished you would’ve just noticed how much she wanted you, how she was the right one for you all this time. It made her angry, and confused and annoyed, because what did she do to deserve this? To deserve this godforsaken illness that she had never fucking asked for.

And as she cried, and screamed and groaned out for the pain to go away, she heard her phone go off. She grabbed it, a soft sniffle leaving her nose as her tear filled eyes stared up at the bright screen of her phone.

It was you.

Loser!!! I rlly hope you didn’t forget to come and get me

I’m sleeping over tonight remember???

Come and get me soon hehe :p miss u

And although Ellie was in pain, and her heart was hurting. She’d never, ever say no to you.

She could live with the cough for a little bit longer, as long as it meant she got to be with you.

Ellie was only getting worse.

Months had gone by, and before she knew it, it had almost been a year with this goddamn disease that she had.

Her doctor had put her on some medication, which basically suppressed the cough only slightly. She still experienced handfuls of flower petals hacking up her throat every time she coughed. He urged her to get the surgery, telling her that without it, her condition could become life threatening.

But she couldn’t. She needed more time with you.

That’s the deal she had made with herself. She would get the surgery after she’d had enough time with you, allowing herself to make lasting memories with you when soon, she’d feel nothing for you at all.

But it was never enough time.

She wanted you always. Day, night, morning, evening, whatever the time she wanted you.

And things were fine. She had hoped you didn’t notice her health slowly deteriorating, she’d hoped you didn’t notice the bags under her eyes or the way the color had been sucked from her skin. You never questioned it, so she hoped that was all true.

She ignored the girl you’d met. After that night in her car, you and that girl never separated. You tried telling Ellie about it from time to time, and Ellie had even met her a few times. Her name was Jen, and she was the furthest fucking thing from Ellie, which only further solidified how unrequited her love was.

It hurt, because Jen was great. She was so kind, and beautiful, and she clearly treated you the way Ellie knew you needed to be treated. Ellie wished she could’ve hated her, she wished she was a shit girlfriend so that she could talk you out of being with her.

But she couldn’t, because Jen was perfect for you.

Ellie ignored it all, treating the times that she had with you as if it was only you and her in the world. She always had, but now it was different, now it was pretty crucial that she had these moments with you, even if you didn’t know the half of it.

You never pulled away, or became distant due to the new aspect of your life that was your relationship. You made time for everyone in your family, and you made time for Ellie. It was all too perfect, the way you handled it all. You never abandoned her, or made her feel left out.

Your friendship had never changed with Ellie, it stayed the same throughout everything.

But her condition was getting harder and harder to hide. She had to constantly rush to the bathroom when she felt the burning in her lungs, and the smell of flowers fill her nose and her mouth, muffling her coughs with a towel. She had gone from coughing up a few petals to what could only be described as an entire fucking bouquet.

It was hard, having to hide it from you. She knew that if there was anyone that could help her through this, through one of the hardest and most painful times of her life, it was you. You would’ve been there by her side, staying up every night that she was having coughing fits to help her, nursing her back to health. You always had, whenever she was sick, you were there, playing nurse while Ellie groaned and pouted for you. She became so needy when she was ill.

But she couldn’t, not when you were the one that caused this.

She knew you’d drop everything for her, and abandon everyone else for a lost cause, because no matter how much medicine you gave her, no matter how much you held her in her sleep, the disease that plagued Ellie had no cure that you could bring.

Other than loving her back.

Ellie sighed softly as she walked through the door of her apartment, pushing her headphones off of her head and letting them rest on her neck. The weather was finally warming up, and she could only hope that the warmth would treat her cough a bit kinder than the cold did, which she knew deep down was merely wishful thinking.

She meant to text you that week, having not heard from you in a bit, which was very unlike you.

She bent down, picking up the mail that laid on her entrance way mat, sifting through the bills and various envelopes that had her name on it. She was quick to toss them to the side, perfectly fine with waiting until she had the energy to read them all properly.

But she stopped when she saw a pretty, powder pink envelope with your writing on the front, her name written out so perfectly.

Why the hell were you sending her a letter?

A nasty cough rattled through her chest, and she almost laughed because it had gotten to a point where any mention of, even in the confides of her own mind, brought on a coughing fit these days. Even the sight of your writing made the ugly sound rake through her lungs.

Pathetic.

She sighed softly, moving to her couch and tossing her backpack to the side. She sat down, ring clad fingers turning the envelope around to tear it open.

The paper inside is thick, it feels expensive, like those fancy cards you get for birthdays from old people that don’t know any better but to buy their grandkids the best shit.

It has little embroidery’s on the edges, and it’s lined with the smallest strip of silver. It’s all written in cursive, and her eyes scan over it for a moment, eyebrows furrowed at whatever the fuck it was that you had randomly sent her in the mail.

But her heart is stopping, and her eyes are going wide once they finally focus on the bigger words at the top.

It’s a wedding invitation.

It’s your wedding invitation.

In her hands, Ellie was holding yours and Jen’s wedding invitation.

And she suddenly can’t breathe. There’s a burning in her chest, and she’s faced with the most intense coughing fit she’s experienced in her entire fucking life. It doesn’t stop, and it isn’t even giving her a chance to breath. She can feel her lungs shaking at how violent it is, and she suddenly throws the invitation down and she’s rushing to the bathroom, hunching over the toilet where her coughing turns into vomiting.

Her vision is blurred with tears, but she can make out the image of the familiar petals filling up the bowl, rattling through her body and making it hard to breath. She’s choking, and crying, and heaving, and it’s the worst thing she’s felt in her entire life.

She feels like it won’t end, like she’ll die right then and there, but she doesn’t. It stops, and she’s left sobbing as she falls back, her back hitting the bathroom wall, knees coming up as she holds herself, her sobs and cries bouncing off the bathroom walls, loud enough to surly be heard throughout her entire floor.

It’s that night, the night where she received your wedding invitation, that Ellie scheduled the surgery date, because she can’t do this anymore.

She needs to let you go.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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huicitawrites · 2 months

Text

Omen of the Cursed

Yandere! Ryomen Sukuna x Fem! Reader

TW: depictions of abuse, gore, mentions of suicide (non-descriptive), yandere

THE KING OF CURSES sits casually at the edge of the village well, biding his time. Two muscular arms support his weight on the cobblestone, while another relaxes on his knee, and his fourth is busy—clutching a decapitated head in his clawed hand.

Crimson stains adorn the tips of his fingers, and his feet are smeared with blood. Puddles gather in abundance throughout the village, and the earthy streets are littered with bodies and dismembered remains.

He has killed every single one of them.

He enjoyed it.

He relished in their screams and their agony: men, women, children, the elderly. They all sounded the same in the end, squealing and wailing like lowly pigs sent to slaughter.

At first, the village men tried to fight back, but once he claimed his first victim—his Dismantle technique turning a man into a mangled heap of flesh—they began to shriek and run. When they realized there was no escape, they started to beg.

Some cried for their children; others, for their lovers or themselves. It was amusing to observe how far they would go for survival. They offered everything they had: the village's meager gold, their wheat, their rice, their sheep. When they sensed his dissatisfaction, they turned on one another, offering up their wives, their children, their kin—one even stabbed his own brother and threw the corpse at his feet, declaring a desperate loyalty.

Yet, the King of Curses had come to finish what was started, he took their lives one by one, laughing maniacally in ecstasy and joy.

And so, he sits amidst his carnage—waiting.

The best was yet to come.

He tosses the head in his hand, its expression of horror still etched on the pale face as it rolls across the ground, leaving a trail of blood. He shakes his hand to rid himself of the crimson droplets before resting his four-eyed face atop it. His glaring eyes fixate on the village entrance, marked by a large, old Torii gate.

He recalls the day you abandoned him.

He remembers it all too well.

Ryomen Sukuna was born a cursed, unwanted little wretch.

Everyone believed it and treated him as such: the adults and elders in the village, who instilled their beliefs in their children. Even his own father abandoned him as a mere babe, leaving the village under the moon of Sukuna's birth. His mother, on the other hand, took her own life shortly after he learned to walk.

The villagers whispered rumors of a sibling he had devoured while still in his mother's womb.

Everyone despised him, and so young Sukuna began to despise them too—except for one.

You.

You probably knew of Sukuna as ‘an ill omen’ and ‘a cursed child forsaken by the very gods,’ but what surprised him was your disregard for the villagers' cruel words.

(He remembers the first day you met.)

“Hey,” your soft voice called to him in the village woods. He wore dirty, ragged clothes that contrasted with your colorful kimono. “Do you want to play with me?”

“Go away,” he spat, leaning back against the trunk of a tree, pretending to ignore you.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a playful smirk. You crouched by the river, scavenging for the perfect pebble—a flat little rock. To your delight, you found a twin of it, and with both rocks in hand, you approached the bitter boy.

“Here, you have one,” you tossed him a pebble. “I’ll show you.” Your squeaky voice was impossible to ignore, drawing his gaze as you meticulously adjusted your stance. He recognized the blue fire coating the rock in your hand. His eyes widened, and a single thought sprang to mind.

‘Is this girl cursed like me?’

You threw the pebble expertly, and it bounced across the water’s surface three times.

“Did you see that?! Say it was cool, right?! Your turn now; it’ll be fun!” You jumped excitedly, pointing at the lake with a wide, joyous smile.

Sukuna snapped out of his thoughts and concealed his amazement. He didn’t want to admit it then, but it was a very cool shot. With a blank stare, he picked up the pebble at his feet and mirrored your stance. He held it between the tips of his fingers, took a deep breath, and unleashed his own blue fire. The pebble soared from his hand, bouncing farther and more times than yours.

You sparkled with wonder. “Say, can you teach me that? You can see it too, the blue fire!” Your tiny hands clasped his for a jolly handshake.

He remembers the burning embarrassment on his face, nodding and stuttering when you said, “Say… Let’s be friends!”

Back then, you were children who became great friends. You were so different, yet inseparable. You were a pretty daughter: kind, gentle, obedient, playful, and pampered by strict but loving parents.

On the opposite end, he was the village’s outcast. Shooed away from stores, despised by everyone. Parents forbade their children from being near him, adults mistreated him without remorse, and even the village priests scorned him.

Yet you laughed at his antics instead of scorning him. You cheered him on and even sewed him clothes out of spare cloth. You helped him flee when villagers chased him with pitchforks and torches and snuck him food or tea.

Like a moth to a flame, he basked in your warm kindness. As you two grew, he coveted your friendship, wishing for eternity with you by his side.

But as your teenage years approached adulthood, things began to change. While Sukuna detached from the village and its obligations, you became bound by expectations. Your mother filled your days with lessons on housewife duties—sewing, cooking, and manners—while your father began seeking suitors.

You wanted none of it; your spirit longed to explore the world, but your heart was tethered to your family, making it difficult to ignore your parents' wishes.

In a moment of desperation, he proposed an idea, but you laughed incredulously.

“So you say we ‘run away,’” you cocked your head. “I can’t just leave my parents behind. What kind of daughter would I be after all they’ve given me?”

He wanted to protest, to argue that he could take care of you, but you added, “Besides, we need money. A marriage would solve their issues. Yet…”

“I could marry you,” he blurted out.

The words spilled from his lips impulsively, and though he masked his bitterness, a knot tightened in his throat when you laughed.

“My parents would never give their blessings, they’d disown me first.”

“I’m not that bad of a choice.”

“Sure, a boy who steals and has no care or responsibilities makes a decent candidate,” you quipped.

He knew you meant no harm and understood the frustration behind your words. But he stood up and left, even as you apologized. You were speaking the truth. He was still an unworthy boy—weak, poor, a disgrace.

He couldn’t intervene as you left the village.

Three days before your departure, a foreign man appeared. Older, yet toned, with a staff in hand, he seemed a wandering monk- he later realized the old monk was a pesky sorcerer. He should have killed him back then.

The sorcerer interrupted one of your encounters, pointing his staff at you. His eyes sparkled with glee before darkening in disgust as they fell upon him.

Surely, he saw the monster would become - no, the one he was. The hate, the fury, the greed brewing in his dark heart.

The monk spoke with you, offering escape if you became his apprentice. Under the guise of holy work and financial compensation, your parents agreed to send you away.

“I’m leaving, then,” you stuttered, eyes cast down. You couldn't meet his dark crimson gaze, knowing the look of betrayal hiding beneath your stoic facade.

“I will come back to visit; I promise, Ryo,” you said, the pet name spilling from your lips with sweetness, but he huffed in response.

“I will be here waiting, [Y/n].”

Ryomen Sukuna left the same night you departed. He had nothing left in the village and without your presence, he could tolerate the shithole no more.

Two and a half decades passed.

He left as a cursed boy and returned as the feared King of Curses—Ryomen Sukuna.

As he stared at the Torii gate, his foot bounced impatiently, fingers tapping against the cobblestone edge.

Soon, a figure emerged in the distance—a traveler on a mule, donning a kasa. For a moment, he mistook you for the damned sorcerer monk, but he felt your familiar cursed energy. It seems you grew stronger through the years as well.

A wicked grin spread across his face, revealing sharp teeth and fangs. His four bloodshot eyes widened and pupils dilated in anticipation.

Finally, you crossed the gate.

“Welcome back,” the King of Curses greeted. “Do you like my welcome gift?” He gestured to the bodies and blood scattered throughout the devastated village.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled back your kasa, revealing a solemn expression on a beautiful face. To Sukuna’s surprise, your eyes held no disgust, fear, or even anger, only a pitiful gaze that irritated him.

“Did you enjoy it?” you asked, ignoring his question. He huffed, wondering if you were attempting to seek a glimpse of that playful childhood friend.

The King of Curses laughed at your question, finding it absurd given the answer was obvious. “I found it most delightful,” he cooed.

Slowly, he detached himself from the well and stood before you. Even a few meters away, you could see the transformation he had undergone. He had become a beast—two extra eyes and arms, a mouth in his abdomen, a colossal build, and black curse markings embroidering his skin.

“It’s true then,” you sighed. “You’ve become the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Tis how I’m called now.” It struck him as strange to hear his full name from you. “I must say it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“How many have you killed by now?”

“I’ve lost count, darling.” Your frown deepened, and Sukuna’s smile widened. He noted how tightly you clutched the reins and how your body tensed. “My father and mo—”

“I’ve killed them both,” he cut you off, grinning wickedly. “Their deaths were slow and painful.”

“Ah…”

Now it gets exciting, he mused, watching as fury consumed your expression. This was the response he craved—a little punishment for abandoning him, if you will.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to hold back sobs.

“I have come to slay you, curse,” you spat, mixing pity with spite. You clutched the cloak around you, prying it off to reveal white and red Miko clothing. You held a shakujō, likely a cursed tool.

This was not the first time someone had come to exact vengeance upon him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

However, it would be the last time you left him.

The King of Curses made the first move, closing the distance between you in the blink of an eye. He lunged forward, delivering a devastating blow.

You leapt from your mule, who perished instantly. Your body shivered from his overwhelming strength.

Sukuna continued his relentless assault. Blow after blow, all you could do was dodge—there was no time to parry or block.

In a fleeting moment of opportunity, as you rolled away and encountered his exposed back, you swung your staff, chanting, “Cleanse.”

A blinding explosion of cursed energy erupted against him, bright light streaming from the metal adornments of your staff.

For a moment, you thought you had succeeded—what a fool you were.

He was the King of Curses, after all; he was no longer ‘Ryo.’

Sukuna remained unfazed, standing with his back turned to you. Before you could gauge the danger, one of his lower arms seized your staff, crushing it into splinters. He turned, crimson irises meeting yours.

“Was that all, [Y/n]?”

He reveled in your shock, and before you could distance yourself, he conjured his own spell. “Cleave!”

Hundreds of cuts ripped through your skin, blood gushing from every wound. You choked and coughed, your body crashing to the ground in a futile struggle for breath.

“Does it hurt?” he taunted, voice dripping with venom. Lifting his chin, he added, “This is but a taste of how I felt back then when you turned your back on me, spurning me like everyone else.”

He loomed over you, body casting a shadow. The wicked grin evaporated from his face, voice turning serious. “I find the fear in your eyes delicious. It’s a satisfying punishment for what you did to me.”

Crouching down, he drew forth a hand ignited with cursed energy. Not the familiar blue you knew, but a clear white. You had never witnessed such a technique, your weary mind too occupied to marvel.

Sukuna hovered his hand over your wounds, and in a short time, you found yourself healed, yet the damage had already been done—the fighting, the murder of people.

