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plumso · 15 days

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pure heart (theo x reader)

pairing: theodore nott x reader warning: obsessiveness, possessiveness summary: y/n found theo’s journal. now, she doesn’t know how to act around him. masterlist song recommendation: sweet by cigarettes after sex I do not consent to the reposting of my work! reblogging, however, is fine <3

The days have been bleak for Y/N — nothing exciting, nothing new.

Obsessively self-conscious, she has limited herself. She rarely attends social events and avoids any interaction with men. She fidgets in her clothes, she avoids cameras, she overthinks everything she says - it has become too exhausting. She had given up. Now, she finds everything tedious and dull.

Until she found his journal.

Sept. 4 XXXX She looks so beautiful today. I wonder if that’s her perfume, or maybe that’s her natural scent. I wonder if her skin is usually warm or cold. I want to touch her. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 7 XXXX She laughed with some guy. I hate her. She’s too oblivious around men. But she’s too cute. I could never hate her. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 8 XXXX She looks so peaceful when she reads. Haha! She accidentally fell asleep for a bit. I love her so much. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 11 XXXX That guy came up to her again. Fuck him. She looks annoyed. Oh, she ignored him. Good girl. Y/N Nott.

Y/N gasped and shut the journal. Goosebumps were all over her arms, her breath was shaky. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and there was this tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach. It’s as if lightning shot through her, awakening every nerve in her body. After months of feeling down and exhausted, she felt truly alive.

But Y/N tried to shake off her conflicting feelings. Despite it seeming like the sweet ramblings of a boy with a crush, some were greatly disturbing. Who could have written this?

She had found the black leather journal left on a windowsill in a hall rarely passed. She looked around, thinking the owner was nearby, but no one was in sight.

Y/N then flipped through the journal. Pages and pages were all about her with each ending off with “Y/N Nott.”

‘Nott?’ Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, wondering why it sounded so familiar. ‘Theodore Nott?’

Y/N shook her head. She refused to believe that this journal was from Theo, one of the most notorious Slytherin boys of her year. He’s always so quiet and emotionless. The only interaction she had with him was from a few years ago, but it was so insignificant that it could barely be considered a real interaction.

‘There’s no way that he could have written this,’ she thought. 'But I can’t leave this here. If anybody else sees this, they would think I wrote this about myself.’

After much deliberation, Y/N stuffed the journal in her school bag and headed for her dorm where she spent the rest of the night reading each entry.

***

The next day, Y/N woke up in a daze. With three hours of sleep, Y/N got through only half of the journal. There were many, many entries with the earliest dating back to two years ago, each entry became increasingly obsessive.

Throughout the day, Y/N felt foggy and her face was a bit flushed. She would only snap out of her daze when she became aware of Theo’s presence.

Theo was in all of her classes and he sat only a few seats away from her. Y/N never thought of it much before, but now, she found it strange considering she only has one or two classes with her friends.

During class, she would keep her head down and slightly tilt her head so she could take a peek at Theo. He looked the same as always - emotionless and cold. Could someone like him write such strange and emotional entries?

Y/N considered talking to Theo to see if the journal was his. Maybe test him by asking if he lost something recently. But she was unsure if she wanted to confirm it. She didn’t know if she could face the owner’s strong, overwhelming feelings. And she was somewhat scared of what could happen next.

A few days had passed, and Y/N was becoming worried that the owner YYwill soon approach her. But she couldn’t let go of the journal yet. She was a madman obsessed. In many of the entries, the owner of the journal would describe what Y/N wore. What she ate for breakfast. Who she talked to. Some entries seemed like sweet love poems while some showed stalker tendencies.

Y/N was conflicted. She knows how deranged and disillusioned the owner was. She was scared, yes, but she also felt excited. As she continued to read, all his strange ramblings were starting to sound sweet. She didn’t know if she should be creeped out or flattered.

But Y/N knew that her time with the journal needed to end. She knew the owner was looking for their journal. She would sometimes feel goosebumps on her back as if someone was staring at her. When this happened, she would hurriedly leave the room. She thought of placing it back where she found it, but she needed to finish reading the journal first.

So, one night, Y/N went to the back of the library and made sure no one was around. She sat on the oak chair and took the journal from her bag. She then flipped to the first page. The ink was a bit smudged and the paper was a bit worn, but it had the same neat handwriting that she became familiar with.

Dec. 3 XXXX Went to Hogsmeade today, but I left the boys. I didn’t feel like socializing today. Headed to Hog’s Head to read for a bit. I assumed no one would be there, but I was wrong. That quiet girl Y/N was there. She was reading, too. Whatever, I’m sitting far anyways.

Dec. 4 XXXX How come I’ve never talked to her before? She is so beautiful. So sweet. What book was she reading? I’ll have to find it in the library when she’s done with it. Does she know who I am? I should talk to her. No, I don’t want her to be creeped out. I’ll find a better way to talk to her. I think I’m falling for her. Y/N L/N Nott.

Y/N was incredibly confused. What happened that could have caused such a big change? She doesn’t even remember going to Hog’s Head, much less what she did that day.

Y/N furrowed her brows as she thought hard about her trips to Hogsmeade in the last two years. ‘I have been to the Hog’s Head before… but I don’t remember anything spe-

“So, you had it.”

A dark, low voice spoke behind her. Y/N jumped in her seat, goosebumps all over her skin. Just by their voice, Y/N felt shivers run through her back and that tingling sensation in her stomach.

But Y/N couldn’t move. She was frozen, too anxious to turn around and confront him. But she knew who it was. His voice was one she knows all too well.

Suddenly, Y/N felt his warm body lightly pressed on her back. He was now standing behind her. He then slightly bent over her as he flipped through the pages of his journal.

“Here,” he said as he stopped to a certain page. “Read this.”

Confused, Y/N slowly looked up, only to be met with a smiling Theo.

“Come on. Read it for me. Please.”

Y/N reluctantly nodded. “February 14 XXXX. Some boys left candy on her table. Bunch of idiots. I threw it all away. I wanted her to only have mine. It’s mint chocolate, her favorite. I know everything that she likes. I-I’m the only one who can treat her right…” Y/N trailed off, unsure if she should say the next part.

“Continue.”

“S-she’s mine. I love her so much. She’ll see that one day. Y/N Nott.” Y/N’s breath was shaky and her mind was becoming a bit foggy. She knew this situation wasn’t normal. He’s too calm. Too scary. But for some reason, she was filled with anticipation.

“You were the one who gave me the mint chocolate?” Y/N asked, looking back up at Theo.

He nodded.

“And… you wrote this journal?”

He smiled.

“I was searching everywhere for the journal. My name isn’t on it, so I wasn’t worried about getting caught. But… I didn’t want any more attention on you,” Theo said as took the seat next to her. “But then you started acting strange. You would get nervous around me. It was so cute.” He chuckled and the tingling sensation in Y/N’s stomach grew more prominent.

“I’m glad you found it,” Theo said as he gently took Y/N’s hand. “Now you know how much I love you. How much I think about you.”

Y/N’s mind was going haywire. She didn’t know what to think or what to say. Goosebumps were still all over her skin, but she could only focus on his sweet words and warm hands.

“Y/N…” he trailed as he leaned closer to her. He placed her palm on his chest, purposely trying to make her feel his heartbeat. It was racing fast. “I couldn’t ask you on Valentines, but… will you be mine?”

When Y/N read through his journal, she knew he was dangerous. His feelings were too strong, too overwhelming. He was obsessive and possessive. She was anxious about what would happen if she reciprocated.

But as she looked at Theo’s handsome face with her palm on his broad chest, she felt seen and alive. His love, his sincerity - it’s hard to believe it’s all real. And it’s too intoxicating to deny.

“Y-yes. I want to be yours."

*** bonus: hog’s head interaction ***

December 3, XXXX

“Welcome!” The shopkeeper of Hog’s Head yelled as he filled up a cup of juice from behind the counter.

Theo scrapped the snow off his shoes before entering, unwrapping the scarf around his neck. “Black coffee, please,” Theo said before walking to the table farthest from the other customer.

Theo then rummages through his bag, taking out a book and his new leather journal. He received it from a teacher who recommended writing entries of gratitude or special moments. After putting it off for months, he finally set a goal for himself to write the first entry today.

As Theo wrote his first entry, the shopkeeper placed the black coffee on the table. He then went back to refill the other customer’s cup. Theo took a sip and observed the small figure of the other customer. She looked familiar.

The other customer looked up from her book to thank the shopkeeper. She set her book down and slightly stretched her back before taking a sip of her juice. She looks around the building before spotting Theo. She jumped a little, startled to see someone else there. She was too caught up in her book to notice her surroundings. She quickly composed herself before giving him a warm smile. She then turned back around and continued with her book.

In that short moment, Theo was hooked. When she smiled, something within him suddenly clicked. As if he was now complete. Something within him changed, his desires growing and morphing.

‘Y/N… what was her last name again? Ah, L/N. Y/N L/N. No… Y/N Nott.’

***

a/n: i do not condone stalking or extreme possessiveness. this is entirely unrealistic and fiction. however, it is nice to imagine that a handsome man is so in love with you that he's obsessed lol. i also named this "pure heart" for irony because he views his feelings as pure, but is it really?? also, for those into smut, you can definitely imagine this leading to an s x m dynamic, so it makes the title even more funny lol. anywho, hope you enjoyed it!

here is part two for more <3

#theo x reader #theo #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #hogwarts #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #slytherin #harry potter x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #slytherin boys

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utterlyotterlyx · 7 months

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Darkest Hour

For the ones who dream of being the only choice x

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Even if hating him is the answer to your problems, your Shadowsinger will always love you.

Warnings - mentions of torture, wing loss, angst, self hatred, depression, heart breaking fluff

The chill of the Night Court breeze drifted across your face, swirls of it scuttering across you bare, scarred back, soothing that roaring hot ache that rippled through your shoulderblades.

It was strange, to feel everything but nothing at all.

Chapped lips and a raw throat encased your rage, the rage that made you shake, the rage that made you tremble and turn cold and sour.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

Your wings. Your beautiful midnight blue wings with trunks of black membrane had been carved from your body, the last test to see if you'd break, to see if you'd give in to Beron's demands of information about Nyx, about Feyre, about the Made Archeron sisters. You gave them nothing, but it had cost you too much.

Only Rhys knew what had happened to you in that chamber after diving into your unconscious mind, even then the flashes of memory were too sickening to share, to the point that even he had gone pale, had gone so far to empty the contents of his stomach in the nearest empty vase.

He adored you. They all did. A little sister of the Inner Circle, so pure and full of light, a never-ending smile, a kindness no one would dare to taint. You were like a breath of balanced air, full of life and teeming with outspoken serenity. You were the safe place, the shoulder to cry on, the daybreak at the end of the storm.

Now, now you were nothing but an empty vessel.

It broke them to see you so pale, so lifeless, staring out of the window with bleak colourless eyes whilst you lay on you front to avoid irritating the still healing scars on your back. They shouldn't have sent you, they shouldn't let you go alone. They knew that Beron thought you were a monstrosity, they knew it and they let you walk into the Autumn Court unaccompanied regardless of their knowledge.

They had failed you.

Words hadn't left your lips. No food had been eaten, even those cakes you loved so much from the bakery went stale on your bedside table. All you did was stare out of that slightly ajar window, whimpering softly when someone tried to close it to keep any form of warmth within you.

Azriel was beside himself. Mirroring you, he hadn't eaten, he didn't sleep; all he did was drown himself in the deserved self loathing that came with the guilt of not being able to find you sooner, to save you from what you were feeling. Large bags of purple and onyx clung to the sunken skin beneath his eyes, he wasn't sure if you felt his presence in the room with you, but all he could do was watch as you slowly stretched your fingertips toward the window with a flash of longing in your eyes.

Then the monster within you had prowled out of its cage, and you turned cold and distant, only allowing Mor and Mor alone to tend to you, but even then you said little if anything at all and barely left the ice cold confinements of your room.

Everything hurt.

Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Thinking hurt.

You didn't want to do it anymore.

Then, you broke.

The floor was freezing beneath your feet as you placed them onto the wood for what felt like the first time in months, you shakily stood, using one of the pillars of your bed to help you. It was so dark in there bar the slits of moonlight that kissed the ground at your feet, the stars shone brighter as you shuffled along the ground, you loose nightgown swaying with every step.

You had lost weight, you'd felt it drop from your body, and that wasn't just the weight of your former wings. It was you, slowly decaying before your own eyes with no willingness to stop it.

Warmth whooshed into the room once you opened the door, warm light pouring in from the hallway, and the sound of faint laughter drifted up the stairs. Silently, you moved further toward it, not making a single sound as you descended the winding staircase, halting a few steps from the bottom and watching their warm smiles and gentle laugher pool at the centre of their collective consciousness.

They looked happy. Happy.

Azriel felt you first, his head snapping to the right so abruptly that everyone else's followed. The room turned cold and you shuddered and the sudden change, and Azriel wanted nothing more than to go to you. Pale skin and lips greeted them, black-grey veins of exhaustion tugged at your eyes and cheeks, your chest struggled to heave in a breath, and you looked at them with such despair, such hatred, that he had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop it from wobbling.

You huffed out an incredulous breath, almost a scoff, "Enjoying yourselves?"

Rhys tentatively rose to his feet, sensing the conflicting emotions within you, sensing the kettle boiling over into searing hot anger, "Y/N," you saw his flattened hand in the air, he used it when he wanted to calm down a hostile situation, he was using it on you.

"Don't say that name," you had snarled, "I stopped being her the moment I lost them," you felt unworthy, you felt ashamed, "I protected you," your eyes darted to Rhys, then to Feyre, to Nesta and Elain, "I didn't give them a single thing and I'm the one who lost everything. For you. I wish I had given one of you over to him, I wish that I didn't have to give the only thing I had to protect people who wouldn't protect me," you were panting, you hands reaching over your shoulder and ghosting at the tips of the gruesome crescent shaped scars embedded into your shoulders.

A gentle tug pulled your attention away from them, they had all risen to their feet, looking at you with alarm and eyes laced with pity, and guilt. So much guilt. You attention shifted to your feet, to the little winged child that stood there, his bright eyes staring up at you with a tsunami of love, his tiny hand grabbing for you, and you indulged him, letting him take your finger in his hand and send warmth flowing up your arm.

Azriel swore he could see some of the colour return to your skin.

Azriel watched as that one touch broke you, you screwed your eyes shut and tears escaped from them, flowing down your cheeks as sobs stung at your chest, he wasn't sure if you could handle the pressure of them.

The night you were due to return was the supposed to be the night that Azriel told you that he was your mate, after 400 years of loving you and 60 years after the bond had snapped for him. He'd been so nervous to the point he'd enlisted Cassian and Elain to help him plan some elaborate evening for you. A hot bath with the lavender soak you loved so much, brand new books he had convinced the author to release early for you, your favourite chocolates, a bottle of your favourite wine, and a letter from him confessing his love for you. He knew how much you cherished letters. You'd kept every letter from all of them in the 400 years they had known you and loved you, they lay sleeping in boxes under your bed.

It hadn't snapped for you yet but you had unleashed all of your pain down the bond, not even searching for him, but feeling too much of the all-consuming pain that your soul was screaming for a moment of light. Just a minute of something else other than pain.

It nearly suffocated him.

Nesta moved to you, almost knocking her chair over in the process and wrapped her arms around you, shielding you by pushing your head into the crook of her neck. She ran her fingers through your limp hair, finding more knots than perfect glossy strands and felt herself breaking at how thin you had become.

"It's okay to be angry, Y/N. It's okay to hate us. It's okay," she whispered to you, turning her head to the side and pleading to Azriel to come to you.

He did without a moments hesitation.

Nesta passed you into his awaiting arms, night kissed mountains and cedar engulfed you, and you felt yourself relaxing into him as he rubbed soft circles into your back, relieving some of that aching tension that had become unbearable, "Hate me as much as you need to, I can take it. I can take all of your anger and darkness, let me take it."

"I'm so tired," you loosely wrapped your arms around him and sobbed, Azriel knew how exhausted you were, he could feel it in your trembling bones how close you were to passing out from the feeling.

"Okay," he moved to scoop you up into his arms, holding you so gently like he was afraid you'd snap in two in his hands, "That's something we can fix. One day at a time. We can do this."

Since that night, you felt lighter.

Months had passed, and thanks to Rhys and Cassian, you found your strength again. Thanks to Nesta, you found joy again. Thanks to Feyre and Nyx, you found passion again. Thanks to Mor and Elain, you'd gotten that innocent wonder back.

And Azriel, you had him to thank for it all.

He had been so gentle with you, coaxing you into physical therapy with promises of warm baths and healing creams, and making sure you ate and drank and found reasons to be happy again. The first laugh from your lips almost made him faint, it was accompanied by that sparkle in your eyes that he had missed too much.

Colour had returned to your skin, your hair had returned to its glossy hue, your smile was wide and bright, and even without your wings that he knew you missed, you were by far the most beautifully resilient creature he had ever seen.

You had closed the bedroom window, allowing him to light a fire and settle into his embrace whilst you both read your books. He had given you the one he was supposed gift to you and could have swooned at the smile you gave him.

"What do you think about mates?" It startled him, it made his heart physically halt in his chest and he moved his chin from the top of your head to look down at you. "Do you believe that there is a perfect half of your soul out there?"

"I do. I know it actually," he told you and you craned your neck upward to look at him properly, flushed cheeks and all.

"Yeah," you eyes twinkled, "How?"

"Because I know who it is I hope to see every morning for the rest of my life."

Your smile faltered, "Do I know her?" You shuffled onto your side, your book forgotten on the floor and arm tucked beneath your head.

Azriel mirrored you, settling into the space beside you, "Very well actually. She is bold and beautiful. Her laugh is the symphony of my dreams and memories. Her being herself is always going to be enough for me. It was inevitable really, to fall for her, it was beyond the scope of my control, the first time I saw her I just knew that she was the person my heart had been craving my entire life. She makes me laugh when all I want to do is hide away from the world. She makes it so easy to see the beauty in everything."

"She sounds perfect, Az," he noticed your sad eyes and the way you had curled up into yourself, but still holding on to every single word he said.

"And even when she lost everything, in a way I think it made me love her more, because even in the darkest hour of her life, she still managed to pull herself out of it, to feel and shine again," he turned to you, your brows furrowed and a small gasp floating from you, "I am completely, utterly, totally, in love with you, Y/N. You are the one my soul sings for," his shadows moved to you, curling around your face and torso, the inky tendrils kissing your exposed skin, "And I promise to love you no matter what life throws at us."

Tears pooled at your eyes and he grasped for you, rolling you onto you back so that his face was hovering above your own.

It happened then, that fairy tale snap you had never thought you'd own, the one you'd never thought you deserved. A split soul merging into one, singing in golden light as tendrils of thread sewed your hearts together, "I was so horrible to you."

Azriel shushed you, "I have loved you for 400 years, Y/N. You have been my light for so long, even when I didn't want one, you were there to pull me out," you cupped his face in your hands, "You have no idea how many lives you have impacted by just existing, I can't imagine a moment without you. I'll never tire of hearing what's going on in that strange little mind of yours. To put it in simple terms, there's not one part of you that I don't want, not a single part of you that I don't adore."

Tears fell from your eyes and he wiped them away, his body entangled with yours, "I don't know what to say."

"Just tell me that you love me. Tell me you're mine," Azriel pleaded, his hazel eyes glistening with a love you'd never seen before, not even between Feyre and Rhys, your soul pulsated with that freshly bound power and you sighed, pulling him closer to you.

Pressing your forehead to his you muttered the words, "I love you Azriel, and I am yours forever, in my darkest of hours and most beautiful of days. I love you."

brb sobbing x

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youryanderedaddy · 4 days

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Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good?

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood.

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to.

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you.

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly.

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough.

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down.

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less.

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

#yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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belqva · 1 month

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₊˚⊹౨ LOML [C.S.] ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: none, except for a lot of angst but oh well. the tortured poets department gave me inspiration for this so are we surprised?

summary: In the shadows of triumph, Coriolanus Snow, victor of the 10th Hunger Games, faces exile. Bound by a promise and a tender moment Coriolanus leaves behind his best friend and a life of endless possibility.

pairing: academy!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

a/n: my first ever fanfic I’m posting <3 english is NOT my first language so if you encounter some spelling or grammar errors let me know! I’m happy to hear any criticism or recommendations and my inbox is open so feel free to share your thoughts and any requests 🤍 please reblog or support in any way you can if you enjoy it thank you!

You could hardly believe it was real. The moment seemed too surreal, too much like a dream, but the reality was undeniable. Lucy Gray, with her haunting song to the snakes, had captured not just the Capitol’s attention but their hearts as well. Even Dr. Gaul, who had initially refused to let her out, was forced to relent under the intense demands of the entire student body.

In that electrifying moment, Coryo and Lucy Gray became victors, and with them, you felt your world shift.

You were still trembling from the intensity of the past few minutes. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and your hands quivered with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Everything would be alright now.

You felt a huge grin spreading across your face, the kind that hurt your cheeks. Everything had worked out in the end—Coryo would get his prize money, he would attend university with you, and the Snows would finally find themselves in a better financial position.

All of his hard work, his cunning, his sacrifices—it had all paid off. It was like a dream come true, perhaps even better.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the euphoria wash over you. Memories of your friendship with Coriolanus began to flood your mind.

You thought back to the early days, back when everything seemed so uncertain and bleak. The Snow family had lost so much, their wealth, their power—everything had crumbled after the war. But through it all, Coryo had never given up.

You admired that about him, his tenacity and resolve, even when the odds were stacked so heavily against him.

You remembered how the two of you would sit together in the Academy’s courtyard, discussing your plans for the future, as if speaking them out loud would make them more likely to happen.

He would always say, “We’ll get through this, you and I. We’ll find a way.”

And you had believed him, because despite everything, Coryo had a way of making you believe that anything was possible.

You had been there through the the tough times. When they had nothing to eat for days leaving him and Tigris alone in that cavernous, crumbling apartment, the remnants of a life that once promised so much. You’d seen him struggle to keep up appearances, to maintain a semblance of dignity despite the whispers and the pitying glances from others.

But through it all, he remained determined, and you stood by his side, offering what little comfort and support you could. He’d never once asked for your help, but you’d given it anyway, because that’s what friends did.

And then came the Games. You knew from the start that Coriolanus would be an exceptional mentor, but you also knew how high the stakes were for him. Winning wasn’t just about pride or glory; it was about survival. It was about securing a future, not just for himself, but for Tigris, for the memory of his family.

You had watched him throw himself into the role with everything he had, determined to make a success of it, even as others doubted him.

Now, standing there among the cheering students, you felt that familiar swell of pride. He had done it. Against all odds, Coriolanus Snow had not only survived but thrived. And in doing so, he had proven to everyone—most of all to himself—that he was capable of greatness.

But you had to see him, had to touch him, to truly believe it.

The Academy space where the mentors had gathered was a cacophony of noise and movement. Students were on their feet, celebrating, congratulating him. You were seated in the back rows, and it was a struggle to make your way through the throng of bodies. You pushed through the crowd, muttering apologies and excuses as you went, your eyes scanning for that distinctive head of blond, almost white curls.

Finally, you spotted him. Coriolanus was standing with Tigris, his face lit up with a smile so genuine and full of relief that it gave him an almost otherworldly glow. The look of pure triumph on his features made your heart swell with happiness, if such a thing was even possible at this point.

As you drew closer, you could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the toll the Games had taken on him, but also the undeniable joy of victory.

“Coryo,” you called out, not too loudly, but just enough for him to hear. He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes brightening even more when he saw you. Without a second thought, you hurried toward him, and as soon as you were within reach, you wrapped him in a tight, almost bone-crushing hug.

He held you just as tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only people in the room, the sea of students and the noise fading into the background.

Coryo clung to you as if he never wanted to let go, his breath warm against your ear, and you could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

“You did it,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, tears welling up in your eyes. “You actually did it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall.

“I knew you could do it, Coryo,” you continued, your voice trembling but full of conviction. “I never once doubted you. I’m so proud of you.”

His gaze softened at your words, and for a brief moment, the stoic mask he usually wore cracked, revealing the vulnerable boy underneath. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of gratitude. “Thank you for everything. For being by my side, for never giving up on me.”

“Always,” you replied, your voice barely more than a breath. The two of you stood there, foreheads pressed together, savoring the moment.

It was a small pocket of peace amidst the chaos, a brief respite where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

You thought back to all those times he had confided in you, those late-night talks where he shared his fears, his doubts, and his hopes. You knew Coryo better than anyone, perhaps even better than Tigris. You knew how deeply he felt things, even though he tried to hide it behind a calm, composed exterior.

You knew how much this victory meant to him—not just for the tangible rewards it would bring, but for what it represented. This was proof that he could rise above his circumstances, that he could reclaim the Snow family’s honor, that he could be someone who mattered.

But as with all moments, this one couldn’t last forever. The crowd around you began to press in again, and Coriolanus was soon whisked away by more well-wishers.

He drank posca, shook hands, and accepted congratulations with a grace that seemed almost second nature to him. Yet you could tell that this victory had loosened something in him, something that had been tightly wound for far too long.

As you watched him navigate the crowd, you felt a swell of pride that was almost overwhelming. This was the Coriolanus Snow you knew—a natural leader, someone who could command a room with just his presence. And yet, beneath that polished exterior, there was still the boy you had grown up with, the boy who had faced more hardships than most would ever know.

You knew that this moment would change everything for him, for both of you. The prize money would secure his future, ensuring that he could attend university and continue on the path you had both dreamed about.

The Snow family name would be restored, and with it, a sense of dignity that had been sorely lacking for so long. For the first time in years, Coryo’s future looked bright, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that you had played a part in helping him reach this point.

Soon enough, a voice rang out over the noise, commanding that Coriolanus report to the High Lab immediately.

The summons didn’t seem unusual—after all, he was the victor’s mentor, and surely they would want to congratulate him in person, perhaps even offer him some insight into what would happen next. Maybe he would get to see Lucy Gray again, to explain what had happened in those final, crucial moments.

You watched as Coryo set off, his steps confident, his back straight. He was walking toward his new life, a life that would finally give him the recognition and security he had fought so hard for.

As he reached the doors and paused, he turned back for just a moment, his eyes seeking yours. He gave you a small, reassuring smile—the kind that said everything was going to be okay.

And in that moment, you believed it. You returned his smile, your heart full to bursting with love and pride. This was just the beginning of a bright and promising future, and nothing could dim the light of this victory.

Coryo gave a final nod and then turned, pushing the doors open and stepping through, leaving the noise and the crowd behind him. As the doors closed, you stood there, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. Everything had worked out just as it should.

Everything was going to be alright.

You had gone home soon after Coryo left for the high lab, still aglow with excitement. The manor's grand halls felt almost empty, echoing your unspoken anticipation. You could hardly wait to share your joy with Coryo—just the two of you, away from the world's gaze.

You greeted your parents as you passed through the living room, where they sat absorbed in the Capitol news.

Your mother, wrapped in a luxurious shawl, watched Lucky Flickerman with a serene smile. Your father, seated with his customary stern expression, barely glanced up.

You quickly made your way to your quarters, jittery and impatient.

After hours of trying to kill time, trying not to worry about the worst you decided you had enough. Each second of silence, with no calls or messages from Coryo or Tigris, increased your anxiety. What could be delaying them? Were they intentionally avoiding you, or had something gone awry?

Your frustration mounted. You couldn't bear to stay in your room any longer. The adrenaline of your excitement had not yet worn off, and now you were driven by a mix of worry and determination. With no further ado, you decided to head to the Snows' penthouse.

You left your room and walked briskly down the hall, informing your parents of your intentions. “I’m going to see Coryo,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, but haven’t you talked to him already, dear?” Your mother asked, her voice laced with concern. “It’s quite late to be heading out.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed with disapproval. He was always stringent about your associations and activities. Relationships before marriage were forbidden in your household, and in the Capitol elite, it was considered unacceptable for a young woman to have a suitor without a promise of marriage.