The King of Curses encircled you with his four arms, lifting you as a husband would lift his wife. Despite the tenderness once present in the boy you knew, you turned your head to avoid his gaze.

He scowled at your rejection; your silent tears pierced his resolve more than any weapon. One hand cupped your cheek, forcing your gaze back to his monstrous face.

"Spurn me no more, I will not let you, not again", he warned, his fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ve become a monster—what their words condemned.”

“I’ve become a king.”

“-of curses.” You cut him off.

His many eyes narrowed, “So what? Human or curse, it matters not in the face of strength,” he said nonchalantly against your melancholy. “All that matters is that I am strong now and that we are reunited. Even if you spurn me, I will make you love me again.”

He sighed, his voice as soft as a whisper.

“The boy you knew may be gone, but you will learn to love the man he has become,” Sukuna assured, his four eyes gazing back at you with an affection that twisted your gut, making your heart race in fear. He began moving toward the Torii gate, carrying you as if you were caged in his embrace.

He inhaled your sweet scent— it reminded him of the home he never had, the one he desires to build with you by his side.

“Finally,” he lowered his face to yours, “we are together again.”

His lips tasted of iron and yours tasted divine.

#yandere #yandere writing #yandere blog #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna #yandere fanfiction #self insert #female reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jjk x reader

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mrsnancywheeler · 9 months

Text

the lakes (4) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions and allusions of trafficking and sexualization of reader/finnick by capitol, manipulation of someone's feelings, allusions of past break up, allusions to death/violence, playful banter, no use of y/n, UNEDITED, me trying to write peeta, trauma, allusions to mental illness, survivors guilt

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The couch in all its neon greeness had been the same over the last 6 years. With the same garishly neon blue pillows in obnoxious shapes and as you stared at it it brought back when you and Conway had anxiously sat on it. When you began nervously sucking up to him, playing his sensitive side.

“I'm worried about you." Finnick popped a grape into his mouth as he sat on one of the velvety seats at the table. Honesty was his new approach, to tell you exactly what he was thinking especially if it was about you to force you to do the same. You were only a couple hours into the morning and this was evident.

“Why, Finnick?" You sighed, not in annoyance, well maybe a little bit in annoyance, but mostly the sigh had been one of love.

“I know we've both been back before, but not as tributes. You're going to start thinking about your games again as we go through the same steps. I'm worried you won't stay grounded."

“Yeah, well, I have you and as long as I can be in your arms I'll be okay."

He nodded observing you carefully, to make sure you weren't repressing anything deep within you, but he seemed satisfied for now. “It's not just you, I'm sure we're all going to be thinking a lot about the first time we were in this position." Finnick shrugged, grabbing another handful of grapes.

“Are you gonna be able to stay grounded?" You asked, putting down the knife you were using to butter your toast.

"I've managed this long.” He smirked, leaning forward, "Plus I've got you, angel.”

You rolled your eyes,"You're so cheesy.”

"What? So it's cheesy when I do it, but not when you do it?”

"Exactly.” You laughed. "Second day of married life and you're already catching on!”

"I'm a fast learner.” He raised his eyebrows, grinning.

The door opened and in came your escort. “Good morning, you two! Glad to see you've broken no more glasses, Finnick." She tutted, her dress was an eyesore to look at. You loved color, but her clashing bright ones made your head hurt.

“Nope, I've remembered my manners, Koalema.”

"Well that's good! Oh look, we're so close to arrival.” She kept babbling about something probably nonsensical. Koalema, why had you never been able to recall that name? You felt bad for not remembering, but it was so hard when she was flurry of chaos and overstimulation.

Finnick stood up and held his hand out for you, “Well here we go, angel. Be ready to put on that beloved smile and have those tears ready to spill. They love that about you." You took his hand and pulled yourself out of your seat.

“You don't need any instruction from me, always the charmer."

“Yeah, well I've had longer." The two of you prepared to greet the vultures waiting to eat up upon arrival. Standing in front of the window, hands tightly clasped together ready to gracefully swoop up your audience in their desired fantasy for the final time.

To smile at the people who had taken everything from you and completely controlled every aspect in your life. How people saw you, your relationship with Finnick, your relationship with yourself and your body, anything that you could think of they had somehow pulled strings in it. All of your life was under their thumb and you realized the lengths you would go to stop that, what would life be like when all you had left was memories that never needed to be reopened?

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It was beautiful. There was more food than you'd ever be able to eat and not a single scent of the salty seafood you were used to. Bright colors etched into your brain and everything was so modern, so clean. You had no idea what you'd expected, but it blew you away.

“This is where you two will be staying on our way to the Capitol! Isn't it beautiful? No expense has been spared, District 4 has a pretty good reputation of course and we'd like to keep that! So be in awe, but not so much that you forget about that." The garish woman said so cheerfully you were convinced you misheard her.

“No we wouldn't want that." Conway muttered and the woman gave him a sharp smile.

“Make yourselves at home, I do believe the two of you are very lucky and get the one, the only Finnick Odair as one of your mentors this year. Let me check on that and possibly, Odine." Her heels clicked out the room which inexplicably opened just as she stood in front of it.

Home. You'd never see home again, never swim in the comfort of its waters, see your family, lay in the warm sand. Yes, you would if you could win this, but you couldn't. And Finnick, how were you supposed to think about strategy when he would be right there?

“Are you okay?" A soft hand landed on your shoulder and Conway's deep, brown eyes spoke as much comfort as they could for you. Of course you weren't okay, how could you be? But saying that wouldn't endear him into you, so you melted into his touch.

You shook your head, closing your eyes, and sniffling. “What about you? How was your family?"

“Well at least I'm here with you and they'll be okay, at least they have each other too." Yes, at least you had someone you knew, yet also didn't that make it more difficult? He didn't ask about your family though, maybe if you kept a tally you'd feel less guilty by the end.

“Yeah, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have someone I trusted. I'm just so scared, Conway.” With that you'd erupted into tears and he pulled his arms around you. They weren't stiff, but weren't comforting, not that you really needed his comfort.

“It's okay, we've got each other."

You already hated yourself.

With that the automatic door slid open, but you didn't tear yourself away. You knew who it would be, but he wouldn't believe you if you jumped from him. So you slowly moved your hands to wipe your face and made your voice shake as you let out your sweetest, “Thank you."

He nodded eagerly, he didn't say of course but you could see it in his eyes. A warm, but brisk voice interrupted the moment. “Glad you've already decided to ally with each other, makes it much more difficult when the tributes won't talk to one another." Finnick’s honeycomb sweet voice finally drew your eyes to his.

“Yes, it's an easier angle to work with." A tall woman beside him agreed, you recognized her from the screens, Ondine Afron, she sounded more tired then you'd remembered.

“We’ll be your mentors, teaching you with our experience the best ways to survive, how to get sponsors, and whatever else could help." Finnick grabbed a sugar cube from the bowl by the teapot, examining it before tossing it into his mouth.

Yes and him being a mentor could throw a wrench in your plans. Conway had heard every bit of the emotional rollercoaster that had been Finnick Odair, how could you convince him you loved him instead when the man of all your affections was right there.

“Nice to meet you both." Conway said curtly, he let himself glare slightly at the other man. Usually you'd scold him for this, you weren't the type to want tension, but you needed him to trust you. So you leaned into his side, looking up at him as innocently as you could. Willingly him with every molecule to believe you and for Finnick to leave you alone enough to make your performance more outstanding.

Later that night when you'd wandered the train's halls in a nightgown with a softness like you'd never experienced before, you'd passed by Finnick who had nothing but praise for the plan we could tell you were hatching. Of course he could tell, he knew every morsel of your being.

“You're so smart, angel, the way you came up with that in a matter of seconds. Being good on your feet like that could save you in the arena." He'd whispered, softly above the mechanical noises your brain had hyper fixated on since your arrival.

“Don't call me that." You muttered.

He sighed, looking down, “I'm sorry. I'm just-"

“Yeah, I know."

“You know I'd do anything to keep you safe, even if I haven't always been able to tell you what and now I've failed, but here you are, I mean the way you manipulated your eyes like that was brilliant. The audience is going to be under your finger just keep doing what you're doing." Suddenly his hands were around yours, a movement so familiar it made you shudder.

“Finnick, please don't." You tugged your hands, half-heartedly, not really letting them escape his loose grip.

“I'm sorry, I know you don't understand why I hurt you, but it'll all make sense once you win this thing."

“Yeah, sure." You rolled your eyes, this was a tiring waltz between the two of you. Him claiming it was to protect you while you couldn't know from what, even now when you were on the brink of inevitable death.

“I promise." He stilled all his shifting and movements, sea green eyes boring so deeply into the depths of your heart there was no choice but to trust him. You couldn't help yourself and leaned in, delicately letting your lips graze his cheek.

“I have to go find his room. You know, do what I can." There was slight laughter behind your tone and Finnick nodded, softly smiling.

"My smart girl.” He muttered, glowing in the lamp light. I miss you, your brain screamed as you gazed at him, suddenly the tears you were trying to force up to sell your act were easier to conjure up. So you left him in the dim lights of the train car to convince Conway of how badly you needed his comfort now that you were away from home.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Secret wedding is all anyone can talk about." Your designer, Cambrie, sounded like bright citrus, drinking orange juice for breakfast. “Especially those seaweed rings, so bolstering for my ideas to run their course!" She smiled, clearly full of anticipation for her idea to be revealed to you.

Truthfully you couldn't care less about it, you wanted to be back at Finnick's side. As the years passed being alone with people from the Capitol no matter who they were or what they intended nauseated you. “Oh come on, Cambrie, I'm going to die of anticipation!" You proclaimed with as much drama as you could, pouting.

"Oh you're adorable.” She clapped like you were some sort of performing dog and pinched your cheeks, actually pinched your cheeks. The infantilization made you want to retreat but that would never be an option. “Reignbaugh was going to go with a fishing net to look for Finnick to pay homage to the District of course, and similarly with you I was thinking to draw it together, but the seaweed combined to call back to the rings. Everyone will eat it up, and oh I have a lovely pearl headdress you are going to be stunning!”

You gushed to her, but internally felt your stomach turn. This really meant she was going to try and show as much as you off as she could. Of course this turned out to be true. The outfit could have been beautiful if in reality it wasn't so dehumanizing. The seaweed running through the fishing net dress that adorned you barely covered your nipples and much of your body was clearly visible to those who stood close enough.

"And of course for the Capitol Princess.” Cambrie announced, placing her elegantly made crown, you had to admit it was beautiful. The way each pearl shined between the seaweed. Although you did think the seaweed usage was over the top, the choice of it for the rings hadn't really been significant, it was just there in a place you both loved. It was marketable though. Her and your other stylists had also gone to great effort to make your eyes look as watery as possible, even adding pearly effects to make it look like you were crying them. It was too all too much, but you oohh’d and awed which they adored you even more for.

“Don't you look handsome." You remarked all too sarcastically as you approached Finnick and his bare chest.

“Oh just smile and wave, angel, they're savoring the last time they'll see either of us like this.” It was lighthearted and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, but it did comfort you. Eventually your body would simply be yours again." There she is.” He whispered, your eyes followed him to her, Katniss Everdeen.

“Well you better go make your introduction then."

“Well ladies first." He gestured, expectantly.

“No, I don't think my first introduction should be like this." You pointed up and down the outfit. "You go, it'll seem perfectly on brand for you.”

Finnick nodded, you could tell he had more he wanted to say, to lecture on but there wasn't much time. You looked around the room, toying with the fishnet nervously before you heard someone call your name and looked in the direction.

"Didn't expect you to be the type with nerves.” A voice quickly caught your attention. Peeta Mellark.

"Only at the worst times.” You grimaced, shaking your head.

Peeta smiled, "Well I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who gets them.”

"Oh far from it, I bet you 75% of the people in here are trying not to throw up right now.”

“Which one's are fine then?" He stood by you observing the occupants.

“While obviously it's neither of us, I'm thinking District 11 too many years in for either of them to be worrying."

“1 & 2?"

“Bingo!" You announced, tilting your head.

“Surprised you didn't say Katniss." He remarked.

"Surprised you didn't say Finnick.” You countered.

"The thrills of pretending to not be shaking.” He shook his head with a smirk.

"Masters of that game. In fact she looks like she might just kill him now.” You tried not to laugh at how Katniss looked at Finnick who you knew was trying desperately to work his charms.

"Well, I'd best go save him then.”

"Oh, yes it would only be mildly entertaining.”

"It was nice meeting you, considering the circumstances.” Peeta exuded kindness in a way you could only aspire too, it genuinely hurt your soul.

“Yes, a mind numbing extravaganza thrown here would have been much more enjoyable, as horrendous as that is to say."

"I only ever attended one and just from that, I ever so gravely attest to that. I better go break the two up before she attacks.”

"Oh please do, can't have him squabbling already.” Peeta smiled and soon enough Finnick was stalking back your way.

"She'll come around.” He assured before you could even open your mouth as the two of you stepped into the carriage.

"I'm sure she will. Peeta and I could feel the tension from a room away.”

"Everybody likes me.”

"I'm sure talking like that is exactly why she doesn't.” You nudged him playfully.

"Oh shut up.” He rolled his eyes.

"That's no way to talk to your wife, Mr. Odair.”

“I apologize, Mrs. Odair." He pulled you in for a kiss just as the carriage came into the bright sunlight, the screaming proved its effectiveness to you. It was sure to leave an impact on them when they looked back on the tribute parade.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you all again for your continued reading and support, especially since I feel like this is so slow paced but there's so much I want to get in there. if you enjoyed feedback, comments, likes, reblogs are all much appreciated, as always my inbox is wide open for any thoughts y'all have! so excited for getting into the training parts and some rebellion planning in the next part. love y'all so much, thank you again 💕💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair angst #thg #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick x you

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daistea · 4 months

Note

If you ever have the time, would you ever feel like taking a request with mithrun x an elf reader who's been taking care of him for a while? I've been thinking that they'd know of each other pre-demon, but weren't well acquainted (different circles, and reader is more introverted (like misril)) at the time until post-demon where they help nurse him to health and mayhaps join the canaries as a healer/support for the group.

If that's too specific, that's fine! You can take liberties.

If youre like "yeah that plain just won't happen with mithrun/hes not like that", that's fine! You don't need to write it if you don't want to

I don't want to force you or anything; it's just something that's been floating in my mind, recently!

Of course my friend! You asked so nicely <3

I think I’ll use she/her pronouns for the reader with this one if that’s cool!

Sooooo I’m assuming Mithrun was one of the Wardens in his squad. I don’t recall if it ever mentioned if he was in the first squad or the second. If it’s the second, then Milsiril might’ve been the Vice-Captain of his specific squad at the time, and Mithrun was her second in command like Pattadol is to him now. Cus u know Pattadol is second in command because she’s nobility, and Mithrun is nobility.. Yadda yadda. Let’s just go with that for simplicity’s sake. And since there’s only two Wardens to a squad, I’ve taken the liberty of making the reader a criminal, but it’s for something stupid like… jaywalking lol. Jaywalking using black magic. Or uh maybe using black magic to heal. Both? Two criminal charges, you rebel you

anywho..

tw suicide, mental illness, self harm, blood

Dungeon Meshi Spoilers ahead!

4500ish words

"Vignettes of a 40 Year Old Desire" - Mithrun x elf/healer female reader

●・○・●・○・●

Getting started was the hardest part.

You took a deep breath, your hands hovering over the wound. The slice in Mithrun’s arm was clean, with no brutal ridges. It would scar, but it would be a straight, neat white line on his skin when it was over. Even Mithrun’s wounds were perfect.

“Are you okay?” He asked. His voice was soft, and it reminded you of warm blankets on winter days. Your eyes flickered up to meet his and he offered a smile.

“Yeah,” you said. You sat beside him with your legs curled up beneath you. He sat with his legs criss-crossed, casual as if his bicep hadn’t just been nearly sliced open by the sword of a living armor. He had to be in pain, it was a deep wound. You’d managed to stop the excessive bleeding, but the paleness of his cheeks betrayed that he was feeling weak.

Still, starting was the hardest part.

You summoned your stores of mana, connecting to the spirits that made up the world. They were all around you, willing to obey, willing to lay upon Mithrun’s wound and graft his skin back together. A soft light glowed from beneath your palm as you ran your fingers around the edges of the wound. You weren’t sure why getting started was difficult for you, perhaps it was the feeling of magic pulsing through your veins that startled you, or the very fact that you had the ability to defy nature in this way. And there was that little bell that rang in the back of your mind, that urge to go further, deeper, darker.