“Tigris invited me over,” you explained smoothly. “We’re just going to celebrate. His grandmother will be there too. It’s just a nice gesture, really. An honor.”

The lie slipped effortlessly from your lips. Growing up with strict rules had honed your skill in deceit.

“Well, alright then,” your mother said with a hesitant smile. “But don’t stay out too late. And make sure to return before midnight.”

“Just be careful,” your father added gruffly, his gaze following you as you left.

With their reluctant approval, you stepped out of the manor and instructed your chauffeur to drive you to the Corso.

As you exited the car, the cool night air hit you like a refreshing wave, contrasting sharply with the heat of your nervousness. “Wait here,” you told the driver, hurrying towards the Snows' apartment. The street was quiet, the world seemingly paused in the wake of recent events.

At the Snows’ penthouse, you knocked a few times, your heart pounding with anticipation. The door creaked open slowly. It was Tigris, her usually bright demeanor replaced with a shadow of sorrow. Her face, streaked with tears, made your heart sink.

“Tigris, is everything alright?What happened? Where’s Coryo?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Tigris’s pitiful smile offered little comfort. She placed her hands gently on your shoulders, squeezing them in a gesture of uneasy sympathy. “I think you should talk to him. He’s in his room.”

The unease in her voice only deepened your worry. “Tigris, please, tell me what’s going on. I need to know.”

She sighed heavily, her voice a whisper. “It should be Coryo who tells you.”

Your patience snapped. You rushed to Coryo’s room, your mind racing. The Snows’ modest apartment, a reflection of their strained finances, was familiar to you, but tonight it seemed more forlorn than ever. You passed the grandmother, her stoic expression masking her own despair.

The door to Coryo’s room was ajar. You pushed it open gently and peered inside. “Coryo?” you called out softly.

He stood in the center of the room, his once confident presence now subdued. His back was turned to you. He was packing.

The ethereal glow that had surrounded him in the academy was gone, replaced by a deep, palpable sadness. He turned at the sound of your arrival. His usual calm demeanor was marred by a profound sorrow reflected in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft and weary, as if seeing you for the first and last time.

You rushed to him, your concern overflowing. “Is everything alright? What happened in the High Lab? Did Gaul hurt you?” Even the thought made your stomach twist.

He took a deep breath and guided you to sit on the edge of his bed. Then he began to explain: the rat compact, the rat poison, the incriminating handkerchief.

They had pieced it all together—the cheating, the deceit, and Highbottom’s decision to offer him a chance at redemption as a peacekeeper. The devastating conclusion was clear: banishment for twenty years.

As he spoke, the world seemed to collapse around you. The realization was like a punch to the gut—a cruel twist of fate. Coryo’s life, once filled with promise, was now reduced to ashes. There was no solution, no fixing this. This wasn't a schol assignment gone wrong, this was real life.

The dream you had cherished was burning down before your eyes.

“No, this… this can’t be happening,” you whispered, trying to grasp the enormity of it all.

“Yes, it can,” Coryo said bitterly. “It’s already decided.”

You struggled to hold back your tears. “So, when are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow at dawn,” he murmured, his voice hollow. He couldn’t meet your gaze. The weight of failure and impending separation was too much for him to bear.

Your heart ached for him—this young man who had faced so much adversity and yet still carried the burden of his family’s future on his shoulders. The thought of losing him, of never seeing him again, was almost unbearable.

Coryo’s gaze finally met yours, and he saw the silent tears streaming down your cheeks. His own heart clenched with a new kind of pain. “Y/N,” he said desperately, “please don’t cry. I hate it when you do that.”

You tried to steady your breathing, but the tears kept coming. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m not ready to let you go, Coryo. It shouldn’t have ended like this.”

Coryo pulled you into his arms, letting your tears soak into his uniform. He held you tightly, his own despair mingling with the comfort he tried to offer. He hated feeling like this. Out of control. He couldn't help you. Hell he couldn't help himself.

You clung to him as if he were the only anchor in a stormy sea.

Eventually, you lay down together on his bed, your bodies intertwined. You traced random shapes on his chest, while he stared blankly at the ceiling. After a few quiet moments, you spoke softly, “Maybe I’ll be able to visit you someday.”

Coryo smiled sadly. “I doubt it. Even if you could, I wouldn’t want you around those district savages.” He said the last part bitterly, not hiding his hatred for the districts.

You countered gently, “Not everyone from the districts is terrible. Look at Lucy Gray—she’s from the districts and she’s wonderful.”

Coryo stiffened at the mention of Lucy Gray. “Lucy Gray is special. She’s not like the others. And she’s not from the districts. She’s Covey.” He clarified.

“If you say so,” you sighed, not wanting to argue. “Well, if we both survive, we’ll see each other in twenty years.”

Coryo fell silent at your words. You could sense something was troubling him.

“What’s bothering you, Coryo?” you asked, your gaze fixed on him. “And don’t lie to me. I can tell when something’s wrong.”

He hesitated, then spoke with a voice heavy with regret. “It’s just the thought that you’ll move on, have a family, and live a life without me. I won’t be part of it.”

Your heart ached at his words. “Oh, Coryo, you’ll always be part of my life. I’ll think of you every single day until my last breath.” You assured him.

Coryo’s eyes met yours with a mix of sadness and longing. “I won’t be the man who gives you children, who makes you the First Lady of Panem. I won’t be part of your future.”

The though of not having something that was rightfully his infuriated him.

At his words you were shook to your core. A pregnant silence followed.

As he spoke, you realized that your feelings for him—feelings you had tried to ignore—might not have been unrequited after all. The lingering touches and secret glances were not merely figments of your imagination.

Coryo was looking at you with a tenderness that spoke of deep, unspoken emotions.

Guided by an unknown force, you leaned closer, your breaths mingling. Your faces were inches apart, and then his lips were gently brushing against yours.

What began as a soft touch quickly turned into a passionate, fervent kiss. It was a culmination of all the emotions, fears, and unspoken words of the day. Coryo’s hands cradled your face with a tenderness that spoke of how much you meant to him.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him with the intensity of knowing that this might be the last time you ever could.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled back, both of you panting heavily. You embraced each other tightly, laying your head on his chest.

The silence between you was filled with everything that words could not express. Goodbye, I love you, I don’t want to lose you—each emotion was conveyed in that single, passionate kiss.

As you closed your eyes, trying to drift off to sleep despite the circumstances, you were acutely aware of every precious moment with Coryo.

You ignored the time and your parents’ warning, finding solace in his arms. His breathing eventually slowed to a steady rhythm, and you found comfort in his presence.

The pale moonlight streaming through the cracks in the wall was the only witness to this intimate moment between two young lovers facing an uncertain future.

Coryo’s arms remained around you, their embrace a fragile anchor amidst the turmoil.

As sleep threatened to overtake you, a profound sadness washed over you. You wished for a reality where everything had turned out differently—where Casca Highbottom’s cruelty hadn’t shattered your dreams. The future you had imagined with Coryo seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

In the dead of night, you whispered the truth that would haunt you forever, “You’re the loss of my life, Coriolanus Snow.”

SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!

THE PLOT OF THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!

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ekat-fandom-blog · 1 year

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Blurred Lines

Danny had two names on his wrist: William Joseph Batson and Klarion Bleak. Jazz had one name: Richard John Grayson. Dani had two: Damian al Ghul Wayne and Jonathan Samuel Kent. To bad their soulmates didn't have their names. Just a thick smudge where it should be.

When the Fenton's were witch hunters, they got cursed. This curse made it difficult for their soulmate(s) to believe they are soulmates. It also impressed instinctual knowledge upon the Fenton's of who their soulmate was as soon as they saw them. It wasn't impossible to convince their soulmate(s), but it did require knowing all the loopholes in the curse. Unfortunately, the three youngest Fenton's weren't told about the curse.

Jazz had known as soon as his name was released to the public, that Bruce Wayne's first ward was her soulmate. And when she saw him later, she was even more certain.

She realized fairly early that there was going to be some pushback because of his social status. There were often articles about people falsely claiming to be his soulmate. She knew that people at school thought she was lying about being his soulmate too.

Then, she finally got the chance to meet him. Had everything prepared. Birth certificates, dated pictures of her soulmark, everything she could think of to prove that she was who she said she was. In the end it didn't matter. He didn't believe her. When she pushed, he showed her that he didn't have a name on his wrist. Just a weird smudge. He told her that there was probably a different person with the same name who had her name on their wrist. She had no choice but to accept what he said, even though she knew he was wrong.

Dani had a nagging feeling that she'd met her soulmates when she ran into Superboy and Robin for the first time. She wasn't going to confront them about it because it would be rude to ask them about their secret identities, but she'd suspected. Her suspicion was basically confirmed when Superboy told her his name.

What happened next hurt. She'd asked him if he'd realized they were soulmates the whole time, and he'd said he only had one whom he'd already met. When she asked if it was Damian, he freaked out. Then, Robin showed up equally freaked out, but hiding it better. Things escalated from there. To the point that she's now actively avoiding the two.

Danny was last to meet his soulmates out of the three. He'd been chasing after Amorpho when he bowled over Billy Batson and promised to buy him food after he caught Amorpho. Billy had been suspicious, but agreed. After they exchanged names, Danny immediately asked if Billy knew his soulmates. When Billy said no and then took off, Danny felt like he'd been rejected.

Then, he'd run into Klarion while he'd been enjoying creating some chaos in Amity (particularly annoying the mayor). Danny knew that Klarion was one of his soulmates. Even when Klarion was reluctant to accept it. He decided they needed to talk to his parents about whatever was going on.

That's when Jack and Maddie realized they'd never explained that their family was cursed.

(Klarion was furious. How dare someone attempt to keep his soulmate from him!)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #danny x billy x klarion #what do you guys think of “chaotic sparks” being their ship name?#jazz x dick #night birds #night birds ship #dani x damian x jon #royal sunshine #royal sunshine ship #wanted to add dan x talia #but it was getting long and I had no idea how to squeeze them in #would their ship name be “blood shed”?#dcxdc soulmate au

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months

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Could you do a sweet fluff for Cassian x Fem reader where it's starfall and they have been in an established relationship and then the mate bond snaps into place and maybe stars just keep landing on them ? Maybe reader is an arecheron sister or rhysand's little sister

Mates

You never believed in love. The world seemed too cruel. Too full of hatred to be able to carry even an ounce of love in it. But what you didn’t expect was to meet an overly cocky general who had you laughing the whole night. Pulling you to the dance floor at Rita’s. Screaming the wrong words to the songs that were playing. And then ending the night with the biggest scoops of ice cream known to man’s kind. Cassian had that energy about him. And while his chaotic character brought you comfort, lightening the bleak reality. It was the way he loved and cared that stole your heart for keeps.

“I think I lost you there for a moment”,’ his fingers carefully brushed over your cheek, bringing you back to the balcony you two were standing at. “Huh…”, you blinked looking up at him. Meeting that same grin that had smithed you for months, “What’s going through that head of yours, sweet? “, Cassian mussed, leaning in to brush his nose with yours. And it almost felt unreal. A trick of your mind. Because the amount of love flowing through you was close to astronomical.

“Honestly?”, you muttered, fingers moving up to smooth the black shirt he was wearing. “Always”, Cassian stated firmly. That had been one of his rules - to always speak what was on your mind. He wanted it all. The silly random thing. The deep pained parts. All he wanted was full clarity between you both. “You”, you muttered, eyes darting up to meet his. The smirk only deepened on Cassian’s lips, “Me?”. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “I can feel your ego growing we all will suffocate soon”, you said in a dramatic voice only to be met with his fingers jabbing into your side playfully, making you shriek with a giggle.

“Smartypants”, he mussed before leaning in to brush his lips over yours, “What are you thinking about me?”, he quickly questioned a much more serious expression on his face now. You raised an eyebrow, “Oh you want me to feed your ego even more?” Cassian snorted, “Az bruised it this morning when he won five times while we were training”, grumbling. You cooed at him, “You poor baby…”, yet the playful smiles didn’t stick for tonight because something just felt different.

“I thought about us. This. You. How you flipped my world upside down”, you muttered after a moment of silence. “Good way?”, Cassian asked and it almost broke your heart because this man has been so love-starved that it took him months to not second guess if he could hug you whenever he wanted. “The best way”, you reassured him with a smile, “I feel like I was simply existing till I met you and now I am alive”. His eyes softened at your words, “Sweetie…”, he muttered under his breath but your eyes were already filling up with tears, “It’s true but I am also scared that you will meet your mate, and then… I would be…”

Cassian instantly shook his head, “No don’t even entertain that thought”. And it had been a fear of yours. fear that had led to a couple of arguments because you just couldn’t understand why that didn’t frighten him. “But it can happen it’s a possibility”, you said firmly. “Not for me”, Cassian shrugged but his voice didn’t waver. “You don’t know that”, you hissed in frustration. Not directed at him. But at the cruel reality that could catch up to you both at any given moment. “Don’t argue with me about this”, Cassian grunted, running a hand through his hair. “Why?”, you mussed, knowing his side of thoughts because he had tried to make them make sense to you too.

His warm hand gripped the back of your neck as he pulled you in, “Because even if this world was ending and the only way for me to save it was to give you up. I would happily fucking let it all crumble if I got to hold you through it all”. And it’s as if he spoke to the depths of your soul. To parts of you that you couldn’t reach yourself. Your heartbeat picked up. All you could see, all you could sense was him. Your Cassian. That’s when one of the shooting stars hit Cassian’s arm, splattering you both in stardust. You both stood there for a moment and then the most genuine laughter slipped past both of your lips.

Something deep within you snapped and it’s as if the world had finally shown itself in true colors. It already felt overwhelming but now… “No…”, you muttered, coming up to cover your mouth. “No?”, Cassian’s eyebrows shot up. “No, i mean no”, you stuttered as the overwhelming urge to melt into him filled your senses. “Don’t tell me no now women”, Cassian grunted stepping closer, hands reaching out to bring you as close as physically possible.