That damn bell and its ringing had gotten your ears clipped.

You pulled back from Mithrun, letting your hands drop into your lap. “Done,” was all you said.

He blinked in surprise, then lifted his arm to inspect the spot where he’d been sliced. There was a faint scar, but it would probably fade if he got some sun. His lips twitched into a frown at the sight, but that expression immediately died, pushed aside and replaced with a smile. Mithrun didn’t need the sun, actually, he carried enough shine in his smiles…. Is what someone stupid would say.

“Thank you,” his voice was soft, polite. He pushed down the sleeve of his canary uniform and rolled his shoulders. Nearby, the rest of the team was setting up camp for the night. They laughed and passed around a wineskin. There was a spot on the ground between two of your peers, saved for Mithrun. Milsiril was a distance away with her back pressed against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. She had a sewing needle that she meticulously threaded through the body of a ragdoll.

You expected Mithrun to stand up and cross the room to join the others. Yet, he didn’t. He stared at you, two silver eyes filled with curiosity. You returned the look and raised a brow as if to silently ask what he needed.

Finally, Mithrun offered a slightly bashful smile, “You don’t really socialize much, do you? Oh,” he perked up, eyes widening, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, of course. I mean, you’re shy, right? I just don’t know that much about you.”

And that drove him mad.

You were entirely too aware of Mithrun’s true nature. The others were too busy basking in his light, caught up in his orbit, trapped in his web. Even Milsiril deigned to notice. She could’ve if she wanted, she simply didn’t want to— it would be like looking in the sun, and once you got past the blinding light and actually looked, you would already be burnt.

You saw the looks on his face when nobody was looking. You didn’t mean to see them, you didn’t mean to stare, but it had become a habit to watch his reactions. There was a flicker of irritation in his eyes sometimes, the hint of a frown when someone didn’t play his game exactly how he planned. There were moments when his shoulders would tense and his smile would turn tight. There were moments he’d avoid answering questions about himself and turn the subject around on the inquirer to keep his history and feelings and thoughts hidden behind a very sturdy, well-guarded wall.

You were more interested in him than you’d like to admit. You’d drawn several conclusions: Mithrun genuinely enjoyed the company of others, but he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t help but scowl when they weren’t looking and judge their decisions and look down on everything they said and did. He even did it to you.

Which was precisely why you avoided him for the most part. You didn’t want him to know more about you, to provide more ammunition so he could reload his weapon and fire it straight into your back.

So, all you had to say was, “Yeah, we don’t really talk much.” And you smiled as innocently as you could before standing up and wandering to a corner near Milsiril.

Mithrun’s eyes lingered on your back. He was probably making that face he made when displeased that his charm didn’t work; analytical, a hint of darkness, one could practically see the red-inked assumptions scribbling onto parchment in his head, destined to be filed under a wildly critical and exaggerated category and kept there until the end of time.

You only wished you understood why he was like that.

Mithrun disappeared without warning. The squad had been dispatched to the Central Observation Tower because yet another person had disappeared in the area. Mithrun offered to take his friend’s scouting duty into a dark tunnel because she was afraid of spiders and was convinced that there were millions of them in that specific dark tunnel. Milsiril offered to send you along with him, but at that time you were trying to heal a sprained ankle of another squad member. Mithrun waved a dismissive hand and smiled, “It’s no problem. I’ll be fine on my own, but thanks!”

That was the last you saw of him.

Milsiril had someone slumped on her arm. She held them up, breathing heavily and covered in dirt and blood and dirty blood. You rushed toward the scene. The person had silver hair caked with quickly drying streaks of red. His head lolled. But he was breathing. Thank goodness, he was breathing.

Milsiril gently laid Mithrun on the ground. Immediately, you sat beside him, your hands on his cheeks and forcing open his eyes— eye. Singular. The right one was a mess. There was no time to question that, though. You summoned a light spell and opened his eyelid and black irises greeted you. Weren’t his eyes silver before? It was dim, too. Yet, his chest moved up and down and his heart was still beating. You let go of his face and he closed his eyes again, head lolling to the side as he let out a soft exhale.

“So, this is where he’s been?” You asked Milsiril.

She nodded, “He became the dungeon lord. This place…” she glanced up at the twisted walls and long corridors that led to nowhere. There were monster corpses nearby. So many monsters, strong ones, weird ones with horrific teeth and eyes. “It’s a representation of him. I never knew…”

You knew, sort of. You just didn’t think it would get to this level. You didn’t think he’d fall to the demon. You didn’t think—

There was no time for thinking. You had to get started on healing him. For once, getting started wasn’t so hard, not when your heart raced, not when you were desperate for someone to live.

When Mithrun was conscious again, you offered your hand to help him stand.

He didn’t take it.

Of one thing you were certain: Mithrun of the house of Kerensil had no desire to live.

“You should’ve let me die.”

You perked up at the sound of his voice. It was the first time Mithrun had spoken in perhaps a month, and his vocal cords betrayed that fact. His voice was scratchy with disuse, and it was a struggle for him to speak. As you glanced over your shoulder to look at him, he didn’t bother meeting your eyes. His gaze was on the window near his bed, but he wasn’t looking at anything, not really.

“I should’ve let you die?” You echoed. You could hear the anger in your own voice. Mithrun didn’t care, you knew.

He simply nodded. A lock of silver fell over his bony shoulder. His collarbones were too pronounced. The sight made a fire start in your chest.

“Mithrun?” You asked.

He turned his head to look at you. One eye, as black as an endless pit, landed on your face. The other was covered by bandages.

And he waited. He didn’t actually care about what you had to say, you knew. But you had to say it.

“Don’t ever say those words to me again.”

Mithrun only stared, “Alright.”

Then he returned his attention to the window that he was not looking out of.

You don’t know when or why you started to care so much.

You’d always cared about people. You’d always wanted to help. But you didn’t even really like Mithrun before the dungeon incident. Now, his recovery was all you could focus on. And you were absolutely obsessed with the state of things.

“I don’t know what to do,” his brother whispered, desperate, “I’ve hired so many caretakers but they just don’t do anything for him. I mean, they do things, but he’s not getting any better.”

Someone had to break the news to him. “I don’t think anything we do is going to make him any better.”

“I want him to be better,” his brother furrowed his brows and took a deep breath.

You wanted the same. But for now, all you could do was keep Mithrun alive. As long as he ate and slept and breathed, that was good enough for now. That was all he could manage.

You visited the Kerensil family home more often these days. You weren’t sure why, but you cared. When he screamed at night and scratched himself to the point of bleeding, you healed him without a word. When he got ahold of a kitchen knife and put it to his throat, you wrestled it away from him, then helped his brother install locks on all the cabinets and drawers. When Mithrun snuck out at night to go slaughter every goat within a 50 mile radius, you cleaned the blood from his hair and hands.

You’d basically moved in. The captain had given you permission to dedicate time to Mithrun’s healing, since they would’ve liked to have him join again once he was better. To the other Canaries, this was part of your sentence. To you, this was part of your purpose.

You and Mithrun talked a lot. You talked the most. He stayed quiet, so you weren’t sure if you could consider it as actually holding a conversation. You weren’t sure if he was even listening. But once, when you were softly explaining the importance of getting rune shapes exactly right, you stopped and stared at your hands. You’d begun to enter dark territory, the study of black magic that had brought you to this place in life.

The silence stretched on for a minute or two before Mithrun tilted his head. His hair was splayed out on his pillow and his good eye was open, blinking, slightly alert.

“Continue,” he said.

So you continued. And he stared at the ceiling. And you knew that he was listening. He didn’t care, of course, but he was listening.

One night, Mithrun nearly hit a vital organ with a piece of glass from the bathroom mirror that he’d shattered.

You healed it, the light from your hands growing brighter than usual. Your shoulders were tense and you couldn’t help but scowl and growl and mutter.

Mithrun just looked at you, “You know this isn’t what I want.”

“I don’t care,” you answered immediately.

He grit his teeth, “I don’t want to live.”

“I want you to live!” You exploded. He flinched backward, but no emotion passed over his face. He simply stared. You gulped down your feelings and continued healing him.

Maybe that was selfish of you. You didn’t care.

Milsiril was a mother. Milsiril was a caretaker. Milsiril was a toymaker and she knew how to wind them up and set them on the path again.

“I’m ready to go back into the dungeon,” Mithrun said. His voice was still scratchy, but he was sitting up on his bed for once. He’d gained a few pounds and his shoulders weren’t sharp as knives anymore.

Milsiril only shook her head, “Not yet, I’m sorry.”

Mithrun looked at you as if he expected you to ally with him. You knew him the best, you knew what he wanted in life. You even knew what his secret desire was, the one he couldn’t admit to himself.

You shook your head as well, “You’re still underweight and you haven’t quite gotten the hang of taking care of yourself yet.”

Mithrun’s expression only darkened, “Then let’s keep practicing.”

Where Milsiril was more concerned with making Mithrun socially acceptable enough to rejoin society, you were much more concerned about his living conditions, health, and dignity. It was a relief that he’d stopped trying to pick the locks on the knife drawer. It was not a relief that Mithrun was planning for his inevitable death against the demon— not that he’d admit that.

He wanted different things now. No longer was his goal to die from withering away, but rather to die at the hands of the god who once served him. Still, it involved him dying. There was this feeling you had inside, comparable to the feeling you had when you were first being hunted by the Canaries. You knew it was inevitable that they would find you and jail you or make you join them. Anticipation rose in your chest until it finally burst when they tied up your wrists and clipped your ears.

Now, anticipation was rising again. It had been rising for the last twenty or so years that you’d spent at Mithrun’s side. You could only wonder when it would burst, and when you’d end up as scraps on the floor like the shreds of a popped balloon. You could only wonder.

When Mithrun rejoined the Canaries, you went with him. He said nothing about that. You were the one who cut his hair shorter for functionality reasons. You were the one who delivered his new uniform and made sure it fit. You were the one who sat on his back as he did push ups for training— which was actually the most fun with him you’d had in the last twenty years. It was kind of silly, but it was good to see him willing to do things like exercise and challenge himself, even if his end goal was just to reach the demon.

There was a lot of teasing involved when you two returned to the Canaries.

“Are you in love with him or something?” Helki asked behind his hand. He cast a glance at Mithrun, who was sitting nearby and silently staring out the window.

You made a face, “With Mithrun? No. I love him, but not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He snorted, “You’ve been like his little wife for the last few decades.”

“I don’t think I would consider all that as wife-like,” you retorted.

“Why do you do it, then?”

Was it truly so impossible for someone to comprehend caring for another individual without expecting something in return? Or not having a motive? You supposed there was a motive, but it wasn’t romance. You just… cared. You wanted him to stay alive and get better. And he was relatively better, now. Relatively.

You patted Helki’s shoulder, “Because he’s my friend. Nothing more.”

You didn’t notice, but Mithrun’s head tilted. He always listened to you, even when you didn’t think so.

“Can you help her?” Flamela jutted a thumb toward where you and Mithrun sat. Her voice, louder than everybody else’s in the Canary’s headquarters, caught your attention. Mithrun kept his arms crossed and his gaze on the recruits training outside.

Cithis blinked in surprise. Her eyes landed on you and you returned the look with a hesitant smile.

“It’s a lot to explain,” Flamela continued, “but Captain Mithrun needs help and [name] needs a break.”

Your brows furrowed. You hadn’t expressed needing a break before. You were fine. You liked taking care of Mithrun. Yet before you could protest, Flamela was already walking away. And Cithis stood there with her hands folded and her eyes curious, analyzing.

Dread settled into your chest.

“You’re not some helpless baby, Mithrun,” you didn’t mean to yell, nor pace, nor gesture so wildly with your hands, but you couldn’t help it. “You’re not a dog, not a slave, not someone who can be exploited for entertainment! You’re a person and you deserve respect!”

Mithrun only raised a brow, “So, you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you snapped, sounding quite mad at him. Yet you pulled yourself together and took a deep breath, “No, Mithrun, I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault. I just wish people saw you as more than what you’re going through. You’re the damn Captain of the Canaries now, you’ve risen above some really tough shit and you’re capable and strong and—”

Lord.

The realization hit you like a slap to the face.

You froze, mouth hanging open, eyes on Mithrun. He only stared, as he tended to do, waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t. You’d been slapped in the face by reality and now everything ached.

“I’ve got to go,” you managed to squeak out before running toward the door. You left his bedroom behind and darted down the hallway of the Canaries Headquarters. You shared a room with a few other criminals, but they weren’t there when you burst inside and collapsed onto your bed. You were in your late 100’s yet there you were, screaming into your pillow like a 60 year old.

You’re in love.

“I’m in love,” you said out loud, which you immediately regretted because that made things real.

You’re in love. You’re in love. You’re in love and it hurts so much because Mithrun could never love you back. Were you a masochist? Probably. Your heart hurt. You suddenly understood the concept of heartbreak, it felt as if your heart was about to physically fall apart. Realizing that you’re in love should be a happy moment. It shouldn’t hurt so much.

Alright, you decided. You’re going to ignore it like an adult. You’re going to take this secret to the grave.

Captain Mithrun’s team was a mess.

But they were fun.

“Hey,” Lycion elbowed you one night at the dinner table. He leaned down to whisper while you were mid-bite of a piece of chicken. “Do you think the Captain would let me check out the fighting scene on that island? Like, we could put off the whole negotiations thing for a day so I can go see it?”

Mithrun personally wouldn’t care, you knew, but he would refuse Lycion’s request for the sake of getting into the dungeon faster. You swallowed your food and sent him a glance, “Why’re you asking me? Pattadol’s the one that does all the decision stuff with Mithru— the Captain.”

“But you know him best.”

True enough. Still, you were just the healer, still a criminal sentenced to another 40 or so years of Canary service. You sent Lycion an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I don’t think he would.”

“Can you ask him?” Lycion used that purring voice he always utilized on certain targets unwilling to obey.

You remained unaffected, “I don’t see why you think me asking him would make a difference.”

“The Captain would do anything you asked!” He explained, “Within reason, of course. You’re his girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you forced the satisfaction down. “I’m not his girl. And he pretty much does whatever anyone tells him to do as long as it doesn’t interfere with his goals, so I’m not any different.”

“You’re blind,” Lycion muttered, “so blind.”

Mithrun had been pulled into the stupid pit thing or whatever with that stupid Kabru guy. You were going to pull your hair out.

When he reunited with the Canaries, he actually looked rather well-taken care of. You begrudgingly admitted that Kabru may not be as stupid as you thought, but you couldn’t let go of your anger at the entire situation. You still wanted to pull your hair out, mostly because you were resisting the urge to wrap your arms around the Captain and squeeze until your bodies melted together.

Mithrun noticed your stress and slowly approached you. He patted your head, “I’m fine,” he said.

He could be shot in the chest and he’d still claim to be fine.

“When this is all over,” you managed to say through the fog of anger and worry and adoration and fury, “we’re taking a holiday. We’ll go to the Eastern Archipelago and we’re sitting on the beach and we’re going to do very safe things like build sandcastles or take naps.”

Mithrun looked down at you. He stared, as was his tendency. Then he raised both brows and you thought that just for a second, there was a hint of a smile on his lips. An affectionate smile. Perhaps it was hopeful thinking, an illusion brought forth by stress. You weren’t sure.

His hand that was on your head slowly ran down the side of your cheek and to your chin, lifting your face so you’d look at him. He didn’t hold you for long, though, letting his arm drop to his side when he had your attention. “When we have time, I will go where you go,” he said.

You wanted to smack him in his stupid beautiful face for being so sweet. What was wrong with him? Was he in a good mood? You could only narrow your eyes in suspicion.

Of course, Mithrun walked away after that, back to the mission at hand. Yet his words echoed. I will go where you go.

That was more like something you would say to him. You’ve made the decision to be at his side for the last 40 years. You would follow him to the ends of the earth.

Surely, he didn’t mean it.

But then again, Mithrun wasn’t in the habit of lying unless it served his purpose. And he wouldn’t lie to you, of all people. Surely not.

The demon was gone and Mithrun had lost his purpose in life.

How scary, you thought. How terrifying to lose your one reason for living. You’d most likely be on the ground, slumped up against a tree and expecting to wither away just like him. But unlike you, Mithrun had people who cared for him, who wouldn’t accept that fate for him, who loved him.

Senshi and Kabru said their pieces. The Canaries all agreed with a chorus of encouragement and opinions and friendship.

You offered your hand, like you always did, like you’d been doing for the last four decades.

He took it.

Mithrun placed his hand in yours. And the anticipation bubble that had been building in your chest for so long finally popped. But you were okay. It was okay. He was okay.

Mithrun pardoned you, surprisingly. You told him that wasn’t necessary and that he should use his pardon on someone else who had a longer sentence. There were only 40 years left for you. Surely they wouldn’t be as long as the last 40 years had been.

“No, it's you I want,” Mithrun said rather casually, “you’re staying with me in Melini.”

He wanted something. He wanted you.

You forced yourself to stay upright, “Alright. If you insist.”

Living with Mithrun in this state was very different. It was fun, heartbreaking, difficult, easy, calm, chaotic. Some days, he laid in bed and stared at the wall. Other days, he made noodles and walked through the forest and sat on the beach with you, doing very safe things like building sandcastles and taking naps. Many people in town assumed you two were married. You always corrected them, Mithrun never did.

He observed monsters and would need healing sometimes. You would push up the sleeve of his tunic and trace your fingers along old scars, none of them perfect. Then, heal him, as you tend to do.

“Are you sure you want this?” Mithrun asked one day.

You looked up to meet his eyes. Ink black, your favorite color. “What?”

“You can spend your life any way you want now,” he explained, his voice flat, “you’re free. I’m not your burden anymore.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. “You have never been a burden to me.”

“I used to hate you for keeping me alive.”

“I know.”

“And you never hated me?”

“I sometimes did,” you admitted softly, fingers tracing over his skin. You recalled this certain scar, from a pair of scissors you wrestled out of his hands at two in the morning years ago. “But it was the kind of hate that only stems from love.”

“You have always treated me like a human,” Mithrun murmured. His free hand went to your chin and lifted your face, “Like someone that deserves to live. You loved me despite my inability to give you anything in return. But I’m able now,” he leaned closer, “so allow me this.”

Damn. That had to be the first time you’d ever heard Mithrun say anything like tha—

He was kissing you.

It took you a moment to realize what was happening. His lips were on yours and your heart felt as if it might explode. Your hands shook as you raised them, eventually finding their way to his hair. That felt right. This was right. He deepened the kiss, slowly pushing forward. It was slow and careful and calm. It held so many words that neither of you were able to say. As he gently ran his hand up your thigh and to your hips, you couldn’t help but shiver.

40 years of longing accumulated into this moment. In a dark house in a new kingdom in a demon-free world, you started something new, and for once it wasn’t difficult at all.

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blackhairedjjun · 6 months

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let me care for you - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, comfort, sick fic, confession, tyun taking care of reader | word count: 723 | warnings: getting sick, food, medicine mentions

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - BEDSIDE: while sitting by the sick/injured/unconscious receiver’s bedside, sender reveals that they’re in love with them, unaware that the receiver is able to hear this revelation. (requested by @ur-mother-realnotclickbait)

author's notes: hi riel! this was such a fluffy and sweet prompt, and i totally see taehyun as an acts of service guy so this was lovely to write <3 i hope you enjoy!

actions always speak louder than words when it comes to taehyun, your best friend.

not that taehyun’s words are meaningless. for example, when you texted him in the middle of the night that you were feeling awfully sick, he sent only a single message: i’m so sorry, i’ll be right there soon to check on you. but the buzzing of your doorbell twenty minutes later speaks volumes, especially when you find taehyun standing on the other side of the door, a bag full of groceries and drugstore goods in his arms.

“it’s 2am...” you barely manage to get the words out. even speaking is exhausting.

he sets the bag down and pulls you toward him by the shoulders, his hand coming up to your forehead. his eyebrows knit the moment he feels you burning. “your fever is really high... you should lie down. i’ll take care of everything.”

“taehyunie, you...”

his hand traces the outline of your face before letting you go. “get some rest, let me help you.”

he helps you back to your bed, one arm around your waist to keep you steady, then leaves the bedroom door ajar as he busies himself in the kitchen so that you can hear him. he prepares hot soup and fills a jug of water, and sets aside your medicines and a roll of bread. your senses are so stuffed that you can barely smell the chicken and ginger wafting over, nor hear the clinking of glasses and spoons. but your apartment feels warm, not from your fever but from the presence of your best friend, and it isn’t long until your consciousness starts to drift.

what you don’t see is the worry creased in taehyun’s forehead as he lets the soup simmer. he understands that you aren’t seriously ill and that your bug will clear out in a few days. still, he can’t help but feel a little sting in his heart when he recalls the heat radiating off your skin or the sunken circles under your eyes. already he misses the brightness in your eyes and the sound of your laughter, and he wants to be part of making you feel better again.

you almost don’t hear him as he enters your bedroom and sets down the tray of soup, water, and medicines on your bedside table. meanwhile you’re caught between wakefulness and sleep, your eyes closed and one arm dangling over the edge of the bed. he sits on this edge, placing your hand in his lap. your skin is still hot while he cradles your hand in his.

“you’ll get better soon,” he murmurs to himself.

silence follows, and your breathing begins to slow. taehyun still holds your hand in his like a fragile gift. he remembers the confession he planned - a confession weeks in the making, yet every time he found the opportunity to say it his throat went dry. but in the middle of the night with you in sleep, courage finds him.

“i probably shouldn’t say this right now... but when you get better, i want to keep taking care of you like this.” he intertwines his fingers with yours. “i want to cook for you and go on those arcade games that you love, and make you happy again. you’re my best friend, but the truth is i want to care for you more... more than what a friend does. i love you, y/n. just let me show my love, please...”

he doesn’t expect the gentle squeeze of your hand in his. his eyes widen in shock, the realization hitting that you probably heard his first draft of a confession. but his fears subside just as quickly when he feels your thumb caressing the back of his hand, and your body shifting closer to him.

your eyes are still closed and you’re too tired to speak, but even your illness can’t stop the smile that spreads across your cheeks. you let out a satisfied hum and squeeze his hand again.

“mmm...”

with his free hand, taehyun brushes away the hair on your face. your smile widens even further. he opens his mouth to say more but instead opts to sit in the silence to let you rest. he can talk about how much he loves you when you feel better; for now he’ll show you.

#txt x reader #taehyun x reader #txt x you #taehyun x you #kang taehyun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #taehyun imagines #txt fluff #taehyun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #bhj's 300 follower event 🖤#bhj: violet's works

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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

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My Father's Eyes - prologue

about: Bradley comes to terms with growing up without a father to guide him while quickly adapting to become one himself… to a child who wants nothing more than not to have him in her life.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst, fluff, smut [...probably]. no posting schedule.

You slipped your phone carefully into your backpack, cursing low. It hadn't stopped blowing up since you took the opportunity to unwind a little with a few after-work drinks. You were generally an automatic no, so giving the affirmative to a question perennially asked just to be polite was met with more confusion than excitement - you weren't sure how it made you feel. Your social skills felt like they were severely lacking (not to mention the pop culture references you were behind on unless it was, of course, Taylor Swift)... You simply weren't social anymore.

You mostly tolerated your work associates, they were all friendly, smart, and considerate, but come Friday, you were on your time and couldn't wait to get home to start your weekend. You had wine, pizza and TV to catch up on and it would be perfect. Basic in its simplicity and you didn't care what anyone else thought.

"One more drink," your co-workers begged.

"Let loose, we never get to hang out aside from work," they added.

And while you were having a pretty good night, you had other reasons to be home -

But the revelry was about to end as hoots and hollers of patrons in the bar overcame a raucous Friday night crew as a group of sailors walked in. Grand in their whites, gleaming, broad grins, covers and sunglasses in the dim, overcrowded room. Your eyes scanned each one like they always did when moments like this materialised.

Your heart rate elevated, and the hairs on your arm pricked up. Hands clammy -

The warning signals in your brain were firing louder than an air raid siren. That face you never expected to see again among that crowd, and it was more handsome than you could even recall.

Bradley Bradshaw. Your first... everything. Young and dumb, you fell head over heels for that boy with his head in the clouds and that impish grin. He who dreamed big, much bigger than you ever could imagine.

Tall, broad, tanned, unassuming. He was surreal, it felt like a dream how he’d just returned your life without warning. This wasn’t his hometown, so you knew he was here for work. A nightmare occurred even as you rose from your place at the small cocktail table and started making your apologies for the drink just placed before you, reaching eagerly for your bag and other random belongings you’d whipped out.

That you had to get home, "Oh, look at the time - " that you had to go -

You had to just get the hell out of The Hard Deck. You knew better, even if the time to now had been on your side in previous ventures to the joint.

The crowd swarmed them, and you took your opportunity to try and get out without being noticed. You knew Bradley had no idea you would be there. The beautiful man was immediately surrounded by striking women all vying for his attention, and although he appeared to enjoy it, he was keeping them all at bay. You could see that from your safe distance.

But that last tequila had done you in and you had to get to the bathroom before you got into the Uber - while you weren't feeling the effects of the alcohol, you felt could be ill at any moment. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hissed to yourself, slamming the cubicle door after you, the safety of the bathroom gave you small comfort but it relieved the feeling of someone standing on your chest in any way.

Sitting, you had no choice but to overhear the gossip of the sudden arrival of the newly decorated squad who had just entered the place, sending the bar into a tizzy.

“ - Hangman is blonder - "

" - suave Coyote was - "

"I don't know how Natasha can be around such sexy men all the time."

"Come on, she's as talented, and dear god, she as hot as them. Don't discount her rank because of some guys. I’m sure she deals with pissing contests 24/7.”

You silently cheered for the last person's comment, whoever this Natasha was. Good for her.

But no mention of Bradley.

"It's like the Navy put together the sexiest aviators they had - " this person was also right. They always grandstanded like they were in movies. And tonight, even Bradley.

Flushing, you pulled yourself together and made a hasty exit strategy in your brain as you furiously washed and dried your hands. The closest door from the bathroom was also the furthest from the pool table and you were in luck as you heard the roar and the familiar opening keys to Jerry Lee Lewis' Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On.

Come on over, baby, whole lotta shakin' goin' on, Yes, I said come on over, baby, baby, you can't go wrong...

And abruptly, you were young, dumb and 21 again. Falling for this schtick then and, by God, his voice deeper than it was and you could swear, better. Sexier. Older. Bolder. Not your shy, quiet reserved college boy on his summer vacation in San Diego... but look at you now, falling for this schtick again. The way he could sway people on full display as the crowd and his friends/teammates, how were you to know, tumbled over each other at the grubby old piano you’d never seen touched to now to spread the revelry with him.

"My old man listened to this album so much when I was a kid," Bradley said quietly, delicately handing the cover to you as he wandered over to the old turntable he'd mentioned was also his father's and you watched him intently. He could make you listen to white noise or nails on a blackboard and you’d be enthralled with it. "I don't have too much of his stuff," he explained, considerate as he dropped the pin on the record tenderly. "But this song," he laughed quietly as Great Balls of Fire filled his small room of the share house he stayed at that school break. "We sang this song a lot as a family. Please don’t hold it against me, I’m very aware Lewis was a fuckin’ creep of a dude,” and you couldn’t resist your smile as he offered you his hand and danced with him.

And how often that summer that hand lead you down a garden path of trouble.

You probably hadn't listened to Jerry Lee Lewis since it reminded you too much of him. And of course, the artist was controversial at best, just like Bradley said but you’d never, ever forgotten the words.

And as you headed towards the door, the need to see Bradley Bradshaw just one more time overwhelmed you. His jacket stripped and sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled to his thick golden forearms, the collar on his shirt strained around the thick ropes of muscles of his neck and throat as his cheeks pinked in the hot room.

Aviators sliding down his strong nose in the exhilaration of being the centre of attention. He was thriving off it.

He was as handsome as the day you met him. The way he captured your attention as he retrieved the football that landed near your beach bag that fateful day. His soft voice of apology as his buddies teased him down play. He apologised on their behalf and asked if he could make it up to you The way he handled the room funny to you, your once shy, quiet boy now commanding the group at the bar, singing with him, vying for his attention... singing to just get that small piece of his time.

Home soon kiddo. Hope you had a good night with Amelia, you texted quickly.

As the song ended and the place erupted again in enraptured applause, you slinked out as more sailors slipped in and took in a deep breath, the humid beach air filling your lungs and you called for the quickest car to get you home safely... to safety.

"Hey," you heard the voice behind you. You were so fucking close to the car... so close to escaping without a trace... but just like the old days, his voice warming you to your bones. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, even as he gently took your wrist and guided your body towards his. "Holy shit," you heard the small flutter of laughter in a bubble against his lips. “It is you.” He was clearly as shocked as you were.

The softness in his rough rasp. It had haunted the better part of the last 14, 15 or so years. Dreams, nightmares.

You were so close to breaking free of the bar without him seeing you - but that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. In his quiet calm, he was always watching.

...bringing yourself to raise your eyes to him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. To his warm, humoured honey ones, his grin just melted you like it always had. So much about him had changed, the moustache you were perplexed about. Some faint scars marred his handsome face that you didn’t recall but they certainly didn’t look new (even if new to you). They gave him a light ruggedness, maturing him. But you could only compare him to the senior in college, eagerly awaiting his acceptance into the Naval Academy.

And he was big. Taller, broader, stronger. BIG.

And white certainly was his shade. He chewed his lower lip, and you were reminded of the charming boy who left you all those years ago. The man now before you who didn’t even know he had changed the course of your life.

"Hello, Bradley," you finally said, and he stood to height, the recognition in your voice as you tried to keep his gaze. His tongue tracked his upper lip and he finally smiled, not the smug arrogance on display as he and his team ponied in earlier, but the sweet genuineness that was simply Bradley.

"Hi," he swallowed. "Been a long time," he reckoned.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"Looks like time has been good to you," he said, low, appreciatively.

And you laughed as he visibly relaxed, the flirt enough to break you. You weren't sure if he was trying anything, but the air was finally making it to your lungs.

"You still livin' around here?"

You gave a soft nod. "Yeah."

"I'm just in town a few days," he admitted as you nodded. "I - my team and I - were just promoted. Lieutenant Commander."

"This why you're all dressed up - or were?"

"My whites?" he asked.

"I saw you come in."

"And yet you tried to sneak out before you said hi," he teased.

"I'm sorry," you admitted. "But congrats on your promotion. Kind of a big deal?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Kind of."

Hearing the knocks on the glass, his attention was demanded back inside. Relief swept through you as he shooed them away with a swift flick of the bird and they howled inside but left him to his devices.

"How about coffee this weekend? It would be great to catch up," Bradley pressed. "Find out what you've been up to. Husband, family, work. All that stuff."

"Ha," your voice faltered. "I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as exciting as yours," you forced a laugh, and he really didn't seem to take the hint. His pout at your near rejection only seemed to spur him on further.

"One coffee and I'll get back on the boat and be out of your life forever," his lips quirked, and you remembered how you felt when he made that face without the moustache. He could get away with a lot then, just like he was getting away with it now. "Look... here's my number," he urged, holding out this hand as you sighed and unlocked your phone to enter the digits. You saw how he'd saved it.

Bradley Bradshaw (a big deal?). You had to laugh as he winked, relieved for the smile that crossed your features but you weren't sure if he was offended or not when you didn't offer yours in reply.

"Kind of a big deal," you confirmed with a giggle, those nerves bubbling under the surface rapidly now. He shrugged, the cheekiness of the boy you knew still evident in the man before you.

"Text me if you wanna catch up. I wanna hear about what you've been up to since graduation all those years ago. I fly back to Virginia Tuesday."

"Fleeting."

"Very much," he agreed. Sighing (with relief, but Bradley would never catch that), your Uber was right before you. He moved around you to open the passenger door. "Been a long time..."

"Longer than you know," you admitted, slipping into the car and he carefully closed the door behind you as the driver recalled your address and you left Bradley Bradshaw for what you hoped was the last time.

Your fingers itched to delete his number, but all you had to do was get through the next few days without the temptation to text him and it would be fine.

Life would go on and he's sail off into the sunset again like he promised.

Home ten or so minutes later, you made a beeline for upstairs. The bedroom door closed and silent from the other side. You pushed your way in quietly, the room dark, and you sat on the side of the bed, your hands drifting to the mess of dirty dark blonde curls splayed across your daughter's pillow as she read on her phone with her earphones on.

"Hi, sweetheart," you whispered, gently pushing back a tendril on your daughter's forehead. "Bedtime?" you suggested as she shrugged. Ahh, teens. You kissed her forehead before standing and leaving her room, your beautiful girl protected under the snuggly covers.