“You’re my…”, you whispered, voice dying down the moment your eyes met his. “Mate”, you muttered together. A shit-eating grin spread out on Cassian’s lips, “I fucking knew it”, he fist-punched the air like a kid who got given way more candy than expected. “I knew that you were it. My missing piece”, he pointed right at you before smashing his lips to yours. The need the desire poured out of him in waves. “I love you”, you muttered breathlessly. “I love you more”, he cupped your face, “and now he said in between kisses please get all the imaginary females in your head to disappear because there are no other girls just you.”

#cassian lord of bloodshed #cassian acotar imagine #cassian acotar x reader #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader

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goodlucktai · 2 months

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a bigger heart grew back

rise of the tmnt post-movie characters: leo & splinter, raph & splinter word count: 5k title borrowed from no hell by cloud cult

read on ao3

Splinter thought he had lived through all of life’s worsts already.

Losing his mother, estranging himself from what was left of his family, moving to the States as an orphan of his own making, falling in what he thought was love and losing his freedom as a direct result—

Years spent underground where he was forced to fight like a dog, an unwanted mutation that guaranteed his exile from society, that first bleak night in the sewers with nothing but the clothes on his back and four infants who depended upon him entirely and the utter conviction that he was going to fail them—

The resurrection of the Shredder, the collapse of Splinter’s home and the exodus of his children, the fear he had become unfortunately intimate with in those fraught hours—that his boys would become orphans, too—

Raphael’s escape pod opening and Leonardo tumbling out, eyes glassy and chest heaving with panic—sweet, sensitive Red covered in a fleshy pink parasite and forced to attack the siblings he loved more than life itself, those little turtles he had fussed over and carried and kept safe since he was just a little turtle himself—

But nothing compared to hearing the voice of his second youngest child as he prepared to end his own life.

His precious Blue, who could sell water to a fish, bravely trying to convince his siblings that it was right for him to go. Already pulling away, beginning the vanishing act, even as Raphael begged him not to do it.

All for that tiresome, nebulous greater good. As if any happy ending could possibly exist with Leonardo removed from the narrative.

Splinter had thought he knew what pain was, but his heart, patchwork, secondhand thing that it was, had never broken like this before. He crumpled to the ground, and listened to Blue’s line on the comms explode into a strange whine and then static and then nothing, and it was over.

His Blue would never crawl into his armchair for late night Spanish telenovelas again, Splinter realized. Would never wheedle and bribe and coerce him into chess matches, because he didn’t seem to know he could just ask and Splinter would play as many matches with him as there was time in a day for. Would never run from a successfully antagonized sibling and fill the lair with his ringing, infectious laughter. Would never fall asleep at the kitchen table over a medical textbook he pretended to be too cool for in the daylight hours. Would never effortlessly argue his twin out of the lab for dinner, would never lift Orange up on his shoulders to get a hard-to-reach mixing bowl because teamwork makes the dream work, would never painstakingly stitch together a ripped teddy bear for the brother whose fingers were too big to handle needle and thread ever, ever again.

There is not a word for a parent who has lost a child. There is not a word for that particular flavor of grief that carves you empty at the same time that it fills you to the last hopeless, drowning inch.

April sobbed openly beside him, her small, strong shoulders shaking. She had always been exactly what Splinter would have wished for in a daughter, and so the Hamato curse didn’t spare her, either. It takes and it takes and it takes.

And then Michelangelo turned his back on despair and handed his family a miracle.

Splinter could feel his remaining sons’ ninpo stir and then surge together, and the sheer forceful brilliance of it staggered him from all the way over on the other side of the city. He knew better than to hope—but he also knew that nothing existed in this world or the next that could possibly outstubborn his children, or strong-arm them into abandoning each other, or quite frankly make them do any single thing they adamantly as a group did not want to do.

“Guys,” April choked out. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Hello?”

Thudding footfalls announced Casey approaching at a run. He jumped over one of the pinned Krang’s flailing tentacles as if he dodged ballistic alien parts every day of his life and skidded to the ground beside them on armored knees.

“I felt it,” Blue’s child from another life gasped, face tacky with half-dried tears. “That’s Uncle Angie opening a door. No one else could do it but him.”

Casey had a familiar katana at his side, blue and gleaming. His fingers seemed like they wanted to linger on the hilt but he handed it over to Splinter agreeably enough. The lingering ninpo in the blade usually welcomed Splinter warmly, eager to be of use, a telling mirror of the way Leonardo himself was so anxious to please and be praised. But this time the tool that Splinter picked up was an innate, lifeless thing.

He prodded tentatively with his own qi. The runes flickered once, half-hearted, in the manner of a dog waking at the sound of a key in the door, ascertaining the person there was not the one it belonged to, and laying its head back down to sleep.

Splinter would not be able to follow the whims of his son’s ninpo to create a portal while it lay dormant. His own uselessness crushed him.

“Raph mentioned Staten Island earlier,” April said, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm and pushing herself to her feet, business-like and brisk because she couldn’t afford to be anything else. “I doubt the ferry’s running, and the bridge is going to be a gridlock nightmare, so it looks like we’re stealing a boat.”

“If your mother asks, I did not condone this,” Splinter said hoarsely. “That said, the marina is too far to run to, so first we are stealing a car.”

They were halfway across the river in a cruiser that probably wasn’t meant to sustain the sixty miles an hour April was pushing when that startling shout of their family’s ninpo finally started to fade into a soft-spoken susurrus.

Before it was too quiet to make out clearly, he felt it: that achingly familiar mischievous blue energy, like a playful breeze flying above everything. Much smaller than usual, less spirited—giving more of the impression of a tiny tide pool creature hiding inside its shell than a smartmouthed sixteen year old boy with the whole world in his corner—but present.

Alive.

“Sensei,” Casey whispered.

“They got him,” April said, a ferocious, not-to-be-trifled-with look in her eye, all but daring the universe to try to make her a liar. “They saved him somehow, I know it.”

They were both Hamato enough to feel it as certainly as Splinter did.

But the boys hadn’t thought to include anyone else in their immediate, hard-won victory—and in fact, the call Splinter, April and Casey finally received some ten minutes later was one of outright panic.

“Dad, dad, are you there?” Orange’s voice warbled. He sounded all of fifteen years old and frightened in a way that set Splinter’s fur on edge instantly. “Dad, Leo’s hurt bad. He was awake a second ago, and talking even, but then he stopped making sense and just—just fell—”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Purple added, high-strung and liable to start biting if one more thing went catastrophically wrong within a mile of his person. “I’m scanning him but I don’t—I’m not a doctor I don’t know—”

“Send the readouts to me,” Casey said quickly, pulling his mask down, its lenses glowing green as the interface came to life. “Sensei trained me in field medicine, I can help with anything short of an open-heart surgery.”

“You take after your father,” Donatello replied. “Irredeemable overachievers.”

That faint thread of gratitude in his voice would go unheard by anyone who didn’t know him, but Casey huffed a near-silent exhale, having heard it loud and clear.

What Future Boy had to share with them wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the worst it could have been, either. Leonardo had sustained a number of broken bones and soft tissue damage, the cartilage in his right knee was torn as if the joint had been viciously twisted, one of his cheekbones was fractured, and even his shell had suffered a few hairline cracks. Altogether, he was looking at a long recovery, not unlike what the survivor of a traumatic car accident might have had to look forward to—but he would recover.

It wasn’t enough to prepare Splinter for actually seeing him. His Baby Blue, a tiny little thing in Raphael’s arms, with a face so beaten it was hard to make out the bright red stripe on one side.

“Okay,” April said, voice thick with anger and hurt and love. “Okay. Everyone on the boat.”

And finally they were home, after the longest day in history. Casey confirmed his initial diagnosis, with the caveat that they would know more when Leonardo woke up. He insisted to an audience of grim faces that it was a very good sign Leonardo had been awake and coherent in the first place, however briefly.

So Blue was disinfected and splinted and bandaged and medicated and then tucked safely away in the infirmary bed. Everyone else was seen to in short order. It was an easier task than it usually was, since none of them were remotely willing to leave just yet.

Splinter made a mental note to call Draxum to double-check that Michelangelo hadn’t pushed himself too far in creating a gateway—the glowing lines on his hands had faded, and beyond an occasional tremor, he promised his family up and down that he was actually fine. Donatello’s shell was a quiet source of concern, but the only person alive who could harass him into a checkup without getting maimed for his trouble was currently very much out of action. Raphael’s eye was definitely infected, and blood vessels had burst when he’d ripped the parasite away, coloring the sclera an alarming red.

The rest of the clan watched in some unspoken, exhausted wonder as Casey unthinkingly maneuvered around Leonardo’s infirmary as if he’d spent part of every day of his life there, knowing which drawer to find compression gloves for Orange in, locating topical pain reliever for Purple that he could apply himself and medicated eyedrops for Red in quick succession, before ultimately offering a bottle of extra strength Tylenol to April, who accepted it gravely.

“You’re a weird kid,” she said. From her, it was a declaration of approval. “You better plan on sticking around.”

“Oh,” Casey said at length, surprised. Clearly, he hadn’t thought ahead to what the after of his mission would be shaped like. His gaze lingered on Leo’s little bundled-up figure in the bed, so full of love and grief for a man who didn’t yet exist, and Splinter thought to hell with it. The kid was as good as his grandson if you squinted.

“We’ll find a bed for you,” Splinter said, some tiny corner of his mind free from screaming worry and bone-deep exhaustion already plotting where to make room for another subway car. “In the meantime, the sofa is yours.”

With that, five out of six children had been packed off to sleep. It took April and Michelangelo combined to pry Donatello’s hand from Leonardo’s, and subsequently his entire person from the infirmary. Raphael pulled a chair up to Leonardo’s bed and Splinter didn’t try to argue him out, knowing when to pick his battles.

Red had a familiar look on his face, an elephant in the room that often went unacknowledged for both their sakes. That look that said you’re his father but he’s my kid, too.

He had earned the right. No one could argue that. Late night vigils were his wheelhouse and had been ever since he was about nine years old. When Splinter didn’t have to be quite so present—when he started to let the tired gray encroach more and more, when he stopped getting out of bed right away at the sound of a child crying—Red quietly learned how to tend fevers and stomach bugs and bad dreams.

Soon enough, the boys stopped calling for daddy when they were hurting and started calling for Raphie instead. And their Raphie always came when they called.

Which was why it must have hurt like a blade piercing clean through his ribs when Leonardo finally stirred at something approaching two o’clock in the morning, blinked muddy gold eyes open slowly, looked up at the familiar shape of his biggest brother beside the bed, and flinched.

The world hadn’t ended yesterday. It was happening now instead.

Splinter had thought he knew what pain was. But life did not seem to ever run out of brand new lessons to teach.

“Leo,” Red whispered, heartbreak obvious in every inch of him. His hand was frozen in the air between them, arrested right in the middle of reaching out.

“No,” Blue managed, twisting around like he would attempt an escape the second he figured out where his limbs were in relation to the bed, IV be damned. The lines on the heart rate monitor started to crest dramatically.

“Leo it’s okay it’s—it’s me, I’m not—I’m not going to—I would never hurt—”

His voice strangled itself into silence. After all, at least some of those grisly black and blue marks around Leonardo’s neck were from him.

“Papa,” Leonardo cried out, the call reaching directly into Splinter’s heart with hooks and yanking him out of his chair. “I want papa, please, please—”

Clambering onto the bed, minding all the hardware, Splinter placed a careful hand on his second-youngest’s feverish head to soothe him.

He felt like an imposter, especially with Red still frozen like a statue behind him, but that part of his heart that had been smothered once, allowing his children’s cries for him to go unanswered and someone else to pick up the slack, was the loudest part of him now.

There was physically nothing else he could do but stroke that bruised forehead with the pad of his thumb and tell him, “Hush, Baby Blue, your papa is here. You are safe. You are home.”

Leonardo turned his face into Splinter’s hand, hiding as much as he was capable of. Raphael took one staggering step back, then another, then turned on his heel and fled the way Splinter had no memory of him ever doing before, infirmary door crashing behind him.

Torn completely in two, Splinter summoned conviction from those ancient spirits housed in his soul and forced himself at knife point to be strong for his family for once in his goddamn life.

“What are these tears for, silly turtle?” he murmured, the same way he had when Leonardo still mostly fit in the palm of one hand. Back then, all Leonardo wanted was to be held. He wondered if that was still true. “You are the safest little turtle who ever lived. There is no one left in this world who is stronger than the people who love you, don’t you know that? Your baby brother pulled down the stars for you. Your twin did not let go of your hand even once. And your big brother carried you home. You are safe. You are so loved.”

It was a nonsense litany for the most part, all true things said to someone who clearly was only absorbing every third word or so. But Blue stopped hiding his face at some point, eyes wet with tears he is even now too stubborn to let fall.

Splinter felt as though he was looking at a childhood memory of himself, trying to be strong when it would have been better—kinder—to allow himself a much-needed moment of weakness.

“You think you’re too grown-up to cry in front of this old man?” he said, gently pinching Blue’s cheek on the side of his face that hadn’t been crushed beneath a monster’s fist. “Try again in about a hundred years.”

Blue blew a tired raspberry at him. Splinter laughed, surprised at the show of spirit, his heart doing cartwheels at this proof of his irrepressible little boy unchanged by the close brush with tragedy. Winning a laugh from his father was enough to coax the ghost of a smile across Blue’s face.

“How are you feeling? We have some water for you here. No, don’t sit up. Let me help.”

He really ought to let everyone know Blue was awake, but they had just gone to sleep. His other kids needed their rest, too. It had been a truly terrible day.

And now that Red was out of the room—that thought dripped with oily, unpleasant guilt—Blue seemed to be in a more solid state of mind. He had winced as he tried to sit up for water, but if he didn’t have whiplash after a psychotic alien flung him around like a terrier would its chew toy, Splinter would eat his tail. There were none of the red flags Casey had warned him to be on the lookout for. The only thing Draxum had done right in his life was develop a mutagen that made these boys all but indestructible. Splinter would have to find the mental fortitude to choke out a thank you to him for that.

“It has been a long time since a sick little turtle has called for me,” Splinter murmured, stroking Blue’s forehead around the bandages. “Normally you are all ready to fight each other to the death to monopolize Red’s attention.”

It was only partly a joke. Leonardo gazed up at him, eyes glassy. It was hard to gauge how much of their conversation was sticking the landing and how much was somersaulting straight over his sluggish head.

Then Leonardo said, “He hates me.”

“Pardon?” Splinter said stupidly.

His son blinked, and finally fat tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking into bandages on one side, unchecked on the other.

“He hates me,” Blue insisted. “He’s right. It was my fault.”

“No one hates you,” Splinter said, reeling. He’d been right here the whole time and yet somehow he was suddenly flailing about two miles behind.

“You didn’t see his face. You didn’t see—and his eye—all because I—I couldn’t—” He sobbed, an awful sound, and turned to press his face into his pillow. Once he started crying he couldn’t seem to stop. The rest of his words stumbled out thick and choked and terribly sincere. “I couldn’t just—be what I was supposed to be. And he—and it was all my fault.”

There were few things Splinter regretted more than his fumbling of the leadership role. He had always known that Blue was too clever for his own good, that he had a head for strategy—as evidenced by his early mastering of chess, entirely outpacing Splinter’s own skill level by the age of eleven.

Acknowledging that in theory and learning to trust it in practice were two separate beasts, but watching from the front row as his baby outsmarted Big Mama of all people left little room for doubt.

On the other hand, Red was as solid and dependable as they came, the foundation his siblings built their whole lives on. As far as they were concerned, the sun only rose in the morning because Raphael hung it up there.

But Splinter’s eldest son was prone to anxiety that tended to fall on him like a guillotine, a kill switch to his rational thought. The twins floated terms like ‘panic disorder’ and the entire family was well-versed in helping him through his episodes, but if even an ounce of the burden on his shoulders could be reduced, that could only help.

Red would be happier and function better in a support role, where his top priorities would be to protect his little brothers the way he always had protected them, and to smash whatever Leonardo pointed him at.

Splinter should have sat them both down and explained it. He shouldn’t have left Red to feel as though he had done something wrong, that he had failed somehow. And he shouldn’t have let Blue believe he would be shoved into the deep end and left to sink or swim.

His boys were little gremlins who thrived in chaos and learned best on the fly. Splinter had thought the surprise announcement would have been an utter shock at first and the new normal by dinnertime. They were always so much on the same page, so in tune with one another, that he couldn’t have guessed it would turn into the tangled mess of hurt and frustration and miscommunication and blame that it did.

He should have stepped in the first time Red punched through a wall in a fit of anger and Blue laughed as though his biggest brother’s good opinion of him didn’t matter in the slightest. Instead he was a coward, unable to face them and admit his wrongs. He left his children to resolve it themselves and suffer in the meantime.

He should have done better. Maybe one day he would learn.

For now Splinter held Blue’s face in one hand and wiped it clean with a cloth in the other, patient with every new flood of tears. The last time he had seen Blue cry was the night the Shredder destroyed their home and killed Karai. There had been no time to comfort him then.

He takes after his Gram-gram, Splinter thought, and tried not to resent her for it.

“No one hates my sweet Baby Blue,” he said, willing the stubborn child to hear him. “Especially not my other sweet baby Red. You are a very confused turtle, that’s all. You will see. No one hates you.”

“You don’t,” Leonardo mumbled. “You’re not allowed to. You’re my dad. You don’t have to like me, but you’re not allowed to hate me. S’in the—the contract. You signed it. Legally binding. No arbi-arbi—”

“Arbitration. I would like to study your mind under a microscope. Maybe then I will have a hope of understanding these twists and turns it takes.”

Splinter’s voice sounded nothing but fond even to his own ears.

His children were all incredible people worth knowing, worth living for, and it was a very special joy to still be surprised after all these years by how much more he loved them today than he did the day before. To think about how much more he would love them tomorrow, even though it felt impossible to love anyone more than he loved them right now.

“You are so important, Leonardo,” Splinter said gently. “To me, and to your siblings, and to your friends. We would miss you so much if you weren’t here. We all want to see you get well.”

“It’s not about me,” Blue said, wobbly and miserable and matter-of-fact. “I know it’s not. I have to make up for it. I’ll prove—prove—”

“You have nothing to prove. It was not your fault.” Splinter pressed Leonardo’s chin gently to close his mouth when he inevitably opened it to argue. “Hush. You did not steal the key. You did not open the door. It was not even your responsibility to stop either of those things from happening. You are a child. It cannot be any one person’s duty to save this planet on their own. That doesn’t even make sense.”

Blue’s expression was becoming thunderous, which was silly and endearing, because his cheeks were still tacky with the remnants of his tears and half of his face was a swathe of bandages and without his mask he looked years younger than he already was. Splinter felt affection unfold in his heart like one of those absurdly big tropical flowers with petals the size of dinner plates, taking up more room than it was allowed and spilling out the sides and going on forever.

“Can I tell you something else? Your brothers aren’t allowed to hate you either. It’s in the contract as well.”

“They do,” Blue said tearfully, face still screwed up beneath Splinter’s hand. But his eyes drifted in the direction of the door, and the wanting in them was plain to see. Splinter took matters into his own hands.

“If I’m right, you must finish watching The Strange Return of Diana Salazar with me.”

His son took a moment to digest that, slower on the uptake than usual. Finally, he asked, “Don’t we have like a hundred episodes left?”

“I said what I said,” Splinter said sagely, then patted his cheek and hopped down from the bed.

He found Raphael exactly where he expected to find him, sitting just outside the cracked infirmary door, a hunched over shape that seemed unwilling to take up a single unnecessary inch of space.

Red stared up at him, unbandaged eye wide.

“I don’t hate him,” he blurted. “I could never—I wouldn’t even know how.”

“I know, my dear.”

“Even if he’d done it on purpose,” Red went on. “Even if he stole the key and took it to the Foot and opened the door with his own two hands, I wouldn’t have done a single thing differently.”

Splinter had worried when the turtles were very young that Raphael would frighten one of his siblings accidentally. He was so much bigger than them and toddlers were not well known for their self control or emotional regulation. It was a lingering fear that Red would say or do something he did not mean in the heat of the moment, and alienate himself. That something would happen in a split second that would cause his brothers to grow up wary of him.

It was an unfounded worry. Raphael was a quiet little boy, the last of the four to start talking, and as sweet as an American dessert. Splinter’s little apple pie. Even as he got older and started playing rougher, testing his strength and raising his voice, he never forgot when he needed to be gentle.

His brothers never ran from him unless they were avoiding bedtime or a well-deserved grounding or really did not want to go watch wrestling, Raph, it was boring. Otherwise he was their North star.

Even now, Leonardo would rather hide himself away than face a world in which he no longer had a Raphael to run to.

“How could he think that?” Red asked desperately. “He was going to die back there and he thought that’s what I wanted.”

Splinter cupped Red’s face in his hands and told him, “Blue was trying to do what his hero would have done. All of my children are so quick to sacrifice for each other. It is a wonderful thing to love someone so much, but consider the example you are setting.” Red’s good eye filled with tears, and Splinter was powerless to do anything but kiss him firmly on the forehead. “As empty as our lives would have been without him, they would have been just as empty without you. You are fundamental to us. Please remember that.”

“I know, pops,” Raphael whispered. “I’ll remember.”

“It is not always possible to win without losing but we must fight tooth and nail anyway. Abandon honor and heroism. Do what it takes to bring yourself and your brothers home. I would much sooner tell the great Hamato clan where they can stick it then let you join them before your time.”

It coaxed a shy smile from his eldest son, the barest exhale of a laugh. Still his sweet apple pie, no matter how big he got.

“I’m gonna go see him,” Red said bravely. “I’m missing out on premium Leo time while the gremlins are asleep.”

“Very wise,” Splinter said, patting his cheeks in approval.

Leonardo had managed to drag the blanket up over his head while no one was around to stop him, and only one golden eye peered out at them from his makeshift shell.

Raphael snorted and leaned over to peel it back down, heedless of his smaller brother’s protests. He let one hand linger on Leonardo’s scuffed plastron, and the other cupped the back of his bruised head.

“You’re so dumb,” Red said. “I love you more than anything. If you ever try to go anywhere without me ever again, I’ll make your life a living hell. Capiche?”

Blue stared up at him. It’s very possible he didn’t understand every word of that. But the tone seemed to get through.

His hand drifted up slowly, as if it weighed a thousand pounds, to cover the one planted on his chest. When the world didn’t end and his big brother continued to smile down at him like nothing between the two of them was any different than it used to be, Blue risked a smile back.

“I capiche.”

“You’re not alone, okay?” Red went on, playfulness gentling into sincerity. “We’ll figure it out. I’m in your corner, right where I’ve always been. But for now let’s get some sleep, big man.”

He didn’t move his hands even after Leonardo had dozed off. He just hooked his foot around the leg of his chair and scooted it closer to the bed before sinking into it.

Splinter joined him, and felt both aged by the last hour and rejuvenated. He needed a good pair of running shoes to keep up with these kids.

“He never asks to play chess with anyone else you know,” Red said suddenly.

Thrown by the non sequitur, Splinter could only offer an intelligent, “Huh?”

“Leo only learned how to play because of a comment you made once about—I don’t even remember what you said. But it stuck with him. He wanted to impress you. And he started learning Spanish because of those weird soaps you guys watch. He drove us crazy practicing every day but he never let up.

“I know that it seems like he does whatever he wants without rhyme or reason, but I think he just tries really hard to make it seem that way. Otherwise we’d all clue in to the fact that every single thing he does is just—him trying to get closer to us somehow. And then his cool guy cover would be blown. And god forbid that.”

Raphael brushed his thumb over the crown of Leonardo’s head, much like the way Splinter had earlier.

“He doesn’t love you for no reason, pops,” Red went on, not looking at him. “None of us do. Even when getting out of bed was the hardest thing in the world, you came running when I needed you. Every time I needed you. I learned all my moves from the best.”

Splinter had seen the worst of the world. He was no stranger to pain.

It was only occurring to him now that the opposite was also true.

His life was so full of impossibly good, underserved things; every day a little brighter, every night a little richer.

Four little creatures tumbled into his world by chance and then filled it to the brim with mayhem and color and laughter and pride, and he would not take a second of it back. He would not change a single painful part.

If only he had known as a young man where he would end up someday. It would have made those earlier years so much easier to survive.

Pretending his own eyes weren’t wet, Splinter said, “It will be hell on earth in the morning when Orange discovers we let him sleep through Blue waking up. You had better rest while you can.”

Smiling to himself, Red folded his arms on the side of the bed and rested his head in them, tilted so that his brother was within line of sight of his good eye. He had capitulated to the changing of the guard without complaint, but he was still tense. Primed for danger. Anxiety no doubt at play.

But Splinter was not without his tricks. He stroked Red’s carapace between the spikes, humming an old TV theme song under his breath. He did this for upwards of an hour once, back when Red was still small enough to be held in his lap, fussy and clingy after a bad dream.

Sure enough, with a great, shuddering sigh, Raphael’s shoulders went slack, and his breathing evened out—asleep within moments after the day he’d had.

“I’ve still got it,” Splinter murmured, and let himself have the win, as small as it was. If nothing else, he could give his children a safe place to rest.

And that really was no small thing at all.

#rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #lou jitsu #hamato yoshi #hamato leonardo #hamato raphael #hamato donatello #hamato michelangelo #april oneil #casey jones #casey jr #ratdad #my writing #tmnt fic #a team

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jinnyeo · 5 months

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不浄な結婚 UNHOLY MATRIMONY

Fem reader x Gojo x Geto x Sukuna x Choso

╰┈➤ They all had always been obsessed with you from the moment they laid their eyes on you.

Masterlist | Wattpad link

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter content: Mild abuse

WC: 4.2k

You were set to marry Naoya Zenin, the very man you despised your entire life. In the quietness of the Zenin household, the air was thick with tension as you sat in your new room, you were adorned in your finest kimono for your marriage.

From a young age, your parents had set to marry Naoya Zenin. He was always there, his presence looming over you like a dark cloud. Even as children he was obsessed with you, a fact that both disgusted and frightened you.

Born into a noble family, you were known as the most beautiful woman in Japan, desired by many. However, Naoya's obsession with you turned your life into a nightmare. He destroyed your reputation, tainted your purity, and ensured that no other man would want you.

You were trapped, with no choice but to marry him.

Now as the day of your wedding approached, the dread that filled your heart was suffocating. The thought of spending your life bound to a man you despised was almost too much to bear. Yet, you knew that this was your fate, chosen for you by your parents, leaving you with a future that seemed bleak and devoid of any happiness.

In a few minutes, you were going to be the wife of Naoya Zenin. Despite your hatred for him, you wanted to fulfil your parents dreams of being allies with the Zenin clan, you just wanted to make your parents happy for the first time. So with a heavy heart, you wiped away your tears with the forever of your kimono before putting down your wedding veil.

The wedding ceremony began, and you walked down the aisle, the red carpets contrasting with your kimono. As you reached the stairs, you took a seat in front of Naoya Zenin, unable to summon the courage to look up at him. The air was heavy with tension as he lifted your veil, revealing your face to him and sealing your fate in a marriage you never wanted.

"You look beautiful as ever Y/N" Naoya's voice cut through the music. His words only served to deepen the resentment and disgust you felt towards him.

Ignoring Naoya's comment, you reached for the cup of tea in front of you and handed it to him. Without a word, you then picked up your own cup and took a sip, the bitterness of the tea matching the bitterness in your heart.

With the tea ceremony complete, you were now officially married to Naoya Zenin and the new lady of the Zenin clan.

Throughout the entire wedding ceremony, you remained seated in your chair, a silent figure of a ruined beauty. You didn't gaze at anyone, nor did you speak a word. Ever since Naoya tainted your reputation, everyone had abandoned you, unwilling to associate with someone they deemed tainted and immoral. Left with no one by your side, you endured the ceremony in silence while watching everyone praise and cheer on your so called husband.

Finally, the ceremony came to an end, and as you stood to leave your mother approached your side. "Remember what I told you Y/N" She whispered, her voice lacking any empathy, it was cold and empty as always.

You turned to look at your mother, her face was stone-cold with no expression. You looked at her with pleading and sorrowful eyes that screamed the words of help, about to open your mouth to say something.