You didn't know how you were going to tell her that you saw her father tonight. After all these years and radio silence, doing what you could to protect her from the hurt you knew you'd caused by keeping this very real secret from Bradley.

"Shit," you muttered, wandering the hallway to your bedroom, your nerves shot, hot tears threatening and everything you'd done so well protecting to now... about to shatter into a million pieces with the return of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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child-of-helios · 4 months

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hello. I've a rather stupid question. I've only read the books once, as a kid, and I don't understand why people hate calpyso x leo. whys it so bad? why does everyone seems to hate it on here?

xxx,

eurydice

First of all, this is my first ever ask, I've made it mother :D Secondly, I'd gladly explain! Though please note that it really has been a good while since I've read the books too, so my memory is kinda foggy :] Warnings for: Slight mentions (but not too much) of rape, pedophilia and mental illness (oh boy this is a tough one)

So, I have made a post abt this before, but it was written in a fit of rage so not my proudest moment (but my most popular post, oops). Anyways, I feel that the hate towards Calypso x Leo is because of a few reasons. 1. It simply didn't get enough development to feel worth it imo. Similar to Jason x Piper, I felt like there wasn't enough there to warrant a canon ship. There is also the fact that personally, I thought that their dynamic was more of a familial or that of siblings, which made me uncomfortable. I would've much rather have them be friends. 2. The uncomfortable age gap. It feels very weird because while yes, Calypso was depicted as a teenager, she is thousands upon thousands of years old. The fact that she fell in love with a literal child is incredibly weird. It was weird enough with Percy, but at least they didn't end up dating. With Leo though, she did end up dating him and the age gap feels very odd. Its even weirder knowing she had a relationship with Odysseus, who by that point was a pretty old dude so she was probably very mature and an adult (though she doesn't act like it). 3. Calypso is kinda a rapist. In the Odyssey myth, she forces Odysseus (a married man) to sleep with her. I'm sorry, but I can't support any relationship involving a rapist unless its rapist x prison cell. It makes me uncomfortable because she could very well take advantage of Leo, a mentally ill teenager with self-esteem issues. 4. Her toxic treatment of Leo. Calypso was very pissed when Leo arrived on her island, rightfully so after what she had gone through, but even then her treatment of his was outright cruel, especially compared to that of Percy and Odysseus. She made him sleep outside, exposing him to the elements after he got flung through the air and ended up on her island, which must've caused some damage. Then after they started dating, I still felt uncomfortable reading about the two, because their dynamic just didn't work, and I don't recall her apologizing to him for her treatment of him. 5. Leo's arc was thrown away. I think the worst of all, is how this impacted Leo's character. He should've had an arc where he learnt to love himself, but because of Calypso he didn't. I think the moral was supposed to be: 'even if you're mentally ill or have problems, you still deserve love!' but it came over more as: 'ignore your issues and get all your love from someone else.' Isn't it more important for kids to learn about self-love? And as an extra: what could've been. I think that Leo shouldn't have gone back for Calypso, that that ship shouldn't have happened. I prefer him going back to Echo and them learning about self-love together as buddies (and maybe evolving into more than that). Echo was stuck in an abusive relationship with the Narcissist, so I think it would a good arc for them both. I also think that if you really wanted a romance, Jason x Leo would've been much better. We know that Rick can write good gay romances, we know that Piper turns out to be a lesbian, so why not make Jason and Leo gay? I think it would add much more to the tragedy of Jason's death, but that's for another post (and this one is getting too long already oops). In conclusion, I think Caleo is bad for many reasons, but especially because it didn't have enough time to develop and the dynamic was simply too creepy for me to get invested in. Sorry for the super long post- Have a lovely day :D

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #hoo #percy jackson #anti calypso #anti caleo #calypso #rick riordan #jason grace #leo x jason #odysseus #the odyssey

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cinnamonest · 6 months

Text

Also on note of that “bone breaking” post I believe Xiao is an absolute menace to the innkeepers because of his inability to gauge human sickness and injury. He's thoroughly convinced any slight discomfort you experience is a near-death situation.

Human life is incredibly fragile. Their bodies are nearly unbelievably susceptible to death from even very mild injuries and sicknesses, they die so easily it's frightening. Which is why he has to be very vigilant with you.

You once got a bit nauseous from eating something a bit past expiry date — you insist it's just food poisoning over and over, but he practically drags you to a pharmacist anyway “just in case,” because there are many deadly pathogens and parasites humans can die from that begin this way, and you will drop dead before you even know something is wrong.

If you have a headache, it's probably an oncoming aneurysm that will cause sudden death. You may think you have a mere common cold, but he is well aware that many very dangerous and severe illnesses begin as symptoms of common colds, some of which progress so rapidly you may not have time to notice before sudden death.

You try to explain your throat hurts because what you ate is giving you heartburn, but if it has the word heart, which is a very vital organ, that can only mean you are at great risk of, you guessed it, sudden death.

More than once now you've been sleeping a little too deeply — your breaths are so slow that it looks like you're barely breathing at all, so he has to shake you awake to ensure you are still alive. Any cough or sneeze is met with this head-jerk in your direction and yellow eyes wide open staring in panic, and you have to swear up and down you just got swallowed the wrong way or inhaled some dust.

Not even period pains are safe — it's normal, so you insist, you can't hide your discomfort so you're all but begging him not to worry about it, but this one time he remembers about seven hundred years ago he once heard a villager mention a woman who had internal bleeding mistaken for just that and died, so it must be seen professionally (yes, each month). The whole concept bothers him — you're bleeding and in pain, those things are bad, how can you be sure it's the normal amount of bleeding and pain and not too much, that you're not actually five minutes away from dropping dead? That's right, you can't know, which is why you have to let him carry you to the harbor for the third time this week.

Injury is even worse — yes, he's aware that human flesh bruises easily, but this bruise is on your ribcage, and you don't recall how it got there, there are organs underneath there and you could very well be internally bleeding out.

Both innkeepers are, at this point, used to him coming bounding into the main lobby in full-fledged panic, demanding to hand over the emergency medical kit kept by the front desk so he can save you from bleeding out (you accidentally cut your finger on a splinter on the baseboard), and they no longer bat an eye or ask where you're going when he comes barging through carrying you (protesting, at that) out the door without a word before vanishing in the direction of the nearest village with a doctor… even when you try to get their help to please tell him I'm fine, they just ignore you at this point, knowing it's futile.

There's a death at the inn once — you try to be reasonable and explain that it was a very elderly and sickly man who most certainly died of natural causes, but see, you don't know for sure that he didn't have some kind of rare rapid-onset deadly illness that can spread from the bottom floor all the way up to where your room is, so it is imperative that you be disinfected professionally.

He annoys the doctors too — they're all used to it at this point too, but many of them are aware of him, and none of the humans really want to oppose or risk upsetting one of these beings they have a degree of reverence for, so much to your dismay, all of them continue to treat his concerns as legitimate, even though it's very blatantly clear to you that they're faking taking it seriously.

On the bright side, having some pity on your suffering perhaps (or being tired of dealing with the same thing over and over), the harbor pharmacist managed to convince him that an over-the-counter mild painkiller was a miracle cure for a wide variety of ailments, so unless you feel that you need more, he says, then that should be enough… which cuts down on the frequency of your unnecessary emergency care visits, but only somewhat.

At this point, surely at least one of the concerns has been legitimate, he has definitely saved your life more than once by now. And yet, you have not thanked him for this, you continue to be so naive to your own fragility and do nothing but complain about it when you literally owe him your life. Unbelievable.

But rest assured, your ungratefulness will not deter him from continuing to take the utmost care of you, he'll continue to save you, regardless of how unappreciated these life-saving efforts are.

#i'll put this out from drafts in the meantime since i got behind on posting the last week or so #.x

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 10 months

Text

Like We Used To Be

Chapter 4

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Thorin attempts to extend an olive branch to you, but the arrival of some new allies might put a further strain on your already complicated relationship,

Warnings: canon typical violence, jealous!Thorin, angst, no use of y/n

author's note: I'm truly blown away by the amount of support I've already received on the last few chapters. I hope you're ready for tomorrow when I post the 5th installment because things are about to SERIOUSLY heat up🥵

Word count: 1740

“Where did you two go to if I may ask?” Thorin demands of you as soon as he is freed from his burlap sack.

“To look ahead,” Gandalf replies at the same time you say: “none of your business.”

The two men start discussing the possibility of a cave nearby but you have already stalked off to re-gather your things. It would probably be safe to assume the group will no longer wish to stay in this spot. You’re shoving blankets and food back into your bag when you hear someone approaching from behind.

Not just someone. You already know it’s him before he even speaks your name, but you refuse to turn around and look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asks gently.

“Me?” you turn around with a laugh. “I’m perfectly fine, you’re the one who was almost eaten by mountain trolls.”

“We had it handled,” he grumbles.

“Right,” you drawl with one eyebrow raised, “that’s why half of you were in burlap sacks while the rest were roasting over the fire like chestnuts. Is there a reason you followed me over here, or were you just hoping to worsen my already sour mood?”

He chuckles and looks down at his feet, “I can’t recall the last time I saw you in a good mood.”

“I can,” you whisper. Judging by the look on his face you can tell there is no need to elaborate for him that back before everything went wrong between the two of you, simply seeing him walk into the room would be enough to put a smile on your face.

He looks up at you with those piercing blue eyes and you force yourself to avert your gaze, knowing if you let yourself look too long you’ll be done for.

“About what I said earlier,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back as he takes a cautious step closer to you. “I’d like to apologize. Of course, you are as much a dwarf as the rest of us. Erebor is your home as well as mine”

You look up at him again in surprise. An apology from Thorin is a rare thing indeed. Could what Gandalf said be true? Does he respect you?

He takes another step closer to you and you can practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. If he sees the blush creeping into your cheeks he makes no mention of it.

“I regret that every interaction we have had on this journey has been so…”

“Hostile?” you offer breathlessly and he chuckles lowly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” he admits, “I do hope, that by the time we reach Erebor, we can find a way to become… friends. Like we used to be.” his fingers gently brush up against yours, slowly starting to interlace them together, one by one.

“Like we used to be,” you repeat back in a whisper.

Like we used to be before you left me behind a bitter voice in your head reminds you. And all at once your ill feelings towards him come rushing back in.

You yank your fingers out of his grip and step away from him.

“Things have changed a great deal since then, Thorin,” you remind him. “We’re not children anymore, we’re not the same people we used to be. I think it's time we both accept that and move on.”

His jaw clenches like he has something to say, but he just nods at you and interlaces his hands behind his back as if to resist reaching for yours again.

“Very well, if that is how you truly feel we will speak no more of it.” he clears his throat anxiously. “We believe we’ve found a troll cave nearby, the others are waiting to investigate.”

He turns on his heel without another word and takes off in that direction.

You follow a ways behind him, wondering to yourself all the while: what would have happened if you had said yes?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You are being hunted!” Gandalf cries as Thorin’s sword drips with the blood of the slain Warg at his feet.

With all of your ponies now long gone, and an orc pack suddenly on your tail, the company has no choice but to try and outrun them.

Your lungs burn and your legs ache as you keep pushing further and further through the clearing. Putting all of the strength you have into making it to the one rock formation large enough to conceal you all from your pursuers.

“Where are you leading us?” Thorin asks Gandalf suspiciously. He refuses to answer, shooting a look in your direction that gives you a feeling that wherever it is, Thorin is not going to be happy about it.

Wherever it is has to be better than here you think to yourself, as one of the orc scouts and his Warg hop atop your hiding spot, inches away from discovering you all concealed below.

Before he can find you, Kili steps out far enough to shoot the Orc off, sending him tumbling to the grass by your feet.

The small victory is short-lived however because now the rest of the pack knows where you are.

You’re all forced to run again in vain. Only to find yourselves surrounded on all sides, with Gandalf nowhere to be seen.

“He’s abandoned us!” someone shouts.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin commands from somewhere behind you.

Despite the ache in your arms you hold your twin blades up high, prepared to put up a fight until the very end.

“This way you fools!” calls Gandalf from behind another rock.

You follow the rest to find the wizard at the entrance to a steep rocky slope into a hidden cave below. You don’t fight Thorin as he offers you a hand to make your way down to join the others, tumbling down shortly after you.

The sounds of the orc pack still pursuing you come from outside but are quickly silenced by the unexpected blaring of a horn and the whistling of arrows.

A slain orc falls down into your cave with one such arrow lodged in his flesh.

Thorin pulls it out and you both already know its origin before he grumbles: “Elves”

The mental map in your head now tells you exactly where you are, and without a second thought you take off running down the narrow pathway, the rest of the dwarves calling after you in protest.

You stop in awe at the familiar scenery before you.

“The valley of Imladris,” Gandalf announces, “in the common tongue it’s known by another name.”

“Rivendell,” you and Bilbo both whisper in unison

“Here lies the last homely house east of the sea,” Gandalf says affectionately.

“This was your plan all along,” Thorin accuses him, “ to seek refuge with our enemy.”

You look over at him and scoff, “Would you rather take your chances with the orcs?”

“You have no enemies here Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf assures him. “The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.”

“In that case, Rivendell is about to become a very hostile environment,” you mumble to yourself but Thorin elects to ignore you.

“You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us!” he protests,

“Of course, they will!” agrees Gandalf, “but we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact and respect. And no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to the two of us.” Gandalf declares, nodding in your direction.

“The nicer you are the sooner we get to leave,” you translate for Thorin with a condescending pat on the shoulder before taking off down the path towards Rivendell.

“Mithrandir!” Lindir greets Gandalf as he descends the elegant staircase before the two begin conversing in Elvish.

“Stay sharp,” Thorin warns the others. And you roll your eyes at the tension your kin are so clearly maintaining while in a beautiful place such as this.

“I must speak with Lord Elrond,” Gandalf says switching back to the common tongue.

“My Lord Elrond is not here,” Lindir replies apologetically.

“Not here? Where is he?” Gandalf questions in alarm.

But it is short-lived with yet another blaring of a now familiar horn.

“Close ranks!” Thorin shouts in alarm as an elven group on horseback approaches.

“Lord Elrond!” Gandalf greets the elf as he dismounts his horse before responding to the wizard in elvish.

“Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders, something or someone has drawn them near.”

“That would be us,” you offer from behind him with a smile.

Elrond turns sharply at the sound of your voice, his face lighting up in excitement as he calls your name.

“My darling! It's been too long since you’ve graced these halls!” you laugh as he pulls you into a warm embrace.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to make the journey sooner, but I have so much to share with you!”

“I imagine you do!” he replies, “why don’t you start by telling me what a lovely creature such as yourself is doing traveling with a group of brutes such as this?”

You turn to look back at Thorin, who has a fierce scowl on his face as he stares directly at the place on your arm where Elrond’s hand still rests.

“Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain!” the elven lord greets him.

“I do not believe we have met,” he replies curtly.

“You have your grandfather’s bearing,” Elrond responds, paying no attention to Thorin’s hostile tone. “I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain.”

“Indeed?” Thorin curls his fists at his side, “he made no mention of you.”

“Thorin! Be nice,” you warn him.

Lord elrond takes another step closer to him and starts to speak in the elvish tongue.

“What is he saying?” Gloin shouts in alarm, “Does he offer us insult?”

“No master Gloin,” Gandalf assured him, “he is offering you food.”

The dwarves take a moment to discuss amongst themselves, but you already know what their answer will be.

“Ah well,” Gloin says, “in that case lead on.”

Lord Elrond politely offers his arm to you, and you make a point of glaring back at Thorin before accepting it as the elf lord leads you up the stairs.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline

#thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader smut #thorin oakenshield smut #the hobbit #thorin oakenshieldx fem!reader #thorin oakenshield x afab!reader #thorin #thorin fic #thorin x reader #the hobbit fanfic #thorin x fem!reader #thorin oakenshield angst #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin smut #thorin angst #thorin oakenshield x reader angst #thorin x reader angst

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swarvey · 2 months

Text

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> you decide to surprise harvey with a belated birthday gift; harvey tries to fight off some unwelcome thoughts. warnings -> none! harvey just has some horny thoughts. wc -> 3357

a/n: surprise, an update!!

i loved writing this chapter. i actually feel like this song could have fit well as this story's title as well!! very excited for the upcoming chapters, though i am a little sad to think this will eventually have to end </3

well, either way, hope you enjoy ! <333 seeing y'all comment and stuff honestly is so heartwarming, so thank you all!!!

ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12

paper rings masterlist

chapter eleven: state of grace -> "this is the golden age of something good and right and real."

Your eyes opened to the warmth of sunlight flowing through your window, a relaxed breath escaping you. A pleasant smile settled on your face as you sat up, rubbing your eyes and remembering the words Harvey had confessed to you the previous night.

I love you.

For a split second, you wondered if you dreamt it all, if it’d all been too good to be true.

Then, you saw that the bouquet was still missing from its usual spot on your wall, and you knew it had all been real.

You grinned, sitting up with a renewed energy. Finally, you were able to wrench out the phrase you craved to hear from your best friend. Despite the efforts — and pain — it took to get there, you still managed to do it, which, in your eyes, was all that really mattered.

You recalled the insecurities Harvey had spilled to you; more so, how he felt he didn’t deserve you. Out of everything that happened, those words hurt by far the most. You saw the torn, broken look in his eyes, knowing him well enough to see past it and realize his wounds weren’t fresh. You didn’t even want to know how long his horrid thoughts had stewed in his head. Probably way too long. What a terrible way to spend his birthday.

Then, an idea struck you — one that you knew would take the majority of the day and your best efforts, but you felt in your heart it would all be worth it to see his face light up. Besides, Harvey had never hesitated in the past to put you at the top of his list of priorities.

You figured it was time to give back.

“Forgive me.”

“Elliott, please—”

“I know,” the overly dramatic poet choked out, grasping Harvey’s hand with both of his as if his life depended on it. “It’s terrible of me to ask you this, I know, but please, forgive me for the trouble I caused, my friend. I just . . .” Elliott looked up at the doctor, his bottom lip trembling and eyes filled with guilt. “I just couldn’t stand the feeling of lying to Leah, and I knew she had no ill intentions, either, but— oh, I know it’s no excuse for what I did!”

After his birthday, Harvey decided it was finally time to reconnect with his two supportive friends, shooting them both quick texts to meet him at the Stardrop the following evening. He roughly explained everything that happened with you, not forgetting to mention the stinging silence he initially left you with. Elliott’s face dropped when he got to the part where you told him you knew about everything, how Leah had taken the big step to be the one to tell you. Fortunately, his friends were as understanding as ever, more happy than anything that he got the chance to reconcile with you.

Unfortunately, Elliott decided the guilt weighing on his shoulders could only be lifted by apologizing for nearly twenty minutes straight.

“And here I thought my life couldn’t get any worse,” Shane gruffed, only half joking. He proceeded to roll his eyes so hard Harvey worried he would hurt himself. “Fuckin’ hell, just forgive him already, would ya, doc? I can’t stand this anymore.”

Harvey scratched the back of his neck before placing his free hand on Elliott’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s fine, Elliott, I promise,” he replied, unable to keep the amusement out of his tone. “It’s my fault for not telling her, after all. Besides, it all worked out, anyhow.”

“A-are you certain?” He leaned forward, nearly toppling over his seat onto the Stardrop’s floor. “How can you be so kind? It’s truly inspiring, doctor, you must let me buy you a meal for your generosity!”

“With what money, pal?”

Elliott fell back into his seat with a huff, managing a glare at his friend before sipping his drink. “With the money I made from selling my first novel, thank you oh-so very much.”

Harvey blinked in surprise, while Shane gawked at him. “Are you being serious?”

Elliott’s chest puffed up in pride. “Completely. Of course, my first patron was Leah, but I’m planning on having a live book reading at the library soon!” Harvey smiled warmly at the sight of his friend’s joyful expression, proud to see his hard work come to fruition.

Then, Shane frowned slightly and shifted in his seat. “What, so you didn’t even bother to ask me for one? C’mon, the least you could do after buggin’ me about this damn book for nearly a year is offer me a copy. Geez.”

A pause. “You . . . actually want one?”

“Yeah, yeah, save the sap, it’ll make me barf.” He paused. “It’s kid-friendly, right? I’ll get two, give one to Jas. Maybe one for Vincent, too, fuck it.”

Harvey could only laugh as he watched Elliott pull Shane into an unreciprocated hug, his eyes gleaming with grateful tears and he tightly wrapped his arms around him. Despite his loud, profanity-filled protests, there was a light in Shane’s gaze that hadn’t been there a couple seasons ago. After promising to see the therapist Harvey recommended to him, he’d slowly begun to make progress, even deciding to replace his usual beer at the saloon with a glass of pop instead.

“Alright, enough!” Shane finally regained his stance in his seat, running a hand through his ruffled hair. He mumbled something neither of them could hear, but Elliott beamed nonetheless.

“I hope you’ll save me one, Elliott,” Harvey said sincerely. “Though, by the looks of it, you might have quite the fan already.”

“Shut it, doc.”

Elliott let out a hearty laugh and gestured to Emily for an order. “Well then, my dear doctor, you must emphasize on your reunion with your lover,” he pressed on, looking at him eagerly, “but not before I order you a promised meal.”

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Emily asked as she wandered over, looking at the three with a bright smile. Her gaze stopped at Harvey. “Hey, what a nice surprise! I haven’t seen you here in a bit. I hope you’re doing alright, people have been saying they haven’t seen much of you lately.”

He cleared his throat, nodding. “There were a few . . . things, I had to deal with, but it’s all cleared up now.”

She hummed, but something about her look was a little too knowing. “Well, that’s all that matters, right? As long as you’re okay.” She leaned in a little then, close enough so she could whisper in his ear. “Haley’s just about ready to murder you, though. Thought I should give you a heads up.”

She smiled sympathetically when Harvey groaned, covering his face with his hands. He didn’t even bother to hear what Elliott ordered him and focused on the fact that one of your closest friends in town was probably plotting his murder.

“Everyone knows, don’t they?” he asked, voice muffled. He lowered his hands to see Shane hiding his smirk with his drink while Elliott sighed.

“I wish I could tell you otherwise, but yes,” the writer responded promptly. “I wouldn’t fear too much, though, especially if the two of you are on good terms! I’m sure she’ll clear the air.”

The door to the saloon opened, and — as if your mentioning had summoned you — you walked in wearing your work clothes, dirt and grass stains covering the front of your overalls. Your eyes met his immediately, and Harvey instantly looked away, feeling as if he had just seen his crush in the hallway. You tended to have that effect on him.

After the two of you shared a kiss the night before, he insisted on walking you home, tightly holding your hand the entire way. He was visibly reluctant to leave your side, allowing himself to, for once, be as clingy as he felt. When the two of you reached your front porch, he’d grabbed your hips and drew you closer to his body, looking at you with nothing but pure adoration.

“We have a long way to go, don’t we?” he asked softly, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek.

You hummed in agreement, turning slightly to kiss his palm. “Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, right?” Your eyes seemed to glitter when he looked at you, his breath faltering.

Harvey didn’t know why your words made him feel the way he did — then again, he couldn’t explain a lot of things he felt when it came to you — but in that moment, a wave of gratefulness washed over him, and he couldn’t help but pull you in for another gentle kiss. He thought back to what you had told him all those years ago, how he had good karma, and he decided you might have been right after all. There was no other explanation as to why you were still in his arms after all the trouble he caused.

“You truly are my weakness,” he blurted suddenly. “My vulnerability, the crack in my defense. I think I would do anything for you.”

You laughed at his words, and the sound made his heart race. “You’ve been hanging out with Elliott too much.” You paused then, leaning in closer to his ear. “Is that a promise, Harvs? Anything?”

He shivered, swallowing hard. “Of course.”

Just when he thought he’d earned another taste of your lips — a rougher one maybe, one that led to your bedroom — you pulled away, sporting a mischievous half-smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chirped happily. “Goodnight!”

Harvey let out another groan at the thought, trying to ignore the stir in his pants. We’ll take it slow, he reminded himself, not even noticing your figure appearing beside him. We have all the time in the world.

“Earth to Harvey, hello?” you sang, waving a hand in front of his face. “You there? Or is nobody home?”

He scowled as his friends stifled their laughter, though managed a smile when he turned to greet you. “Hello,” he sighed, pushing his glasses up. “Ignore them, please. I’m not sure why I associate with them.”

“Hey, a ‘thank you’ would be nice, buddy,” Shane said, voice dripping in leftover humor. “We’re the ones who’ve listened to all your little love-sick rants.”

You perked a brow. “Love-sick, huh?”

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” Harvey desperately suggested, taking out his wallet and throwing some coins on the table for his drinks. “I’ll talk to you two later. And, thank you,” he rushedly added. As he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you out of the saloon, he missed their lopsided grins at his words.

Harvey let out a long breath as he stepped outside, resting his hands on his hips. “I felt like I was suffocating in there,” he admitted, finding your hand once again.

You snorted. “Looked like it,” you replied, lacing your fingers with his. “I was looking for you, anyway. Did you get my text?”

He blinked, grabbing his phone out of his pocket with his other hand to find one unread message from you.

Y/N : you at the saloon? i’ve got a surprise for you

“A surprise?” he wondered aloud. “For me?”

“Yes, Harvey, that’s what I said.” You smiled at his embarrassed frown, leading him through the plaza toward the clinic. “C’mon, I’ve been working on it all day!”

Just as he was about to question you further, a figure with long blonde hair and a blue tank top marched in front of him, successfully cutting off his hold on you.

“Don’t think I’ll forgive you as easily,” Haley snapped, and Harvey flinched at her furious tone. “You’re a real lucky guy, you know that, right? ‘Cause if I were her, I would have taken those glasses and shoved ‘em right up your—”

“Haley! There you are,” Leah laughed awkwardly as she grabbed the blonde’s arm, attempting to tug her away. “We’re going to miss the movie, dear. Let’s go.” She turned to Harvey, and he was glad to be met with much kinder eyes. “I’m glad you’re alright, Harvey. We’ll see you around.” Leah’s eyes lit up. “Oh, and happy birthday! Even though it’s a day late.”

“Thank you,” he responded, anxiously glancing at Haley. A pout rested on her lips as her partner nudged her.

“Yeah, whatever, happy birthday, I guess,” she mumbled, and you laughed at her reaction. Her expression lightened after that, the ends of her mouth lifting slightly. “I expect a call later, okay?”

“Will do.” You waved at the couple as they walked away, grabbing Harvey’s arm and continuing to lead him. “She’s pretty mad, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Really?” he asked dryly, fiddling with his tie. “I thought she seemed quite happy to see me.” You rolled your eyes, excitedly bringing him up the stairs to the fountain. “What is it, exactly?”

“What’s, what?”

“The surprise.”

You huffed, walking past the fountain. “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?”

“I . . . suppose not, no.”

“Then be patient, we’re almost there.”

You only stopped when the two of you reached the Community Center, two birds chirping curiously down at your arrival. Harvey examined the building, noticing how, despite it looking as beat up as it usually did, it felt more welcoming.

Before he could continue, you swiftly snatched his glasses off his face, covering his eyes with your hands.

“What—”

“Just go with it, Harvs, please? ”

The pleading tone of your request nearly sent him spiraling. Nearly.

Take it slow.

He nodded, swallowing thickly once again. You’re going to be the death of me, he thought. He almost voiced it to you the door opened, but was interrupted before he got the chance.

“I felt a little bad yesterday night,” you admitted, leading him somewhere unknown. “With everything going on between us, it was hard to plan something for your birthday.”

He sighed, a pang of guilt running through his chest. “Now, you know none of that is—”

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “It’s over now, and we’re . . . good. Better than good, I think.” Harvey smiled, wishing he could see your face. “And, even though it’s not really your birthday anymore, I still wanted to give you something better than a dried bouquet.”

“That bouquet means much more to me than you think. It’s all I need, really,” he said softly, then willed himself to say his next words. “You’re all I need.”

“And you’re being a big ‘ol softie.”

Suddenly, he felt your hands drop, slowly blinking his eyes open. Of course, at first, all he could make out were blurbs of green and white.

“Um—” Although he couldn’t see, Harvey could practically hear you roll your eyes as you passed him his glasses.

“Surprise.”

He couldn’t believe it.

In front of him was a completely refurbished room in the Community Center, the walls smooth and the flooring void of any faults. That, in itself, was impressive to him.

The room wasn’t exactly what caught his eye, though.

No, what caught Harvey’s attention was the various model planes scattered across the room, along with the small workbench in the corner.

“I had to go into the city to find those, it took me all day,” you explained, trying to read his reaction. His mouth remained parted as he walked around, taking his time to take in everything. “This is meant to be the Crafts Room. Mayor Lewis asked me to fix this place up a while ago, and that’s where I met the Junimos. Thought I’d add my own touch, though.”

Harvey nodded absentmindedly. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Quite frankly, he was in shock, unable to believe what you had done for him. His gaze only pried away when a familiar squeak sounded beneath him. He smiled as Blueberry hugged his foot.

The spirit looked at him expectedly, as if asking, Do you like it?

“It’s—” He stopped then, finally turning to face you. Warm tears filled Harvey’s eyes as he stepped forward and engulfed you in his arms, burying your face in his neck. “It’s more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you.”

He felt you slump in relief, gladly wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad you like it,” you breathed, pulling back to see his face. “You had me worried there for a second. I thought it was too much.”

“No, this is perfect.” Harvey laughed, bright and unlike he’d ever laughed before, and kissed you. “I can’t even find the words to explain how I feel.”

You grinned. “Maybe ‘happy’ could give you a good start.”

“No, that’s too big of an understatement.”

“Hm. ‘Joyous,’ then?”

“I believe those are synonyms, honey.”

You blinked, a blush creeping up your neck. Harvey didn’t notice, too busy walking over to the desk that seemed made for him. Blueberry poked your ankle, and you took it as a sign to stick out your hand. The Junimo happily walked up your arm, settling down on your shoulder and closing its eyes.

“This . . . this looks just like the one I had in my grandparents’ house as a kid,” he realized, eyes widening.

“You used to spend so much time sitting there, working on your planes, ignoring me,” you added playfully. “If you ever get bored, you can come here, now. Add to your collection. You can show them off to everyone, too, after I finish rebuilding everything.”

He flushed at that, turning to meet your eyes. “No, I couldn’t, i-it’s too embarrassing—”

“Harvey. If this —” You swept your arm around the room. “—is what you enjoy, you shouldn’t hide it. It’s an important part of you, and I know everyone in town would be impressed.” You gently tugged at his hand, holding it strongly in your own. “Plus, I find it very endearing, you know.”

He raised a brow, grabbing your other hand. “Really? Building model airplanes is something you look for in a partner?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Harvey shook his head, tilting it as he studied your gaze. “This is still so surreal,” he muttered, glancing down at your interlaced fingers. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

You nodded, then smiled. “You know, I never would have guessed this.” You lifted your hands slightly, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Now that it’s real, though, I’m not sure I’ll ever let you go.”

Harvey’s heart was just about ready to leap from his chest.

“You won’t ever have to,” he vowed. “Never again.”

“That’s a big promise.”

“It’s one I’m willing to make.”

“When did you get so bold?”

“When you became mine.”

Your eyes narrowed, flicking between his eyes and lips. “Is that what I am?” you questioned, voice light and innocent. “Yours?”

Slow, Harvey. You said you would take it slow.

He feigned a cough, looking away. “That’s what the bouquet meant, right?” he asked, raising one hand to swipe his mustache. “It means we’re official.”

The look you gave him was teasing, dangerous, but you covered it up with a laugh, starting to walk with him back towards the door. Blueberry had disappeared from your shoulder at some point; Harvey guessed even spirits grew tired of couples dancing around each other.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

“‘Home’?”

You looked back at him, huffing. “We’re official, right? That means you get to help me finish up the chores for the day.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded.

Chores. He could do chores. He’d done plenty of chores with you before, when the ache in your grandfather’s back became too much and he needed a couple extra pair of hands. Chores would be good for him, Harvey thought. They would keep his mind off the uncomfortable tightness in his pants that’d been taunting him for hours, keep his dirty thoughts at bay, hopefully even keep some distance between the two of you, just for a little. Just until he could calm himself down and remind himself he was supposed to be going slow.

“You can spend the night, too.”

His face fell.

I’m screwed.