But then Naoya's butler came. "Lord Zenin is waiting for you in the wedding chambers" He said.

Before you left your mother had put her hand on your shoulder. "At least try to please your husband" She said.

Your mother had always been neglectful of you, treating you more like an obligation than a daughter. Her lack of care and concern had been constant in your life, leaving you feeling unloved and unseen.

You were always aware that you were unwanted by both your mother and father. Your mother was the first and legal wife of your father, your mother's repeated attempts to conceive a male heir failed, resulting in you- a mere woman and a burden to your family name. Your mother neglected you, wishing you were a male instead because this failure led your father to take on multiple concubines, distancing himself from your mother and you. Finally your father had succeeded in fathering three sons with his beloved concubine, forgetting about you and your mother. Your father had abandoned you and your mother within the family walls, you guys were nothing but mere ghosts with everyone ignoring the both of you.

The only success you could bring to your family was earning the title of the most beautiful woman and marrying into the Zenin clan. It was the only moment your father acknowledged you, recognizing you for your beauty and the advantage your beauty could take you. You had secured multiple marriage proposals from high ranking noble families. Your father had used your reputation to his advantage, he used you to climb up the ranks, he pretended to love and cherish you in front of others but in reality that was far from the truth because you were still and would always be nothing but a failure in his eyes.

Your father was more than happy to see you bring power to your family name. So, he was more than happy to marry you off to someone with high ranking like Naoya Zenin.

So now here you were, holding back tears as you walked towards the wedding chambers, multiple maids followed behind you. You knew not one of them would ever pledge their loyalty to you because they were the property of Naoya Zenin, they only and will ever follow your husbands orders, never yours.

Once you entered the wedding chambers, the maids immediately began to undress you, carefully removing your wedding kimono and the multiple hair ornaments that were in your hair. They stripped you down to your wedding night attire, all while brushing out your hair.

"Lord Zenin is here!" A voice yelled from outside the room, signaling Naoya's arrival. As you clenched down onto your inner cheek, you watched your maids all walk out, leaving you in the room alone. The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence, and you were left to face Naoya on your own.

You sat on the bed, watching Naoya walk in, a sense of dread settling over you. As he approached, you couldn't help but plead silently for this night to be over quickly.

To your surprise, you watched Naoya kneel down in front of you. He took your hand, kissing it gently. "Your so beautiful Y/N" He said, his actions had caught you off guard as he looked up at you with those slick green eyes you once fell for.

Naoya was a man full of arrogance and power, always ensuring that everyone knew their place beneath him. He was cocky and always abused his powers. He demanded respect and obedience from everyone below him, making sure that everyone kissed his feet to maintain his position of authority.

Yet here he was, Naoya Zenin kneeling in front of you.

"N-Naoya, are you drunk?" You stumbled over your words, unable to process the fact that he was kneeling in front of you. "Get up, you can't be seen like this" His behavior was so out of character that it left you questioning his motives, unsure of what to make of this unexpected gesture.

"Can I not worship my wife?" Naoya replied, his tone soft yet firm. His words caught you off guard.

There was silence in the room for a bit, the weight of Naoya's words hanging in the air between you.

"Can we just... get this night over and done with Naoya" You said, unable to meet his gaze.

"Why do you always think of me negatively Y/N?" Naoya said, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. Despite this, you ignored it, convinced that it was just another one of his manipulative games.

"How could you ask me something like that?" You snapped back, your brows furrowed in anger. The audacity of his question, the way he seemed to expect you to overlook all the pain and suffering he had caused you, infuriated you.

"All I've ever done was love you Y/N" He sighed, resting his head on your lap. You felt a mix of emotions, anger, frustration, and perhaps a hint of pity.

"You don't even know what love is" You replied, the words coming out sharper than intended.

"I've done everything for you Y/N" He said. "I bought you everything, the most expensive jewels, kimonos, and ornaments. I even built your own private estate here. But you still won't return my feelings and see me as your husband." His words were filled with frustration and hurt.

It was true that Naoya loved you. Throughout the years, he had stayed by your side, his love suffocating. However, what he didn't know was that you were disgusted by his love. His perception of love was different from yours. Naoya was obsessive, going to great lengths to ensure you would always be his, but in a way that felt like you were his hostage rather than loving.

He would send people to follow you, watch you, and report back to him. Naoya's obsession with you was evident even from a young age. When he found out he was betrothed to you at the mere age of 11, he spent seven years building your own private estate within the Zenin walls, all to your liking.

Naoya's obsession with you reached such heights that when you came of age and garnered the attention of many suitors, he grew incredibly jealous. To ensure that no one else could have you, he began spreading rumors that you had lost your virginity to him. These rumors tainted your reputation, causing men to stop courting you, believing you to be impure and immoral.

Left with no other options, you were forced into a marriage with Naoya, trapped with a man you despised.

"Please Y/N" Naoya begged, desperation evident in his voice. "Why can't you love me back?" His words were filled with a longing for something that seemed unattainable, a plea for a love that you could never return to him.

"You are a man who doesn't know what love is Naoya" You suddenly said, your voice firm. "You are not capable of loving me, you're just infatuated with the thought of me. You don't love me" Words began spilling out of you. Naoya's love was not true, it was a twisted obsession that left you feeling trapped and suffocated.

"No..." Naoya stood up, his expression desperate. "Is it the concubines I have? I'll get rid of them all for you" His offer was sincere, a last-ditch effort to win your affection. But you knew that even without the concubines, his love would remain the same. Selfish and possessive.

"You can take on as many concubines as you can, you can sleep with them as much as you want Naoya. But at the end of the day, no matter what good or bad thing you do towards me, my feelings for you will always stay the same. I can't love you Naoya, I can never love a man who ruined my life, I can't give you the love you want so please just give up on me!" You finally snapped, standing up to face him as he hovered above you. "We both know that this is just a political marriage Naoya, please don't bring love and feelings into this. I can't be a wife who loves you, but I can be a wife who can bear you a son, and that's all I can do for you"

Naoya's expression was a mix of shock and hurt, his eyes searching yours for any hint of a lie. But you stood your ground, your words final and resolute. The truth was painful, but it needed to be said.

"You...you" Naoya muttered, he then looked down at you with a dark and intense look in his eyes. It was almost like you flipped a switched in him and it terrified you.

Suddenly you felt his strong grip on your neck, you gasped in shock as Naoya's grip tightened around your neck, you struggled to breathe, fear and shock coursing through you. His eyes, once filled with adoration now bore into you with a cold and menacing glare. You tried to pry his hand away, but his strength was overpowering.

"Naoya....please!" You managed to gasp, your voice strained. But he remained silent, his expression unreadable as he continued to tighten his grip. Panic surged within you as you realized the gravity of the situation. This man, whom you were bound to by marriage, now held your life in his hands.

Just as you felt yourself starting to lose consciousness, Naoya suddenly released his grip, stepping back and letting you fall to the floor gasping for air. He stood over you with his chest heaving, a mix of anger and hurt evident in his eyes.

"You will love me sooner or later Y/N" Naoya said, he looked down at you with those dark and intense eyes. His words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone menacing and full of intent.

With that, Naoya turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you lay on the ground you gulped, trying to catch your breath, your hand instinctively reaching for the spot on your neck where Naoya had choked you. Tears welled up in your eyes. No matter how hard you tried, you could never escape Naoya's obsessive grip.

You had spent your wedding night all alone on the floor. The night passed in a blur of tears and despair as you lay curled up on the ground.

As the morning light shone through the windows of your chambers, you sat in front of the mirror, your reflection stared back at you with that same sorrowful and dull face full of nothing but sadness. Your maids busied themselves around you, dressing you in a delicate floral kimono and adorning your hair with luxurious ornaments. They tried to conceal the redness and puffiness of your eyes with powder.

"Get the carriage ready" You suddenly said, ignoring your maids surprised looks, you got up from the chair and walked towards the door.

Two maids ended up accompanying you from behind. As you were about to reach the carriage, your eyes were drawn to a scene that froze you in place. There, hand in hand with another woman, was Naoya Zenin.

You brushed off the sight of Naoya Zenin with another woman. You reasoned that she might be one of his concubines, dressed in luxurious kimono befitting her status.

"Lady Zenin, please do not worry" A maid spoke up from behind you, her voice soft and comforting. "You are the lady of the house, she is just a mere concubine"

You turned around and were met with a young girl who couldn't have been older than 16. She stood before you, petite and fragile. "What's your name?" You asked.

"H-Hana" She stumbled over her words, clearly nervous in your presence. "I've been assigned to serve only you my lady"

You silently stared at Hana, her words echoing in your mind. Despite her seemingly innocent demeanor, you couldn't shake the feeling of distrust that lingered within you. Was she truly here to serve you, or was she merely a pawn in Naoya's game? The thought gnawed at you, leaving you wary of the young girl standing before you.

You took a deep breath, continuing to walk to the front gate. Yet the heavens seemed to be against you as you would have to walk past Naoya first. With a stoic demeanour, you walked past Naoya, ignoring him as best as you could. Just as you thought you had successfully avoided him, he called out your name.

"Y/N" His voice cut through the air, stopping you in your tracks. Despite your reluctance, you turned to face him.

You sighed. Stopping in your tracks, you turned around to meet Naoya's gaze, only also feel the intense lingering stare of the other woman wrapped in his arms.

"My lord" You said, bowing to Naoya.

"Where are you going?" Naoya's voice cut through the air, his tone unreadable.

"To the city centre" You replied, keeping your tone neutral. Avoiding Naoya's gaze, you hoped to end the conversation quickly and continue on your way.

"Oh, do you mind if Emi and I accompany you?" Naoya's voice dripped with mockery, and you could hear the chuckles of the woman beside him.

With a forced smile, you agreed to Naoya's request, though every fiber of your being resisted. "The more the merrier" You said, masking your true feelings.

"Great, I'll get my driver" Naoya said, releasing the woman beside him and then tightly grabbing your hand. You flinched at his touch, a shiver of discomfort running down your spine.

The whole ride was full of tension. You sat bundled up in the corner, the distant laughter of the woman who had snuggled up in between Naoya's arms echoing in your ears.

Finally, the carriage arrived at the city center. Naoya was the first to step out, and he reached his hand out to help you. However, you ignored his hand and stepped out of the carriage on your own. After you, Emi got out and ran to Naoya's side, seeking his attention once again.

"A wife who does not want to accompany her husband?" Naoya's voice was laced with amusement as he snickered. His words were like a knife, cutting through the already strained atmosphere between you.

"You have enough company by your side" You said, your tone calm but firm. You ignored Emi's gaze, refusing to be drawn into any drama within the walls. All you wanted was to fade into the background, to live your marriage in peace without the burden of Naoya's relationships weighing you down.

"And here I thought you would succumb to jealousy Naoya remarked, his tone mocking.

"Naoya, I'm here to buy gifts not to chatter with you" You sighed, trying to keep the conversation as brief as possible. The less interaction you had with Naoya, the better.

"Gifts? For whom?" Naoya raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued at the thought of you knowing anyone else apart from him.

"My father" You replied curtly.

"Your father? He already has the power he wants after you married me, what else could he possibly need?" Naoya replied. "Hm, I guess instead of a gift for your father, we should buy you jewels"

"Naoya... I already have so much" You sighed.

"No, my wife will only have the most expensive and fine jewels. It's never enough" Naoya insisted, his tone firm.

So, here you were, walking behind Naoya and Emi as they led you to reknown jewellery shop in the heart of Tokyo.

You felt out of place in the jewelry shop, surrounded by married couples in love while you stood there looking like a mere maid, awkwardly holding your own hand as Naoya and Emi held hands like teenagers in love.

"What would you like to get for your wife?" The shopkeeper said, completely ignoring you and looking towards Emi, assuming she was the wife. You felt invisible, a mere bystander in your own life.

Naoya suddenly took your hand by surprise, pushing Emi away to the side. "You remember the woman I bought all those jewels for last week?" He asked, looking at you with what seemed like love. But you ignored him, maintaining your stone gaze.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Lord Zenin. I thought that other lady was the new Lady of the Zenin House" Fhe shopkeeper apologized, realizing his mistake.

"Give me the most expensive necklace that would suit my Y/N. I only want my wife to wear the most lavish ones" Naoya instructed, his tone commanding.

Naoya let you go, turning his attention to the multiple pieces the shopkeeper showed him. Meanwhile, you gazed out, losing concentration, lost in your thoughts and emotions, feeling trapped in a life you never wanted.

You wished someone, anyone, could save you from this life, from the suffocating marriage and the emptiness that consumed you. But you knew deep down that there was no one coming to rescue you right?

You were gazing out, lost in your thoughts, when your attention snapped back at the sound of an unfamiliar voice from behind you. "Bring out Yuji" The voice said to the clerk.

You didn't know what came over you, but you suddenly turned your head to the side and were met with the sight of icy blue eyes and white hair.

His presence was like a beacon in the room, drawing everyone's attention. Dressed in the attire of a high-ranking noble, his aura screamed power and authority. His unique features, with his striking face and ethereal appearance, made him stand out as if he were an angel among mortals.

His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, locked in a moment that felt suspended in time. You could see the curiosity in his eyes, the flicker of interest, but also something else, something you couldn't quite place.

As you felt someone touch your arm, your attention snapped back to Naoya. You turned to look at him, momentarily forgetting the presence of the man. Naoya's expression was unreadable, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your thoughts.

"I called you 3 times Y/N" Naoya said.

"Forgive me, I must have been lost in thought" You replied, meeting Naoya's gaze with a forced smile.

"Isn't this necklace beautiful Y/N?" Naoya said, showing you the lavish necklace adorned with sapphire, shaped like a butterfly.

"Yes" You replied absentmindedly, your thoughts still lingering about the mystery man.

"Zenin" The familiar voice said from behind you. You could feel his presence strongly, close behind you. Inching your head slightly back, you looked up at him, your eyes immediately locking as you felt your heart flutter.

"Your... majesty..." Naoya gritted his teeth as he bowed to the male. You also stopped in your tracks and immediately turned towards the male bowing to him, not realizing the man behind you was possibly the emperor.

"What are you doing outside the palace... are you not afraid someone would try to assassinate you again?" Hatred was evident in Naoya's tone.