84 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Note

I LOVE TEN AND ONE SO MUCH YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i know you said that you’re not yet in soft!daemon feels but what if reader already got pregnant and seeing her pregnant makes daemon so feral & just want to breed her so much…………

Mine

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After trying to get pregnant for months, you fell into a state where all you could do is cry. It left Daemon erratic and so easily triggered. To clear both your minds, he thinks a ride on dragon back would help, but it seems even Caraxes is not in a good mood.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Mentions of failed pregnancies/miscarriage, wife!reader, depressive episodes, smut (sad fucking, rough fucking, vaginal penetration, hair pulling, impregnation kink, claiming kink, cock warming ig), angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: CONGRATULATIONS FOR ACTUALLY CONVINCING ME TO MAKE A P2 OF SOMETHING. a word of caution though, it's probably not exactly what you expect. btw if you're new here, this is technically a part two to Ten & One, but you don't have to read it to get this. It will help you get in the feels more probably, but you don't need to read it to understand. I'd appreciate it if you did read it though LEAVE COMMENTS AND REBLOGS I HELD BACK ON THE PRAISE KINK BUT I ASSURE YOU MINE IS VERY REAL ISTG IM GOING TO GO FERAL IF NO ONE REPLIES TO THIS

"Our home was once so warm," one of the head servants sigh to the two younger servants, "and not because of how Caraxes sometimes has fits, but because the lady of our house warmed it so," she shakes her head, "now she has done nothing but cry and my heart hurts for Lady Targaryen."

"I do hope she finds comfort soon," one younger servant adds with a frown, "my cousin said that her late lady eventually fell ill after grieving so long that she succumbed to her illness."

There was no ill-intent in their words, and yet he could not stand hearing it.

The sharp sound of a sword unsheathing promptly halts the servants.

Daemon is in front of them, coming out of the chamber they were meant to enter. He points Dark Sister at them, jaw clenching tightly at the words he heard them speak.

The three look to their master in fear as he takes a few steps closer to them, "I will not tolerate any word from any tongue about my wife."

Daemon watches them quiver under the gaze of his sword. Had he not been attentive of his wife, he would have killed them out of annoyance. Yet he doesn't, "do your task and leave at once."

The head servant nods and the servants scurry off into the room.

I was lying in bed, chest down, when I heard the telltale sound of footsteps. I peel my teary eyes open and mutter against the cushion, "Mileva?"

My childhood handmaiden turns to me and frowns, "yes, milady, I'm here. I have come to serve you your food."

My eyes begin to water again as I watch her set the food out on the table.

On theme with my other thoughts, I recall how she took care of me as a child, and then how she excitedly told me she was eager to do the same for my children. Her hair was now grey and yet I still had not even one child.

"Mileva," I whine, lips quivering as I reach my hand out to her for comfort.

Daemon walks back in, face hard and tense.

Mileva turns to me and sighs, "oh, sweet child." She walks over to me, taking my hand, kneeling by the side of my bed, "cease your sorrow. You will fall with child soon enough."

"But it's been a year since I've been wed," I sob, pulling her hand towards me, "what if something's wrong with me?"

"N-" "There's nothing wrong with you," Daemon quips before Mileva could speak the same words, albeit with more softness.

Mileva turns to Daemon who stood by the door, as if guarding it, then back to me, pressing a kiss on my knuckles, "my lady, take heart and regain your strength. I know you are going through a difficult season, but soon you will have what you so desire," she brushes my tears away with her calloused hands, "it is not uncommon to experience what you're going through. I myself grieved the same things you do when I first fell with child."

"Oh, Mileva," I weep helplessly, moving to sit up, "I had no idea, and I-"

"Enough, my girl," she hushes, grabbing both of my arms in her hands, "now please, do us all a favor and eat. I would never forgive myself if I allow you to lose yourself completely."

Daemon watches as I move to the table near our bed. Once I sit down, my husband speaks, "you may go now."

In exchange of the company of our servants, Daemon comes upon me, placing a hand on my shoulder as I dumbly look at the food I once loved.

"Your dear Mileva is right, you must regain your strength," he mutters, walking behind me, massaging both my shoulders.

"I feel I will be sick if I so much bring a spoon to my mouth."

He stills his actions then the drags the other chair close to me with a screech. "Shall you prefer I feed you then?" he asks, sitting next to me.

Daemon does nothing but look at me as I gaze off into the abyss that was a plate of food before me.

"I don't think I will ever find peace, Daemon," I mutter, mostly I think to myself, "I was with child," I start to feel tears burn in my eyes, "then I was not."

He brushes his fingers on my cheek, "The gods are to blame, not you."

I finally turn to my husband, chest heaving as salt water runs down my face uncontrollably. He frowns as he sighs, hand taking mine in comfort. I choke on more tears and fall to his side, unable to withhold the helpless yelps in my throat.

Daemon wastes no time in readjusting in his seat, expertly unclasping the holster on his waist, allowing his weapon to clatter to the ground. He then in one scoop brings me onto his lap, allowing me to nuzzle on his neck and pour my sadness onto his skin. His arms envelope around me, behind my back and over my thighs.

I bring my hands up to his cheeks, attempting to even out my breathing as I take in his familiar scent.

Once I finally felt like I wasn't suffocating, I begin to fiddle with Daemon's silver hair.

He leans against my touch. I pepper kisses on his cheeks.

For a moment, he is satisfied with this, but then decides to meet my lips with his own. His hands begin to tighten around me.

I release as sigh, pulling my hands away so I can readjust his grip o me and maneuver my legs over him. He makes no fuss when I straddle him, in fact his arms fiddle with the nightgown I did not bother to change out of from the night before.

My fingers travel to his tunic, and I begin to undo the its clasps. When my hand finally rubs the bare skin underneath his clothing, that's when he halts and pushes me off him to stop our kiss. He is finally certain of my actions.

I look at him. His eyes are closed and yet I could see his resolve dwindling. I place a peck on his lip as I grind down on him.

He groans, legs spreading beneath me. For a moment, he allows me to continue, but then his hands grab on my waist at an attempt to stop me.

I halt at just as he wants, but feel betrayal rise up my throat as I speak, "will you not even have me now, husband?"

Daemon releases a prolonged sigh, leaning his head back on the chair, lightly scratching my sides with his fingers, "with all my strength, I am not strong enough to even think of doing that."

I continue to buck my hips on him again.

His grip tightens but not in an attempt to withhold me.

"Then do not kid yourself by resisting me."

Daemon's eyes finally open with a grunt. The dizziness in his mind clears when he sees my face. He knits his brows and wipes my tears away, "my love."

I blink rapidly as I whine, "have me, Daemon, and end this mourning."

He calls my name, stilling me again with his hands.

This time, I bang on his chest in anger for trying to stop me, but then all at once, I crumble against him in a fit of tears.

Daemon kisses my cheek as he tightly pulls me against him.

We remain like this for a long while.

After being calmed by the sound of his breathing, I finally have the strength to cease my weeping. "I do want you, Daemon," I mutter against his cheek.

"I always want you, my queen," he replies, rubbing my back, "but I do not wish to take advantage of your sorrow."

I move against him again. He loosens his arms around me as I turn to him with glassy eyes, "then have me for no other reason than my own desire to have you, Daemon."

He is about to say something, but my hand on his hardened member takes the words out of his mouth. I palm his through his pants, "will you require me to beg for it on my knees?"

I pull away, hands snaking behind his nape, "I will be most eager to do so," I whisper, hips rolling atop his, "anything to take my mind off this, Daemon."

"Fuck," he hisses, hands tightening around me yet again.

This time, Daemon carries me to our bed and pushes me open underneath him. He hungrily kisses my neck and begins to rub his clothed member against my burning core.

"Take your clothes off," I whimper, urging his tunic and pants off.

In an instant, not only is he naked, but as am I.

Our lips take each other's desperately, and a satisfied moan fights between our kiss when I feel him enter me slowly. My limbs latch around him out of instinct and my fingers dig into the small of his back, urging him to move.

He whispers my name in my ear. He does so with much care that my heart quickens at it.

"I will try my best to be gentle, my love."

I whine at his sentiment, but I nibble his ear in response, "fuck gentle. Ruin me, Daemon. I don't want to walk around any time soon anyway."

Daemon begins to rut his hips into mine upon hearing this. He moves slowly at first, as if to measure the truth in my words. He then enters me at a quicker pace, exhaling deeply against my skin.

I whine his name out, "Daemon please, please, please, fuck me."

He heaves against me, "say that again."

I claw at him and whimper, "please, fuck me so hard I can't walk, Daemon." I match the movement of his hips, "make sure I have no choice but to stay in bed."

That's all it takes for him to thrust into me like a man gone mad.

The sound of skin slapping each other almost makes me unable to hear my cries.

He enjoys breaking my legs open and hammering into my heat. He enjoys it so much that he remains in this position for a while, savoring the feeling. He soon decides to move his hands up my legs and push my knees to my chest. Daemon lifts himself a bit, so he could hook my ankles by his shoulders. The more compromising position makes me stretch my hands above me and grip at the pillows for dear life.

I cry so hard that I don't hear anything else. I'm sure even if there weren't anyone near our chambers, my screams would still be heard.

"Do you like it when I take you like this, wife?" he asks, or challenges almost.

I'm too fucked up to reply and only the in sync rising and falling of my voice to his relentless slamming was what he got out of me.

He finds a more secure stance on his knees, and he latches his fingers under my knees as he drives into me like it was what was going to keep him alive.

His breathing is unbelievably controlled in comparison to my raggedy hitches.

As Daemon looks before him, his hands reach out to my core then to my belly. His mind floods with obscene images of previous couplings. He groans at the ideas flooding his head. He rubs my belly, "you will look so glorious filled up with my seed."

I whine as his hands grab my breasts.

"Maybe I should fill up all your pretty holes, hmm?" he pants, "but maybe then your body wouldn't know what to do with my seed anymore."

I release a string of curses as my hands shoot up to grip his biceps. My back arches to better feel him and mentally thank myself for it, screaming ecstasy when he knocks on me just right. He chuckles in satisfaction, "so fucking eager, my love."

In a twist of fate, he pulls out of me.

I'm too delirious to even realize it or manage to complain. All at once I'm being flipped onto my knees. I do however know exactly when he pulls on my hips and slams into me with dare I say more intent. I don't even manage to push myself on my arms as I am utterly boneless against him.

"Daemon."

His response to the sound of his name was to rub my sensitive nub with his keen fingers. His other hand yanks on the roots of my hair, "who does your cunt belong to?"

I growl, one hand coming to his that was pulling my head back. I am even more unable to push myself up. I scream his name.

"Mine," he growls, "mine," he flicks his hips.

He yanks on my hair again, "say it. Who do you belong to?"

"You," I heave, "you, you, you, you-"

"Good," he praises as I loose my mind, "I'll make sure you only ever cry over how good my cock makes you feel," he mutters breathily. And although his words are lewd, there is a certain sincerity to it.

Much like before, because I never really stopped, tears begin to drip from my eyes in a tinge of pleasure, pain, and residual sorrow.

Daemon massages my scalp with his fingers as his thrusts reach a quick and steady pace. I can almost feel him hit inner most parts of my mind and taste him on my tongue.

My head helplessly crumbles onto the cushions when he releases me so he can piston inside me at a better angle. My screams are finally muffled.

My husband seems not to appreciate it as he yanks my hair back and forces my shouts to me audible again, "let them hear me breed my you, wife, scream out who makes you feel like this."

At this point, I've left my mouth gaping too long that my throat dries up and the sounds of his name that I produce leaves a burning sensation.

I feel my stomach begin to tighten at his ministrations.

"That's right," he encourages, "chase that feeling on my cock," he says, "come around me, darling. Come on."

My hips instinctively buck against him at the sound of his encouragements.

Daemon revels in the repetition of his name. He feels like he is invincible at the praising sounds.

I inevitably quake around him as if it was the surface beneath that forced me to do so. My voice is absolutely wrecked at the cry that leaves my lips.

Daemon rubs my core again, milking my reaction for all he's got.

Once even my knees began to give in, that's when I feel Daemon's heat shoot into so sharply that my body quakes all over again. He fucks into me even after. There is so much of him that I feel him drip out of me with wet squelching sounds.

My womanhood is practically crying at this point.

"I'll do you well, wife," he announces, pace drastically slowing, "I'll fuck you good even if the gods obstruct your womb from carrying my seed."

I repeat his name over and over again.

Daemon finally stops, but he does not exit me. He rubs my butt in a soothing attempt, "let me stay like this for a while, your cunt is leaking."

I shake my head, "no please, turn me over. I want to hold you, Daemon."

He does not dare deny me this.

He quickly uses his strength and expertly has me on my back, barely pulling out as he does so.

He wraps my legs around him snugly as he eventually presses his chest against mine. I seal his torso in my arms. He sighs in content when he finds his face on the crook of my neck. He lazily kisses my skin as his his arms loop around my own body.

"I love you, Daemon," I mutter, fingers lightly grazing his skin.

"I love you," he responds, "I will continue to be a slave to your desires."

"Good," I pipe up blinking away the tears that were left in my eyes, "I don't want you to leave me today. Stay right here, like this."

Daemon kisses my neck, "I wouldn't dare move from where I lie."

A good seven days passed, and I was feeling a lot more myself.

Daemon, in all his paranoia that something would happen to me the moment he's not looking, made sure to either not leave my side, or to bring me everywhere with him. And since he really did leave me in quite a discomfort after our intense fucking, it was only now that he was able to bring me along to accomplish his errands.

In all his smugness, he offered to carry me if I still found it difficult to walk. I, of course, slapped him because of this. It obviously didn't hurt him, because I meant it not too, but he promised me he'd get even for it.

Today, we were apparently going for a ride on dragon back.

"How have you been, boy," Daemon calls in High Valyrian as we made our way to his dragon.

Caraxes whines the way he always does. I smile at the creature, sensing somehow that he had missed his rider. Daemon catches this and squeezes my hand in response.

All at once, Caraxes whines shift into a louder more desperate version, dare I say it was a form of discomfort. The unforeseen reaction makes me nervous, especially when the large creature makes his way towards me.

Daemon feels Caraxes' agitation, but he is more concern about mine, which is why he releases my hand and raises it up to the dragon. He promptly scolds the beast in a long string of High Valyrian I wouldn't have been able to understand even if I wanted to.

Caraxes screeches, seemingly determined to go to me.

I decide to walk back slowly, although I do this out of concern more than fear. Perhaps he wanted his rider all to himself. I agree with my mental thought, since deep down, I knew Caraxes would not turn to me will ill-intent.

One of the keepers, I find, is suddenly ghosting a hand over my arm. I gasp at the unexpected touch and furrow my brows at his words that I do not understand.

Daemon's gaze rips away from his dragon over to the keeper, "what did you say?"

The keeper turns from me to my husband, hand pulling away so he could motion to the restless Caraxes.

Daemon's face contorts at whatever it was that he was told. My concern now drifts from the dragon to his rider, "Daemon? What is it?"

He turns away from me, back to Caraxes, hushing him, "I understand now, boy."

I look at Daemon as he offers me his hand without turning away from his mount. I wordlessly take his hand in mine. Daemon pulls me slowly in front of him, hands going to my sides.

Caraxes stands on his legs upon seeing me, letting out a powerful roar.

I reel back, pressing against my husband's chest, "Daemon, I-"

"It's alright," he mutters against my ear.

Daemon looks up to his dragon then screams some sort of accusation.

Caraxes lands back on his claws, huffing out so deeply that there is a strong gust of air that nearly blows me away. Had it not been for Daemon behind me, perhaps I would have fallen on my ass.

Suddenly, I hear Daemon shudder. His hand travel to my belly. He takes one step forward, moving in front of me and calls my name out in praise before kneeling before me.

I look down at him in concern, almost not noticing how Caraxes brings his snout close to me.

I am distracted by the dragon head that I almost don't hear Daemon say, "you're with child."

My hand darts up to Caraxes and my eyes widen as I turn back down to my husband.

He kisses my skirt, but I shake my head in disbelief, "don't mess with me, Daemon."

Daemon looks up at me then stands. He hushes me as he takes my face in his hands, "Caraxes can sense it," he presses a kiss on my forehead, "the gods have finally bended to my will."

Tears begin to glaze my eyes. "Daemon," I grip his wrist and look up at him, "I'm so happy, but what if-"

"Shhh," he pulls me against him, "I will not have you speak ill of this glorious discovery."

I begin to weep, and it seems Caraxes does not enjoy it for he huffs helplessly upon hearing it.

"I will be here, my love," he mutters, "I will do all I can to make sure nothing harms you or our child."

Caraxes makes a sound that seems to be of agreement.