"Enough questions, Naoya. I'm glad I met you here" The man said, his eyes lingering on you as you gulped by his intense eyes. "So, this is the infamous Y/N Zenin?" His eyes never leaving your body.

"What do you want Gojo?" Naoya finally snapped, grabbing your arm and forcing you against his chest as you gasped.

"Wow, already dropping the honorifics?" The male laughed amusingly.

"Cut the bullshit Gojo. You never talk to me unless you want something," Naoya retorted, his grip tightening on you possessively.

"What? Are you afraid that I would take your beautiful wife?" He laughed. "You're not entirely wrong Naoya" He said with a smirk.

"Y-you" Naoya snapped, about to take out his katana, but Emi stopped him by throwing herself on him, hugging his chest tightly.

"Naoya don't! Not here" Emi screamed, gathering more attention as they all watched the scene unfold between the emperor and Zenin head.

"Naoya Zenin, you really are a shameless man" He mocked. "Naoya Zenin, you're a despicable man. I heard rumors that you managed to marry the beautiful yet immoral daughter of the L/N family. But here you are, taking advantage of your wife's love and taking in concubines" He said.

Naoya's eyes flashed with anger. "You bastard, how dare you speak like that in front of my wife" He spat out.

You felt cold hands cup your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his icy blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as your faces were mere inches apart.

"It's a shame to see you lose your purity over a man like Naoya" He said, his voice almost a whisper, sending chills down your spine. "You should have picked an emperor over a lord" He added, his tone cutting through the air like a blade as whispers began erupting in the store.

@jinnyeo

I’ll be publishing chapters rlly slow on tumblr, but wattpad is where I publish on.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo #toji fushiguro #toji smut #choso smut #choso x reader #geto fanfic #jjk choso #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #geto smut #geto x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna

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lostgirlmuseum · 1 year

Text

Give Me A Sign

Made with photos from Pinterest ^

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

Warnings: HUGE WARNING, please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable! Heavy suicidal ideation, but happy ending. Please be very careful in considering if this is triggering for you. It won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t read, your mental health and safety comes first.

A/N: I’m really sorry if this isn’t great, I wanted to do more but I kept getting stuck, and tbh I just want to post it as is instead of stress about it.

(Dividers from @saradika)

The air was unusually crisp the night Bucky snuck into the gardens of Cornelia Park. He had a faint memory of visiting once, in another century, with Steve. But that was then, and this is now. Now, Steve is dead. Bucky feels the weight of his entire history on his scarred shoulders. He feels out of place in such a green and flourishing area of flora. It’s wrong for him to be among such a place of peace and beauty, he finds it almost funny. Almost.

He followed the path of lavenders into the private area of the park, surrounded by tall hedges. At the center stood an old stone statue, one he remembered from the last time he visited. Only now it looked much more worn and weathered. The statue was of an angel, a woman with wings. Her eyes were kind, her features soft, despite the stone. She held her arms out, one hand holding a lantern, the other beckoning him to hold. Instead, Bucky sat on the bench in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, apologizing for his very presence. He dropped his head into his hands.

And then he started crying. And his cries evolved to sobbing. He let himself cry, a privilege he rarely allowed himself. He let the tears flow, and they didn’t stop for what felt like hours. After forcing himself to pull himself together, he wiped his final tears from his cheeks and looked up to the black sky.

“Give me a sign, God.” His voice wavered.

“If you’re real, give me a sign to keep going. I’ve been at this a really long time. Just gimme— gimme a sign to keep going. That it will be worth it. Because life feels pretty damn bleak. And I know I should keep going, but I…”

The words wouldn’t come.

“I… fuck.” He looked back down at his hands. He thought about how much he hated those hands. He thought about how he wished he could wash the memories from his head like he does the blood from his palms, and how he wished he wasn’t Bucky Barnes. He thought about how he wished he had died at the bottom of that cliff, and how everyone would be better off if—

“Hello?”

A small voice shook him from his thoughts. He hadn’t even heard someone approach. But there you were, standing in the entrance of the hedge garden.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, once you saw him. At least he thinks you smiled. It was hard for him to see you in the shadows.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized, once he realized he hadn’t said anything yet. He had just stared. He looked away from you and back at his lap.

“No need to be sorry,” you said, walking up to the bench he sat on, “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to say. He too thought he was the only person there.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” You kindly asked, wrapping your white cardigan a bit tighter.

That was when he looked up and saw your face in the light of the lantern for the first time. The first thing he thought was that you looked like you belonged there in the garden, unlike him. You could replace the angel statue, and its meaning would stay the same.

“Go ahead,” he simply said. Although what he really thought was to warn you. Are you sure you want to sit next to him?

You took your place on the bench silently. Neither of you spoke for the first couple minutes. Bucky tried to focus on the sound of crickets, and the lack of traffic.

He wasn’t sure why he stayed. If anything, his first thought should be to get up, walk away, escape. But he didn’t.

“My name is Y/N.” You softly said.

Stunned by your confession, he let his guard down.

“Bucky.” He half whispered back.

You simply hummed in response.

He could sense your gaze on him. It wasn’t malicious or judgemental; it felt curious and gentle.

“Are you okay?”

His throat started to constrict again. He didn’t like that question, because he didn’t like the answer. He knows he’s not okay. But he doesn’t know how to say it. After struggling for a response for many seconds, he conceded to shaking his head softly. No.

“I hope it gets easier soon.”

He felt the dam begin to break again.

“It will get better someday,” you continued, “maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, or month, but someday it will get better.”

“How can you be so sure?” He choked.

“Life is like a pendulum, have you ever heard that before?”

“No.”

“Well, it is. Right now you’re swinging into the bad, but eventually you’re gonna swing right back into the good. It’s just physics. And it sucks in a way, because what’s the point of swinging into the light if it’s just gonna cast that shadow you’ll fall back into? But it’s also comforting to me, because I know as long as I keep pushing, I’ll end up on the other side.”

Bucky let your words ring in his ears. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to open up to you, but he did.

“I just keep asking myself why should I stay?”

“The trick is to find a new reason when you can. I think of one everyday.”

“What’s yours?”

“Today?” You sighed and looked up at the stars. “I want to see the next snow.”

“That won’t be for months,” he said.

“Guess I’ll have to stick around then.” You gave a knowing smile.

“What should mine be?”

He knew there should be a million things, but they were all just out of reach of his mind.

“That’s up to you.”

Bucky didn’t say it, but he quickly came up with his reason to stay.

You.

He told himself that he had to see you again.

Bucky went back the next night. And the next. And he kept going back, because you met him every night for a week until you finally asked him if he wanted to meet you for lunch. That was the start of your relationship. Soon enough Sam started asking where Bucky had gone so often. He wasn’t in his room all day anymore, and he seemed lighter. He wasn’t ‘fixed’, obviously, but he was better. It started to get easier to breathe.

The pendulum had begun to swing in Bucky’s favor, and it stayed that way for months. He still had his days, as did you, but you were happy together. You supported each other.

And then came a very tough week.

The anniversary of Steve’s death.

The wound had reopened, and Bucky spiraled. He was a mess, a total mess, and you were there to comfort him.

But your kindness reminded him of Steve, and how he wasn’t enough for him. If Bucky was good enough for Steve, he wouldn’t have left, right?

Although Bucky knew you wouldn’t leave him. That was the problem. He was an anchor, and you held on.

For your own good, he convinced himself he had to let go, if you wouldn’t.

The absence of warmth next to you woke you up.

“Bucky?” You whispered. The clock blinked 4:13 A.M.

No reply. You figured maybe he was sleeping on the couch, so you carefully sat up and waited a couple seconds before letting your bare feet touch the cold ground. Pulling your robe on from where it had fallen on the floor, you wiped the sleep from your eyes and padded over to the living room.

It was dark, and your eyes were still adjusting, but you could tell that he wasn’t there. You felt the rise of panic in your chest just before you spotted him standing on the balcony.

He didn’t turn around to look at you as the door slid open and shut. He remained staring over the ledge at some unknown point.

“Hey, honey,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, as you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around him, giving him a big hug.

You hear his whimper before you feel his body shake.

“Y/N, I—”

“What’s wrong honey?” You quickly let go, turning him to face you. You notice his puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. His cheeks were rosy; you could tell he had been crying for a while.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look you in the eyes.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for everything.” He starts. “I’m too much. I don’t deserve you, you deserve someone easier. Someone better, someone— someone good.”

“But I love you, and you are good. Bucky, where is this coming from?” The concern was thick in your voice. Sure, he had been a little down lately, but nothing alerted you to this level of distress.

“Sweetheart, all I do is bring hardship into your life. You deserve to live,” he looks into your eyes earnestly, “I know I shackle you to me. I know you give up things to be with me. But you don’t have to anymore. I’m letting you free.”

You hold back a shiver.

“What are you talking about? I want to be with you. You’re scaring me.”

“It’s not fair that I’ve lived this long, and it’s not fair that I’m dragging you down with me. I’m a fucking burden, Y/N. At first to Steve, then Sam, and now you. I can’t keep adding to the list of lives I ruin.”

“Honey, listen to me. I need you to take a deep breath.” You place your hand on his bicep, and try to speak with an appropriate mix of confidence and compassion.

“I’m doing it now!” He shakes his head vigorously, wiping away his tears as if evidence that he’s stopped crying will convince you to go. “You should be sleeping, please go back to sleep. You shouldn’t have to watch over me and make me feel better.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?” You whisper, fearing that if you spoke any louder your voice would break with your heart.

He took a while to answer, biting his lip and looking around before finally responding.

“Do you remember when we first met? In the garden?” He looks at you, eyebrows drawn. As if you could actually forget. You nod.

“I wanted to—” his voice breaks and he looks down— “I went… I was thinking about—” it cracks again, and his throat is constricting itself around the words he can’t say. “I was thinking I was really going to do it. I had basically decided. And then right as I was asking God for one more chance, one reason to stay alive—you appeared. I thought God sent me an Angel. A real Angel.” His eyes sparkle before dimming again. “I tarnish you. You waste your goodness on me, and the world needs it more.”

You don’t like where this is going. You know you need to reel him back in, and fast.

“Look at me, Bucky Barnes. Look at me.” You grab his face firmly and make sure he’s seeing you.

“I’m a burden.” He crumbles.

“Then be my burden!” You cry. “I want you to be my burden. Maybe without you, my life would be ‘easier.’ But I don’t want it to be if it means a life without you.” You search his blue watery eyes, wiping a tear that starts to leak from one. “I don’t fucking choose ‘easier.’ I choose you, Bucky. My choice is to be with the love of my life. And if that means skipping a couple hours of sleep to comfort you, and staying in on weekends, and crying with you, that doesn’t change the fact that I am the luckiest person on Earth. This is my choice too, Bucky. Do you hear me?” You place your hands on both of his arms.

He closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and nods.

“I choose you.”

He nods again, and bites his bottom lip.

“I choose you.” You repeat, not once looking away from him.

He whimpers.

“Say it. Can you say it, please?” You don’t want to push him, but you need to know that your point has been made clear.

“You choose me.” He whispers, before falling into your embrace, and tucking his head into your neck.

“I do. I really do.” You say, holding back your own tears as you rub his back.

“I’m sorry.”

You know telling him he has nothing to be sorry for won’t work, so you instead answer by agreeing.

“Me too. I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way. I’m sorry you struggle to see how much I need you, too. But we are going to be okay, okay?”

He sobs harder, holding you tighter. You feel his warm tears start to stain your shirt under the thin robe. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you hum.

“Don’t leave me,”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You promise, bringing one hand up to the nape of his neck and start gently playing with his hair. “Are you ready to go back inside? Do you want to lay down with me?”

Without pulling away from you, he nods. You wait for him to let go of you before going to grab his hand and leading him to the bed, but he stops you. Instead of letting you show him the way, he decides to pick you up bridal style and carry you to your room, knowing he couldn’t wait until laying down to have your body pressed against his.

Once you were both settled under the cozy blankets, your bodies facing each other, his head on your chest and your hand rubbing his back in circular motions, he spoke drowsily, exhausted from his breakdown.

“I love you.” He mumbled.

“And I love you,” You cooed, placing a small kiss on his forehead before drifting off into your dreamless sleeps.

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I know life can be a fucking shit show, but please stay alive. If you know someone who is struggling, consider reaching out to them. And if you yourself are struggling, please reach out to someone. And if you feel like there is no one to talk to, my asks/dms are open. You are not alone.

I don’t want anyone to read this fic and their takeaway is that if they have no partner, they are on their own. I choose you. Do you hear me? I choose you, and I implore you to choose yourself. Stay alive for yourself. Be spiteful against your depression. And if you’re one of those people who can’t help but say “I hate you,” to the mirror, and feel like you mean it, know that there is hope for you too. Because I was once that person. And with help, and time, I am able to say that I don’t hate myself. I can look in the mirror and appreciate who I am. Of course I still have my moments, but my point is that if you told me when I was at my lowest, that I’d one day be able to say “I love you” to the mirror without bursting out in tears, I’d call you a liar.

(Sorry for making this A/N so long, hopefully someone can find comfort in it. I’m still here. And you should be too.)

#bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n

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brittle-doughie · 4 months

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Sorry If I'm being too pushy. I want to see more of Y/N Cookie's relationship with Stormbringer and the deities, (the same anon who asked a relationship chart. dont know if you saw the ask) I'm also asking if you're still working on some other stories like: Green is always Greener, Heartbreak, The Deal with the Republic, Fish in a Barrel etc... --🎱Anon

Story Status

That ask came through, but as for the others…some of these were effectively shelved at the moment as I pondered on whether or not I continued. Even More Heartbreak 3 is still a thing that will happen.

Grass is Greener: Part 2

This one was essentially a Reader Insert that went over the events of this story but with Y/N Cookie as a member of the village.

Part 2 would’ve been focused more on the ending of the event, but letting go of a cookie in your village ends up being a lot more tougher for two certain cookies.

I might pick it back up for the second part once I bring down my ask numbers in the inbox.

“The Deal With” Series

It’s still happening, but I might just shelf the first part with the original legendaries because a number of them outside of Moonlight Cookie still don’t have stories dedicated to them that I could use as an outline.

And no, stories like A Mermaid’s Tale or The Longing of the Rising Flames are not considered since the legendary in question is not placed in center stage like Moonlight in her CRK chapters are.

Fish in a Barrel 3

Still planned.

Dark Cacao and his forces are closing in on your location, and Caramel Arrow Cookie aims to settle the score with an old adversary.

EMH 3: Eye of the Storm

Tearcrown was lost long ago, bleaked with darkness that would soon become the Duskgloom Sea. In the epicenter of it all was once a saddened mermaid, lost in despair from the heartbreak and destruction around her…she never thought she could feel this way ever again…

“It began with a mermaid, whose beauty refused to degrade…

You never gave up that she was a myth, because your feelings decided she was the one…

You know it by heart that it was true, you wished to say that…you…”

She won’t take it for granted this time, she’ll make things better….

Even if the Lower City falls…

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom

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ofallthingsnasty · 5 months

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tw: yandere, kidnapping/basement spousery, depression, mentions of noncon, gn reader characters: Crocodile, Sanji, Doflamingo, Law word count: 1.3k

One thing I learned recently is that I'm definitely a social creature and would get horribly, horribly depressed as someone's basement wife, even a well entertained one. All the books, the crafts, the soft music in the world couldn't prevent me from sobbing into my pillows, couldn't get me to crawl out of bed and to paint a smile on my face. Oh, but how would your captor react? For some, it's definitely a necessary evil - Crocodile comes to mind here. Annoyed by your lethargy, by your random tears and your meek, taciturn responses, he finds himself frustrated at times. This state of mind really isn’t ideal - he wanted you docile, sure, but not lifeless. Yet it's also awfully convenient when you just let him push you around, let him caress and touch you - and not out of fear of him, simply because you don't care to struggle. He discovers that he can forgive a lot when you're especially shaken and cling to him, bury your head in his chest because he's the only human you'll ever know again and the world is so bleak around you and you just need him right now. Of course, it would be nicer if you didn't do it because he's the only warm-blooded creature that you interact with, but he'll take what he can get. (And with time, it weirdly grows on him: him turning into the center of your life, the way your eyes seem to light up the tiniest bit when he comes home to you, something he thought mildly annoying at first turning out to be awfully convenient.)

To others, it's devastating. Sanji lives for your smiles, your warmth, the way your eyes crinkle and you jut your head forward when you fully, genuinely laugh - total apathy is worse than antagonism to him. If you were to scream, shout, put your fingers around his neck and squeeze with the desperation of a cornered prey animal, he'd at least get a reaction, some signs of life out of you. But you don't even do that. You just sit and try to suppress tears while he holds your hand. Sometimes he just cries with you, letting himself fall into the same hole you're being pulled into. It makes him regret taking you so utterly, bitterly, makes him feel all those memories from when he was a child bubble up in his stomach until they force themselves out and he has to vomit to be rid of them. He’s just like his father, he thinks, and it makes him sick. He’s rotten down to the very core, cursed from birth and now he has gone and soiled you, too - he’ll end up sobbing into the crook of your neck more than once, full of genuine remorse. And all you’ll be able to do is absentmindedly pat his hair, thoughts spilling like an knocked over ink well. No, you slipping into a deeply depressive state is only going to worsen the hatred he has for himself, is going to poison him slowly and steadily until he’ll be in agony. Maybe it’s his just punishment.

Then there are the ones like Doflamingo who simply don’t care. You don’t crawl out of bed until noon? You just stare into space or bury yourself in books when you finally do? You’re just lifeless by his side, just blink, shrug your shoulders when spoken to, just exist? Whatever, he has always treated you like a doll from the start. He can even weather the elusive bouts of sobbing and crying (even if he hates it when they happen), because most of the time you’re just his poseable thing and he is nothing if not generous to allow you a tantrum here and there. He doesn't feel bad about you being a more of a hollowed out shell of a person than a fully-fledged human with a rich inner life and doesn't care that most of it is his fault - his fault that you fester and rot beneath the surface, his fault that all the opulent, vibrant clothing and the scorching hot days by the pool still leave you frosty and weirdly bloodless, like a cold-blooded creature in winter. Food is ash in your mouth and only sours your stomach but you still eat when he tells you to, touches feel foreign and loveless but you still let him fuck you if he so wishes. Why should he care what circles around in your head when he gets to do anything he wants to you? That you feel like life is no luster, only desperation? The truly bothersome parts are taken care of by his myriad of servants and the family. Messes left behind get cleaned up, baths are forced on you regularly, as are grooming sessions. If you don’t get dressed on your own either someone else will see to it or he will - and he’ll have his payment for his time, trust me. The solemn mood, the non-existent smiles… he doesn't care for that. You’re not here for your entertainment, you’re here for his. And you just accepting your fate and letting him do whatever it is he wants… That’s just perfect, isn’t it?

Of course, let’s not forget about the ones who secretly love it. Law is a prime example, especially with his medical background. He isn’t surprised that your mood sways - he expected as much when he restricted your every move, declared the outside world to be too unhealthy for you. Of course you’d slip into a depressive episode. And it’s not a flaw, it’s intentional. Because now - now, when you can’t peel yourself out of bed, when everything feels too much, when you can’t feed or move or dress or take care of yourself- he gets to swoop in. He gets to do it for you, gets to tell you that he’s here and that he’ll always catch you when you fall. That his assessment of your condition was accurate - that you always needed him, right from the start. Dependency is worth more than all the love in the world to him. It simply doesn’t matter if you’d rather slit his throat than to behave for him out of your own volition - as long as you can’t leave. Even if he genuinely loves you, he’s not deluded enough to cling to daydreams of him and you living a quiet, happy life full of reciprocated affection, that ship has long sailed - sailed ever since his childhood got irrevocably destroyed. No. Love is nice and good and makes him wash you gladly, makes him care for you with delicate hands and with a patient brow - but your sickness makes you stay, renders you unable to leave him. It’s the only currency he can trade in when it comes to you. He’s your savior and tormentor rolled into one person; but above all he is the only one who cares and will forever care. You could rot yourself into a pathetic, sweat-soaked, disgusting corner, could turn into nothing but a husk and he’d always, always nurse you out of the ditch he’s found you in, just at the right time. What he doesn’t tell you is that he could help you. At least artificially. Boost your moods with SSRIs until you bounce off the walls with nervousness and sweat thrice as much; make you giddy and shaky until you get used to the dose. Until the world seems worth living in once more, until at least some color returns to your drab eyes. He could get you the medication, even try some speech therapy, could help you like a good boyfriend should. But why? It makes no sense. Why help you only to get some fire back, maybe even for you to slip through his fingers? It’s easier to sit in twosome silence with tired eyes watching him, eyes that one day might be grateful for all the work he has put into them. Until then, it’s of utmost importance that they stay right where they are: in a cramped, dirty corner of a bed, dull and lifeless.

#i hope you can see where i'm going with law's part? he's such a little creeper... but also deeply traumatized... ugh #idk i hope this was coherrent it has been rotting away in my brain for 3 weeks now #yandere one piece #trafalgar law x reader #sanji x reader #crocodile x reader #doflamingo x reader #tw.yandere #/crocodile #/sanji #/doflamingo #/law #/one piece

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dekariosmagic · 1 year

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Safe and Sound- Gale x Tav/Reader

Paring: Gale Dekarios x Tav/Reader (Referred to as Tav)

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Word Count: 1,515

Description: Gale seemed to take the news from Elinster fairly well, or so it appeared.

Other Things: Fluff. Hurt comfort. Uses lyrics from the song "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift. Pre-relationship (but they're basically there).

Warnings: Panic attack. References to potential story canon suicide.

Elminster’s news had been a bombshell in and of itself on the party. Gale had seemingly taken the news in stride, perhaps the best in the camp.

Gale made dinner as usual, while everyone avoided the singular topic on all their minds. Tav assumed no one knew how to bring up the topic to the man himself.

It wasn’t until Gale finished his own portion and took off to his tent for an early night, did the rumbling start.

Tav did her usual rounds, trying to ignore the feeling of a rock settled in her chest. And with each companion she talked to with their collective rage and disgust toward the situation and goddess of magic, it just seemed to get heavier.

It felt good to know the rest of them were all on the same page. That they’d rather fight the goddess herself than willingly give up their wizard.

Hells Tav was ready to take the goddess on herself, as foolish as the task would be. The fact Mystra felt she could demand that of him. The ultimate sacrifice to end a threat to her power, and get rid of a loose end in one go. She’d not spoken to him since the orb incident, and this was how she broke the silence?

Her heart hurt for Gale and herself. The entire situation couldn’t be easy, not nearly as easy as he made it sound as he accepted the mission from Elminster at least. Hearing from an ex of a relationship that ended so badly would be tricky, make her his goddess of magic and it was far more complicated.

And her own feelings complicated it. She wanted to grab him by his shoulders and scream. Tell him to defy Mystra, to think, to not accept this outrageous thing he’s been asked to do. To spurn Mystra’s words and stay here, with her, in this… whatever they were building.

She’d become far too attached to him already. But everyday at his side just added to the growing list of things she adored about him. The one bright spot in a bleak road ahead.

Walking to the front of Gale’s tent, Tav freezes as she contemplates calling out to him. Whether she should try to talk tonight, or leave it for later after he’s had more time to think. Or just let him stick to his own resolve entirely…

Her thoughts are cut short at the sound of a broken sob on the other side of the fabric.

Without a thought, she slips into the tent and throws her arms around his midsection from behind. His body tenses in surprise, but it does little to interrupt the next sob from his lips.

She squeezes him tighter as his body shakes, using one hand on his front to rub slow circles on his stomach as she rests her head on his back.

“Y-you don’t h-have-“ Gale begins before slapping a hand over his mouth trying to stifle the next sob, sucking air in desperately around it.

“Gale, I’ve got you. It’s ok to let it out. I’m staying right here, I promise.”

She feels him nod more than sees it. She sways them slightly as he shakes, taking a moment to spin herself around his body and hold him more tightly from the front.

His arms quickly wrap around her, his face pressing to her hair.

Her fingers rub gently into his back as she softly starts to hum a melody, his tears running down onto her as he tries to mumble an apology.

She holds him for what felt like hours, lost in their own moment. His shaking lessens, and the sobs dwindled to small hiccups over time.

Turning her head to glance around the room, she spots his bedroll a few steps away.

“Let’s lay down,” she says softly, backing them toward the bedroll and carefully tugging him along with her.

She drops down to her knees when she reaches it, grabbing his hands to tug him down to the bedding with her. Adjusting his pillows around and finding a blanket, she lies on her back and holds her arms out to him.

He studies her for a moment before laying down and snuggling into her, his head resting on her shoulder as she pulls the blanket up around them.

Her fingers slowly card through his hair as he buries his face against her neck, a shuddered breath leaving his lips as his hand grips at her shirt fabric on her stomach.

She resumes her humming after they settled in, his face turning from her neck to glance up at her.

“What are you humming?” He asks quietly, his voice raspy and unsure.

“I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go. When all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said don't leave me here alone,” she sings softly to the melody she’d been humming.

“Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone, gone.

“Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound,” she finishes singing, rubbing a hand along his arm.

“My mother would sing it to me at night when I was upset,” she finally answers. “When times are hard now I hum it to myself. Quite often lately if I’m to be honest.”

“It’s beautiful,” he responds, his eyes reddened and puffy, but looking at her with adoration. “You’re beautiful. And I’m undeserving of your company.”

“Oh hush,” she says and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re deserving of far more than you believe. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to have people care about you, and you deserve to live.”

“I… I don’t want to die,” he whispers after a moment.

“Good, hold onto that,” she says squeezing him closer to her. “I will find another way. We will. There’s always another way. I’m not going to give up on you. You’re enough as you are Gale.”

His face presses back up against the juncture between her shoulder and neck, a shaky exhale on her neck, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” she whispers just loud enough for him to hear as she feels him smile against her skin.

“Would you stay here with me tonight? Only if you’re comfortable with it,” he asks quickly, keeping his face hidden from her.

“Of course, I’m always up for a cuddle with my favorite wizard,” her fingers go back to playing with his hair.

“If you only know one wizard, I’m both your favorite and least favorite,” he jokes with a dry chuckle.

“I’ve met a few, but you make a good point. I’m always up for a cuddle with my favorite person,” she amends.

His hand drifts from her stomach to her side, holding her closer to him, “If you continue this I might believe you and you’ll be stuck with me, then you’ll be sorry for throwing those words around.”

“Is that a promise?” She grins and lays her head against his.

“Promise?”

“If I keep saying you’re my favorite and that I care about you, I’ll be stuck with you? Because I can easily keep repeating the truth each day.”

“I-I don’t know what… I mean, I still have that order and I might, but maybe,” he stumbles over his words, his brow scrunching in thought.

“You don’t have to think about it right now,” her hand lightly grips his chin to turn his head so she can see his face and presses her finger between his brows. “No decisions, sacrifices, or answers are needed right now.”

He blinks rapidly in response, tears building in the corners of his eyes again as he searches her face then nods, lolling his head back against her shoulder.

Tav lets her fingers drift down his cheek, then follows along his jaw slowly, enjoying the prickle of his beard on her skin.

He stretches some in her embrace, leaning into her touch, his eyelids drooping.

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake,” she promises as she feels sleep starting to come to her as well.

“A wondrous sight to awake to I’m sure,” he smile softly, his eyes drifting shut.

Tav continues to stroke along his cheek and jaw until his breathing evens and his nose twitches in his sleep when her hand accidentally brushes against it.

Holding back her chuckle, she wraps her arm back around Gale and snuggles her face against his hair, letting her own eyes drift shut.

She sends out a quick prayer, to any god that may listen, that she find a way to get them all through this. Her new little odd family would all make it through this intact, or she herself would die trying. His goddess may have given up on him, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to.

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My Main Account: @lykaonimagines AO3 User: Lykao (Marvel, Sherlock, Cyberpunk 2077, and other video game fics)

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #baldurs gate gale #gale x tav #gale bg3 #gale dekarios x tav #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate #fanfic

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