#ok aw so sweet but really what can he fucking do?#not me fighting Daemon aka my own writing aka myself #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon kinda soft hours?#daemon angst #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen angst #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you

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binsoojun · 2 months

Text

ㅤ“ THE WRITING IS ON THE WALL. ” — ✧

ㅤ

CHARACTERS: modernau!donquixote doflamingo (one piece), (gender neutral) reader

warnings: angst (break up), doffy's a huge asshole, reader is mentioned wearing makeup, suggestive mentioned (but its just a veryyy small detail)

author's note: oh my god.. its been such a long time since i wrote a fic or posted a fic here.... ALAS! i have went out of my writer's block and wrote this (i got inspired by chappell roan's song "my kink is karma" and the lyrics were so catchy i had to write it) + my writing may be a little shit in this since its been AGES... ill probably proofread this in the future... (who knows i might release another part of this winks)

NOT PROOFREAD.

"You're fired."

"..What?"

Your life flashed before your eyes the moment he said those exact words, your future and career breaking down as he continued to flip through various papers on his desk.

"Are you deaf? I said you're fired." The blonde repeats again, pausing his fingers from turning the documents.

"You can't just fire me out of nowhere like that- I—"

He cuts you off, the lens of his flashy sunglasses shining at your direction. "I don't need you anymore. We have enough employees already and I'm getting sick of you."

The tone of his words felt like a pang in your heart, an obvious clue that he was breaking your relationship off.

You thought due his constant clinginess, you assumed there were no issues between the two of you. Those romantic and intimate encounters you had with him all broke down in one fell swoop as soon as he informed you that you were being terminated.

"Are you serious?" you scoff, eyebrows furrowed in frustration due to how your boyfriend was suddenly ending things. "We both live in the same apartment. How can you just carry on after this?"

"That too."

"I'm kicking you out of my apartment."

Eyes widening in shock, he chuckled at the sight.

God. He was a fucking asshole.

"What? You think that I'll let this risky relationship go on for that long?"

"You're nothing but a toy to me. I'm simply tossing you out to the trash."

Silence responded to him after finishing his cruel sentiments to you. Eyes threatening to spill out tears before you know it. You forgot how rude and vile he was after all those months you've been with him.

Turning on your heel to leave his office, you mutter out a small insult to him. Just enough for the man to hear you.

"Fuck you."

Now crying your heart out on the elevator down to the ground floor, you paid no mind to your surroundings anymore. You didn't care if he could see you through the cctv camera or if you might bump into a coworker while sobbing. You just got fired. And, got your heart broken.

The ride home was terrible. Due to moments earlier, your mascara was now smeared across your cheeks. Tears drying up as you turned to park the car outside your apartment.

Arriving at your room after unlocking the keys, you felt another wave of dejection as you scanned through the living room. Reminiscing past memories of you and Doflamingo in this small apartment room.

You've always wondered why he didn't pick out a fancy room for the two of you, knowing how well off he was with his company. But realization hit as you recalled.

The reason why he chose not to pick a luxurious place was because he already knew that the two of you wouldn't last long.

Your fingers graze along the wall, examining the smooth surface as you scrunched it up into a fist. Slightly jabbing it with the side of your palm in irritation.

"He was fucking planning it already."

With a few hours gone by, you finished up packing your things. A few breakdowns caused you to take longer time than usual but you put up with it.

A small sigh of satisfaction came past your lips as you plopped onto the mattress behind you; slowly accepting the fact that you two were now off.

"Maybe it's for the better."

Turning to your side, you unlock your phone and gawked at the sight of his contact. His contact name was beside small hearts, along with a small photo of you and him beside each other, clearly smitten. You cringed at the sight. You were certain that you'd block him in all social medias after this.

You opened up his messages and began typing.

"I'm done packing my things. I'll leave the spare keys by the desk."

The dark starry sky greeted you as soon as you walked out of the building, not noticing that it had been hours since you and Doflamingo officially called it off. (Though, it was mainly him that broke it off.)

The engine of your car started, the lights of the fuel gauge and speedometer mirroring your messy makeup. You gasped at the sight, adjusting the rearview mirror while your fingers came in contact with your cheek.

"Was I.." you trailed off, "Was I walking around like this..?"

Embarrassed, you took out the wet tissues that was stored in your glove compartment, quickly wiping off all your remaining makeup. Finishing it off by throwing the tissues at the side.

Pausing, you realized something.

You had just paid the apartment's rent.

And he fucking took advantage of that.

"Fuck."

ㅤ

@@. binsoojun

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aroacewxs · 4 months

Text

sharing some of my rui headcanons :]

i mentioned this in that rui gender poll from a while back, but i am personally a believer of any/all pronouns rui with gender that cannot be labelled whatsoever. i think he'd generally consider and present himself as male, but doesn't have many strong preferences about it. doesn't actively make the effort to dress "femininely," but he'd probably fuck with long skirts if given the opportunity!

and all of you know how much i base my personality off of this by now, but. aroace rui :) aroace rui who has always understood romance as a concept, a trope. he can pick up on romantic cues, but purposefully chooses to pretend they don't exist. the mere thought of him experiencing romantic attraction fills him with so much disgust he has to distract himself for hours. i'd ramble a bit more, but then we'd be here for too long..

i think he'd have really good sleight of hand! he's always had an interest for things like card/coin tricks, and picked up more after learning from kaito :) he always has a little trick or illusion up his sleeve and occasionally performs them for kids at phoeniland or just on the street!

despite having really good dexterity with his tools and tricks, he is terrible with sewing and needles. tsukasa has tried everything in his power to teach him, but nothing stops him from accidentally pricking himself.

incredibly susceptible to cold temperatures. is usually wearing a couple more layers than necessary

doesn't get sick often, but when he does, the illness hits him like a TRUCK. it takes him at least a week to recover. he's huddled up in blankets like a poor and frail victorian child, and he can barely work up an appetite. the kicker: he doesn't realize he's feeling Bad until somebody points out how horrible he looks. and that's when it settles

always needs something in his hand to fiddle with! super super good at spinning his pens and pencils (sleight of hand), and is often found twiddling with his longer strands of hair. he also has a bunch of miscellaneous screws and trinkets and trash in his pockets that he keeps to fidget with.

rui has intrusive thoughts (projecting).. most of them come from his deep fear of hurting others and anxiety regarding social perception and safety

this is already kind of canon i think but. whenever rui ever makes the effort to actually clean his room (shocking), he almost always gets distracted by something he finds, and soon enough, cleaning is no longer of his concern.

shitty handwriting. he CAN write neatly, but he just chooses not to

i think he'd be really good at game pigeon word hunt. and sudoku. and crosswords. all the word puzzles. and it pisses tsukasa and nene off a lot. emu is his worthy rival

sensitive teeth. can't bite into ice cream...

this is a given, but aside from theatre, i think he'd be super into other performance arts like ballet. he'd be really intrigued by how storytelling can be completely reliant on visuals and motions with no words and lyrics. ballerina rui au is also something i've brewed in my brain a while ago but the logistics are funny

his opinion on mint chocolate ice cream: taste is perfectly fine but he doesn't appreciate the chocolate chunks at all

weird sock collection. he will die if he doesn't have a funky pair of socks on his feet at all times. aside from when he sleeps probably

lots of unfinished word documents.. he's had a few aspirations about writing an actual novel instead of a script, but the ideas are like ping pong balls in his brain that interfere with his other priorities so he never actually gets much writing done.. one day he will though

that's all i can recall for now.. i'll make more soon if i think of more! this is also a humble request for any other rui headcanons you may have that aren't mentioned here.. hehehe

#project sekai #kamishiro rui #rui kamishiro #wxs rui #i absolutely adore this purple fuck #if you couldn't tell

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curiositymemes · 6 months

Text

STICK SEASON: WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER.

taken from the 2023 album by noah kahan. trigger warnings for mental illness, trauma, medication, references to suicide, and the exquisite agony of life in rural new england. feel free to change wording and pronouns and provide context as necessary. do not add to this list.

northern attitude.

how you been?

you settled down?

you feelin’ right?

you feelin’ proud?

you settle in to routine.

what does it mean?

i’m not how you hoped.

you’re gettin’ lost.

scared to live, scared to die.

you’re feelin’ lost.

stick season.

you must’ve had yourself a change of heart.

now i am stuck between my anger and the blame that i can’t face.

it’s half my fault, but i just like to play the victim.

i’ll dream each night of some version of you that i might not have but i did not lose.

i thought that if i piled something good on all my bad i could cancel out the darkness i inherited from dad.

i miss the way you laugh.

you once called me forever now you still can’t call me back.

that’ll have to do.

my other half was you.

i hope this pain’s just passin’ through, but i doubt it.

all my love.

how have things been?

well, love, now that you mention it.

i’m sayin’ too much, but you know how it gets out here.

now i know your name, but not who you are.

it’s all okay, there ain’t a drop of bad blood.

you got all my love.

if you need me, dear, i’m the same as i was.

what i’d give to have you out of me.

i still recall how the leather in your car feels.

and at the end of it all, i just hope that your scars heal.

i swear i was scared to death.

i smiled stupid the whole way home.

you said, ‘i’ll never let you go.’

she calls me back.

there was heaven in your eyes.

everything’s alright.

look at me and don’t you lie.

don’t you hold your head up high.

for bullshit, i do not have time.

do you lie awake restless?

why am i so obsessive?

this town’s the same as you left it.

the radio is taunting me.

i don’t get much sleep most nights.

i’m seeing you in every dream.

if only i could fall asleep.

i’ll love you when the oceans dry.

i was too afraid of living life in your footsteps.

come over.

it was there when we got here, will be there when we leave.

you won’t have to guess who they’re speakin’ about.

i’m in the process of clearin’ out cobwebs.

i was takin’ the wrong meds; feels good to be sad.

my house is just barely big enough for my family.

my mouth was designed for my foot to fit in it.

i promise you, darlin’.

you won’t ever go back.

i know that it ain’t much.

i know that it ain’t cool.

you don’t have to tell the other kids at school.

someday i’m gonna be somebody people want.

new perspective.

makin’ me nostalgic.

we were kids; but that don’t make this less hard.

if i could fly i doubt i’d even do it.

i’d probably get high and crash or somethin’ stupid.

gave me your word.

i can’t pronounce it.

no thing so sure that i can’t learn to doubt it.

everywhere, everything.

would we survive in a horror movie?

we trust everyone we meet.

we’re littered with scars from our preteens.

i wanna love you ‘til we’re food for the worms to eat.

‘til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours.

i know every route in this county.

maybe that ain’t such a bad thing.

i’ll tell you where not to speed.

it’s been a long year.

orange juice.

honey, come over.

it’s yours if you want it.

we’re just glad you could visit.

feels like i’ve been ready for you to come home for so long.

i didn’t think to ask you where you’d gone.

why’d you go?

my heart has changed and my soul has changed.

you just asked me to hold you.

it made you a stranger and it filled you with anger.

my life has changed.

the world has changed.

don’t you find it strange that you just went ahead and carried on?

are we all just pullin’ you down?

strawberry wine.

darling, speak to me.

don’t you say a word.

you thought you were cursed?

i’m in love with every song you’ve ever heard.

if i could lose you, i would.

all the time we used to have.

the things i miss but know are never coming back.

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft.

growing sideways.

finally found some middle ground.

i said, ‘i’m cured.’

i divvied up my anger into thirty separate parts.

i’m still angry at my parents for what their parents did to them.

it’s a start.

but i ignore things and i move sideways ‘til i forget what i felt in the first place.

i know there are worse ways to stay alive.

everyone’s growing and everyone’s healthy.

if my engine works perfect on empty, i guess i’ll drive.

i forgot my medication, fell into a manic high.

now i’m sufferin’ in style.

why is pain so damn impatient? ain’t like it’s got a place to be.

if all my time was wasted, i don’t mind.

i’ll watch it go.

it’s better to die numb than feel it all.

halloween.

the dawn isn’t here, the sun hasn’t rose.

they got money to make and children back home.

i worry for you, you worry for me.

the bridges have long since been burnt.

i’m leavin’ this town and i’m changin’ my address.

i know that you’ll come if you want.

i’m losin’ myself.

i’m seein’ my life on a screen.

i know that you fear that i’m wicked and weary.

i know that you’re fearin’ the end.

i only tell the truth when i’m sure that i’m lyin’.

homesick.

are you bored yet?

the weather ain’t been bad if you’re into masochistic bullshit.

this place is such great motivation for anyone tryna move the fuck away from hibernation.

time moves so damn slow i swear i feel my organs failing.

i stopped caring ‘bout a month ago, since then it’s been smooth sailing.

i would leave if only i could find a reason.

i got dreams, but i cant make myself believe them.

i’ll spend the rest of my life with what could have been.

i will die in the house that i grew up in.

i’m homesick.

still.

i don’t wanna say goodbye.

it only falls into place when you’re fallin’ to pieces.

you miss something that you can’t place but you can’t deny it.

you can’t stay here.

it’s hard to face and it feels too ugly.

it’s like i’m still here with you.

can i fix what is broken?

the view between villages (extended).

for a minute, the world seems so simple.

i am not scared of death.

i’ve got dreams again.

there is meanin’ on earth.

i feel so far from it.

it’s all washin’ over me.

i’m angry again.

the things that i lost here, the people i knew.

they got me surrounded for a mile or two.

i found a town big enough for anything i want.

i’m not a city girl, by any means.

it still has a lot of meaning to me.

i grew up there.

your needs, my needs.

you ain’t gotta tell me what it means.

i promise to be there this time. alright?

you were a work of art.

that’s the hardest part.

i’m naming the stars in the sky after you.

dial drunk.

i promised to forget you.

i ain’t takin’ any fault.

am i half the man i used to be? i doubt it.

forget about it, whatever.

it’s all the same anyways.

i ain’t proud of all the punches that i’ve thrown.

for the shame of being young, drunk, and alone.

i gave your name as my emergency phone call.

i’d die for you.

from charmin’ to alarmin’ in seconds.

i’ll let the pain metastasize.

i beg you, sir, just let me call.

let’s wait, i swear she’ll call me back.

son, are you a danger to yourself?

fuck that, sir.

son, why do you do this to yourself?

paul revere.

this place had a heartbeat in its day.

nothin’ was the same.

it just ain’t that simple, it never was.

one day i’m gonna cut it clear.

i’m not from around here.

i’ll leave before the road crew’s out.

i’ll turn up the music and i’ll forget.

i’m not ready to let go yet.

i’ll just pretend i didn’t hear.

it’s typical, i fear.

folks just disappear.

if i could leave, i would’ve already left.

no complaints.

i thought i had something and that’s the same as having something.

i get mad at nothing.

i pull no punches, then feel bad for months.

thought i was raised better, tried to fake better.

now the weight of the world ain’t so bad.

i saw the end, it looks just like the middle.

i filled the hole in my head with prescription medication.

who am i to complain?

now the pain’s different. It still exists, it just escapes different.

yes, i’m young and living dreams.

i’m in love with being noticed and afraid of being seen.

call your mom.

oh, you’re spiralin’ again.

don’t you cancel any plans.

stayed on the line with you the entire night ‘til you let it out and let it in.

don’t let this darkness fool you.

i’ll drive all night.

i’ll call your mom.

oh, dear, don’t be discouraged.

i’ve been exactly where you are.

if you could see yourself like this.

you’dve never tried it.

stayed on the line with you the entire night ‘til you told me that you had to go.

throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason.

don’t wanna drive another mile wonderin’ if you’re breathin’.

won’t you stay with me?

you’re gonna go far.

this is good land, or at least it was.

it takes a strong hand and a sound mind.

it makes me smile to know when things get hard, you’ll be far from here.

pack up your car.

put a hand to your heart.

say whatever you feel.

be wherever you are.

we ain’t angry at you, love.

you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost.

the birds will still sing.

we’ll be waiting for you, love.

we’ll all be here forever.

we spent so long just getting by.

that’s the thing about survival; who the hell likes livin’ just to die?

you told me you would make a difference.

it won’t be by your own volition if you step foot outside this town.

it’s all we’ve had for always.

you’re gonna go far.

if you wanna go far, then you gotta go far.

forever.

let’s drive for no reason.

you look fine in the evening.

honey, it’s starting to storm.

used to wish i meant anything to anywhere, to anyone.

i’m glad i get forever to see where you end.

i won’t be alone for the rest of my life.

i’ll meet a girl in the heat of july.

i’ll tell her so she knows.

i’m broke, but i’m real rich in my head.

when i hold her close, i might loosen my grip, but i won’t ever let her go.

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